DATING DISASTERS // DUI Guy

This, ladies and gentleman, is what you should NOT do when someone calls you back to set up a time to go on a first date. Keep in mind throughout this story, that I do not know this kid and have only spoken to him for all of 30 minutes in a bar.
ME: Oh hi, this is Autumn. Just calling you back from your voicemail  about setting up a time for dinner. How's it going? DUI GUY: Oh hey Autumn! Good to hear from you! *Insert deep sigh* It's goin'... ME: Umm... DUI GUY: Yeah, just a bad, bad, very bad day.  ME: Oh, umm... I'm so sorry to hear that. What's wrong?  DUI GUY: Well, you know how after your sister and you left the bar,  I said I was going to go to another bar for a little bit?  ME: Yes. DUI GUY: Well, I did. And then when I went to leave that bar,  a cop pulled out behind me and... it's just really stressful, ya know? ME: Umm, yeah. That... sucks? DUI GUY: Yeah, just super stressful.  ME: So what happened?

DUI GUY: Well, obviously I went to jail. 

Alright. Let's hold the phone. OBVIOUSLY? What part of this story so far falls into "obviously"?!?! Am I supposed to now assume that every guy who asks me out is going to end up in jail first, obviously? Or that every time a cop follows someone it leads to jail, obviously? What about this is 'obviously'? 


ME: Oh... umm... DUI GUY: So yeah, now I'm just like super stressed out, ya know. Like I don't know, ya know?  Like I don't want to lose my job, or my house.  ME: I don't think that's how it works... DUI GUY: Has this ever happened to you? Or someone you know?  Cuz if I could talk to someone who's been through this, that'd be great...


Hey, here's an opening line that's never, ever worked: "Can I talk to you about your DUI experience?" What the.... Charles Manson had a better first conversation than this kid. And again, I DON'T KNOW YOU (and no, I do not have DUI experience anyways). 

DUI GUY: Yeah, just so stressful. I just really don't need this right now. Really, really don't need this right now.

I'm sorry, is there anyone who DOES need this right now? Find me the person running around the streets being like, "hey, you know what would help me right now? A DUI!" NOBODY NEEDS A DUI. Also, "not right now" implies that if you did have to get one, there would be a more optimal time to get one. When is the more optimal time to get a DUI? Please, riddle me that one, DUI Guy. 
So, kids, let this be a lesson: Don't drink and drive. And if you do, don't drink, drive and discuss a first date. Just chalk that one off as a loss and go to your court hearing. 
(No but seriously, when is the optimal time to get a DUI?)

Dating Disasters: Bongs and Bars

Because every good first date deserves a second date--or so I thought. Earlier this month, I went on a date with SuperHot Classmate (SHC) where we drank wine and went to Sam's Club and a car wash and laughed until my cheeks hurt. So, last week, we went on date #2. 

We met at a dive bar after I got out of class. So he was already batting a 1000 because we all know my extreme love for dive bars. Until I walked inside and he wasn't there. Fan of dive bars. Not a fan of sitting in dive bars by myself waiting. So I text him. Call him. Finally the little asshole picks up. "I'll be right in." He proceeds to walk in with the manager, and stands a good 40 feet away, not acknowledging my presence or waving or saying hello or god forbid MAKING EYE CONTACT. Another man comes up and starts hitting on me, and he still is not moved to come over. 

Finally, I go over. I get introduced to the manager. The manager gets the point (finally. How does someone so dense run a successful business?) and we sit and talk for a little bit. SHC turns and goes "let's get out of here, I've been here all day working out a business deal. Want to go back to my place for a drink?"

I know, I know. I should've said no. But I am a hopeless donor of second chances and I wanted him to be better than this. So, so much better. The first date was so fun! I couldn't believe it was ending in this awfulness! So I said yes. 

He pours me a drink, and I'm sitting on the couch when all of a sudden...I smell something. 

Homeboy just straight up whips out a bong and sits down next to me. 

Source

Doesn't ask if I'm ok with this. Doesn't ask if I want any. 

Just smokin' away. 

Homeboy, you don't know me! 

Why, why would you do that around someone you don't know?

