Creepballs & The Impending Shunning

Some random dude on my friends' list starting chatting with me the other day. Unable to remember exactly who he was, I checked out his profile and saw that he's engaged to an acquaintance from college.

His chat was friendly at first, and he referenced several of the parties I threw in college (Toga, anyone?), so I continued the seemingly innocuous thread while wiling away some of the workday.

He and the acquaintance, he told me, are getting married this summer. Kudos and congratulations were shared all around.

Then he proceeded to reference his infatuation with me while we were in school together. Then he proceeded to flirt shamelessly with me and even went so far as to furtively suggest we arrange a rendezvous.

Whoa, buddy.

You're marrying a girl I used to know in less time than bunny babies incubate, and you're telling me we should get together?

Let's forget the fact that I haven't a clue who the dude is. And the fact that he's halfway across the freakin' continent. And the fact that he obviously didn't even register on my radar back in the college days.

Let's just focus on the thread of conversation that went something like this:
- Greetings and Niceties
- References to Bygone Days
- Wedding Talk
- References to Crushes of Bygone Days
- Mild Flirtation
- Invitation to Wedding*
- Make-Your-Momma-Blush Flirtation & Thinly Veiled Propositions

He even asked for my freaking number! What the hell, man? I escaped the conversation, telling him there was work to be done.

The next day, though, he was at it again. And he skipped all but the most minimal niceties to go right to the blatant sexual references. So I called him on it.

Tsk. Tsk. Isn't your blatant online flirtation a bit tacky, considering your impending nuptials? Shame!

Then... nothing. He signed off. Of course he signed off. And then he probably ran right to his fiancée to do damage control, lest I open my big mouth about his (attempted?) indiscretion.

The thing is, I don't really know this girl. And, according to her soon-to-be creepball husband, she didn't even remember who I was. The last thing I would be doing is running to tell her about her man's lame attempts at an online pickup.

While I may not be a lot of other things, I am smart enough to know nothing I could say would convince her that she might be making a huge mistake if she assumes their marriage will be one of fidelity.

Hell, he can't even make it to the alter without trying to get someone he lusted after in college to show up for the big event. (In hopes of, what, exactly? A hand job in the rectory bathroom after he says I do?)

Their situation doesn't really freaking matter to me. Like I said, I don't even remember this dude, and the chick with whom he'll be exchanging vows was a passing acquaintance, at best. If it weren't for these damned social networking sites, I'd probably never even think of the two of them, much less be writing a blog about their impending divorce.

You know what really gets me, though? I have this seriously ominous feeling that he already ran to spin this to her in whatever way he could that made him look like an angel and me look like an evil man-stealing vixen, just in case I decided to rat him out.

His version, I imagine, would go something like this: You know that Belle chick? Today she started telling me how hot she always thought I was in college. Then she told me there are still feelings there and asked if she could see me before our wedding! I told her you're the only one for me, baby. Yeah, you should watch out for that Belle chick.

And, if he did that, guess what? It will make two soon-to-be-married chicks I went to college with who don't trust me around their menz. And you might as well just assume each and every one of their coupled female friends will adopt the same attitude once they hear how Belle was trying to steal these perfectly loyal menz right out from under their ladies' unsuspecting noses. I can just see it now.

They'll gaggle up with all their friends near smoking grills this summer, and the conversation will inevitably turn to my futile attempts to steal their honorable men. Their friends will add gory details from my somewhat promiscuous college behavior, conveniently forgetting they were right there beside me whoring it up on the dance floor.

I can only envision our future reunions now. I'll walk in the door and immediately notice a subtle but growing wave of people moving in any direction I'm not. Upon closer inspection, I'll see the women who used to be my friends and acquaintances dragging their menz out of my path.

Perhaps it's all just egomaniacal paranoia on my part. Seriously, though, I think not.



* "When are you coming this way again? ... Aw, damn. I though you could surprise [The Bride] for the wedding."
Riggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhht.

