How to get kicked out of Moondoggies

On any given Thursday night there’s a 75 percent chance you will find me at Moondoggies (AKA Dude-Doggies/Line-Doggies) in PB. This jumps greatly to about 90 percent if I don’t have to work on that Friday, which happens to occur every other Friday. The following is a true story that happened a few weeks ago on such a magical Thursday night.

How to get kicked out of Moondoggies

Night’s going well. I’m feeling good about it, I don’t have to work tomorrow, I’m 5,6,7, 12 beers deep, and I’m hanging out with the greatest group of friends. Living the dream.

Anyone that knows me, knows I have the bladder of a 12 year old girl. Fact. Not a big a deal, a lot of grown men have the bladders of infants. So what. So I just got a brand new Dos Equis for the low low price of 2 American dollars, when I realize it’s been about 7 minutes since I last peed, and I should probably go again. I patiently wait in line, fumbling with my phone, thinking it’s almost time to start the drunk dials. Finally, it’ my turn to pee, I walk up to the urinal and place my beer on top of the metal piping leading to the urinal.  I’ve done this a million times, a million. For the record that metal piping is a great beer holder, and I’d rather place it there than on top of the porcelain urinal. So I’m doing my thing, like it’s my job, when I see my beer start to slip off the top of my pipe holding place. This is where time slows down, matrix style, and I use my ninja like reflexes to reach up with my left hand and grab the falling beer. I think I even yelled a slow motion “noooooooooooo”. I caught it! Hurray! Saved two dollars in beer. Unfortunately since it was a brand new beer, it shook up and did that volcano thing where it shoots out like you’re celebrating winning the championship. Except I didn’t win a championship, I just caught my beer. It made a mess all over the wall, I’m going to be honest, but it was like 3 feet above the urinal so I thought it wasn’t a huge deal. I regain composure, zip up and start washing my hands…..

I’m washing my hands, when I hear “WHO THE FUCK PEED ALL OVER THE WALL!?” Me, with my back turned to the world, as I wash my hands, assume it’s some guy joking because I obviously didn’t peed on the wall 13 feet in the air. So I jokingly raised my hand, and said “yeeeeeep, I peed alllllll over the wall!” (in a sarcastic drunk voice).  Just then, Muscle Mcgee secrurity guard reaches over and smashes my beer into the garbage, and informs me “It’s time to go”. At this point I STLL think he’s joking because I mean come on, does he really think I used my 46 since inch vertical and THEN peed on the wall!?

I comply because in my drunk stooper, I assume for some reason he’s going to escort me out of the bathroom and say “Just kidding! I know you didn’t pee on on the roof! Thanks for coming in, always a pleasure to see you. Have you lost weight??” Turns out he didn’t say any of that. In fact, it finally occurred to me “OH shit, he’s not joking, I’m being kicked out”. This is at the point I’m being shoved through the dance floor with flash lights being shined in my face, to help guide me out. I try to explain to him the silly mix up of how it’s not pee, it’s beer, but it’s way too loud. I get outside, see the line queued up to get in, I try and plead my case one more time. The last thing I remembered yelling at him was “BUT…but… I’m the Designated Driver, you can’t kick me out!?” He didn’t even respond. He just stared. I was obviously drunk, obviously not the DD, and obviously defeated by the super genius bouncers at the door. I walked away laughing at the ridiculousness that just occurred, walked to a friends house where I called it a night.
And that’s how you get kicked out of Moondoggies for doing nothing. Well, almost thing.

p.s.
I er um actually need a date for a wedding this Saturday (April 4th) …..if that story about being kicked out of a bar didn’t deter you, please let me know. It’s Saturday night….Steve@SingleSteve.com OR if you know my real facebook or gmail….. But seriously, I need a date and I promise you a fun time.

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How Not to Get an Online Date

Online dating shenanigans continue. I’m 2 months away from Dr. Phil confirming the fact that I am incapable of finding “someone special” in the first 6 months of my match.com experience. What a dick. At least I’ll get 6 more embarrassing months for free? Fml. Fuck my “someone special”, I would settle for just a date at this point. I haven’t even been on one date, NOT ONE, in the last 4 months of paying 24.99 per month. Really? Apparently I’m Shrek. That’s fine. I mean I don’t pretend to be Johnny Handsom-pants, in fact I know I’m not. That’s why I’ve had to developed my other “attractiveness” characteristics. Like being funny….. and a ninja. Girls still find these attractive, right?

