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<channel>
	<title>Dating from the View of a Nice Guy</title>
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	<link>http://www.niceguydates.com</link>
	<description>Nice guy deciding he is gonna learn from all his bad luck. Giving advice, getting advice, and definitely one hell of a ride!</description>
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		<title>Date #3 Cleo the Pirate</title>
		<link>http://www.niceguydates.com/2009/08/20/date-3-cleo-the-pirate/</link>
		<comments>http://www.niceguydates.com/2009/08/20/date-3-cleo-the-pirate/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 20 Aug 2009 20:28:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Admin of Doom</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Dates]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[This date was actually very different than the last two, maybe because I was better prepared with Febreeze grenades in my cargo pocket and a portable gas mask, and maybe it was because I actually pre screened this one. Yes that’s right I did it! But can you blame me? With my luck, I have [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>This date was actually very different than the last two, maybe because I was better prepared with Febreeze grenades in my cargo pocket and a portable gas mask, and maybe it was because I actually pre screened this one. Yes that’s right I did it! But can you blame me? With my luck, I have better chance of getting hit by a train in the middle of a foot ball stadium, than meeting normal people. Or so I thought!</p>
<p>So a friend shoots me a text message, you have to meet this girl. Well my curiosity peaked simply because it was 11:30 at night on Thursday and who the hell are you going to meet at 11:30 on a Thursday anyway? So I say OK…</p>
<p>No, this is not the same evil goat of a friend who introduced me to Bridget. I think he was getting even for the events that conspired at the last party we attended. I don’t see how he can blame me for it. He was wasted and I got this great idea. Let’s throw someone in the pool, so being that he was completely blitzed from Beer Pong, I approach him, Hey John time to get thrown in the pool. Of course he protests as I convince him he has no choice, he eventually complies when we offer to hold onto his good clothes so he looses his shoes and his shirt and we launch his drunken ass into the pool. Well his phone was in his pocket and he ended up passed out on the floor in the house with no working phone. He wakes up around 2 in the afternoon, gets home, and greeted with a punch to the face from his girlfriend, who had to go to brunch with his mother without him for his own mother’s birthday, which was also a goodbye lunch because she was going to Europe for a month. How those two ended up married is beyond me, he does still have all his teeth though. And I did get to make fun of him for few weeks with that shiner.<span id="more-9"></span></p>
<p>I pick up my phone not sure if I should tremble in fear of another bipolar psycho or an IQ eating Ms. Pac-Man with an alcohol problem. Just as I expected, yes, she was normal…. But for how long?!</p>
<p>I am talking to her a bit and I get an idea, Pre date lunch, we decide to meet for a quick lunch at Chili’s, and she was actually normal, in fact she was fairly intelligent. There was no crazy shift in mood, she was able to complete sentences that actually made sense, and have a normal conversation. So the hour long lunch test, which I will call, “Are you a complete whack job”, ended with her passing. Unfortunately the guy who ran one of those stands in the mall was not so lucky. As we walked by she asked me what white sun glasses were for. Naturally I ask the guy selling him, this older man barely able to speak English let alone comprehend the assault of such a basic yet normal question of , “ Why do you sell white sunglasses?” failed to give me answer… I was quite disappointed, so no we still have no answer as to why there are white sunglasses… I got nothing…</p>
<p>Being that these last 2 dates were dull and boring and very SUCKY. I decide on a new event, oh yes, MINI GOLF! She looks at me surprised and we pull out a calendar trying to remember the last time we played Mini Golf. I am going to need a bigger calendar. We are both competitive people so the trash talking begins, “Loser buys lunch” yes upping the stakes. She offers to drive, I cringe, but remembering my air freshener bombs, I feel more secure in allowing her to drive. Plus she knows where we are going. Rather than be a dork and say I map quested it and go off on geek technicalities I let her drive. As a bonus she has a sweet mustang which plays Bob Marley music. Most importantly, I didn’t have the urge to rip my sinus cavity out of my face to some horrid stench only a Zoo keeper would be able to identify.</p>
