Average Joe

It was Tuesday Night, and the Firefighter had just backed out on our first date due to personal reasons. I promise they're legit, but if I go much further than that, someone might guess who he is, and I don't want that to happen, because I like a certain level of anonymity for the guys, except SexyFace - everyone needs to know who he is!

Anyway!

After deciding not to shower because the date wasn't going to happen, I hopped onto Plenty of Fish, "POF," and proceeded to cheer myself up with bad messages. I love them. Most of the guys that message me on there are bizarre, interesting creatures, who really have something going for them, but it's not their writing style.

I soon dispatched the new unread messages and between watching Season Seven of Frasier and eating my cookie in a mug (SO GOOD - put two cookie size chunks of cookie dough, in a mug. Then stick in a 900Watt microwave for about 20/25 seconds), I started to click through the new users on POF.

About halfway down the page this beautiful man was staring back at me. Peering into the reaches of my soul, and I had to have him in my life. He was like a more manly version of Gerard Butler, and who doesn't like looking at Gerry?

YUM! 

I clicked favorite! Then I debated my decision. How childish you're being, LoRo. Just send the guy a message. He seems so sweet in his profile, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind.  So I unfavorited him and clicked send a message!

After about 20 seconds of laboring over what to put in the message, my email dinged!

I checked it, because I compulsively check my email, but seldom actually read them.

Guess who messaged me.

Him. Yes. Him!

Needless to say I was giddy 7 ways from Sunday, and we exchanged a few messages, before I agreed to have coffee with him.

As the time for the date was drawing nearer, my nervousness was skyrocketing. My heart was racing. Hands shaking. And my body couldn't stand still.

And as he walked up to the coffee shop, his towering frame looked like a dream walking towards me.

"That's a man," I thought.

Until he got a foot away from me.

For the first time in my entire history of online dating. He looked better in his pictures.

Just this past month, I went out on a date with TheFootballCoach, and the goofy ass smile in his pictures turned into pure gold when it was inches from my face.

The Masseuse I dated exactly a year ago, had went from drab to fab in his exchange from internet potential to flesh and bones reality.

And the guy I call, Man, had looked all too rough around the edges in his own set of POF photos, but when he dismounted from his motorcycle, and approached me helmet in hand, it was like looking at my very own James Dean with better hair and gorgeous eyes, aka, straight sex-on-a-stick.

Average Joe was none of these. What had appeared to me as stoic photos featuring his beautiful eyes, turned out to be the man's best face.

I'm not saying he's horribly unattractive, but I am saying he was not the beautiful man I was expecting.

In fact, this guy whom a friend had called a reject from the Brawny Man auditions a few mere hours before, was just that.

My body language probably let him know how disappointed I was. That, or the fact that for the next 3 1/2 hours I disassembled my coffee'cuzi into several nests of paper growing larger with each disappointing fact that popped out of his mouth.

Do you know how difficult it is to convince a normal person that you creating little nests of brown paper is something you just do, all the time. That they don't need to worry about it. That you just have a compulsion to DO something with your hands... yeah, he didn't believe it either.

He broke nearly every first date rule, which for the most part I could care less about, but I think we spent 30 minutes talking about his ex-girlfriend, who use to live with him, who was cheating on him, who essentially used the poor bugger, but it's not my place to tell him he did a shitty job picking her out of the crowd. So I smiled and nodded and tried to direct the conversation back to his sister or his parents, but he seemed unwilling to talk about them, so back to the ex-gf conversation we went.

I let the ex-gf talk run it's course, but the poor Average Joe probably has already run his course in my life.

My mom called me after the date as I was driving home from the grocery store, and I told her about him, and she said, "LoRo, what did you expect? You're a college graduate with an insane propensity for gaining knowledge and random facts. You just told me he hates reading and books and didn't go to school. How long do you figure it's gonna last?"

"Good point, Mom, Good point."

On to the next one!

The Bad and the Ugly, OkCupid

Some of my most favorite messages I've received from the OkCupid. These are the messages in their entirety, names may be changed to protect them from embarrassment.