Shady Vet Dude, or Sometimes Smart Women Make Stupid Choices

I got popped by my management office several ago for not having Greatest Puss in the World on the books. Needing the green light from a local vet to get everything in order, I played darts with the yellow pages, booked an appointment, forced the fighting Puss into his carrier, and arrived just in time to get the Puss his shots and myself into a little mess.

Shady Vet Dude started in with the flirting almost immediately. Feeling particularly on my game (although not, I realized a bit too late, particularly attracted to him), I reciprocated. When I left, he was waiting for me outside the office. Our brief exchange ended with him in possession of my number.

The texts started within the hour, infused with words like gorgeous and beautiful* and sexy. By the end of the night, he'd called four times. Each time, he called from a different number than the one he used to text me. Different than the one that, he made sure to point out, I should call. That I was allowed to call. His excuse for the separate numbers? A living situation that involved his ex-girl.

I agreed to go out with him on the condition that we head for a public place (rather than my house, as he'd presumptuously suggested). A round of appetizers later, our lips were locked in the parking lot, his hands taking more liberties with the exploration of my body with each passing moment. The rush of hormones and the feelings of high-school follies fogged my mind.

So, when I see you again, will I be seeing Belle or my girlfriend?

Wait. What!?! The fog cleared just enough for me to respond appropriately, with mention of that being a ludicrous request for a first date.

Only later, after more kissing and touching and teasing and the parting of ways, did I slow down to really think about all the things that didn't add up. The separate numbers. The rules about when and where we could meet. The suggestions that we spend our time together at my place. The too-much-for-a-first-date action, accompanied by unsolicited promises that he was looking for a relationship, not a fling. The way he avoided answering questions while demanding that I "open up" to him. The guilt-tripping manipulation tactics he had already begun employing.

It took me about a day to conclude that he was married, or, at best, still dating the woman he lived with. I still hadn't decided what to do to get rid of him. When he asked me out again the next day, I accepted and planned on recounting to his face all the ways in which I found him shady.

No sooner than I agreed to meet him, he did a 180 and started making (seriously lame) excuses about why he couldn't see me that evening, after all. So I told him exactly what was up on the phone instead.

The main points? Even if he was telling me the truth about everything (which I'm fairly confident he wasn't), his life was too fucked up to get another person involved. I deserve better than having to sneak around and entertain last-minute plans and changes of said plans.

His reaction? Well, it sounds like you're having some misgivings. Why don't you take tonight to think about it and call me tomorrow.

A few ball-less texts flowed my way that evening and the next day. The down-in-history classic being: Okay, look, I don't want to just give up on us. Second chance?

Us? Us?!? Oh no, buddy, one date doesn't not make you and me an us. Geez-o-pete.

Shady Vet Dude's sad little reach-outs garnered no response from me and eventually petered out.

But the best part? Now that SVD has stopped contacting me, Puss has decided to go and get himself a cyst or tumor or some other kind of scary growth.

I may or may not have to see SVD when I take Puss to the vet, but I plan on looking smoking hot and playing it totally cool, just in case.



* No, really, it was "beautifull," which should have been enough to make me ignore him from the start.

Belle's Love Life (In 60 Seconds or Less)

In the realm of the dating world, I've got little to say. Let's have some bullets, shall we?

• NRA IMed me yesterday. His "Happy Easter," I'm proud to say, garnered no response.
  
• [Big-Name Dating Site] nearly revoked its offer, then came back with it, and now I'm stalling. (Explanation to follow.)
• I had another one of those dreams about Mr. Chill and am currently avoiding eye contact. Dammit. It's going to be a long day.
  
• The frequency and disturbing force of those dreams has me thinking it's time to get a little action. I suddenly find myself wishing Mr. Disney were in town...
  