<p>I get into her mustang and not only does she get to brag about it, this girl can drive it. We weave in and out of traffic like Herbie making his getaway through New York City during rush hour. While we’re driving I ask her why she has a Tire gauge. She comes back with “ For when I get my oil changed”, oh no another one. But actually she explained she just checks everything when she gets her oil changed. I got worried for a minute and she debated it with me, but she did have a valid point. I was so relieved.</p>
<p>Cleo had to be a girl scout or something, because she offers me Gatorade when we park, I like Gatorade, who doesn’t. I leave the Gatorade in the car, and we head inside. I decide right then we are going for 27, yes 27 holes of min golf goodness. Who am I kidding; I want all the chances in the world to come back if this starts looking really bad.</p>
<p>Walking outside we stand under one of the umbrella covered tables, when I turn to see if it is our turn to start, I turn back not 5 seconds later this girl has another Gatorade and it was a different flavor. This girl was prepared for anything. A hell of a lot more prepared than I was for either of my dates!</p>
<p>You remember the old Nintendo game marble madness or any of those odd games modeled after sealing a hamster in a clear plastic ball rolling around hoping for freedom… They call this Pirate Cove Mini Golf because some drunken sailor is the one who built this damn course. We get to the first hole and it’s a 70 degree incline, launching a few balls into water like parts of the space shuttle splashing down after re-entry, 2 timeouts and starting over a few times. We finally clear it and arrive at the second hole- , and I am really starting to see this course is modeled after a few levels in those games, or it was just some sadistic drunken ass bent on the torture of children.</p>
<p>With the first hole down and I felt like I was climbing Mt Everest without a Sherpa, we finally move on. Arriving at the second hole, my first thought is who builds a moat with a ramp in the middle of a mini golf course. I now know where Tiger Woods trained as a child. Staring at this torturous crazy course, I began doing some interesting theorizing, take some teenagers you just subjected to Happy Gilmore, for 5 straight hours, add a metal club and a ramp. Good Idea? Bad Idea?</p>
<p>Three balls drowning in the water hazard, two holes down and we were each at +12 with a total of 8 for par. This is going so well, but at least we are tied. The course seemed to ease up minus the random terrain changes. Damn you unleveled terrain. We get to hole 10 and we are having fun trash talking and just a surprisingly enjoyable day, when suddenly she drops the toughest question I have ever been asked:</p>
<p>Would you rather be a Pirate or a Ninja?</p>
<p>I really had to think about this…Do I want a life of structure, discipline, and the ability to move unseen through the shadows. Stalk my victims and killing them with minimal effort and with some cool flashy moves that can be preformed by any 12 year old fortunate enough to have a few quarters or have a game console at home to hone his skills; or do I want a life, where I can be care-free letting the winds take me to new exotic places, getting to unburdening people of their money, hide treasure all over the world, drink rum till I go blind while courting bar wenches who’s names I will never remember; barely able to stand, let alone complete sentences without using the words arg or gar. As well as have a condo on the beach.</p>
<p>I think I am going to have to say “Pirate”.</p>
<p>Booze, babes, and Booty what more can a guy want? (Booty is a term for loot)</p>
<p>For the ladies Booze, Beaches, and boys what more can gal want?</p>
<p>We eventually reach hole 16 making our slow torturous way through this crazy mini golf course where you obviously need some form of drunken state to play with any advantage. This hole had a dog leg right, for those of you who don’t golf; it’s a veer to the right I think…She is leading off and ends up with a pretty good shot. It ends up down the middle within a foot of the hole. Now my shot, I tap it, it’s cruising down the course and then it happens. Her ball is struck and knocked out of bounds. My ball calmly rolls toward the hole at a perfect angle. The crowd cheers! I can almost taste free lunch as I landed a hole in one.</p>
