A Picture Says A Thousand Words

I have been online dating for quite a few years now. I have seen thousands upon thousands of profiles. But it never fails to amaze me at the chronic mistakes most people make in their photos. Here, are the errors that both men and women make in their profiles. Lets begin, shall we?

Baby Pictures

 Surprise! 

I Have a Penis!

I have a lot of gal pals since moving to NYC. Mostly because these women find my jack ass nature endearing. Anyway one of the many perks of being friends with them is that I hear all the bad date stories that serve as cautionary tales.

But one trend keeps coming up (no pun intended) over and over again. The trend? The penis picture. A lot of women reading this are nodding their heads agreeing with me. Here, is the basic scenario guy and girl go out, guy acts normal on the date (hell sometimes down right charming) and its a lovely night. But once the girl gets back to her place. She checks her e-mail only to see a message from the boy. Excitedly she opens the attachment and.....

Now For Something Completely Different!

When Texting goes wrong

A few months ago I had an incident that I think could have been avoided. Let me give you the details. Once upon a time Sir Dave of Bronxicus asked for fair maiden who we shall call Betty. Sir Dave found Lady Betty attractive enough to ask on yonder movie of Total Rekal. 'twas a horrible film but much enjoyable time was had by all. 

Now that you know that then we can proceed. Betty was the type of person who preferred to speak via text. This would be reason #15342 why I hate texting. It started out okay (always does) but then the following scenario came about. She had to cancel our second date because she had to visit family. She told me she felt really bad about this. So I responded which was my fatal error. I said something I say to everyone both male and female friends. It was...

"Aw man that sucks, I miss ya man"

That's it. That's all it took to freak out a thirty year old woman. Because what she interpreted instead was....

The French Toast Saga

Part Six - The Bitter End!

“Pack your shit, call your brother and get the fuck out!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I had finally snapped. After days of dealing with Casey freeloading off me, I had had enough. I stood in my room, already dressed for work, losing my shit. Casey stood across from me, white with fear and a dumbfounded look on her face.

“Are you serious?” She stammered back.

“You better fucking believe it! Do you think I’m stupid? I know what you are doing! You prance around my fucking apartment not cleaning up after yourself, eating my food and taking up my time. You think walking around in a thong or touching my leg is going to keep me from realizing that you are nothing more than a leech?”

“That’s…That’s not true” She stammered.

“Oh isn’t it?” I asked my face turning a crimson red. “Who babysat you for two weeks? Who paid for the Statue of Liberty?  Who put up with your demands on a 3 hour trip to a convention that was closed? And WHO THE FUCK COOKED YOU FRENCH TOAST EVERY FUCKING MORNING?!” I shrieked.

In my rage, all I could think about was how did I get to this point?  What finally set me off on this rage fueled tirade. Well I guess you could say I just had finally been pushed too far. Actually it was a bottled water of all things that made me snap.

 

The French Toast Saga
Part Five - The Silver Lining

As I laid in the darkness, I sighed loudly.

“What’s wrong?” Rosa said as she leaned back in the recliner next to mine.

“I’m just bored” I replied trying to ignore the fact that a hot girl was sleeping next to me.

Rosa then turned and faced me. It was then that I realized how stunning this girl was. Even in the darkness I could see clear as day that this girl was radiant.

“What’s on your mind?” Rosa said innocently, I stared at her brown eyes and tried, not to swoon.

The frat boy in me suddenly appeared in my mind.

SEX! SEX! TALK ABOUT SEX! He screamed.

 

The French Toast Saga 

Part Four - The Fellowship of Jersey 

“Yeah were going to go to Hackett’s Town. How much is that?” I asked leaving my credit card on the counter. The clerk sat across from me. Her blank expression showed the years she had worked dealing with commuters to New Jersey.

“That’s fifty five dollars” The clerk said while popping her gum.

“Whoa!” I heard Casey cry out. As usual she was the reason why we stood in Penn Station. The morning had been trying. Casey had made me wait three hours while she got dressed. I, on the other hand, took only thirty minutes.

