Don’t Try This at Home

by Michelle

I should start this post with some back story. The weekend of Thanksgiving a friend from high school who is currently nannying in D.C. came to spend the holiday with me. This girl, who I will hereafter refer to as KD, is one of the funniest people I know. I never fail to get a fantastic ab work out from all the laughing that occurs when we are together. The night after Thanksgiving we decide to have a night out – low key because we are not up for much. We went to a fantastic Italian place in Chelsea, right near where my uncle used to live, and then to a wine bar next door. We had a great night talking and getting to know the more mature versions of each other than we knew in high school, and headed home drunk on wine. Suddenly, Kady says she has to pee right as we are passing some club with no cover – no brainer right there, we rush inside for the bathroom. Cut to us getting home at 4am – which is a modest guess of time. We ended up staying at the club, getting much drunker and dancing to the best music ever since it was an all male gay club complete with men dancing in underwear. We were the bells of the homo ball and got invited to Boston, on a cruise, and told we were beautiful and fabulous. I haven’t had a better night in New York. We left at around 3am and went on a hunt for McDonalds and when we couldn’t find any decided it was high time to go home. We shared a cab with some strangers who were also going to Brooklyn, one of which kept weirdly touch my friend, so my solution was to hold hands with him so he would leave her alone. He got my number before he left the cab, and also didn’t pay for any of said cab (obviously a Douche). When KD and I got home I tried to convince her to eat some apple pie but she declined because she would “rather have something savory.”

Cut to 2 months later on this last thursday night when a few co-workers and I went to do karaoke after work. I get some random text and have no idea who it is from – I would like to share the transcript of the conversation because it is with the the aforementioned douche – I’ll start after we figure out who one another is.

Him: Did we make out in the back of the Cab?
Me: NO.
Him: That’s too bad. Want to?
Me: NO.
Him: Why not?
Me: If you can describe me accurately, I’ll make out with you.
Him: Blonde? [NOTE: I have auburn hair – most definitely not a blonde]
Me: I’m bald, I was wearing a blonde wig. But don’t worry, that’s the only thing I don’t take off lol
Him: Guess we gotta make out now
Me: Only since you guessed exactly what I look like
[This is where he tries to start sexting with me, and where I decide to start messing with him.]
Him: Yep – I like to make out naked, you?
Me: Yea I like that
Him: I’d like to see you touch yourself too
Me: mmmmm I’m doing it now
Him: Send me a pic
Me: You first
Him: Thinking about it is making me grow. You feeling your breasts?
Me: Just one of them. Tell me something to make it two. I’m alone on a beach and you are my sailor. Put your phone on vibrate and then put it in a special place. [NOTE: It got non-sensical here because other people got involved in weird things to say. Nonetheless, he played along.]
Him: Would you like that? Are you gonna imagine the phone is my shipwrecked cock?
Me: Shipwrecked and I’ll bring it up to shore. Get it? I said up, like your penis.

This is where he stopped responding, he must have figured out it was a joke. Dear men, stop doing stupid shit like trying to sext with strangers. I am no prude, but I don’t sext, let alone with strangers. How can texting things like that be a turn on. I’d rather watch porn by myself than sext with someone. Men say women are weird, but their actions boggle my mind. Why is a normal guy so hard to find and why do I keep encountering the biggest freaks??? Here’s what I want: An average looking, funny guy, that doesn’t want to spend all his time with me, has his own life, likes having sex as much as I do, and thinks I am funny (my last boyfriend didn’t like any of my jokes – he just thought I was a bitch. Little did he know, I am fucking hilarious.). I like to cook for/with people, so that is included in my dating contract. WHERE IS MY URBAN LUMBERJACK????? Help me find him.

Anderson Out.