I’m also doing okcupid.com which is a free online dating website, don’t worry, I haven’t been on any dates from there either. Maybe I’m just a bad online dater? Below is a hilarious example of an actual email chain I had with a girl from okcupid.com. It’s not typical of my communications of online dating, but I’m glad I did it.

Scenario:

I do my browsing (creep sweeps) of  profiles of girls that meet my “match”, I do a quick visual analysis of the profile picture and from there I make the decision of whether or not I’m going to continue and open up her profile. If you’re thinking to yourself “that’s pretty shallow Steven…”, fuck your couch. You’d be lying if you thought physical attractiveness wasn’t initially important. No one says from across the bar “Man, that guy looks funny, I’m going to go talk to him”. No one.

Anyways, I do my shallow Hal analysis and then proceed to her profile. Below is a said example, girl is super hotness in thumbnail sized pic, so I proceed to her profile.
Below is a snap shot of the first part of her profile.

I blurred some of the words to make her look more like a jerk than she actually is. It helps me build a case empathy of my feelings towards her, stay with me. My analysis of her profile is she comes off as “tool cool for school”, if people even still say that. She’s attractive and is doing online dating, so she pretty much holds all the cards, unfortunately. She can be a jerk and still get guys winking at her. She must get a million emails from tool bags, starting with the words “Hey Sexy”, so I can understand her defensiveness of online dating tools.

I’m realistic, I realize my chances are probably about a 3 percent chance she’ll respond to any email I send, so I shoot her a short, concise, non serious, half joking, not expecting a response, email.

Yep. That just happened. Ha! I’m not sure what got into me. I’m never a jerk on online dating, not even when I get the “please stop winking at me” automated emails from match.com

Maybe I was just so surprised she responded? I mean she pretty much set herself up for that old “hope you get hit by a bus” gag.  Needless to say we didn’t fall in love.

That’s how not to get a date from online dating.

Also it looks like according to the little voting thing I have on the left hand side of this blog that people want me to write about Craig’s list? Is this true? I have a couple hundred “hits” a day, but only 27 votes. Let me know what you jerks want.  kisses.

The Most Important Single Steve blog You Will EVER Read. EVER.

There it is. I’ve officially back posted all of my old blogs from myspace to this blog. You know what that means!? That means new blogs, from me, to you. You might be wondering “Steven, why did you start a new blog anyways?” or “Why is your face covered up in pictures of you on this blog?” or maybe even “Why SingleSteve.com? Don’t you think it’s a little much?”

First of all, stop asking so many questions. It’s really fucking annoying. Secondly, I appreciate your inquisitive nature, it’s actually the reason I’ve brought you here. To The Most important Single Steve Blog You will EVER Read.

So here’s the thing, I like writing these blogs of ridiculousness as much as you enjoy reading them. I do. But the thing is, I need to separate Single Steve from Real Life Steve, if that make sense. Stay with me on this: Single Steve and Real Life Steve are the same person, but Real Life Steve can no longer be associated with Single Steve. It’s like that time you were hooking up with that fat chick, you would pretend not to know her in public in front of all your friends, but as soon as you got drunk and no one was around, you couldn’t wait to make love to one of her folds. It’s like that.

I mean, it’s not that I’m embarrassed of anything Single Steve does, or Single Steve does anything illegal, it’s just that, well let’s be honest, sometimes Single Steve can be kind of a jerk. Sometimes Single Steve likes to go out and drink until he wakes up with carne asada in his pockets, sometimes he likes to not hook up with girls from online dating, and sometimes to make himself feel better, he makes fun of losers on Craig’s List. Sometimes.

And then there’s this Real Life Steve, who has a great engineering job, is in school for his MBA, coaches a basketball team, is a big brother for big brother big sisters, is president of a 35k a year non profit organization here in San Diego, and a bunch of other yada yada’s. I mean, not to toot my own horn, but this Real Life Steve sounds like he’s got some good ish going.

So my goal is to disassociate this jackass Single Steve with Real Life Steve. When you do a google search on Real Life Steve, I want it to return responsible adult stuff, not about the time I punted my camera into the ocean in drunken excitement. And likewise when you google search for “online dating sucks single humor big wang” I want it to return everything ever written by Single Steve.