The French Toast Saga

Part Three - My Girl Likes To Party All The Time!

“Where’s my French toast?” Casey asked as I walked to the bathroom.

“What?” I said groggily.

“My French toast, where is it?” She asked again with  innocence in her voice.

“Give me a minute” I grumbled as I opened my fridge to take out the eggs and milk.

It had been a four long days since her arrival, and I was in hell. Casey was driving me crazy. She was a slob having turned my living room into a landfill of clothes and other junk. Her bathroom habits where deplorable. Every day I found my towel on the floor while hers took its place on the rack. Dishes were beginning to stack, and opened containers of food surrounded my kitchen counter.

"Casey, since you're staying here can you at least wash the dishes?" I asked earnestly.

She looked at me puzzled, like a lion looks at an ant, and said “Why don’t I just clean the dishes I used?”

As I began to protest, Casey walked past me in her thong causing my mind to go stupid. She would do this all the time. Constantly walking around my apartment in her underwear or clearly not wearing a bra under her shirt. She would wink and peck me on the cheek when my face betrayed my anger. But any overture at evolving our relationship was met with resistance.

“I want to take things slow” she whined. “You need to conquer a woman”





My feminist mind began to protest, and she hugged me tightly. Her full breasts against my chest.

“Sure” I said meekly.

I soon realized Casey had the I.Q of a raisin. She got lost to my apartment five times from the subway. She had no clue how to do her own laundry. The kicker was when while watching a documentary of the Civil War, she turned and said “David, who did we fight in the Civil War?”

“How’s the child?” Leanne asked sarcastically over the phone.

“Don’t call her that..” I replied annoyed.

“David! You need to grow a pair” Leanne hollered at me.

“But…but…boobs” I stuttered back.

“You are a jack ass..” Leanne said dryly.

Leanne was right. I knew it, but I could not stop myself from letting Casey walk all over me. Things took a turn for the worse on Halloween. Casey had made plans to go to a Brooklyn costume party with friends from Jersey. I was exhausted because of the little sleep I got taking care of the giant baby. So I opted to stay home while she partied with hot girls.

“Will you take me to Brooklyn?” Casey asked with puppy dog eyes.

“No” I grumbled “All you have to do is take the five train to the L and you're in Brooklyn”

“But I’m scared” she whined.

 “Oh my God, Casey! You’ll be fine!” I yelled exhausted.

“Ok” she said meekly.

Thirty minutes later Casey knocked on my door.

“What?” I asked defeated.

“My friend Rose wants to talk to you” she said handing me the phone.

“Hello?” I said placing the phone to my ear.

“You’re not going to take her to Brooklyn?” Rose asked alarmed.

“No, she'll be fine” I answered

“I'm concerned for her safety, but if you feel so strongly about it then fine” Rose said in an accusing tone.

“Fine” I said defeated and handed the phone back to Casey.

I looked at Casey and laid out the plan. We had a maximum of two hours to get ready and get on the train. One minute more and one train ride would turn to three. Not to mention an hour commute would turn to two. She agreed to the time table, and I laid down to get some sleep while she got ready.

I closed my eyes, and darkness welcomed me.

“David? Wake up I’m ready” Casey said peeking through my bedroom door.

“Okay, what time is it?” I said pouring myself out of bed.

“It’s eleven” she replied matter of factly

“What?!” I screamed. We had missed our window by an hour. “I told you to wake me in an hour tops!”

“I know, but I couldn’t find the right scrunchy for my outfit” she said shyly.

Twenty minutes later, I sat quietly furious on the train. Sensing my rage, Casey rubbed my leg and put her head on my shoulder. The blatant attempt at manipulation only enraged me further. I wanted to strangle that frat boy. By the third transfer, I was resigned to my fate. It would be a four hour commute round trip. Once we got to the L, I looked at Casey, and made her promise to call me when she got to the party. She nodded and jumped on the train.

I guess since the L train is not scary since its full of white kids I thought to myself.

