Arabian Nights

I needed to repost this old blog entry simply because the memory of these events makes me down right giddy.

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Our senior year of college, Catriona got a job teaching Saudi Arabian exchange students how to speak English (and a bunch of other paperwork). As a result we became rather intertwined with the group of Saudi Arabian men she taught. We really don’t know how old they are … something about calendars being bumble-fucked in the middle-east (much like everything else in the middle-east or the US government) … but they were somewhere in their mid to late 20s.

As predicted, we end up hanging out and drinking with them at their apartment, and I develop a small crush on Durka. Durka spoke slightly better English than the rest, and did things like make me tea and compliment my eyes. Needless to say, I end up sleeping with him …. In his roommate Durka-Durka’s room. Durka-Durka just so happens to be dating Catriona, and they are downstairs on the desk socializing.

After the happening, Durka and I go downstairs …. And Durka-Durka leads Catriona upstairs to repeat what I had just accomplished. Whoops. Before they get back, Durka and I are back in the house in another’s roommate’s room (Maybe he didn’t really live there, I don’t know).

For a while we all end back up on the porch, celebrating April 20th, as only Arabs can. I’m certain there were some more events that evening … But eventually my birthday rolls around in August, and I find myself sitting on the stoop of Catriona’s apartment with the Arabs discussing why the beer was in the crisper of the fridge. Apparently Durka^3 (who had taken a break from doing the Samba) was convinced only oranges went in the crisper.

Catriona moves away … The Arabs scatter across the country. Except for the one that should be deported. Somehow it turns out he’s an American citizen. I think someone fucked up somewhere.

Spring ’07 rolls around and I find Catriona and I sitting in the Arabs apartment again. Durka^4 turns out to have a son (Little Durka) who appears to only play with Playboy magazines, matches, lighters, and a Star Wars mask. He crawls up on a desk chair, picks up a lit cigarette, and starts smoking. At this point, all there is to say is … CHILD IS SMOKING. None of the Arabs are alarmed. Catriona and I leave the house. We have yet to return.

Lessons NOT Learned

In 2007 I wrote the following blog .... In 2010 I logged into another dating website. Lessons NOT learned.

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I have an unhealthy habit of joining online dating sites. I do it on the premise that it seems more logical to meet guys online than to meet them, say, in the produce aisle at Martins (“Hey, sugar, could you squeeze this melon and tell me if it’s ripe?”). So after the Rabbi incident this winter, I join OKCupid. It’s a real laid back free dating service, and, while it doesn’t have a huge population of decent men, I had high hopes.

Then I met the magician.

Yes, he was a real magician, wearing a tux, a top hat, and toting a magic wand in his profile picture. He thought that I was intoxicating and wanted to show me a few of his tricks. I wanted to pull a real quick disappearing act. First off, I am not alcohol, I do not want or intend to be intoxicating. Secondly, any man seriously carrying around a magic wand is too Harry Potter for this chica to handle.

Strrrrrrrrrrike One.

Along came the MySpace Incident. He’s from my hometown of next to nowhere. His picture was him in a pair of tighty-whiteys standing in front of a beat up pick up truck on a huge lift kit with a banjo in one hand and an automatic weapon in the other. He never contacted me. I never contacted him.

For more than obvious reasons, Strike Two.

Next up, the Mountie.

He’s only referred to as the Mountie because he’s from Canada. Very funny guy, great personality, good looking, etc. He drove down from Toronto to hang out for a weekend over winter. I haven’t heard from him since.

Strike Three, anyone?

Strike Four was Shady. (Refer to previous post for a good time).

Strike Five was a guy by the name of Spiffy. And that one I didn’t make up … entirely. He’s a blog within himself.

And, Strike Six … Well, Strike Six isn’t really a full strike. He’s more of a foul ball. He’s on the field, he’s just not in play. He’s also worthy of his own blog …

But there you have it kids … Six reasons not to use online dating sites – Magicians, Automatic Weapons, Canadians, Smallest Penis Ever, Spiffy’s Spiffyisms, and Foul Balls.

Several nights at several watering holes led to Jessica and I developing a lengthy list of major turn offs in men … I think it’s high time I transfer them from our mental post-its onto the internet.