<p>I got too cocky; my luck took a quick shift as we marched through the last few holes. I think karma bit me in the ass. I tallied up the score after 18 holes of competitive combat it was</p>
<p>Cleo +18</p>
<p>Me +16</p>
<p>And just when I thought I had it made. We get to hole 19 and bam; she lands a hole in one. I watch my free lunch slow leaving my grasp, while twinkle toes victory dances and taunts me for not needing to cheat and my apparent need to cheat. Thanks! The competition heats up and we are back and forth like two 10 year olds that were given a case of red bull each through an IV to maximize the energy output.</p>
<p>As we get to the end of the game and I tally the score.</p>
<p>Cleo +28</p>
<p>Me +26</p>
<p>I think a 12 year old that was in front of played better. We walk to the car and I decide to explain how 26 is lower than 28, and that simply because your 28 is higher than my 26, out of the kindness of your heart you are buying me lunch. I thank you!</p>
<p>Back in the world of NASCAR, we speed of to her choice of restaurant. Did I mention add she is a damn good driver too. Now there is something to be said about a free lunch, it always tastes better, it is so true and on top of that we are going for sushi. She now has 2 records under her belt, the only date since I started this thing to last more than 2 hrs!</p>
<p>We sit down and look over the menu, deciding on a safe choice that we each like, I go with my tried and true, California roll and Cleo gets the cucumber roll. After we make a choice, I look for the craziest sounding thing on the menu. Let’s do the VOLCANO. Yes, I said it, we order the volcano and not only does this sound crazy it looks crazy. He takes a sushi roll and slices it up. Then he stacks it in a pyramid design, covering it in crunchy stuff. He pulls out the special sauce and makes an entertaining show or decoratively covering it, just when I thought I was going to get to try it, he pulls out a butane torch and starts blasting it. Never seen someone take a flame thrower to sushi before, but hey first time for everything. We get the Volcano and I clumsily try and work the chop sticks. This tasted amazing, oh my god it was spicy though. My eyes watering, my tea glass empty; I suddenly found myself in a desert with no water as I as scorched by the volcano. The waitress, brought a pitcher to refill my tea and I think it evaporated as it hit my tongue, she filled it twice right there. Of course Cleo is laughing at me the whole time!</p>
<p>We head back over to the mall where I left my car and we end up walking around a bit, till she gets the urge to challenge me again. So we go over to the pool tables. I rack the balls and offer to let her break and she tells me she doesn’t break.</p>
<p>We play through the first game and then of course I win, and right on queue she uses the alcohol defense….</p>
<p>People Alcohol is an excuse….Not an alibi.</p>
<p>We carry on for a few games, and then a friend comes over and starts talking to us, as the conversation begins to end, my mother shows up. And shortly after that another friend comes by. Cleo wins the last game calling it quits before the score starts getting out of hand and threatens me with a rematch that will happen. So I give Cleo a hug and since my mom is there, I unfortunately leave a little early, but to be fair she did know she was coming up. I texted her tell her I had an amazing time and that we would have to hang out again sometime.</p>
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		<item>
		<title>Letter to my Fans</title>
		<link>http://www.niceguydates.com/2009/08/18/letter-to-my-fans/</link>
		<comments>http://www.niceguydates.com/2009/08/18/letter-to-my-fans/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 18 Aug 2009 18:35:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Admin of Doom</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[News]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.niceguydates.com/2009/08/18/letter-to-my-fans/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Dear Reader,
Before we move on, I want to express my view on a few things that have happened and bring in some positive feelings. Because let’s face it, so far, this little adventure is more like National Lampoon&#8217;s Vacation movies and those didn&#8217;t go very well.