I’ve been having more and more of these occurrences where I realize there is a need for a separation of these two. An example:

I was in the work cafeteria checking out what they had going on for food that day, I saw they had corned beef. I saw a co-worker in line, actually I guess I don’t need to mention that she was a co-worker since we were at the work cafeteria, but I digress, I did my analysis of the corned beef situation and thought it was a little too Irish (yeah I’m a racist) for me. So I casually mention to my friend who’s in line to get some of this delicious Irish treat, “umm Looks a little sketchy, I think I’m going to pass.” Her response? “What!? You woke up with carne asada in your pockets, and you won’t even try corned beef!?” . Really!? At this point I’m trying play it off, be Mr. Cool Pants,  like I have no idea what she’s talking about in such a LOUD tone at the WORK cafeteria, in case one of the bobs from management might of heard her comments. “psssh, who me? Carne asada in or around my pockets? That’s ridiculous”. Really Shannon Connell (yeah I’m calling her out)!? You’re going to hold the fact that I may or may not have woken up with chunks of meat in my pocket over my head because I don’t want to eat corned beef!? I mean, granted, Shannon and I are both peons at this company and it doesn’t really matter if she knows that Single Steve is actually Real Life Steve. But I would hate to be in a meeting with “The Bobs” from upper management and I just suggested this awesome engineering idea to them, but then they come back with “aren’t you that guy that got kicked out of Moondoggies for pee-ing dos equis 12 feet into the air, onto the bathroom wall? (that blogs to come, get excited)”. So yeah, I need to separate Real Life Steve from Single Steve.

This is actually a great thing for you, the readers. Since Single Steve is not associated with Real Life Steve, I won’t be as timid or hold back some of my funny jerkness. Subjects won’t be as taboo, I can write unrestricted not having to worry about whether or not Real Life Steve is losing street cred.

But you’re thinking, “I already know Real Life Steven, how can I not associated him with Single Steve?”. You’re an idiot. There I said it. I mean, good question. For a selected few, you will get the benefit of knowing both Steve’s. Just try not to F him over by announcing to everyone in the work cafeteria that he may or may not have tried to hook up with a run away homeless girl. Let’s just keep that between you and me.

I’m going to stop posting links (I think?) on my facebook for new blogs, so it’s now up to you jerks to check back frequently. You can do what other cyber nerds do and subscribe to the RSS feed, or this email thing.

ALSO, let’s be honest. I’m not doing this blog for any type of monetary gain. I’m doing this blog because I like writing funny ish and I like knowing that someone somewhere is laughing at something I’ve written. So tell your friends about this funny thing you read once on this guys website, and point them in this direction. I’ve seen facebook statuses, re-post on other people’s blog sites, yell it in a crowded room, I don’t care what it is, just tell your friends. I’m going to make a new page for the “My people” basically my way of high lighting readers who promote the blog. It’s your chance to get photoshopped with me on the moon, or might just make fun of you. Either way your face is going to be on a website, which is check by over 4 people a day, so it’s kind of a big deal.

Also if you have any friends with low self esteem who like hilarious Mexican engineers, send them my way. I’m just kidding. But seriously, if you know any girls like that, please let me know. Steve@singlesteve.com

I have a few blogs, I’m going to be posting soon. Just wanted to get the dust settled after I posted all of the old blogs. Thanks for reading!

Just Craigslist

*I’m not a jerk. I just play one in these blogs.

Just Craig’s List.
No online dating shenanigans.
No hilarious story of why I’m single.
Just Craig’s List.

Girls, don’t date guys on Craigslist….

I don’t even know how to break this up since the jerk doesn’t use a single period. But I’m going try….

“late blooer looking 4 erly bloomer”
Nice title genius! I don’t understand. I don’t understand how he couldn’t take 2.3 seconds to read it and correct the spelling. I mean the words get underlined in red, RED, TELLING YOU something is wrong. The red DOES NOT mean “yes, rocket scientist, all the words all spelled correctly, please proceed with your posting”. I’m just saying.

“hay Grails , iam Edgar one of kind man”
Not sure why he starts out by calling everyone “Grails”, but I like how he capitalized it to show you just how serious he is about getting laid. That’s right ladies heis Edgar, spaces mean nothingtohim and they shouldn’t toyou.

“i mean that in real way lets just say that my bite is far less then my bark”
I think this means he has brain damage. And not the good kind

“iam looking for a personal lover /businessowner/420 not imported to me”
I understand that your looking for a personal lover. Okay fine. Where you lost me was at the point where you don’t care is she’s a business owner or is 420 friendly….What!? I get 420 stuff, but a owning your own business!? For all you ladies out there that might be interested but don’t own your own business, don’t worry! He doesn’t care!! Personally, I only date girls that have their own businesses. I guess my standards are a little higher than most…..what!? Really??

“more 4 me /beyond that i love to cook , no lets just say that i will due the cooking , u must like to go running ok , i run late in to the nite and every chance i get, beside that i like it quite iam a alpha male self made”
Ugh. If this guy get’s laid, I’m going gay.