So that some of these make sense, you'll need to know that my profile features a picture of me shooting a gun, talking about my love of semi-colons, and a horrific gumbo making experience where I melted a spoon into the food and then ate it. As for what I ask of the men folk - I want them to look like lumberjacks, not have girlfriends, and since I dislike chasing men they have to chase me. (It's the little things really).

The regular writing is the message, anything in italics is my opinion...
-----

http://style.org/unladenswallow/

Wow, too cool, but I hate math and stopped reading when it got technical. 
-----

I too like semi-colons (he said not using a semi-colon...)


... Who refers to themselves in third person while trying to impress a girl, she pondered. 
-----


hey,so its really funny that you like austin grill. i know you were one of the many people in Bethesda that was mad that it closed in the area. funny that you go all the way to DC when theres one in Silver Spring. I only tease you about it bc i work at the one in Silver Spring. Also feel like you about the Eagles being a disappointment


Free salsa? Yes? Please? Thank you! 
-----


Just a small time girl living in a lonely world, She took the midnight train to dc and then she found me


This stopped being cute when you got the lyrics wrong. ALSO metro seldom runs past midnight... 
-----


Have to admit, I'm a bit curious about your fascination with men who chop wood. I know the perfect man for you though, he was 10 when I taught him to swing an axe. You'll just have to wait a few years, because it wasn't that long ago :p 


Are you encouraging pedophilia?! 
-----


haha, you ate plastic gumbo. wow. You seem neat. Im neat. We should meet. wow that was corny...!!!
-----


hey i have a question for you I noticed you viewed my page but didnt say anything, can u tell me what turned u off about it if you dont mind, oh and u being able to shoot does make u awesome


Do not send these messages. Just DON'T. 
-----


"if you want me, come get me" Priceless! What's your name? I wouldn't mind chasing you down the rabbit hole.
-----


You make this chasing thing difficult; I don't really send out messages, because I figure they get buried with dozens of others from 46-year-old married men. Of course, I could just be an incredibly handsome 46-year-old man who lies about his age... 
Anyway, you had me at guns and steak. That's refreshing from the average 'I work at so-and-so leftwing nonprofit "saving the world!" and looooove NPR!' ... so, thanks for being from Texas first off. Second, for this lumberjack thing... do I have to start wearing plaid?


You should have started this by attaching a photo of yourself in plaid... bonus points. 
-----


So my friends say I move too fast but I'm going to go on a limb here... will you marry me? Shoot... I meant to say hi :)


This never works... unless I'm drunk. 
-----


Hey There, 

Your gumbo story made me laugh, probably more than it should have. I haven't made gumbo from scratch in awhile but I make a mean shrimp/sausage gumbo. The real question is, do you like Okra or not? 
Anyway, a bit more about me... 
... (This went on for 750 more words... I checked)... 
Hope to hear from you soon, 
Guy


An essay? You send me an essay?
-----

Hey, you should take down that picture on your profile.


Why?
-----


Howdy! 
Sadly, I'm not a lumberjack. BUT! I do own flannel and I've cut down a tree. So...that counts, right? 
One of my close friends is from Texas. And to be honest, I'm a little scared of her. Actually, come to think of it, she's the only girl to have ever punched me. I'm pretty sure I didn't deserve it... 
I hope all is well with you!
-----


Hello, 
I deeply regret to inform you that you are above and beyond our maximum standards in looks. 
You are clearly a 9/10 and here on OkCupid we only allow 6/10 maximum. 
Your account will be CLOSED unless you reply to this message with your name, favorite flower, how many cheetos you can fit in your mouth at once (just curious), and if you prefer Italian or Chinese take out. 
This message should not be taken lightly as it may anger my boss, Poseiden, lord of the seas. 
Thanks, 
Bob


Points for creativity. However I just had an image of you killing me in my sleep. So no. 
-----


lets see 
can cook gumbo; 
Might pick up a hitchhiker; 
thats okay one extra person to invite to a gumbo dinner party ; 
if it gets out of hand you can point the gun at the hitchhiker and force him to cuddle;
I can tell tall tales too :) and use semicolons!
-----

 You sound like you've got a good mix of modernization and country bumpkin in ya. :P


I like to think so... 
-----


Salutations, on lumberjacks, do you professionals or do you mean just someone whose cut down a tree and chopped it for wood?
-----


Hey I liked your profile and was hoping we could chat. I like that you love pizza. I work for a dominos and can get you all the free pizza you want. Hope that gives me a bonus lol. Hope to hear from you. 