I decide it's time to go. I ask him to walk me to my car (which I'm extremely pissed that I even have to ask him to do) to which he responds with the potentially most self-righteous, absolute asshole of a one-liner that will live in infamy:

"You're a grown ass woman, you can take the elevator by yourself."

And then the date ended with me telling him I wasn't kidding, dragging him by the wrist to the elevator (he lives in a not-so-safe neighborhood, no way in hell was I walking down by myself). Finally, I get to the elevator, SHC in tow. As soon as I step into the elevator, he karate-chops, KARATE CHOPS, my wrist and RUNS AWAY. 

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Happy Friday. 

May all your dates this weekend be better than this! 

When in Wine

The past 48 hours have been dominated by a little something we like to call--wine. If you haven't noticed, I tend to go big or go home on the weekdays instead of on the weekends like normal people. It's all part of the unreal life, folks. Oh gosh, where to begin? 

Because obviously the best place to start a first date is on an empty stomach and a glass of wine. #winningfirstimpressions
— Autumn Lee (@thejanklife) October 10, 2013

Let's start with this. I was not prepared. As in, so unprepared that even the cook at work asked me how long it had been since I showered. So when super hott classmate (who was less hott when he denied me access to Bow Wow, that asshole) asked me out for drinks, I was slightly flabbergasted. I mean...you denied me Bow Wow. I haven't showered in three days. The cook could use the grease in my hair instead of cooking oil. But then, a train blocked my car (this is becoming much too frequent in my life) and there was literally nothing to do. So...we went for a drink. 
And I laughed until my cheeks hurt. Like literally, sitting there holding my cheek muscles in because I wanted to die from laughing. And then the wine hit my empty stomach and shit got unreal type of jankity jank. Like when he asked me why white people were scared to look at black people and I cited fear of their "swag-like head bobs." He didn't buy that. 
And then somehow....we ended up at Sam's Club. Where I started raving about their samples and the poor man asked multiple employees if they would bring any out for me (they wouldn't). 
And then there was that time when he told me he wouldn't let his daughter carve a pumpkin because that was some "white shit" and I tried to argue that it was in fact a geographical cultural norm, and not exclusive to white people. All Midwest people carve pumpkins, damn it. 
And then we ended up in a car wash. Which is one of my most favorite things ever (true fact: I once requested for my birthday to spend the day finding the longest car wash in Michigan). 
And then we ended up back at my car, where I gave him unsolicited parenting advice about the importance of carving pumpkins. 
And that folks, is why you don't go on first dates on an empty glass of wine.  An empty stomach. And a glass of wine.  Clearly.  I need food.

Say My Name, Say My Name

Well friends, here we are with another round of dating disasters. But, I'm stepping up to the plate and saying...I was the disaster. Dating disaster AND embarrassing story, two posts for the fun of one fun fun! (If you didn't sing that in the Michigan Adventure theme song tone then I'm sorry. Just move on.)
So...I met this kid a while ago and we've been texting for like a month and he finally stepped up to the plate and asked me on a date. 
We go downtown and are walking amongst the beautiful, lovely paintings of Art Prize and he's telling me this story and he goes "and then my dad was like, John...get your shit together." And I kind of half fall, half trip off the curb and do a grandma-like double take. All I know is that I've been texting someone named Josh in my phone for the past month. I'm definitely on a date with Josh...not John. Or am I? Did I really hear that? I decide it's too close to tell. 
A few minutes later, we run into a girl whose bible study leader I used to be when she was in sixth grade (she is now a high school senior. Holy time warp.). And I'm not really sure what to say when it reaches that awkward, we're all staring at you I interrupted your awkward first date moment. So I go with "Hey, this is my date..." and I gesture towards him hoping he'll shake her hand, introduce himself...you know, so I can hear his name. 
And he totally leaves me hanging. 
And after a completely unacceptable long pause, I commit and say "Josh."
Which he promptly follows up with a firm hand shake and "John."
So, friends, that's the tale of how I went out on a date and called him the wrong first name for a whole month. 

Funny story, he still wants to go on another date. 