I have a few more, but I’ll leave some more for another day.

I’m “too awesome” to date!?

**************Old blog, back posting***********
November 25th, 2008
Have you ever been told “you’re too awesome to date”?
Well I have, and it’s “awesome!!” But that’s hook line to get you excited about the blog. I’ll talk about being “too awesome” much later.

You’ll probably want to read this blog first, so this blog makes more sense.

Updates!!! As you can imagine and I’m sure you were hoping (dicks), online dating is going AMAZING!!! Oh wait, did I say amazing, I meant please kill me it’s probably going worst than it ever was before.
Per suggestion of you wonderful people, I made an account with www.okcupid.com, it’s a pretty cool free dating website. I took some feedback of everyone and made my profile super duper awesome. Right? Maybe not.
I’ve optimistically had my profile up for about a month a half, I’ve “woo-ed” some people, which is like poking on facebook or winking on match.com. I’ve even sent out a few messages. But no dice. I think in the month and half, I’ve sent out about 40 woo-s, which a return rate of 2. BOTH of two were friends that I ran into on this website, so I don’t think they count…. And I have not once gotten an initial message from a girl, only response messages.  Eh, I don’t care too much about it. THE INTERESTING part is the fake profile I made up about five days ago. Let me introduce you to San Diego Sam:

Within the FIVE F-ING DAYS of making a profile, he has gotten several emails, several woos, and several IM’s. It’s actually REAL fucking annoying when I’m editing this fake douche bags profile, I’ll get IM’s from random hood rats hollering at him. I’m not jealous, it’s actually what I kind of expected. The response is just much greater than I was expecting so soon.

So I thought I would get serious with it and move my game up to match.com. So, like a chump, I am now paying 20 some odd dollars a month to continue the embarrassing process. At first when I was doing my searches I was really selective. Only searching based on certain ages, heights, eye colors, etc.  I would do my search, read all the profiles in depth, if I thought her and I were a suitable match, I would wink, maybe even send them a email. I was noticing a really low return rate of emails and winks, a rate of about zero point zero percent. No worries. No need to freak, I thought I was just being to picky, too selective. So I widen my search criteria, bigger age range, various heights, weights, eye colors, yada yada. Still not getting such a great response, until finally, as it stands now. If you live within 30 miles of San Diego and are between the ages of 18 and 30, there’s a 94 percent chance I’ve winked at you.
I now search for everyone on planet earth.

I don’t even read profiles anymore! I mean what’s the use, why would I spend 5-10 minutes reading and analyzing a persons profile, wondering how awesome we could be together, when there’s a 3 percent chance she’ll even respond back. It’s a numbers game now. I figure if I wink/message the greater San Diego, someone out there has to slip up and respond back. I’m not as negative as I seem, but I’m not optimistic about finding anyone online either. Eh. Well see….

You’re too awesome to date….
Have you ever been told this? I have. It’s not as awesome as you would think.
Back story:
Meet this person through a friend of a friends. She’s fantastic. Pretty, witty, smart, sarcastic, yada yada. We’ve hung out a few times, nothing date like, but we always have had a blast together. She’s the type of person where you don’t know if you want to kiss her or stab her, it’s great. Not that we have kissed, or gotten anywhere close, I’m just saying. That’s the kind of interaction I want with my future “mate”, where her wit, humor and sarcasm are keeping me on my feet. It’s keeps life interesting. Ya know. ANYWAYS. So at some point I proposed the question…. “so am I going down the BFF path or the someone you might potential date at some point in your life path?” Literally. Verbatim. The response was BFF path (SWING AND A MISS!!) Which I’m completely fine with and almost expected. I think her and I have a great interaction, and will be these fantastic friends.

It came up through later conversations that she thought “I was too awesome to date”. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!? WHAT does that even mean? Too awesome? Is there such a thing?
Is this more girl code for something? I’ve never heard this one before. I’ve done some decoding of girl speak before:

But never have I ever heard of someone being “too awesome”. Can someone decode this for me? What does she actually mean?
I mean sure, there’s a chance I actually am awesome. But can one be “too awesome to date”. Maybe I should tone down my awesomeness?

Next blog is going to be pure Craig’s List funny. Look for that soon.
Why don’t you jerks comment anymore?

*****
I know it sounds like I’m negative nancy pants about life, but I’m really not. Real life goes great. Work, School, Social and Community ish are all going FANTASTICALLY. Now if I could just…..