If you had worked at Ledo's we'd already be married. 
-----


I'm 6'3", 240 pounds and I stay in shape by boxing and splitting logs for firewood..so I can sit by my fireplace during winter and drink..and wonder why I don't have a doberman. I look like a lumberjack. First time a woman's asked for that specifically lol. 


You lost me at doberman. . . 
-----


Hey, what's up? Usually, I run the oppossite direction from DC girls, but since your from BethASSda I guess that's some sort of technicality. Anyway, if you'd like to chat sometime hit me up!


There is not a single picture of my ass in my profile... try again. 

Where'd it Go?

I'm not saying I lost my head...
But I am saying I lost my dignity.

Picture it, Thursday night, Dupont Circle on a cool crisp evening, at my Norm bar, Rumors.

After disappearing into the Texas wilderness for a week and a half and the most desperate road sprint of my life, I was meeting up for Happy Hour with my 2 of my oldest DC buddies, who happen to also be men, who happen to also be awesome, we'll call them B&B

When I got downtown at 6:30 they were already a few beers in over at another happy hour. So as I wait, I grab a drink from Tony, who is a new person to me so I don't really know him all that well, and I'm a little bored, so I check some twitter messages and before I know it B&B have hit the scene. Bartender Tony leaves, and Bartender J, whom I ADORE, steps into his place and somewhere between ordering my dinner for the night a big plate of nachos and sleeping on Bills couch later that night. I got how shall we say - inebriated. I'm not talking Sexyface drunk. But I was unnecessarily feeling it on a Thursday night.

Between all the drinks I begin to imbibe, and the limited caloric intake of things that were not liquid... I began to get friendly.

If you've seen me drunk. You've seen me friendly. Me friendly is like a hurricane hitting you in the dead of night. It's not a surprise, but it's not all together something that everyone enjoys or needs or wants or can really handle.

For example, I once introduced two guys to each other... at a fraternity mixer... their own fraternity mixer... where they were both brothers, but I felt that they needed to meet each other... did I mention they were in the same pledge class?

SO back to the story. Rumors is hoppin, and people are everywhere. I'm making eyes at the DJ, who BTW is making them back, I'm dancing with a tall gorgeous black woman, I'm throwing beer bottles into a trash-can egged on by J and the boys, and I'm kissing everyone, EVERYONE, on the cheek. Everyone is also being hugged. J is giving me Starbursts, I'm hiding the Starburst wrappers in matchbooks and putting them back in the matchbook-cup. I'm stock piling straws, and then it's time to go.

No Big Deal. Whatever, but here's where everyone now needs my phone number. Everyone. From J, to the two tall gorgeous black girls, to a chef, to the DJ... (we'll revisit DJ a few paragraphs down).

So we hopped bars. (This was just supposed to be happy hour).

Now at my Bartender's bar, I bebop inside to say "Hi" to him and the Head of Security, because I love him. He doesn't know it. And it's not going to happen, but I do. But here's why it's for sure not happening.

1. TIPS Training.
2. The following event
I rush inside of the bar in a fury, one of the B's on my tail. (B number 2 had departed due to a ridiculous need to be up at the crack of dawn). There is the head of security (from now on known as HOSS) standing at the end of the bar, next to Bartender. Classily, I saunter up, kiss Hoss on the cheek, several times, and introduce him to B. - Normal procedure. I tell Hoss several times that I am going to get water from Bartender. (might have been 12) He tells me "it's not going to happen" I walk over. Bartender kisses me and SURPRISE!!!!! I don't get water. I get two disgusting drinks that made vomit appealing, which I tell him. - Oops... I try desperately to get my flirt on with Hoss, but after just getting an epic kiss from the Bartender... eh, Hoss loses interest and leaves.

