The Hockey Stalk

I met Stephen, my first (and clearly failed), attempt at Match.com. Stephen was the classic case of being everything one could desire in a mate such as being chivalrous, steadily employed, and relatively attractive. For all intents and purposes, he was a real catch. The one tiny predicament?  I had absolutely no magnetic draw to him whatsoever that you should have when being in a relationship with another human being. None.

After a few weeks of relentlessly attempting to convince myself that there is no reason to NOT find Stephen desirable, I had to end the charade and call it quits once and for all.  He was significantly more into me than vice versa, so it was difficult to break the news considering he was such a kind and upstanding gentleman.

One thing Stephen and I had in common was our love of watching ice hockey. Me being a loyal Pittsburgh Penguins fan and him, the New York Rangers, we would often sit at a local watering hole, drink beer (gin and tonic in my case because beer is disgusting), and watch the games.

During the playoffs I would always go to the designated New York City ‘Penguins’ bar to cheer on my team with fellow Pittsburgh fans in the all-too-familiar sea of black and gold nostalgia.

This year, when the Penguins were slated to take on the Rangers in round one, Stephen knew just where to find me.

He began texting me again, and countless times he had invited me for dinner in the attempt to get back into my life to which I always politely declined and made it perfectly clear that I was uninterested in pursuing anything further with him.

One day he texted me to ask if I would like to watch the Penguins/Tampa Bay Lightning game with him at the Penguins bar, assuming I would be going anyways. I did in fact have plans to go with several girlfriends but was not too keen on the idea of him accompanying us.

I made the mistake of telling him I was completely exhausted from the work week and had planned on viewing the game in the privacy of my living room. Being the persistent little shit that he is, he suggested he come over and watch it with me, an idea which I also shunned.

Considering he lives about 3 subway transfers from said establishment, I figured I would be in the clear. In addition, there are about 2,200 sports bars on the island of Manhattan, what business does he have at this one if he thinks I am not there?

I sat on my bar stool nervously watching the Penguins take on their opponent sipping my drink of choice and sporting my beloved Sidney  Crosby jersey. They finally got the puck into the net and the crowd erupted in celebration.

I got a text from Stephen. ‘Hell of a goal, huh?’

‘Yes, yes it was.’ I said.

‘So, are you enjoying watching the game at home with the cats?’

‘Yes, yes I am.’

‘Oh, that’s funny, because I just happened to walk into Foley’s and there is a girl sitting at the bar that looks and sounds just like you. Even has the same jersey you wear. The exact same cute glasses too!’

As soon as I read it I felt a tap on my shoulder and my heart sank.

Busted.

“Do you want to explain yourself and why you just blatantly lied to me? Let’s go outside and talk right now.”

“Stephen, come on. I’m not going outside. I’m sorry I lied to you but I kept saying no I don’t want to hang out and you just would’t take the hint and I just wanted to come with my friends. What are you even doing here? You aren’t a Penguins fan.”

After continuously insisting I speak with him outside, some fellow patrons of the bar started pestering him to take a hint as well.

Stephen finally left, and while I did learn my lesson about lying, I was just desperately to avoid hurting his feelings. Hopefully he has learned HIS lesson that stalking is just creepy.

 

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A Dental Disaster

Around Christmas time I really started feeling the pressure of my parents yearning for my brother or I to finally meet a significant other and hopefully produce some sort of offspring before they are either deceased or too senile to comprehend the idea of a grandchild.

Lucky for me, my generous family decided to give me the gift of love (or at least attempt to) with a 6 month membership to eHarmony. See proof below.

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“This is your last chance to find love. Should you not do so within the allotted time, you will probably die alone.” 

After spending 45 minutes of my life (that I will never get back) ostensibly trying to describe myself to a potential soul mate in 200 words or less, I finally finished my profile. Bring on the men!

Shortly after, I was contacted by Ben and after going through the tedious process of back and forth questionnaires we agreed to meet for a drink.

Ben was in his residency for physical therapy, had brown hair and light hazel eyes. Overall he looked very handsome.  Ben may have had  a few more extra pounds around the waistline than I would prefer, but all beauty fades anyway. Right??

I also awarded Ben some well deserved bonus points for selecting a cocktail lounge right down the street from where I reside which is more than I can say for some other lazy assholes that have taken me out in the past.

When we sat down for a drink I could barely understand him when he spoke. He was inaudibly mumbling and it was quite agitating to say the least. Every time he made a statement I would find myself saying, ‘WHAT? EXCUSE ME? COME AGAIN?’

I was also irritated by the fact that he had his elbows on the bar and had his hands folded together up by his mouth covering it.

Finally, I said, “Ben, you know what, I seriously cannot understand a word that it coming out of your mouth. If we are going to continue chatting I need you to remove your fists from your face and speak more clearly.”

Ben slowly removed his hand sandwich from his chin and he very clearly stated, “Sorry, I am just a little insecure about my teeth. I am going to get them fixed at some point in the future, but I just don’t have the money right now.”