Decision 2008

**************Old blog, back posting***********
September 25th, 2008

A while ago, I asked you, the blog reader to help me make a critical decision in my life. How should I go about finding dates.

The results are in, the votes have been tallied and it’s official. You fail.You, the blog readers, are completely worthless when it comes to helping me decide critical decisions in my life. I mean you guys are great, and I appreciate you reading this blog and yada yada yada, but if you ever took a multiple choice test there a 95 percent chance you would fail. I’m just saying. Alright, fine. Thanks for voting it really means a lot to me, blah blah blah. But look esse when life gives you an A or B or C option, you can’t f-ing pick option “A, B and C” or “join the navy” or option “Singles Ad in the back of the newspaper”, to name a few of the response.

But actually though I only gave you options to pick eharmony, match or real life, I appreciate the alternative solutions. Below are the results:

As you can tell there were a slew of different options. With real life, match.com and eharmony topping the list.

*math side note – I did an ANOVA analysis on the data and since the sample size was not big enough, it can not be determined that any option is more statistically significant than the other. The F statistic was outside of the bounds of Fcritical. SO BASICALLY that means, no option can picked with over a 95 percent confidence as the most dominate answer. (If you know what this means, I’m sorry)

I’ll go through a few of the your possible options as to determine its value to my dating life.

I think I’ve already done an extensive analysis of match.com and eharmony.com. But both have proven to be worthless, but ironically expensive.

So here’s what I’m thinking, I looked at the website okcupid.com and it doesn’t seem half bad. I think this is going to be my starting point of my online embarrassing journey. This website seems to be a free version of match.com, but then that leads into the question:
Are the girls on a free dating website as good of quality of those on a paid website?

Just because girls don’t want to throw down 19.99 a month to online date, does that mean they wont be as good as the girls that don’t pay anything. Hmmmm. What are your thoughts on this? Is the 19.99 a month fee really a filter between good girls and great girls?

Well I’m going to do okcupid.com as a practice profile before I jump into the big leagues of match.com.

I’ve also decided I’m going to do a alternate profile to expose online dating for all it’s awesomeness. I’m going to make a profile of a good looking uneducated unemployed loser, and see how his profile goes vs mine. I’m SOOO excited and you should be too. Is that to cruel to girls who might actually be attempting to date this guy? I don’t think so. YES! Yeah, how creepy am I. Shut your face, you’re going to love it. This will be the ONLINE DATING CHALLNEGE! Who will get more profile views, more messages, more poon? Me or a fake profile I make up! Only time will tell. You would think I have nothing better to do with my time, but I’m actually the worlds busiest man.

You should hear me cackling like mad scientist in excitement to see how this turns out.
Leave some comments, or I’ll make the fake profile with your picture.

Also. Tell your friends (AKA attractive girls that like funny Mexicans) about this blog. It’s the least you can do. Well actually the least you can do is nothing, but don’t be a jerk. Seriously.

I used to be cool?

********Old blog, back posting, September 25, 2008 *********

So I used to be cool, well maybe I wasn’t cool, but I at least wasn’t super uncool. This harsh cold reality hit me today while I was walking to class at SDSU. I have two classes, twice a week, in the afternoons at SDSU, so twice a week I leave work a little early and head straight to campus. At work I dress like a tool, it’s true. My company has a relaxed corporate culture and I can come to work dressed how ever I want, but typically I dress a little more up, than down. This is just my own philosophy, you know dress for the job you want not the job you have, yada yada. That’s not the point of this story, the point is I’m a tool and dress like a tool. So I head down to campus twice a week dressed like I might have a job, or at least a job interview, and have little to no interaction with students. I walk straight to class, and straight to the parking lot after. On today’s journey to class from the parking lot to my class I had a particular interaction that made me realize, that I might have just become “that guy” on campus. You all know who I’m talking about, that old guy who wear slacks to class, and instead of a cool patched up back pack he has a laptop bag, and definitely doesn’t look like he’s going down to the quad to chill with this dorm wing friends. Yeah that guy.I kind of got that hint today. Scene: You know that sad emo kid that finds the one narrow walk way on your campus that you have to pass through to get to class, who stands awkwardly in the middle and starts passing out fliers to come watch his shitty Alt rock band play at some dive bar. Or it could be political, religious or sometimes it’s just some dude passing out flyers with some half naked chick on it, like he’s even ever made eye contact with a chick that hot.