Once I arrived back home, I looked at my phone for messages. I had no voice mails. I called Casey and got no response. My mind quickly began to panic. I started to picture Caseys lifeless body in a ditch. Every episode of C.S.I flashed through my head. I began to hear her mothers sobs and questions of why I did not protect her baby.

Needless to say, I could not sleep. I called Casey numerous times, staring at the phone for any sign of life. My patience paid off at five am. When she burst through the door, giggling like a mad woman.

“Oh David! I had so much fun! Rose and her friends were so cool!” She sang.

“Yeah that’s great GET TO BED!” I snapped.

I stormed off to my room. Casey oblivious to my feelings. I threw myself in bed, content that the worst was over. I was sadly mistaken. The worst was yet to come…




                                    

The French Toast Saga

Part Two - Red Flags Galore

“Yay! French Toast!” Casey squealed as she poured maple syrup on my creation.

It had been two days since she arrived in my apartment and it already felt like two months. Casey had gotten herself a two week ticket to NYC. The first morning of her stay, being the dutiful host that I was, I cooked her breakfast. Fluffy French toast with scrambled eggs and sausage. The first day was spent getting her established in my neighborhood. I lived only 4 blocks away from the subway and two bus routes passed by my home. I taught her how to get a metro card. I taught her what gypsy cabs looked like and the average fares.  I taught her how to use my TV to switch between watching cable and a DVD.

I taught her all these things which she then proceeded to forget the following day. She didn’t forget that I cooked. That she remembered! When she woke up the following morasking she asked where her breakfast was. I groggily got up after only sleeping five hours from my night shift. I then began to make her breakfast as she stared at me from my guest futon.



“Are we going to the Halloween store?” She asked as she tore into her French toast.

I had forgotten that Halloween was only a few days away. Casey had friends from New Jersey who had invited her to a house party in Brooklyn. I soon learned that Casey was exceedingly specific about how she looked, and her costume had to be perfect. She was supposed to be dressed like an obscure 1980’s pop singer who’s name I forget but who’s work Casey was determined had been stolen by Madonna.  Since Casey had forgotten how to walk to the subway (4 blocks in a straight line) from my home. I was forced to accompany her to the biggest costume shop in the city.

The city was a buzz with Halloween madness. Normally I would be more exited.   I was barely conscious, the previous night I had slept only four hours.  I left Casey as she was running around the costume shop like a five year old. I only had an hour before my shift began. I was actually looking forward to being screamed at by dumb customers. It would have been a step up from having to be at Caseys beck and call.

Later that night, I arrived to find my futon filled with anime action figures, DVDs, Gothic jewelry  and comic books.

“What’s all this?” I asked.

“Oh my God! There was a comic store right next to the costume shop! You cant find these things in Puerto Rico” She squealed.

“Uh, Casey can you afford this stuff?” I asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Casey tried to change the subject by telling me about the Vampirella comics and how her new jewelry would make her costume complete.

“Wait, Casey seriously how did you afford this?” I said trying to calculate the sum of all this junk.

“I have money, besides you can help me out right?” She said sweetly.

“Oh well, when you put it like that then…WAIT WHAT?!” I said in shock.

Casey quickly got out of bed. She was wearing a tank top and purple underwear. She pressed her boobs to my chest, and my hand lightly grazed her thigh only to discover she was wearing a thong. My free will was fading fast.

                                           
“David, cant we talk about this later? Lets watch a movie. We can cuddle…” She said coyly.

I was done for. I was her bitch, and she knew it. We quickly got in the futon and watched one of her anime DVDs. Her body pressed closely against mine. At that moment, I knew I was being used, but I just didn’t care. I would have no idea that the next few days would not only try my patience but my sanity itself…

                                    

 

The French Toast Saga

Part One - The Coming Of The Busty Blond

“I got you a gift” Juan proclaimed with a proud face.

“A hooker?” I said sarcastically as I flipped through one of his latest comics.

“Close! A Girl!” He smiled mischievously.