I think one of my biggest problems being a Nice [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Dear Reader,</p>
<p>Before we move on, I want to express my view on a few things that have happened and bring in some positive feelings. Because let’s face it, so far, this little adventure is more like National Lampoon&#8217;s Vacation movies and those didn&#8217;t go very well.</p>
<p>I think one of my biggest problems being a Nice Guy was not really having the confidence to be myself. I always felt I had to be what I thought would make the girl happy. This never really worked out and usually ended with them not being interested. The excuses were many and not always entertaining, so I am just going to skip them.</p>
<p>What really made it hard on me was trying to carry the world on my shoulders and taking everything that I couldn&#8217;t fix or make better way too personally. It was really hard to see the positive side of anything and I usually blamed myself for everything that would go wrong. I am hoping that you enjoy and laugh at them because no matter what happens, remember that you cannot blame yourself for something not working out. You laugh hysterically as your friend points out that he “didn’t go out with a lunatic”, causing you to fall out of your chair, tears rolling down your cheeks, spilling your drink all over your shirt, unable to breathe because your abdominal muscles are slowing trying to kill you as they contract on your diaphragm, that is totally acceptable, again just don’t die.</p>
<p>Now, here are a few things that I heard over and over when I was dating before I started this:</p>
<p>Commitment issues:<br />From my experience and listening to my friends experiences, I have found that Nice Guys tend to over commit, we tend to give the impression that we are too serious from day one. I was far too caring and more than ready to give the shirt off my back right after an hour into meeting someone, and you may say that is sweet, a lot of women have told me it’s just intimidating that someone can be that interested or they seem desperate. No one wants to be a last resort. All my friends can tell you though; I am like that with everyone I meet. This is not a bad thing, but it is not smiled upon on the first date, when you come off like your ready to settle down have that white picket fence and a dog named Sparky&#8230;. Imagine that! Women on the other hand want a more casual first meeting or want their man to give the idea of a chase or being pursued.</p>
<p>Blame:<br />Not just Nice Guys have this quality, when things don&#8217;t go the way we expect, we blame ourselves and wonder what we could have possibly done wrong. Anytime I have gained someone’s interest, they could do no wrong. Lucky them huh?! Rather than take a situation and say hey maybe it just wasn&#8217;t meant to be, I would blame myself and wonder what was wrong with me or what I did wrong to mess things up. Looking at a situation objectively is probably one of the hardest things you will ever attempt, so don’t feel bad if you want advice or a second opinion. Just for your own personal knowledge though, people don’t like when you ask for advice or an opinion and then you never consider it. I mean why waste the oxygen, I know people don’t want just listen to themselves speak… Most of the time!</p>
<p>You cannot control chemistry, it just happens naturally. A woman may find some guy totally and uncontrollably attractive, and if left in a room alone with them for more than 5 seconds, they would be mauling that person like a black bear invading a subway&#8230;only in Canada. Yeah isn&#8217;t chemistry grand! (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=72qiEc8UFHU">See Bear here</a>) We all want to be liked, desired and lusted after. You just have to find someone that sees you for who you are that you won’t have to try to impress or try making things perfect for. Everything will be natural and great; there won&#8217;t be any pressure or stress of who did what or why this person doesn’t like me. This keeps us from being insecure with ourselves to the point where we would completely implode from self doubt and depression, and wondering what we could do wrong to ruin things. I have been to these places and I do not recommend vacationing there.</p>
<p>Being the Hero:</p>
<p>Being the hero is not glamorous nor is it an easy job. I find being the hero tends to take a heavy toll on you. When you are constantly and almost forcefully trying to become that special connection in someone&#8217;s life, you know what I am talking about… Anything this girl mentions; you are suddenly an expert on it. If she said I like to dress my dog in dresses and you would probably offer to hold the dog still or something crazy, maybe even buy the poor animal a dress or make one. Another thing I had really bad habit of doing was saying sorry. If it was a four letter word, you would think I was cussing like a sailor. I will give you a scene from Demolition Man. Picture yourself as Stallone standing there with two other people, one is a pipsqueak cracking jokes because you don&#8217;t know how some space age toilet uses three seashells to hygienically clean yourself after, well you know. You’re looking at said pipsqueak thinking of 50 different ways to break him in half, when you say &#8220;Sorry, what was that&#8221;, then that damn ticket machine goes off fining you credits for speaking. Well, now you have an idea, you walk over to said futuristic toilet paper dispenser and commence the conversation, “Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry&#8221;, you get the point&#8230; Needless to say I said it way too much.</p>
<p>Don&#8217;t get me wrong, I believe that these are very admirable traits. So is being honest, but when was the last time you told a woman, &#8220;Hey that hairdo looks like you let a rabid hamster loose on your skull, did you actually pay money for that? (If you do try this, do not come crying to me.)</p>