Subsequently and to my horror,  Ben opened his mouth and displayed just what he was referring to. It now made sense why his profile never depicted him smiling with his mouth open.

It looked as if a bomb went off inside his mouth. 67321f22209f63ac79a0fa27cc46cfde

^Think this guy. No. Joke.

Being that my dad is a dentist I am especially fussy about oral hygiene, but I had not seen a mouth this dreadful in person since my mission trip to Panama a year prior when I went with my parents to help provide dental care to indigenous jungle dwellers.

Though I was quite repulsed by the sight before me, I didn’t want to be an asshole.

“Oh, don’t be insecure…we all have our insecurities!” I said with a smile.

This was my pathetic attempt at trying to brush off the subject without spewing a blatant lie by trying to suggest they ‘weren’t that bad.’

Ben texted me a few days later but in the end I had to tell him that I didn’t quite feel that romantic connection I was looking for, to which he amicably accepted and wished me luck in my search.

I do hope Ben finds a great girlfriend and an awesome dentist and in the meantime, I will not be accepting dates unless I can see their teeth displayed in their profile pictures.

 

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The Offspring Omission

I met Sean while sitting at the ubiquitous singles table at a high school friend’s nuptials in a swanky TriBeCa ballroom. He had piercing blue eyes, flawless white teeth and an impeccably groomed beard. As we locked eyes across the table for the first time I could hear a voice in my head saying, ‘you’re going to have sex with him.’

After throwing back a few flutes of champagne and rocking out to the obligatory Bon Jovi song on the dance floor, we exchanged numbers and surprisingly retreated to our own hotel rooms following the after party despite an evening of perpetual flirting.

The following week, Sean contacted me and invited me out for a meal.

We sat in a dimly lit wine bar on the Upper East Side and discussed everything from both of our upbringings, to our college years and the hopes we had for the future. When I looked at my watch I was shocked to see how quickly the time had passed us by. The attraction between us was nothing short of insatiable.

As we exited the restaurant he invited me back to his apartment in Gramercy and though I knew I should not give into the temptation, our chemistry was simply impossible to resist. Off to Gramercy I went.

After a lovely evening and some delicious scrambled eggs and hash browns the next morning, I was not regretting my decision whatsoever.  He already invited me to have dinner with him again the following night and I graciously accepted.

When we got to the restaurant for our second date, we sat at the bar to grab a cocktail while we waited for our table to be ready.

As I sipped on my Elderflower martini, an acquaintance of Sean’s approached him to say hello and Sean politely introduced me to the young lady.

“And how are the kids doing?!” She asked.

I nearly spit out my drink. I looked Sean dead in the face and he was about 4 shades paler than he was just seconds before.

“They are great. Doing well….you know.”

“Aww that’s great to hear. I saw your little Rachel on the playground the other day and she told me all about how her daddy took her to the circus. She was just raving about it!”

At this time the hostess came to collect us and take use to our table as we both bid the woman farewell.

We sat down and I clearly had a bone to pick.

“So…you have kids? We discussed just about everything one can discuss about each other’s lives the other night and you just so happen to omit the minor detail that you have children? How many??”

“Three. I have three. And I didn’t really think it was any of your business. I was going to tell you when I was ready.”

“Well, it is my business and I think it is shady that you kept it hidden considering all we’ve talked about.”

“Why should this change things? They live with their mother uptown and I only have to deal with them twice a month. It’s almost like I don’t even have them.”

While struggling to decipher whether it was more disgusting lying to me or proudly proclaiming to be a dead beat dad, I decided it didn’t matter. It was time to go back to my apartment and catch up on Game of Thrones and no longer ‘deal with’ Sean, just as he does his poor children.

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The Sweet Cheat

I met Carter on OKCupid in a final attempt to find an accomplice for the impending Netflix and chill season before I abandoned shaving my legs and officially entered into hibernation for the winter by my lonesome.

For the duration of our evening, we discussed the trials and tribulations of meeting someone compatible while residing in the absurd metropolis that is NYC. He explained how like most New Yorkers, he had been single for a while because the majority of his time and attention was focused mainly on his professional efforts and finding the opportunity to meet a lovely young lady such as myself proved to be quite difficult. This was a situation I knew all too well.

After we finished our Pinot Noir and chorizo empanadas, we shared a quick boozy make out session before my Uber came to retrieve me to my apartment.

As I sat in the back of the cab, I couldn’t help but be ecstatic. Could it be? Have I finally found my cuffing season** buddy  or dare I say…my husband?

The next day I was delighted when my phone vibrated in the middle of the work day and his name showed up on the screen. How sweet! A phone call!

“Hey, so this is kind of a weird request. I do sort of have a girlfriend but we have been having some problems and just last night after I met you we patched things up a bit. She found our text messages  though and I was wondering if you could do me a HUGE favor. She is probably going to call or text you, but would you mind maybe telling her we never actually met? Thing is, we still live together and it would be a really big help to me. If she knows I went out with you she will most likely kick me out.”

