One morning Cal the Cop text messaged me that he was drunk-golfing with his best friend, Joe. A few hours later, I received a text that drunk-golfing had turned into drunk-trip planning, and the two of them were sobering up and heading down to Atlantic City for the night.
“You should come,” he said.
“Nah, I’m not cool enough to ride in a Camaro,” I replied, knowing full-well he was just messing with my head as per usual.
I am about to shock everyone and write about a boy only spoken of once on JenAndMen. If you’re wondering why I haven’t written about him in the last 8 months, the answer is simple: I was so in love with this boy that I physically could not bring myself to withstand that kind of pain.
But now I’m over the mind-fucking bastard. So, yay, blog posts galore!
If you go back in time 20 guys, you will find yourself face-to-blog with who I’ll call Cal the Cop. And, no, I don’t ever call him Cal. That would just be weird.
If you’re a JenAndMen reader, you know that this title is completely inaccurate. Ironically, a guy I used to date back in the day asked me this question a couple weeks ago. I was truly surprised to hear that that’s what he thought. But when I told another guy friend of mine, he said that it appears to the world that this is, in fact, my M.O.
Has a friend ever made a comment about your life that was so dead-on that you were shocked you never came to the realization yourself? That happened to me this morning. Christine and I were having our morning phone conversation (aka me venting to her) and she turned around and came out with a statement that left me speechless (something that’s very hard to do).
“Every guy you date has some problem with you…and they have absolutely no issue with telling you what it is. And I can’t freaking stand it.”
I wrote “guys” in the title, but the truth is there are girls who do it to their boyfriends, also. Most of my blog posts are rants about bad dates, assholes, or going on bad dates with assholes. Sometimes I whine about being single. Every once in a while (hint hint, now) I’ll have a Hallmark card moment and write something uplifting. So prepare to be freaking uplifted, or at least pretend so I feel like I did my good deed for the day.
I recently dated someone that made me feel really bad about myself. And when I say really bad…I mean like severe-depression-bad. He called me an extremely mean name and showed me little to no affection. Did he have his own personal reasons for doing it? Yes. And those reasons convinced me that the deterioration of our relationship was my fault and I deserved his horrible treatment.
The other day my friend Alessia took the idiot — I mean guy — she’s dating out for his 30th birthday. While at the dinner that she paid for, she handed him his birthday gift: a pair of Yankee/Mets tickets. He looked mildly pleased with her one hundred forty dollar gift and said “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I just can’t believe I’m going to the game with a Met fan,” she teased.
One of my best friends, Alessia, once had this quote as her Facebook status. It is the perfect segway to the rest of the post (which is also about her).
Men are like fine wine. They all start out like grapes, and it’s a woman’s job to stomp the shit out of them until they mature into something you’d want to have dinner with.
Alessia is dating the devil, himself. I call him Josh. I’ve expressed my disdain for Josh in past posts, but here I go again. I hate this dude so much that I feel like I’m dating him.
A few weeks ago, Alessia accidentally locked her car keys in her car while she was getting gas at a gas station near Josh’s house in Brooklyn. She had just left Josh a few minutes earlier, and called him in a panic.
“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” he asked, nastily and unconcerned.