<p>I know from experience that by doing this; it will make it harder every time you really want to try again. Getting back on your feet is hard enough as it is, so take my advice for what it is worth, enjoy the time you get to spend with someone you like and if doesn&#8217;t work out, at least you had a few laughs and some good memories. Unless, you have my luck and end up with some of the winners that I have been so privileged to meet, and if you are I am sorry!</p>
<p>We all have experiences, but how you use those experiences and what you learn from them are what will fuel the fires of passion deep within your heart to give you that ability to fight, stand up, look that loss in the face, tear out its beating heart, and say, &#8221; I am better than you&#8221;. As you look back and remember that you are proud to be yourself, let your memories carry you through the tough times or use those memories to carry someone else through theirs.</p>
<p>When you fall, let your friends carry you; you may have been the shoulder they leaned on when they were in a similar situation. I remember the tears my friends have cried, the support they needed, and in some cases, throwing on an old movie and just remember better days. I tried to carry the world on my shoulders; I fell to a knee several times. Each time I fell, I remember looking up and seeing my friends, lifting that burden, so that I could stand back up and take that next step.</p>
<p>When I say I know how you feel or may have felt in your experiences, I am telling you, that you are not alone. As I write this blog, I hope you, as my friends will be able to be there for your friends like I am here for you as you read my writing, my comments, and my responses to anything you may post to me. These articles can be your shoulder and help you stand back up, or just really brighten your day with a good laugh. I am going to keep my chin up and keep getting back on my feet until I find the answers that I am searching for.</p>
<p>I hope that you get a few laughs, because we all know I have been getting plenty of them. Happy reading!</p>
<p>Your Friend Always<br />Nice Guy</p>
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		<title>Date #2 Bridget</title>
		<link>http://www.niceguydates.com/2009/08/14/date-2-bridget/</link>
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		<pubDate>Fri, 14 Aug 2009 16:26:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Admin of Doom</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Dates]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.niceguydates.com/2009/08/14/date-2-bridget/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Alright even nice guys have their limits. Let us be fair, no one likes to be misled. But when you have to lie about your appearance and show a picture that is 2 years and 40 lbs earlier, come on! I have been on several blind dates, but this time I was waiting for Ashton [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Alright even nice guys have their limits. Let us be fair, no one likes to be misled. But when you have to lie about your appearance and show a picture that is 2 years and 40 lbs earlier, come on! I have been on several blind dates, but this time I was waiting for Ashton Kutcher to jump out and punk me.</p>
<p></span><span style="font-family:arial;">Bridget, who was at least an 8 on the hurricane disaster scale, was introduced to me by a friend who gave her my email address. My friends are trying to help, this is great right? If I didn’t have special place in my heart this friend that set me up on this one… I would have taken a tack hammer to their face! Prepared, I was not! Regardless of the fact that there were no red flags, I should be considered for the worst Boy Scout Ever award. Yes, I was a boy scout.</p>
<p></span><span style="font-family:arial;">I arrived early to the rendezvous and decided to kill some time.</span></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  >  </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">I went over to the music store to find a Saving Abel or a Daughtry CD. It’s about time to meet Bridget, so I head back out to the parking lot. You ever get that eerie feeling you’re being watched? You know like you’re the zebra on a nature show and some jerk off camera man is watching you, right before some lion makes  a snack out of your ass. Seems my intuition did not fail me, because apparently I was being targeted for a hit and run. I answer my phone and the first words out of her mouth were “Is it ok if I run you over”, I replied, “Sure that’s one less dinner I have to pay for”.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:arial;">So I am 20 ft from my car and she offers me a ride. Looking at my car and then back at her, now confused I inform her I can walk, she pulls the,” oh you don’t want to ride with me” line. I got into this car and the rich scent of road kill assaulted my nose. I succeeded holding back a gag reflex and my usual bad habit of </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">speaking my mind when the situation makes it convenient for me, but my conscious won this time, my mouth stayed shut and I think I had a tear in my eye. Here is some advice, if you are trying to impress someone or just offer someone a ride, three words, CAR AIR FRESHENER! On a side note, it is probably a bad idea to unleash your opinion on someone you barely know. But, that’s just my view. <span style="font-weight: bold;">(Trying this yourself will bring varied results, attempt at your own risk!!)</p>