So yeah there was one of those guys out, blocking a pathway, passing out some type of flier. Based on the way he was dressed, my guess was it was to come watch his band play or something equally as lame. I’m always curious about things and will always take a hand out, even if I’m going to throw it away 6 feet later. I walk closer, making pseudo eye contact, as to fake an interest, slightly raise my right hand to make the transaction easier for the emo guitar player, when he takes one look at me, eye contact is made, he raises one eyebrow and does a 47 degree turn to his left as to avoid handing me a flier. WHAT!? Really!? Was it my dockers? Was it my tucked in shirt? Was it because I smelt like I wore deodorant? Either way I nearly cried at what I had become. Maybe I should keep a pair of gym shorts and frat t-shirt in my car, so I can change on the way to class. I’m not actually upset that dude didn’t think I met his criteria of cool to be worthy of a flier, it’s just more the fact that he made such an effort to avoid me. Eh.

Speaking of the way people dress on campus …..there’s no easy way to say this, I’m just going to come out and say it, I think SDSU has some the whoriest dressed girls I’ve ever seen in my life. AND I went to school at the University of Arizona, which has a reputation for hot girls. But when I walk around campus at SDSU I feel like I need to stare at the ground as to not be that creep that’s staring at the girls butt hanging out of her little sisters miniskirt, or glaring at a girl wondering why I can see through her shirt. I mean, I wasn’t walking through some hot Vegas club, where one might expect to see such radically whorish girls, this was a straight shot from my car to the classroom. I also saw some other ridiculous fashions, seen below:

(I apologize in advance if you wear any of these things. We can still be friends?)

I guess this one is called the Bubble dress? I don’t know, I mean I know this can look really really good. But it must have been I saw the three ladies on campus that made it look really really bad. Diaper or dress? Garbage bag or dress? You be the judge.

I don’t want to walk around campus counting the change in the pockets of whores. Though it would be a fun game to pass the time as I walk to campus, but it might get a little awkward when I start sticking my hands up their shorts. Can they not find shorts that come in adult sizes? I’m not saying this style isn’t “hot”, I’m just saying it’s a bit much for 3:15 in the afternoon on a Monday. And I’m not even saying I wish girls didn’t dress like hoes on campus, but I’m always judging, watching, judging. I see these hoes, stare for a bit, then have a good chuckle at how ridiculous they look, then continue to stare at the ground on my path to class.

Maybe I did become that old guy on campus? I mean who complains girls are wearing too little?
Here’s another blog about SDSU fashions…

Leave comments. Seriously though.

And join this group.

Are you going to be awkward?

I was in long debate as to whether or not I was going to write something about this, but decided, what the hell. Actually I jokingly said to the girl that this is kind of about that I was going to write a blog about this, and she insisted that I did. Hmmmm…. Maybe it’s one of those girl traps? Where they say “Yeah honey, I don’t care if we watch ‘3 ninjas’ instead of ‘P.S. I love you’, why don’t you pick”. When they actually mean, ” If you fucking pick the movie with 3 ninja kids named Rocky, Tum Tum and Colt, I’m going to spit into your mouth tonight while you’re sleeping”.

This big debate was because I’m pretty sure in me writing this blog, is going to in turn “C” block myself. It’s not that I’m even writing anything bad or negative about this person, in fact I have nothing but great things to say. It’s just that I’m an honest person, and even more so in my blogs. So when I sit down to write I’m not really sure what’s going to come out, and I’m concerned that the stuff that might come out might set off some red flags for this person if they were to read the blog. But then again, maybe it would be good if something she read did set off a flag because that’s how it actually is, that’s the truth. You follow what I’m throwing down?

*for the purposes of this blog I’m going to be real vague so she can keep her anonymity

It’s about an “event” that happened. I say event, because I’m not sure if it was a date or just two friends hanging out. I’m not even sure if I would even know if I was on a date or not. Me, not know if it’s a date or not is completely my fault. I’m real bad at establishing myself as the “dating potential” on their radar, I am however, real good at establishing myself as the “funny non sexual non threatening” friend. It’s what I do. Ask the many girls who are my friends who are not threaten that I would attempt to “do” them. Which is fine, and actually preferred. I’m borderline gay friend for many girls. I’m just saying.

GET TO THE POINT. Fine. I will. Basically I met this girl, kind of randomly at a professional thing. Which I never do. I don’t just meet people. I have never met anyone at bar. Ever. True Story. But I digress, I met this girl, and by meet, I mean I got her first and last name, then facebook stalked her a few weeks later. Pa-tay-toe, Pa-tah-toe.

I could just tell she was a cool chick when she made some reference to “nothing gets between me and my ice cream”, that’s a girl I want to party with.