Dating Disasters: Silent Auctions

I talk a lot about dating disasters here. It's kind of my "niche" you might say. And while I absolutely adore poking fun at these boys, I was always taught: don't dish it out if you can't take it. Or something like that. I don't know. I was probably sassing my parents halfway through that cliche. So, because I do believe ya gotta be able to poke a little fun at yourself...here I am, sharing the time I was the worst first date possible. 
To set the stage, you have to realize that I grew up in a household where silent auctions were seen as a great way to "support charity." See, my father would run around the tables putting his name down and increasing it just a little bit to "encourage other bidders who actually wanted it." However, more often than not, there were no other bidders. I would get a call from my Dad, "Autumn, go pick this up. I'll give you a check when you get home." I picked up some weird things. Homemade pottery. Bulletin boards made out of wine corks. Map jewelry. Statues. 
Fast forward. A big thing in STL is trivia nights. AKA people bring the entire contents of their wine cellar and then try to play trivia. And then they bid on shit. So, I dragged my man friend at the time to the silent auction tables. 
Where of course, I was a dutiful daughter and employed my father's tried and true silent auction method. With man friend's name, of course. I knew better than to put mine. I am le drunk, not le stupid.
And that my friends, is how he ended up "winning" a yearly magazine subscription, some kitchen tools and a wine basket filled with more than $150 worth of goods. 

Sometimes, the dating disaster is me.

How To Get a Man Friend in 5 Easy Steps

1. Find a perfect stranger.

2. Be sure to share all your best traits, like your inability to take shots, your awesome skills of making ghetto friends in the bathroom and skipping down sidewalks. 
3. Develop a special nickname and refer to them only by that nickname. Do not stop to question whether they like it. 
4. Don't tell them you're moving to another state.
5. Be sure to reference yourself as a "12 year old girl" as many times as possible.

*These tips not guaranteed to work for everyone. 

Success (and failure) stories always welcome. 

Dating Disasters: Cuddling

I went on a first date that was going very well, until that awkward moment when the first date activity is done and you're just standing there like uhhhhh what now? So of course, being the awkwardly unreal girl I am, I let the awkward silence sit for a few minutes before going "So uhhhh what now?" He looks at me with doting eyes. Wraps his arms around my waist. And says:

"I just want to take you somewhere and cuddle."

The following conversation ensued:

Boy: I just want to take you somewhere and cuddle.

Me: Uhhhhh....no. 

Boy: Babe...

Me: Yeah. Not happening on our first date.

Boy: Why not?

Me: That's just way, way too much for a first date. Too fast.

Boy: I mean come on, it's not like we're having sex or anything.

Back. The. Fuck. Up. 

Let's talk about it. Sure, 'cuddling' has cute connotations of puppy love and chemistry and attraction and intimacy. But what is it really? When you break it down, cuddling is letting another person physically hold your body with their arm around your waist or shoulders, generally with some motion from their other hand of stroking your hand or thumb or arm gently or playing with your hair. 

Now back to the first date. First date. You are a stranger. A literal stranger. Replace the word stranger in that definition: letting a stranger physically hold your body with their arm around your waist or shoulders, generally with some motion from the stranger's other hand of stroking your hand or thumb or arm gently or having a stranger play with your hair. 

Dictionary.com defined cuddle as "to fondle in the arms." Would you let a stranger fondle you in the arms? 

Excuse me while I go gag in the bathroom. 

#notdentist

Kids. 
I am here to talk about a very serious issue. 

The issue of #notdentist. We need to talk. As you know, I've recently discovered the joy of #livedating, otherwise known as #babe or #datestalking. But date stalking is not just a one way street. Oh no--it's a two way. I do not merely get stalked, I also occasionally...stalk. 

Let's start from the beginning. 

A co-worker and I (we'll call her...Sally...to protect her identity) were talking about the man manchild who is the unknowing star of #livedating. His profession (dentistry) came up as well as where he lives, where he went to school blah blah (these are normal kitchen questions, right? I don't sound creepy yet). We discovered that Sally knew an equally annoying male from the same dental school graduation class.   She asks me his name to see if it's the same person. Problem--I don't know his last name. Soon after this, she sends me a picture of the graduating dental class.