<p></span><span>Back to the story, it’s amazing how 20 feet can feel like 2 miles. The car parks next to mine and I pop the car door open like an airlock from a Sci-Fi movie. Fresh air rushed in and I was saved… Now watch what happens:</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bridget</span>: </span><span>Where are you going?</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Uh, to my car, I thought I was driving…. (Yes I did say Uh)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bridget</span>: You want me to drive?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Time out, flag on the play, not 10 minutes ago I talked to this woman and we agreed to I was driving and planned the destination.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Well, if you want to drive, I guess.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bridget</span>: You have something against women drivers?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: No, I do not you can drive if you want.</p>
<p>I get back in the car, and yes I am crying again. I start doing what any normal person would do, formulating the escape plan. Its evident this date is going for the alternate ending of Titanic, I can hear it now, “Never let go”, and the response to that is “This raft isn’t big enough for the both of us” BONK. Since, she forgot our plans in the time span of 10 minutes and asked me where I wanted to go eat. I took the opportunity to put plan B to work; and you may be saying hey you’re supposed to be a nice guy. Well, I am, but I have limits too.</p>
<p>I chose a nearby restaurant, when I say nearby, I mean within running distance of my car. We park, I quickly remove myself from the mini garbage dump she calls a car, and enter the restaurant. Of course, I opened the door for her being the gentleman that I am. Fortune was smiling upon me as I noticed the stench, that I think could be identified as a water buffalo, had not followed us from the car.</p>
<p>Now, this is where you can go from worse to “I would rather turn a power drill on high and sit on it than suffer through this.” (Warning, if you are having trouble up to point, I suggest you turn back, it is not getting any better.)</p>
<p>The waiter seats us and the conversation begins, which I had a feeling was going to blow any chance of normalcy. The questions start talking about family and it spreads into drinking. This is basically how it went down.</p>
<p><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bridget</span>: So do you drink?</p>
<p><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: No, I drink on special occasions.</p>
<p><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bridget</span>: Oh, I get trashed all the time.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: You drink a lot then?</p>
<p><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bridget</span>: Well, no it’s been a month since I got totally trashed. I still have beer in my fridge that I haven’t drunk in months. Some Alcoholics drink too much.<br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Wait, did you really just say “Some Alcoholics drink to much?”<br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bridget</span>: Yeah, well it’s true.<br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: RRRRIIIIIGGGHHHHTTTTT!<br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">By now the drinks have been dropped off along with the complimentary bread so I offer her a piece, then proceed to eat three fourths of it and the half the appetizer, keeping my mouth shut in hopes of choking myself out of this situation. The worst part, I realized what I was doing and that didn’t stop me. Note to self, when your mind overrides your natural instinct for self preservation, we have a problem!<br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Ever get that feeling where everything you do just goes horribly wrong. It is not a feeling here, more like a ten pound sledgehammer nailing a railroad spike into my skull. Afraid of what unintelligent gibberish she would disclose of her family reunions, where they drank like fish in a sea of cheap beer, I was not impressed. I try moving conversation forward; I told her I may be looking for a second job. Without any real thought, she says “You can be my pool boy”. At this point I wasn’t even sure her brain could retain instructions on how to breathe without a For Dummies book that had illustrations instead of words.<br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Let the record show the deliveries of her pick up lines were like watching Mayor Mallory throw the opening pitch. Yes, I went there, for those of you who do not get that reference, YouTube is your friend. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jC1dLxYwWJc">Enjoy</a></p>
<p></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >Bridget</span><span style="font-size:100%;">: So what else do you like to do in the bedroom?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >Me</span><span style="font-size:100%;">: Um. I am not exactly sure what you are referring to; you will have to give me an example.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >Bridget</span><span style="font-size:100%;">: Besides sex and sleep…</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >Me</span><span style="font-size:100%;">: What else is there to do?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >Bridget</span><span style="font-size:100%;">: There is this thing called oral sex?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >Me</span><span style="font-size:100%;">: Doesn’t that fall into the category of sex?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >Bridget</span><span style="font-size:100%;">: I guess so…<br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">You know that look a deer gives you as your head lights hit him in the eyes, freezing him in fear, followed by your front bumper connecting with his face, crumpling your car like a piece of aluminum foil. I think I was the bumper.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Dinner finally landed on the table causing the conversation to die out, I don’t think I had enough food left on the table to keep my mouth shut. My stomach was hurting. . Dinner comes to an end, along with this nightmare. I was able to stop looking for something chew on when the check came.</p>
