Lil Sass has the honor of being today's guest writer. There is not much that I can say about her that would do her any justice, so if you haven't been by her blog, I'd highly recommend it.
Although the thrill of moving to San Francisco meant I would be living alone for the first time and would get to experience all The City has to offer, I was also a newly-single girl in a city that we know … well … doesn’t have the most prolific dating pool for someone of my persuasion.
Like a girl living in this generation, I did what any eager chick would do; I went to my friend the world wide web. I didn’t do what all the other cats were doin’ – none of that match.com and yahoo shit for me. This lady was gonna troll the personals on Craigslist. Yeah, you read that right. Although I spent hours on the good ‘ol “CL” during work hours reading the best of (um, you think YOUR life is fucked up? … spend 20 minutes on CL and you’ll be relieved you’re not that guy), I thought this would be a fun experiment. I mean, how bad could it be, right? I could just look through all these ads, find one that seemed interesting and reply. Easy enough!
My desire to passively respond to ads, as opposed to posting my own was because I knew damn well that those W4M ads lead to 3,276 jpegs of c*ck in your inbox (not that there’s anything wrong with cock in your box). Ahem … now, I love a pic of a dick like the next lady, but c’mon … that leaves NOTHING for the imagination.
Eventually, I came upon an interesting ad. He was funny, seemed interesting, charming - I’d give it a shot. We traded emails back and forth and at some point he called and we talked for 5 hours on the phone. Oh yeah, things were off to a great start! ..
I was working full-time, taking nursing pre-reqs and studying for the GRE but every lady has time for a damn lunch date, right? After months of prep classes and cramming completely useless shit into my brain, I scheduled my GRE that Saturday afternoon. I figured, man if this goes right, a little post-test stress relief is gonna be perfect! All of the stress about my test and this date gave me the worst headache ever but I powered through.
Considering my mind-blowing headache, I seriously thought about calling the whole thing off, maybe postponing until another day. But I really needed a drink and hell, I may as well do it with someone else, right? So after my test, he gets out of the cab and I shit you not, the man looks like Meatloaf. Yeah, that Meatloaf. Instantly I am singing, I Would Do Anything For Love … But I Just Wooon’t Doooo That!! I was so shocked and jarred by this (YES, he send me a picture before. How friggin' insane and desperate so you think I am? …. Well, yeah, that picture was about 5 years ago, 30 lbs. ago and taken with an awful web cam or some shit).
I politely said hello and we made our way to lunch in North Beach. Here I was surrounded by beautiful Italian men singing from the steps of pizzerias, offering me cups of espresso and I was on a damn date with Meatloaf. How.could.this.be.happening?
I ordered a double vodka tonic and scurried to the bathroom to call my girlfriend. “Dre, HE LOOKS LIKE MEATLOAF!! WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO??” She is DYING with laughter and says, “Tell ‘em you have a headache.” I couldn’t do it, I simply couldn’t - it’s bad dating karma or something. This was like a horrible made-for-tv-movie and I was about to crush this man (even if he does look like Meatloaf). We finished our lunch and somehow (jesus what was the matter with me?) I got coerced into walking to beautiful Washington Square. On this gorgeous fall day there were people everywhere … eating gelato, laying about, sipping espresso and I? … I am with Meatloaf.
He asks if I minded if he smoked and shook my head “no”. What’s that? A homemade cigarette? Oh no, it’s a fucking joint. IN THE MIDDLE OF THE G*D DAMN DAY! On the busiest day North Beach has seen in months, this may lights up a damn pinner on the friggin’ sidewalk. Moms are pushing strollers. Guidos are talking about their moms and marinara and whatnot and I am with joint smoking Meatloaf.
And no, he didn’t offer me ANY!