Yada yada yada, about 5 months later we now email back in forth like little school girls, and I enjoy it. You know it’s all very exciting, that whole getting to know you phase, but I feel like that phase is usually done via these things called “dates”.

This is why I was concern-icous I was rapidly slipping into the super friend zone. Which would be fine, this girl and I would be (are?) great friends. She awesome. In fact she’s so awesome I think her and I would work out dating wise. So we all have list of characteristics we would like our “ideal” person to have right, I’ve got one of those, I guess, and it’s got the generic:
-nice

-funny

-smart

-showers

-yada yada yada

But some items on my list that YOU probably don’t know are:
-never to old for mom jokes, or “that’s what she said”

-must be “busy”

*I’m really busy every day every week, and if I don’t date a girl that’s busy she’ll

just be upset I never have time for her. And usually busy is good, if she’s busy that means she’s doing something with her life.

-I want to be ZING-ed, I want to be put into my place, comically.

- I’ve historically only dated Caucasian girls, but my mom has dreams of little Mexican grand kids. So if I could date a Mexican girl that looks white I think I could combine best of both worlds?

What I’m trying to say is, I like her.

So somehow I got the “courage” to ask her out on a one on one outing. I’m not saying date because one, I did it via text message or email, and two my wording was something to the extent of “we should go exploring this weekend”. Maybe she thought it could be a date?

My intent was to see if we could make a date, but wouldn’t be against just two friends hanging out having a good time.

So picked her up, we went to a fantastic Italian place. Had a great dinner and a good bottle of wine. Conversation at dinner was good, but I felt more reserved than I usually am. A little fun fact: I love public speaking, can talk to a crowd of 100 people with no problem. BUT I have ridiculous difficulties talking to one girl one on one. I stutter, say unfunny things, and I don’t look them in the eyes. I’m intimidated for some reason. I find myself thinking what is this attractive girl doing out with me. It’s a weird self confidence issue. I’m extremely confident in my ability to one day be president of the earth, but weirdly shy about my body, looks and ability to score hot chicks. Luckily the bottle of wine was kicking in.

After dinner we took a stroll down to wine bar just down the way, had another bottle of wine or two? Yeah basically we were both a little drunky town. It was great. I fear I might have over stepped into her bubble, at the point when I started giving martial advice. Say whaaaaaa. This young lady was previous married, now divorced and back in the game. Well I don’t know if she’s back in the game or not. But at some point the conversation turned to what a wreck her marriage was, and I was chiming in giving my two cents, like I know what it’s like to be married. I feel like before this night that issue was a very taboo, don’t talk about it, off limit, personal topic. But that night I was giving her a 12 point list as to why she’s better than the guy she married, and what to do next time. Hahaha! Because I know what to do. Oh booze.

Night was going really good. Walk here to the front door……….. as were making a little kissy faces, things were going great, fantastically in fact, I was just thinking what a great kisser she was, when she pulls away, stares with a blank almost sobering stare, and quietly ask “Are you going to be awkward?”

WHAT!? So I don’t speak “girl”, and I didn’t bring my magic decoder ring with me that night, but what does that mean when that’s the thought that’s going through a girls head while your kissing her in her front door? We do work together professional on some things, so I can see her issue for concern, but it was probably the last thing I was thinking at that moment in time. So with out thinking I respond with “pshhhhh me?? Awkward? No way. Are YOU going to be awkward?” Without letting her respond I immediately started kissing her again. Night ended well. A little more drunky pants than I was expecting, but a great time none the less. Hoping to do it again?

What are your thoughts?
Maybe I over analyzed the situation, but thats fine. I’m optimistic, but I always am.

Laundry Pimp

I’m a grown up, it’s true, and part of being a grown up is doing your own laundry. I have the misfortune of not having a washer and dryer in my place, so I have to go down to the laundry mat about a block away and fight with the rest of the locals for a working washer and dryer. This place looks like it was the latest and greatest technology that washing clothes had to offer, in 1976. This place sucks. Big time. Nothing ever works, it smells like hobo urine, and there’s an 80 percent chance the flickering light in the corner will cause you to have an epileptic seizure. But, I can deal with those things. The MOST concerning thing about this laundry mat, is the Shady Mcshady-ington characters it attracts.

Maybe this is just my laundry mat fantasy, but let know if you’ve dreamt of something similar:
You take a friendly stroll down to the local laundry mat, you walk in with your bag of dirty clothes, set your clothes down and start loading clothes into your machine. In walks an attractive looking girl, she sets her bag of lingerie and underwear down at the machine across from you, your eyes meet from across the spin dry dials, you open your mouth with some clever joke about washing machines, she laughs cutely and it’s love from there.

