the shameful tales of a happily single

ffffound!

I had met The Anti-Smoker Smoker (ASS, if you will) speed dating. He was easily the cutest one there, and well, I was excited when we were matched.

Our first date was fun. I got a little too drunk, and he seemed a lot more fun than he actually was.

Now, you have to understand that I am very upfront about who I am to my dates. I get the whole cursing, drinking, smoking, un-domestic disclaimer out of the way early. I don’t want to like a guy that isn’t going to like me back. That sucks ass.

So early on in date #1 I informed ASS that I smoke. He was ok with this, and by the end of the evening, ended up having a couple of ciggies himself.

Date #2 was good, but I began to see that this was definitely not the guy for me. It didn’t help that pictures of him from college looked exactly like a wretched ex of mine.

In between the dates, I had told several of my friends that he’s nice and all, but I wasn’t into him and didn’t want to hang out with him again. They convinced me – every god damn one of them – to give him another shot. That maybe he was just nervous or something, and that our fun first date warranted another go.

It really didn’t.

Date #3 was about a week later. It started off horribly, and ended horribly, and was just, well, horrible.

After walking to his place from my work, in high heels, he wasn’t ready to have me over. In fact, I waited in the park outside his apartment, smoked a joint and complained about him to my friend.

At one point, he took the chips away from me saying I ‘would ruin my dinner’. Um, you are not my dad, please shut up.

As the night progressed and I continued to be annoyed by everything he said, I felt it appropriate to get ridiculously drunk and insult his friends.

No big deal. I didn’t like him anyways.

I was being an adult and waiting for him to get back from a trip to end this in person. When, two days after he returned from his trip, I received an email that read something like this:

I tried to get over the fact you smoked. I can’t. This is over. Please don’t think I’m a coward for doing this via email.

Um, that is the sound of me getting dumped. Via email. By a boy I didn’t like.

UGH!

And no, I don’t think you are a coward. I think you are a pansy-ass little boy that is scared of a girl.

So, I guess that means I do think you’re a coward. Nevermind. My bad.