After getting my water and dancing and going to the bathroom and running into Hoss again, it's time to leave, but world. I am still in friendly mode. So I give Hoss a big fucking hug, profess my love and adoration, then walk over to Bartender, grab him by the vest. Pull him into me. And say, "When are we going to fucking have those children," before I kiss him with enough passion and desperation that I pop a button off his vest (LITERALLY it popped off and flew into some guy's drink), dishevel the poor man's hair, get the poor man into trouble, and then saunter off to text everyone in my contact list while avoiding B's useless attempts to grab my phone away from me.

Enter next morning.

I'm at B's apartment, sleeping on the couch, just starting to awake when B and his girlfriend come into the living room... and begin to hash out the things I don't remember.

First things first, why was our tab decently expensive... (I'm not talking 5 course dinner expensive, but we had been receiving the bartender special and it seemed a little high) Well here's why - B had partaken of a decent amount of alcohol... and then he reminded me of my intake - 3 Pineapples&Rum, 2 Rum&Cokes, a CherryCoke Shot, Sex with an Alligator, TWO count them TWO purple nerd drinks ALL on a Thursday night... Why two purple nerd drinks? Well let me tell you,

"J, can you make a drink taste like a purple nerd?"
He makes a pensive face and begins pouring. Liqueur is going everywhere, his hands play the bottles like a concert pianist plays the keys, and he brings me a glass full of a bizarre yellow/green liquid.
"J... this isn't purple."
"Taste it!" he says, "It fucking tastes like a purple nerd." To prove his point - he dips a straw into the glass, pulls it out and tastes. "OMFG that tastes like a fucking purple nerd. OMFG I am AMAZING. I am a GODDDDDDDDD!"
I taste and "OMFG that tastes like a fucking purple nerd!" We pass the drink around and indeed my group agrees purple nerd. But here's my problem. I go to Rumors more than I go to some of my best friend's houses. I have had this drink SEVERAL times. The GM Paul (also the best bartender in DC) has made me this drink several times. I love it. I would give up a toe for this drink. Not that anyone wants a toe. But J's drink... was yellow/green... where the GM's is usually purple. And Purple is the color of the drink. And to be fair, in my drunk head I had asked for a purple nerd drink and this one was NOT purple.
Drunk me is not upset, but saddened and confused by this non purple concoction in front of me.

So, I grab my drink saunter to the downstairs bar and say,

"PAUL! PAUL! Look at this drink. Do you know what this is?"
"No"
"Well it's the purple nerd drink Paul," He smiles, shaking his head - he knows this drink all too well "and - and - and well, Jmade it but... but look at it! It's not purple." I plop it on the counter, "I need you to make it purple!"

Well, Paul's a perfectionist. He didn't just add a dash of purple, because apparently bars don't normally have food coloring sitting around, but instead made me a 2nd purple nerd drink. Which... according to the couple sitting at Paul's bar looked amazing, well I had to insist that Sex with an Alligator was more amazing and made Paul make me one of those too... (I really need to tip this man more for dealing with me)

So I brought the 2 nerd drinks up to B&B and insisted they try them... Conclusion: J's version tasted more like a purple nerd, but Paul's was actually purple... So being the good little drinker I am... I drank half of each and poured them together to make the perfect purple nerd drink...

What?
I'm a perfectionist.

I also apparently at one point ran into the kitchen to profess my love to the chef.
I also kissed an awesome actual vampire on the cheek, which - let's be real is totally cool!!! I might have also smacked his ass... very inappropriate.
I made the assistant chef kiss me, and then almost burned his hand on an open fire.

And back to that DJ. I had totally forgotten about this.

