Done.

I could not resist posting about a dear friend and her recent very unfortunate weekend which centered around dating and being single in the Big D (and yes she gave me permission to post). It was almost just too much – like when Charlotte shit her pants in Mexico in the SATC movie and later in the movie when she was scared of losing her baby Carrie reminded her of this by saying “Nothing bad is going to happen. You shit your pants this year. I think you’re done”.

I too have had these thoughts of “how much more can I take!?!?!?!” and I do hope my friend is “done” with crap like this but in the meantime I must share because sadly it does reflect the reality that many of we single woman deal with from time to time while searching for our person amongst a sea of d-bags.

Friday

My friend and I decide to start the weekend right with happy hour at a new spot in Uptown that we hadn’t tried yet. We arrived to a semi-empty crowd but with potential to fill up, found us a prime spot in the center not too far from the bar, and posted up. We decided to swing for the fence on the first pitch and go with dirty martinis. A favorite cocktail for both of us and perfect to end a long work week. As we were sipping the last drops of vodka in our drinks and munching on the last olive (and btdubs the waitress only gave me TWO olives – who even does that? Everyone knows THREE is the staple, right?) I digress. Anyhoo, at this moment a gentleman, and that is a strong word, who has been sitting with his friends at the bar approaches us and asks our opinion of the martinis. I tell him smooth and good but explain my disappointment in the olive situation. He insists on buying us two more and abruptly YELLS over to the bartender and tells her to whip them up and to not be stingy and give us “three fucking olives”. Oh great, I can feel the female bartender shooting knifes into the back of my head as we speak. A free drink is always great but thanks buddy. Geez.

Then it gets worse. I was wearing a little sundress and sandals as I had worked from home that day so was more casual and my friend was in an adorable short-sleeved shift dress and heels as she had been at work all day. Said gentleman decides that he should pass on some fashion advice at this point and says this to my friend.

D-bag: “I hate your dress. It’s ugly”

Us: “EXCUSE ME????”
D-bag: “It’s ugly. Your shit is hot as fuck and you should be showing more skin”.

I am not joking, this is what was said verbatim people.

My Friend:  “Uh, thanks a lot, but I actually work for a living and came straight from the office so showing skin isn’t exactly appropriate”.

D-bag: “Whatever, I’m going to take you dress shopping to get you some sexy dresses”.
Us: “ THAT’S RUDE”.
D-bag: “No, it’s not. It’s advice and a favor”.

Seriously? Does this person think that was flirting? What even WAS that? We were dumbfounded and now I fear my friend will never where that dress again (and it is adorable!). We ignored the dude (who promptly began smoking one of those fake blue cigarettes inside the bar – WINNING) for the rest of the evening and  enjoyed our free but most likely poisoned, peed in or spit in martini’s the d-bag bought us. Then I think we went home and at cheese and crackers and drank wine on my couch.
#singlegirlsfavoritedinnerotherthancereal

 
Saturday
Yes, it continues for my dear friend. My friend had started dating a guy about two weeks earlier. Amazing first date, tons in common, chemistry off the charts and they hung out 4 times that week. Enter Week #2. Daily texts yet no inquiry about schedules or plans? Hmmm. For those of you who are currently in the dating pool or recall dating in a digital world this is a common landslide or tactic used by men to create a “casual” relationship with you that does not involve commitment or planning but moreso convenience. Because my friend is in her 30s and not her early 20s (not being a hater but its true ladies, you learn a lot!) she called him out with a simple “I would rather be dating you than texting you”. He did what even some men won’t do and actually picked up the phone to HAVE A REAL CONVERSATION (so he gets props for this) and ended up giving her the I-really-like-you-and-want-to-see-you-again-but-I-don’t-want-a-full-blown-relationship-or-anything speech. (Props revoked but appreciate the honesty).  
 