Disclaimer: Some of the traits listed are not complete deal breakers, but merely pet peeves. Others are flat out un-freaking-dateable. Also, these are in no particular order.

1- No job.

2- No car.

3- No self-esteem.

4- Close talker.

5- Bad laugh.

6- Doesn’t pay on the first date.

7- If you spend the date telling me how great you are, and don’t ask any questions about me.

8- You need to compliment me. Frequently.

9- Two words: Selfish Lover.

10- You drive an overly large SUV (example – H2)

11- Body odor.

12- Bad skin. It’s called proactive. Introduce yourself to a dermatologist.

13- You flirt with the waitress/theatre girl/any employee we see on our dates.

14- Indecisive. We’re adults. Figure out what you want and then call me.

15- Use your napkin.

16- Remember everything you mom taught you about being a gentleman: Open doors, Let her order first. Compliment her. Use polite table manners. Don’t lick your knife or your fingers. Don’t blow your nose at the table.

17- It’s 2010. Invest in a pair of nice shoes that your dad wouldn’t wear.

18- Bad hair. Too greasy. Too much product. Not enough product. Needs a trim. Etc.

19- Nose hair. Trim that shit.

20- Ear hair. Refer to above.

21- Speaking of ears and noses, clean them! No boogers or ear wax on the first date!

22- Save the first kiss (and anything else) until the END of the first date – don’t rush it. Most of us girls still want to build up to that.

23- Posture. Don’t slouch when we’re out and about. Look proud to be with me. I’m awesome J

24- Please, for the love of all that is holy, think about what you’re wearing out in public. No t-shirts with stupid sayings. Make sure you washed your clothes. Etc.

25- Don’t smell bad. Shower with soap + shampoo. Use laundry detergent. Apply cologne (but don’t go overboard).

26- BRUSH YOUR TEETH.

27- You make the first move. Call me first. After the first date, call the next day to tell me what a great time you had.

28- Learn how to spell. Use civilized grammar.

29- Don’t swear until I do. Then it’s free game. But, waiting shows me that you’re considerate.

30- I don’t want to see your snuff can in your back pocket. Nothing says redneck like that.

31- Please don’t bust out your arsenal of semi-automatic weapons on the first date. I want to feel safe. I know you’re proud of them, but please.

32- Remember my name.

33- Offer to pick me up on the first date.

34- Watch the facial hair. Look put together, not falling apart. Shaggy beards only work on Brad Pitt.

35- Respect me. Seriously. I will end it if I think you don’t.

36- Don’t order booze on the first date. If you do, don’t have more than one.

37- Don’t tell me about the ex that broke your heart into tiny bits until I ask about your past relationships.

38- ASK ME ABOUT ME. I’m a woman. I like to talk about me.

39- Don’t compare me to an ex or your mom or your sister. Creepy.

40- Poor interpersonal skills will not get you far.

41- Make eye contact.

42- Be witty and funny but not obnoxious.

43- Speak highly of yourself but don’t brag about how great you are the entire night.

44- You are not Kanye, pull up your damn pants.

45- Redneck plaid is not suitable first date attire.

46- Is that a bandana on your head? Seriously?

47- No loud burping or farting on the first date. We’re not in 6^th grade; it’s not impressive.

48- Toss your tighty whiteys and banana hammocks. If it gets that far, boxers or boxer briefs.

49- Don’t tell me what to do. I will do the opposite.

50- Stop stuttering. If I have to concentrate too hard, I’ll lose interest.

51- You're MARRIED. Seriously? Go home to your wife.

Okay, so this is just the start of the list. Feel free to add your own

A Brief History

I am the self-declared Ellis Island of dating. I am fairly certain that when a guy looks at me, he immediately receives the following message:

"Give me your immature, your poor, your psychological disturbed yearning to breathe without medication, the wretched refuse of your sexually confused. Send these, the helpless, send them to me, I will undoubtedly let them in the door!"

So, this blog is dedicated to the experiences of one girl and her huddled mass of friends that share the curse. But, believe me, everything that has happened to us has resulted from the fact that it sounded like a good at the time.