“So basically, you cheated on your girlfriend and wasted my time in the process and now you want me to cover your ass? Am I being punk’d right now or are you for real?”

“I know, I had a lot of fun with you and if we weren’t living together I’d love to date you but its complicated and I know I’m as asshole, but please can you just do this for me?”

*click*

That evening I did in fact receive a call from his girlfriend, Shannon, and informed her about everything she deserved to know. Shannon dropped Carter like a bad habit. She continued to text me the pathetically hysterical details of removing him from the apartment they shared and eventually we decided to meet up for a glass of wine being that we were both single.

Shannon and I remain great friends and next week I will be standing next to her as she marries the man of her dreams. Who knew this cheating asshole could result in such a sweet ending?

BYE CARTER!

**During the Fall and Winter months people who would normally rather be single or promiscuous find themselves along with the rest of the world desiring to be “Cuffed” or tied down by a serious relationship. The cold weather and prolonged indoor activity causes singles to become lonely and desperate to be cuffed. -Urban Dictionary

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Ex marks the NOT

Zayne and I met on some dating site. It’s all the same shit at this point, let’s be honest.

I am writing this post because I was quite flabbergasted to discover that a seemingly intelligent person such as this would be so ignorant and I feel that it is my duty as a human being to put an end to this madness within our society.

Everyone needs to stop harping on their past relationships when on aquainting themselves with  a current potential partner. You would think it was common sense, but common sense is unfortunately not so common.  Especially for Zayne.

Zayne and I were conversing rather enjoyably when he started describing his living situation and how he was now in a 2 bedroom apartment since he split with his ex of multiple years.

I smiled and nodded as I made my best effort to steer clear of the forbidden topic of the ex-girlfriend, but to no avail. The conversation of why they separated, the issues they had and the play-by-play of the day she left flowed like the Pinot Noir I was eagerly consuming.

“My girlfriend was drop dead gorgeous, but everyone around me always said I was way too good for her.”

Oh. Thanks for letting me know, Zayne. I can see why it was completely necessary to tell me of your lingering attraction to someone in a past relationship while simultaneously informing me of what a superior human being you are.

Can’t wait to do this again.

NOT.

 

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A Costly Mis-Steak

I come from a lower middle class family from the outskirts of Boston. Both my mother and father were blue collar factory workers albeit the salt of the earth. Though I am thankful for my humble upbringing, It had always been my insatiable desire to reside in the beautiful and exciting concrete jungle that is New York City.

Things started to finally come together for me after drudging through years of my menial entry level employment when I managed to land a lucrative position at a financial services company, and I could afford my own quaint little studio apartment in Park Slope. You could say life was going pretty well for me.

Then I met Alan, a dapper management consultant from an high-class Greenwich, Connecticut upbringing who you rarely saw without his hair thoroughly coiffed and his monogram stitched on his perfectly pressed Oxford cuffs.  Alan and I could not have been more opposite, yet for some reason I was insatiably attracted to his suave attitude and bumptious demeanor.

After dating for about a month, my parents, beaming with pride, were finally going to take a vacation to witness my exciting new life in the big city. I decided things were going well with Alan and I would like for us all to meet as my dad insisted he would like to treat us to a meal.

It just so happened that the Patriots game would be on and both Alan and my family are dedicated fans and have man crushes on Tom Brady (but who doesn’t?). I figured it would be a good bonding experience for my proletarian father and my  highly privileged boyfriend since I cannot imagine them having anything else in common.

I chose a modest yet charming little sports bar in the East Village where they could make each other’s acquaintance. The entrees were just as you would expect for such an establishment; Burgers, cheesesteaks, chicken fingers, and all reasonably priced between $10-15. It was the kind of place my parents could afford to treat us but not break the bank.

We arrived at the pub and when the waitress came to retrieve our drink order, it consisted of the usual Bud Light or a gin and tonic. Alan however, was used to something a little more extravagant.

“Do you guys have Patron Silver? I will do a double on the rocks.”

He quickly slurped down his $23 drink and fervently ordered a second.

When it came time to order dinner, my mother, father and I skipped the appetizer and ordered burgers at $11-13 a pop. When it was Alan’s turn to select his entree, I was simply mortified.

“I am going to start with an order of the fried calamari, then for my entee I will take the 20 OZ Certified Black Angus T-bone Steak. I feel like a little surf and turf tonight!”

I glanced at the menu and the price of his entree is $32. FOR A SHITTY STEAK AT A SHITTY SPORTS BAR.

This was also followed by another double Patron Silver on the Rocks.

And then another.

When the check came, Alan’s food alone was more than what it cost for the rest of us to eat AND drink. I insisted that my dad allow us to split it but being the ingratiating person that he is, he wouldn’t hear of it.

When it was time to leave, Alan was completely ungrateful and didn’t even offer my dad a ‘thank you.’

That is hopefully the last time I will ever see Alan because if I do, I will probably punch him in the face.

 

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