<p>This is important for what happens next, so visualize this, we leave the restaurant. I open the door and she walks out toward the car. I am about two feet behind her and to the right and she out of left field says, “Are you staring at my breasts?” Not only am I confused, but where the hell did this come from? I say, “No how can I, you are in front of me; she responds, “I don’t know…. I am just kidding”…. I am going to say it, because I know you’re thinking it. Kidding my ass!</p>
<p>We get back to her car, I open the door weeping again, I strap myself in and she turns and looks at me, Are you having fun she says? Oh yeah lady, stomach is about to explode, it smells some water buffalo got lucky in your back seat, and I think I could have more mentally stimulating conversation with Sarah Palin. Oh yeah this lot of fun! (Internal Monologue for the win!). The bomb drops, “So what would you like to do now.” I say, Well, um we can walk around the mall, being that its 100 feet from my car and minimizes the amount unbreathable air I have to suffer through.</p>
<p>We walk into the mall and start wandering, and I start checking my phone, in hopes of a rescue mission to take place, but it was 8:45 and extraction was not expected until 9. We turned the corner, and walked past one of those college stores. She got all jumpy and excited, ‘We have to go in there”, she says. I comply and follow her in. This is very strange because she told me she is an Alabama fan; there were actually a few tee shirts and two shelves, each about a foot long. To my surprise I see the mascot for is an elephant. This is just way too easy, I said to myself, “Are you sure you’re a fan or are the mascot?</p>
<p>After a quick stop into this store she gives me a lesson about shopping for college fan gear, and since I’m such a nice guy, I am going to pass on this little gem of information on to you. If you want to buy Alabama college stuff, apparently, there is a large selection of it in Alabama. Feel good that I am not hording all this shopping information to myself.</p>
<p>As our walk around the mall continued, I informed her about my experience in the Marines, you would swear I was talking to a gerbil. Here we go again…</p>
<p><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bridget</span>: So do you have something against women in Camo?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: (Dramatic Pause).I was in the marines. I lived with them, why would I have a problem?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bridget</span>: I was just wondering, because my uncle has a farm and we go up there and go camping. But they don’t do any real farming there anymore and they all moved away from there, but we still call it a farm. I am a bit of a country girl. (You think?)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: So what you’re saying is you go camping at your uncle’s farm?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Anyone else feel immense unbearable pain in their skull? You don’t even have to relive this as you write it….9 pm rolls around and I get a text message from my friend.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">“Call you 1 yes 2 no”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">My response “OMG save me”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">She calls me I have a 10 min conversation with myself, pretending that my mother is on the phone and my escape plan code named “Do Over” is just sitting there articulating random syllables into the phone and laughing at me. I love my friends, knowing my pain brings them joy, just makes me want to do it again….NOT!I hang up the phone and Bridget enlightens me on her past.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bridget</span>: So you’re a mama’s boy?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Yes, I was but not so much anymore….</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bridget</span>: I hate mama’s boys, my ex husband was a mama’s boy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>:Oh&#8230;</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bridget</span>: You figure I would of seen the divorce coming when my ex husband was living with his mother until the day we got married at age 26.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: I….I got nothing.</p>
<p>We leave the mall and walk to our cars and chatting for a minute. As I give her the half hearted friend hug, she snaps at me, “Did you just crush my breasts?”</p>
<p>Can someone please explain to me the proper mechanics of a hug?</p>
<p>It&#8217;s barely been 12 hrs and I get an email.  I tried to be civil and tell her she needs to work on her confidence and be happy with herself before she continues on this path of dating people.We go back and forth with emails and I am trying to explain in the nicest of ways that I am just not interested. Nothing I say is getting through and she keeps rebutting my opinion like I am actually having a discussion. With no other options available to me, I spell it out as slowly and clearly as possible, &#8220;WE CAN JUST BE FRIENDS&#8221;, yes i did use caps.The final email from her was “Should I  delete your email and phone number?”</p>
<p>Alas, the world will weep, as there will be no sequel to this great tale… Yeah right! I should have let her hit me with her car… </span></p>
<p></span></span></span></p>
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