I had totally forgotten about him, and had B never mentioned it when I woke up the next morning it would have been gone. As we're leaving I'm digging into my purse like a MAD woman... I've been switching purses back and forth a lot lately so in the bottom I discover my cache of unused business cards which have been sitting in there for MONTHS. These business cards are the bottom of the barrel, I've run out of the classy ones and haven't had time to buy more, business cards. I pull one out. Not walk. Not run. Not slide. I skip to the DJ booth. I grab his gold sheba bracelet, and I place my 2 year old business card into his hands, wink, and say,
"SO like, I really fucking want you to call me later, yeah? yeah? that'd be totes awesome!" (yes drunk me sounds like a 14 year old valley girl).

But wait - it get's better. As I'm walking away from him. I look over my shoulder. WINK, and as my head is turned - ram into some guy holding a drink which goes all over him, which signals to me. RUN AWAY.

All that on top of the text messages that progressively went down hill... as my night went - uphill... so I discovered when I checked my phone the following morning. (side note - omg I'm a horrible person)

Now I realize that this isn't as bad as it could have been. I didn't go streaking. I didn't make out with a random guy on the dance floor. I didn't whore it up in a bathroom stall. I didn't lose any money. I didn't get arrested (THANK GOD - because in my state I would have been handing out my phone number there too!) and I didn't really DO anything that makes me a tragedy in heels, but somewhere in Dupont Circle I lost my dignity, and the emotional hangover is really dragging me down.

Where are you taking me!!!!

Or the Blog where I tell a sad yet funny story about one of my bad decisions, in order for everyone else to learn from my mistakes...

---

It all started with a Kamikaze.

Two years ago, there was a huge bar crawl going down, and my slightly older more bar experienced friends and I, were taking the newly-turned-21, N, out to the bar crawl bars, without being actually part of the crawl. A sub crawl, crawl, if you will.

The first Irish pub was a bust, aside from the ober cheap Long Islands, so we tippied over our saucey selves to the Mardi Gras Bar, paid our cover and sidled to the rail, where we ordered the first round of Kamikazes.

Between the Long Islands and the Kamikazes, which were apparently free courtesy of SexyFace behind the bar, we thoroughly enjoyed our night, which may or may not have included my friend A, yelling at the later to be known as Dicky MacDickerson about how he was dumb and out of our league, all the while a very drunken N kept telling me how cute he was, as I tried to pick up his other friend (I like flirting, shoot me).

So as A and L danced the night away, drunken N, Blair and myself were pounding out drinks courtesy of SexyFace. I can't to this day tell you how many Kamikazes I had, but according to the general populace of the bar, it was more than I should have, because somehow in my drunken staggering confidence, I somehow managed to convince SexyFace that he needed my phone number.

We texted through the night.

The next night Blair, J and I hit the town again, particularly SexyFace's bar, which included more Kamikazes, receiving flowers from strange men, dancing through the night, and getting saucier than I had ever been, and have since been in my life. Somehow I managed to waddle my way to the bar and ask for water, after water, after water, after water, and as I floated my way to the bathroom SexyFace grabbed my arm and led me through the kitchen, into an alley, up a back stairwell, through a secured door, into a conference room where we spent the better part of 30-minutes, before I almost peed on him.

After I used the special employees bathroom in the secret offices above the bar, I went back downstairs to realize... the bar. was. closed. Blair and J were missing. And I was, um. stuck.

According to stories from this evening, Blair and J called to me from the street repeatedly, "LoRo, come on, let's go home!!" and I responded, "No no no, I'm fiiiiiine. I'm FIIIINE Sexyface is bringing me home," while they tried to bribe the bouncer to let them back inside to grab me.

Needless to say, the bouncer did not let them back inside, because the only people inside were, "employees."

---

SexyFace did indeed take me home, but this was prior to my knowledge of Rock Creek Park being actually IN DC (for the longest time I swear I thought it was in Arlington - shoot me!), and as the city lights faded away, and his SUV slipped through the trees, I began to panic. My phone was dead. I couldn't text anyone my location, no one knows where I am, or whom I'm with, and I began to realize, I have no. idea. where. I. am.

I started to freak internally, which is common, but then I started to freak externally, which is not.