"Show me which one he is." (Oh please, don't pretend you've never shown your friend a Facebook picture of a total rando)

He's not there.

By everything he's told me about graduation dates, schooling, etc...he should be there. He's not there. 

So. We move to Plan B. He's told me 20gazillion times the name of his "dental partner." We do a quick web search (#JONUDGIES--that's no judgies, people) and pull up the practice's web page.

He's not there.

We go into full on stalker-mode (this is my dating life on the line, durr). I call the dental office. 

"Hi, a friend of mine referred me to Dr. XXXXX's partner but I just can't remember his last name. Can you tell me his name?"

"Dr. YYYYY."

"Noooo, it definitely started with an M....@#$@ (name protected) M something..."

"No one by that name works here."

He's not there.

We pull our friend Janey in, who used to work in investigative reporting. While Sally's first vote is to stalk Facebook, Janey's first move is straight to the sex offender and prisoner public records. 

He's not there.

Phew.

Finally, I am forced to confront him for maximum clarity revealing the situation. 

"What's your last name"

"You don't know my last name?"

"No."

"XXXX" (name protected)

Janey's expert stalking investigative reporting reveals:

Profession: lie

College history: lie

This, children, is how 20/20 starts. But thanks to my friends Sally, Janey and #livedating partner Amanda...this is how 20/20 ends. With a group of friends banding together, raising red flags of awareness. If you or a loved one you know is dating a "dentist" who lives at home, has more than 100,000 tweets (no lie), sends you possessive texts like "Dinner. Seven. I'll pick you up." when you had absolutely no plans with him and invites you on trips to Texas when you've known each other for 3 days--raise the red flag. 

                  

Together, we can protect each other. 

#livedating ROUND TWO

I cannot handle a Southern accent saying "darlin'." The end.

Everyone's favorite adventure returned. If you haven't caught up on the first round of #livedating, feel free to do so now. We can wait. All caught up? Buneos. 

Once again, I could not face my date alone. (This is a sign I need to stop making dates with this person, but once again...I am really bad at saying no.) This time, I recruited one of the original #livedating tweet-stars and her longtime boyfriend for #livedating: Double Date Edition. All three of us went to college together, so they are well aware of my shenanigans. 

First of all, I spent all day Saturday recovering from the Southerner. Ruff.

How do you survive a double date without alcohol? @alexmacroark I think I found my first negative consequence. #livedating

— Autumn Lee (@thejanklife) June 15, 2013

At fifteen minutes till, I still had not managed to pull my ass out of bed. My roommate yelled at me to "pull my shit together." So I did.

I don't always pull my shit together in 15 minutes, but when I do

I pray to the gods of Natural Beauty and hope for the best.

“@MikeKMorrison: Are you even alive @thejanklife? #livedating #babe cc:@AmandaKonarske” I'm here.

— Autumn Lee (@thejanklife) June 15, 2013

@MikeKMorrison @AmandaKonarske of course I'm not a total bitch. #livedating

— Autumn Lee (@thejanklife) June 15, 2013

You can see the full set of #livedating tweets on me tweeter, but since this is just a weekend update I'll stop now. Suffice to say, thank God for good food showing up and friends who live tweet for you. That was rough.

Nursery. Sex and the City marathon. New book. Reading. Repeat. Oh, and I guest blogged for Hang On, Honey on Your Incomplete Guide to Winery Games. If you haven't had a chance to check it out, please do! I worked really hard to come up with something good that I've gotten from my time dating assholes. Don't let me fall flat. 

XOXO,

Move Over, Carrie

A few weeks ago, I made the first move. And it was glorious. A perfect "wait, you too?!" moment. What ensued was two weeks worth of flirty texts and two-hour phone calls during road trips that make you remember just how fun it is to get the butterflies. And then.

Radio silence.

Last night, after a week's worth of radio silence, I sent out an SOS. A flirty, "to hell with it, I'll never see you again" text to check the waters again. Today (a full 24 hours later), I heard back from the fellow for the first time in over a week.

"Sorry for being absent. Been hectic l8ly."