I mean who doesn’t want to meet a pretty girl while doing laundry?

In reality, I walk into the dank Laundry mat, have to jump over the sleeping homeless man in the doorway, then continue to try every washing machine until I find one that works. I’ve only seen 45 year old plus males in there, and it never looks like they’re even doing laundry. It’s like they’re just they’re hanging out, ready to steal my clothes the moment I walk out. My routine is, come in, put my clothes in a working washing machine, walk back to my house, come back 32 minutes later to put my washed clothes in the dryers, walk back to my house, come back 36 minutes to pick up my dry clothes.

This method reduces my chances of making eye contact with the bums sleeping on the counters, though it increases my odds of my clothes being stolen by them. Catch 22, but worth it.

About two weeks ago, the strangest thing happened. Sometime between my escape of dropping off my clothes and 32 minutes later of returning to throw them into the dryer, an attractive normal looking female about my age showed up and was doing laundry. She was wearing an SDSU shirt, indicating she was either in college, or knew what college was. Either way she didn’t look homeless and didn’t look like she wanted to steal my clothes. I think she’s the one. Me, kind of shocked of the situation, did what I do best when it comes to girls: be overly awkward. Instead of making eye contact and greeting her with a smile, I stared at my knees and did that thing where you walk real stiff and quick like your power walking. Not sure why I actually go into this mode, but it’s kind of a panic mode. Like I think she’s going to be impressed with my ability stiffly smash my clothes into a dryer with my eyes locked on staring at my knees. Right? After the initial shock of a girl being in the laundry mat, I regained composure and got a hold of myself. I finished putting my clothes into the dryer and had a burst of confidence. Today is the day. Today is the day I meet a girl outside of work. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends, I have the best group of friends a “grown up” could ask for, but for the most part they are all co-workers. Which is fine, but I’ve heard myths about meeting people outside your social circle of co-workers, I thought this could be one of those times.
So Instead of doing my usually dump and run, I decided to take a seat and wait out the next 36 minutes of the dry cycle to see if I could meet this girl. Not really sure what my game plan was, since it’s not really my style to just start talking to girl I don’t know, at a bar or laundry mat.
So I sat down, and started to formulate a plan. This is when I realized I had nothing to do for next 36 minutes except stare off into space. I didn’t plan on staying so I didn’t bring anything to “do”. FUCK. And it turns out attempting to just sit there and act “cool” actually makes you look like your just as creepy as the homeless guy sleeping at her feet. It’s like when you get into an elevator with people you don’t know and it’s that super awkward silence as you all stare at the numbers as the elevator, that blank stare at the numbers like you actually care what floor the elevators on. Yeah, that look. So I’m doing “that look” at this sign that says “No Refunds”, so at this point she either thinks I read at a 2^nd grade level because I’ve been staring at this sign for several minutes with only two words or I can’t read at all. Either way, I’m on her radar!

As I’m staring at the “No Refunds” sign, I start going over various scenarios in my head. Scenarios of how the conversation will start, how I jump in with some witty and hilarious comment, and then how we ride off into the sunset on white stallions.
I’m a great conversationalist (I think?), love making people laugh and yada yada, but I’m TERRIBLE at the initial “Hi, my name is Steven I’m not a creep and I would like to talk to you” line.

At some point during one of my dream sequences, she looks up over her book and we make eye contact. She smiles, opens her mouth and says “Hi”.

THIS WAS IT. My IN, she wasn’t completely creeped out by inability to read laundry signs, she said hello to ME. After all the scenarios had run through my head I knew exactly what to say, this was my time to shine, be funny, witty and interested.

I took a swallow of air, took a deep breathe, opened my mouth, and out came something that sounds like a Chewbacca war cry. FUUUUUUCK. Really!? I think I tried to say hello, but then I think I also tried to say 6 words at once, it just came out as an awkward yell.
She politely and soft spokenly said “what?”, I wonder if this was a “what? What did you say? I didn’t hear you attractive sir” what or if it was a “what??? Why the fuck did you just bark at me!?” what. 

I somehow managed to squeeze out a hello, after my Chewbacca cry, but it seemed like the room started to spin and heat up to at least 124 degrees. I figured that was my cue to leave and head home for the remaining 26 minutes to wait for my clothes to dry.

I returned 26 minutes later, did that whole stiff as a board staring at my knees technique to unload my clothes, did the eye brow raise to my new laundry mat friend and headed home.

Yep true story. I’m a lady killer, watch out.