"Where are we?"
"DC"
"No but really, where are we?"
"In the city."
"There are no woods in the fucking city, where the fuck are you taking me."
"Home"
"From Dupont to AU, there are no fucking forests!!!! WHERE ARE WE!?"
"Whoooa, have some water."
"I don't want no fricking water, where the shit.... are you gonna kill me? Are you going to murder me right now? I mean, I know I shouldn't get into strange men's cars, but I know you, but do I know you that well? How are you going to do it? Please don't strangle me, just shoot me. GOD, oh GOD! I don't even have kids! I can't even write my family a letter to tell them how much I love them because I don't think I can write right now, the road's too bumpy! Oh GOD Do you have paper?!!"
"Shit! LoRo, calm the fuck down."
"I'm gonna jump out."

Doors lock.

"I'm going to scream!"
"Already doing it"

As my life flashed before my eyes, I began to breathe. He stopped the car and turned to look at me.

"I'm not going to kill you ok? I wouldn't want to deal with your screams any more than I have to right now. Your adorable, but you need to calm. the. fuck. down."

"Ok"

I took some deep breaths from a paper sack, and no, I don't know why he had a paper sack in his car, but it kind of smelled like weed, so I'll leave it to your imagination.

Needless to say I eventually I made it home, courtesy of SexyFace and one very large bottle of the Fiji Water, also courtesy of SexyFace.

----

This story has a very, very, very valuable lessons that I learned as a child, and thoroughly understood then, but understand less when I'm discombobulated. And while, I know Sexyface, and I know that he's not going put me in a horrible situation, at the time, my knowledge of him was very limited, and since, there are so many fresh drinkers out there, who are jumping into the city and getting themselves in really questionable situations. I'm going to share with you my 3 Rules to live by as a DC Nightlife Patron.

1. Always go out with people you trust to bring you home at the end of the night.
I cannot intimate how important this rule is. I've heard so many horror stories from my friends about roofies and drunken abandonment by so called "friends" that now I don't go out with people unless I know that they are concerned about my life.

2. Have an exit strategy with your friends.
Have this conversation before you go out. This is called my No friend left behind strategy. I can't tell you how many times I've been the girl going, "NOOOOO it's totally o.k., go homeeeee! I'll follow you in 20 mins," and then had my peeps pull me out of a bar. Or have been the girl saying, "no no drunk friend, you have had one too many, your judgement is massively impaired, YOU'RE COMING WITH ME." You might be the bitchy friend for the night, but how proud will you feel in the morning when you see that sketchy creeper's face on the television with sexual predator in bold-print underneath his picture.

3. Don't get yourself into sticky situations.
Granted yes, I am still alive, but what would have happened had SexyFace been SexyAxeMurderer?
There are a few things that you should always have on you prior to going out, license, credit card/debit card, BACK UP credit/debit card, at least 20 bucks in cash, your medical insurance card, and an emergency phone number. (ALWAYS - license for identification, money, a back up in case your money disappears, medical card incase the worst happens, and an emergency phone number in case your phone dies and you need to find a pay phone to call someone). Always carry a phone charger with you before you go out, and ALWAYS make sure your phone is charged prior to go time. Don't get into the cars of people you've just met, even if they do seem soooo nice or look sooo cute. And If someone from a bar mentions an after party, make sure you know who they are, where you're going, and what the plan is for leaving.

So many girls and guys really don't have their safety in mind when they go out to party all night. They don't imagine that there are people out there who don't have their best interests at heart, or they've been so sheltered that they've never been in situations where their safety is jeopardized.

This might sound soap boxy, but it's your responsibility to take the reins of your well-being into your own hands. Don't take your safety lightly. It's imperative for younger adults to recognize that once you start going out to bars and meeting people outside your friend group, that sometimes those people you meet are not good people. This isn't Kansas anymore, it's easier for people to disappear. It's easier for people to acquire drugs in order to drug you with. And when your and your friend's judgement is impaired through alcohol, it's a whole lot easier for you to put yourself into situations where bad things can happen.

So while I don't want to scare anyone from going out and partaking in the enjoyments of the DC nightlife (seriously not my intentions DC is FUN at night). I want people to understand that you need to take precautions for your safety. So have fun, but be safe.