Sidebar:

This is where the 20s vs. 30s thing kicks into gear. In my 20s, I would have said “oh, okay, me either”, played it cool and continued dating this guy while secretly wishing and hoping that the more he got to know me and the more fun we had then he would be immaculately cured of his relationship phobia and decide I was amazing and it would all be rainbows and butterflies. While in reality, I would say “oh, okay, me either”, play it cool for a few months continuing dating this guy until I finally FREAK out on him one night when he didn’t call me is girlfriend or I caught him with another girl or he wouldn’t bring me around his friends and then we would have a massive breakup that caused me to cry for days and him to tell all his friends I was crazy. Point is, I learned a long time ago that I can’t CHANGE a man or his feelings and if a man is telling you two weeks in that he “doesn’t want a full blown relationship”, which what does that mean exactly anyways, then it is a HUGE red flag and you should get out.

Luckily, my friend turned 30 earlier this year so she did just that. She was honest with him and herself and said she didn’t know if she wanted a relationship with him necessarily (she just met him – this isn’t the Bachelorette people!) but she was looking for her person and for her dating wasn’t just to sport-fuck. Well, she said that in so many words and probably more eloquently. You get the point. That being said, it was still a disappointment and she was bummed.

 
Saturday Continued
Yes it gets worse. After I hosted my umpteenth bridal shower that afternoon (shout out J. Giles – you know I love you!) and she had been blown off we met up to go meet a friends new boyfriend (shout out Becca and Q!) and then decided it would be best if we went and got drunk. So, we met up with some guy friends of hers and were having a decent time a new bar in Uptown with barely a d-bag in site (score!) when one of his friends, who was very intoxicated, decided he wanted my friend’s attention. The thing was, my friend was talking to me and her guy friend so instead of politely saying “excuse me” or waiting for the conversation to come to a point where he could join in he decided to….wait for it….wait for it….SLAP HER! Yup. I can’t lie people, that is what happened. Now, this wasn’t a Stucky a.k.a. George Castanza slapping Julia Roberts in the movie Pretty Woman hooker bitch slap but it wasn’t a love tap either.

 

There was a pop. It was audible. And if it wasn’t so dark I might have guessed there was a tiny red mark and I bet it stung. Legit slap people. The way dudes slap each other to taunt one another when they are trying to start a fight. That kind of slap. Okay, I think you get the picture now that I’ve described THE SLAP for you eight different ways.

As you might imagine, this did not go over well. Again we yelled in unison “EXCUSE ME!?!?!” (how many times will we have to yell this at a man in one weekend?). His response you will love. He quickly explained that it was a sign of affection and he was FLIRTING. I then climbed atop my single-woman-soapbox and proceeded to lecture him on the matter that if you have to tell someone that what you are doing is flirting then  a) it is not flirting and b) there is a problem. My friend then reminded him that we are no longer in kindergarten chasing each other on the playground,  pulling each other’s hair and calling each other names to let the opposite sex know we like them. And that was pretty much that. And then my friend started saying “I want a taco and I want to go home” on a loop. Stick a fork in her – she’s done. Just like Charlotte and her poopy pants.

I on the other hand had run into a guy that works on my floor who never smiles so I decided to question him about this and we ended up becoming besties and talking about who filled up the refrigerator on our floor with their groceries and what salad dressing we sometimes “borrow”. Riveting night. Universe 2. Us 0.

So we called Uber (no this is not a friends little brothers foreign exchange student classmate, but the name but a car service similar to a cab) and our driver was so kind as to take us through the Taco Bell drive thru (which may I point out that a cab typically will NOT do. Another point for Uber!) so my friend could get her taco and then we sat in my kitchen recapping the night and assuring ourselves that “We had fun, right?”. Yeah, I think so. Didn’t we?

 

As my friend said Sunday morning when I drove her back to her car, well, my weekend can be summed up like this: I got called ugly, was dumped and then got flirt-slapped. And yes, I think we should trademark flirt-slapped. Can’t be the first time it’s happened to someone. I’m sure it’s an epidemic.
 

Moral of the story. There isn’t one. It’s just funny, well sort of sad funny, but I had to share. #itshardoutthereforapimp

In the meantime, we will keep looking up, cause that’s where it all is!

 

R.I.P. Kidd Kraddick