Worst-Case Scenarios: The Proposal*

1. He goes home with you this summer, and, without speaking to you before hand, proposes at dinner in front of the whole family, addressing, of course, your father throughout his entire speech. (Oh, yeah, and he has no ring…)

2. You’re on the bus, and a huge hairy man with BO is standing just so that his sweat-drenched arm pit is positioned right in front of your face. Your guy stands, makes a grand speech for your fellow riders to hear, and proposes on the spot. The passengers erupt into applause, and the bus driver starts singing some off-key rendition of a song you (surprisingly) don’t recognize. Meanwhile, all the male riders feel it their duty to congratulate you, the bride-to-be, with various hugs, kisses, and gropes. (He stands idly by, grinning, as they take turns mauling you.)

3. He convinces you (hater of spicy foods, live music, and crowds of weirdos) to go to the Chili Cook-off with him. (You pay for your own ticket.) After you’ve been shoved around all day by the drunken crowd, he buys a bowl of 7-alarm chili and convinces you to eat it. The ring is at the bottom of the bowl, and he just keeps telling you to eat the whole thing, so you can get a “reward.”

4. He, uncharacteristically, spends the lion’s share of his savings on a fancy-dancy, too-big-for-your-hand engagement ring (which you think hideously gaudy). He proposes. You accept. The next day, he gets canned, asks if he can move in with you and if you can support him while he takes the next year to “find himself.” The wedding you had only started planning in your head is postponed indefinitely.

5. He asks you to marry him on gChat. When you suggest discussing the subject in person, he insists you have your best conversations in that forum and demands that you give him an answer or all bets are off.

6. You accompany him to Vegas for a business trip. He convinces you, in a cab, to marry him, then takes you to a Latin-themed wedding chapel where you’re expected to wear a revealing, multi-colored dress and salsa down the aisle.

7. He asks you in an eCard. You don’t respond. He never mentions it in person, but keeps sending you an eCard every month with the same question. When you bring it up, he finds an excuse to leave the room.

8. He plans the perfect evening… a nice dinner out, a wonderful evening at the theater, followed by a romantic picnic-style dessert course overlooking the water. He brings a chocolate-covered strawberry to your lips; you bite down and break your front tooth on the ring concealed inside.

1. You go to the dentist to get a cap for the tooth you broke. As the anesthesia is wearing off, the doctor hands you a mirror to let you inspect her work. When you open your mouth, you’re greeted by a gold cap with a diamond set in it. Just as you’re about to protest, your man comes around the corner, beaming proudly of his idea for an incredibly unique engagement “ring”, and asks again if you’ll marry him.

9. At his request, you plan a trip to Six Flags. You buy the passes, plan and make the picnic lunch, drive the two of you, and haul around the bag with both of your things in it all day. Toward the end of the day, you’re tired, a little peeved, and somewhat nauseous. He insists on riding the biggest, scariest roller coaster, and asks you to marry him just as you reach the largest summit. He pukes in your lap before you can respond. Then you puke all over yourself.

10. He surprises you (a teacher) at a school event, where all your coworkers, students, and students’ parents are present. He takes the mic, makes a big speech in which he reveals very personal details about you and very explicit details about your relationship, and proposes in front of all of them.

11. He reveals that he is not, after all, from the Northeast, but is an illegal immigrant. He proposes that you take the role of his wife for the next decade and that the two of you then make a clean break. In exchange for your services, and in payment for his green card, he’ll give you a lifetime supply of food from McDonald’s (and, of course, dual citizenship in a country that all but loathes women).

12. He proposes. You accept and announce your engagement to your family, friends, and coworkers. Only then does he tell you that he’s still “technically” married to a woman he had a one-night stand with in college and hasn’t been able to track down for the last six years.

13. He builds up your hopes and expectations for a special night out, full of intrigue and surprises. When you arrive at your destination, he takes your blindfold off, and you see you’re at a strip club. He tells you to “pick out a pair” on one of the dancers, and says he’ll pay for your breast augmentation surgery in lieu of buying you an engagement ring. This way, he claims, you’ll both reap the benefits for years to come.

* All in good fun, dearies. What would your worst-case-scenario proposals include?