My first reaction (besides thinking who the eff still texts using numbers to abbreviate?) was to text a quick "Oh you're fine, you don't need to apologize for anything." But then, I stopped. Did he owe me an apology? Was he fine? The fact is, everything had been going great and then radio silence....so was it really "fine"? If I was being honest, what would I say? 

But really, what would I say? We are taught that a woman who cuts all communication after a break-up or failed one night stand is "handling it with grace" and "cutting her losses." A woman who holds the man accountable and asks for an explanation or dares tell them that their action was rude/deusch-y/etc is  "having trouble moving on." Who picked those descriptors? Who decided that not speaking your mind was "graceful" and "tactful"? Shouldn't we be encouraging people to speak their mind, good or bad? 

My blog is most often found by typing into Google "dating disasters comedy blog." But my reaction to his text today made me think, am I setting myself up for a dating disaster? If I tell him it's fine, that he has nothing to apologize for, I'm really giving him a free pass. Granted, this is someone I've just been texting with so it's not life or death. But, I think this same thing is applicable to more serious relationships. If you tell your significant other that "it's fine," they really are getting a free pass to go on about their life and keep repeating that bad behavior. How often have you been out with your girlfriends and told some dating disaster story and their response is a sympathetic "oh he totally knows better, what a dick." Does he? What if we're all running around saying "he knows better," but he doesn't actually know better because no one has told him? We're all assuming someone did, or will, but no one actually does say "that was a dick move, don't do it again."If we continue to run around the dating pool without speaking up for ourselves and just assuming that some girl some where at some time told him what we're really dying to tell him, are we setting ourselves up for a dating disaster? And how can we ever break this cycle if a woman who cuts all communication with a bad date/relationship is deemed "tactful" and "graceful" and someone who doesn't is met with a raised eyebrow and a "hot mess" label? 

If I look at my life for evidence, I would have to admit that the idea I sometimes set myself up for dating disasters is true. I'm trying to lose weight and make a healthy lifestyle, and I brought a box of cupcakes home from work. I want to be a nonprofit executive director, but I procrastinate signing the paperwork that would be the next step in making that happen. Examples are endless. I'm setting myself up (potentially) for disaster.

How would dating change if we were all completely honest? No, it's not fine. Yes, you do owe me an explanation. Explanation received? Cool. No hard feelings. But, if you're hoping to find a long-term significant other in the near future I encourage you to stop that annoying action. 

What do you think? Are we setting ourselves up for dating disasters by not being honest? When did being honest become synonymous with being negatively critical? Would you rather date a completely honest person, or does the thought of potential "harsh honesty" scare you? 

Oh, and I still haven't said anything back. Because I don't know what to say. Society taught me to make excuses for people and say "oh you're fine, you don't need to apologize." But maybe I don't want to make excuses for people anymore. 

Move over, Carrie. There's a new single girl in town. 

Dating Disasters: "Babe"

It's time for another tale from the dating disasters pool. Really, I should just write all of these down to make sure I don't forget any. My top Google search term has always been "dating disasters comedy blog" and well...I'm happy to be here for you. Please, learn from my mistakes.

I recently went on a first and second (don't ask me why) date with a very potentially nice young man. Nice, conservative, Catholic, older...he had all the fixings of a potential summer fling love connection. Until he didn't. Until he started or ended every sentence with one word...

Babe.

I'm sorry. What? This is our second meeting. I am literally a stranger. You are literally a stranger. I am not your babe. Nor am I "your girl" so please don't try to mix it up with that one either. 

Babe you're so funny. 

I'll pick you up at 7 babes.

This is why I like you babes.

We got chemistry babe.

Babe.

Babe.

Babe.

[Literal Conversation from car ride]

Boy: Woah bro, that is a funny story. 

Me: I'm sorry, what? Bro? Are you friendzoning me before the date even ends?

Boy: Babe, we are definitely not in the friendzone.

Me: I mean...you called me bro.

Boy: Would you rather I called you bro or babe?

Me: Are those my only two options?

Boy: Babe you're so funny!

At this point, I am literally questioning whether he knows my name or not. For the love of all that is holy and romantic and sane, please save your terms of endearment for someone YOU ACTUALLY KNOW. 

What's the term of endearment that just grates your ears? How soon is too soon for pet names?