I gave Juan a puzzled look. He had just arrived to stay with me for the local comic con. Having opted to stay in Puerto Rico; when I had left the island years ago. I was confused. I was one of the few people he knew in NYC. He was also married, so his circle of single friends was his brother and me.

“What are you talking about?” I asked with a serious face.

“Look!” He pointed at my computer screen.

Speed Dating or Russian Roulette YOU Decide

This past weekend I dragged my friend Angel to a speed dating event. For months, he had been complaining  about how he could never meet anyone. He blamed his accent, his weight (bastards skinnier than me) and his ethnicity over his lack of dates. I knew this was complete bullshit. He had fallen into a negative view of the world. When we fall into this, it prevents us from achieving our dreams. I knew the best way to knock him out of this funk, was to throw him in the deep end of the pool.

How To Ruin The Perfect Date In Five Easy Steps A.K.A Starbucks Jackass.

How To Ruin The Perfect Date In Five Easy Steps A.K.A Starbucks Jackass.

“David! You need to stop calling me. I tried to be nice, but you are clearly not getting it. I DO NOT WANT TO DATE YOU. You are too intense!” Amy said angrily.

“But…Wait…You don’t understand” I stammered back, but it was too late. She had hung up. I held the phone in my hand in disbelief. A well of emotions surged in me shame, anger, and embarrassment. How did I wind up in this situation? Well, for that we would need to turn back the clock about two weeks prior to that angry phone call...
                                          

I'm Not A Foodie, I'm Just Fat A.K.A Roasted Chicken With A Side Of Broken Heart

It was a chilly April day, and I stood in front of what used to be Virgin Records. Now a casualty of the shitty economy, it had been converted to a Citibank. Yet another reminder of how NYC was slowly transforming into a banal wasteland. I was nervous, yet excited; a woman had sought me out online! This was a rarity in that women do not normally seek us penis wearers. Rather, we are the ones on the other end of the keyboard hoping they haven't closed their Okcupid account. Filled with disgust, after a barrage of losers before us had sent them one sentenced e-mails with horrible grammar proposing sex or pictures of their member in its photoshopped glory.

Steak, Tears & Bambi's Dead Mother

"I'm sorry! I seriously thought I would be okay" Charlotte began to say between sobs. " I haven't gotten like this in years...I honestly am a normal person." That last sentence said it all, because in my experience when someone said that they were normal, they were far from it.

Her white cheeks had turned beet red and tears where flowing like a monsoon. Between sobs and attempts at words, Charlotte began to make a squeaky rubber frog sound. The sound began to echo throughout the restaurant. The murmur of a crowd that had filled the restaurant had now emptied the room. We were the center of attention. I was slowly shrinking out of embarrassment. Our waitress was now surrounded by her coworkers staring at me. The look on her face was full of judgement and hatred toward me. In her mind (and most of the restaurant) I was the asshole who was dumping his girlfriend in a public place. Maybe I was a cheater who just confessed to bagging half the east coast or maybe I just told her that I would never marry her.

The truth was none of the above, in fact this was our first date. The cause of her hysterics had nothing to do with me. In fact, it was the owner of the steak house who was at fault.

Spaghetti & Meatballs

"So how does this work, again?" I asked while staring at Damian's cake pop.

"I pay Grouper twenty dollars, they go on my Facebook and match me to a girl who has a similar profile. They claim, they match me to someone with similar interests and attractiveness. So they bring two friends, and I bring two friends. It's a triple blind date. Grouper even picks the restaurant where we meet. We won't even know until the day of the date." Damien replied while he moved his cake pop away from my reach.

"So basically, you want me to give you twenty dollars in the hope that a group of strangers will set you up with your perfect woman, and I just have to hope she's not one of these shallow people who surrounds themselves with ugly obnoxious friends so they can look good?" I replied secretly cursing him for buying my favorite flavor. Birthday cake...damn him...

"Pretty much" He said cheerfully while taking a bite out of said pastry, who's name shall never again be spoken.

"You do know this could be a disaster." I replied.

"So you don't want to do it?" He said while he cleaned his face with a napkin.

"No, this sounds so insane that I cant say no."