I have no dating experience to speak of, but that does not mean I haven’t met some characters.
- The one that is flashing like neon lights in Vegas is who I call Frenchie. His real name is Julien, and he is a Parisian expat that was living in Montreal (heaven knows where he’s at now). Frenchie is worth mentioning because we met someplace online and he made it his mission every time we spoke or exchanged messages to tell me how physically attractive I was. He literally would salute the flag every time we spoke. He was always excusing himself to take cold showers when I was talking of something totally not sexual, like my retail job.
- A guy in high school, whose name shall be Mud. Mud made it his mission his first day in class with me to speak ill of California. I had just moved 3,000 miles across country, and I had grown a backbone in New Hampshire. Mud and I had a very lively friendship. We fought like wild dogs one day, and were like boyfriend/girlfriend/siblings the next.
- And then there’s Mike. Mike was this senior that sat next to me in Math class. For several months, he took no notice of me, never once spoke to me. Then we did a “Field trip” in class walking Main Street, where my ass was ogled by pretty much the whole male faction of class. And from that day, Mike was flirting with me. Mike smoked pot. This is not something that is attractive to me. But, when flirted with, I flirt back. Even if I don’t like this person. This is considered leading on, or being fake by men. I cannot help it. I like being complimented.
- The two guys (names unknown) who freely stared at my bikini-clad body in Cape Cod after I had lost all this weight via wisdom tooth removal and then having a stomach bug for two weeks earlier in the year. Thanks for boosting my ego.
- The guy who did a double take when I came out of the hair salon after getting my hair done. He literally stopped having a conversation on his cell phone to look back at me. You have no idea what that does for a girl’s confidence after being overweight for three or four years, and then losing all the weight.
- Chris, for dancing with me at Prom. Thank you for being my first slow dance, and for telling me I looked beautiful. You were my crush, so it was a magical night.
- Bradley, for all the reasons I have previously mentioned. You’re an awesome brother from another mother.
- The Latino guy who enjoyed perusing the jewelry counter the nights I worked. He would come in, and just look at things he wasn’t interested in buying. He also smelled incredibly good.
- The older Latino man who hit on me one summer afternoon. I thank you for the compliment that you thought I was Latina, but you’re totally wrong there. And my Spanish knowledge is crap.
- Those two guys who came in with leftover spareribs from Applebee’s. It’s cute how you hit on me using the ribs as an excuse.
- Those rowdy guys outside the Porfido’s Market on Main Street in Littleton, NH the night I saw Red Eye at the movies. They scared the living bejeezus out of me, but I also got a rare thrill from being hit on.
- The older gentleman at Walmart who felt up my boob in the card aisle. Whether it was intentional or not, I hope it was good for you, because it was awkward as hell for me.
- Eric, because you reawakened me after the whole Bradley thing happened. You renewed my beliefs in dating.
- Short blond Jewish guy. Where do I begin with him? You flirt with a girl, say things that make her open up like jasmine blooming tea, and then you brutally shut her down. Days go by, you flirt with her again, because you think you can use her as a booty call, as if she doesn’t have a single thought for herself. You tell her California women are harsh beings, that we’re too feminist. I could go on, but then it would be all about you, you dirty ass-bag.
- Chuck. I feel bad for you. All you wanted was someone like me, and I just didn’t feel the same. I sincerely hope you find what you’re looking for in Canada, because she isn’t me. On another note, I do miss talking to you at night.
- Older Boston Guy. He said I was pretty, hot, attractive, etc. He made me breathless, made me feel things, and I thought he was a class-act. But he was twelve years my senior, wanted things I couldn’t give him immediately, and he said I was a frigid bitch (literally those words). You have no idea how long I thought about what he said. I asked my mom and my close friend out in New Hampshire if they thought I was frigid, and it cut me to the core. If you want to truly insult me, just say I am frigid. Works every time.
- All the guys on OkCupid who referred to me as a Cee-yoU-Next-Tuesday. You taught me a valuable lesson. If there’s no interest, I should block you immediately. Also, I need to be more conscious of your feelings and reply with a “thanks, but no thanks.” And even if I let you down nicely you wish to refer to me as such, then you’re jerks, and I am glad I didn’t date you.