Anonymously Denver famous?

Oh shit guys, I might be getting anonymously Denver famous!

You may recall my previous post where I refer to what it means to be Denver famous. It’s like real famous, but less so. Some Denver famous people move on to become real famous people… such as…. Nathaniel Rateliff. Or Condoleeza Rice? I don’t know if she was Denver famous when she lived here, she might have just skipped Denver fame to become actually famous. Anyway, I may have my shot at Denver fame, specifically anonymous Denver fame, thanks to a local institution that defines what it means to be Denver famous, the Westword.

I was asked to be a featured “bro expert” of sorts for a Westword article about the evolution of the LoDo neighborhood and its corresponding bros. Because I am a credible bro expert, certified by the Department of Regulatory Agencies of Colorado. That would be awesome if that was a thing. At any rate, I was asked to literally meet up with some of the fine folks from Westword to go out in LoDo and help them make fun of bros in an anthropological style for an article. It was a good time, and I appreciated being kept anonymous. My fake name for the article was Allison. I wanted it to be Lindsey, but apparently that had been used as a fake name in a previous article… So many women named Lindsey in my generation… Anyway, now there is an actual chance someone I’ve banged and written about will read the article and find this blog, so I really don’t want my identity, or anyone else’s, associated with this shenanigans.

They used a lot of direct quotes from me in the article that are probably actual statements I made… I think it’s all pretty funny, but possibly because I laugh at my own jokes? My friends also laughed when I read it aloud to them. Then I made them all swear to never tell anyone I have ever dated or might want to date that I am Allison.

So yes, an interesting article about an interesting night of me doing what I do best, judging people. I will say that the whole thing was a bit more subdued than I thought it would be due to the fact that I guess reporters don’t like to stay out super late on work assignments, so we left at 10:30pm, way before the bro witching hour.

Also, when I agreed to be a part of this situation, I didn’t realize it would be the cover article for the week. I have to say, I appreciate the amazing stock photo of a bro with brightly-colored sunglasses and an expression that can best be described as “the look on a Colorado bro’s face whilst shredding the gnar gnar and being whimsically happy about it.” Props to the art department or whoever made that happen. So, check out the sweet stock photo and even sweeter article  here.

And I will remember the little people when I become anonymously Denver famous. I am considering making a fake web presence for my fake self. If you have any suggestions for an awesome last name for Allison, please comment them.

For all the new people just seeing this blog now, welcome. Get ready for more tales of my “frequent and disastrous dating experiences,” as they were aptly described in the article.



Don’t be a racist in Boulder while dating a social worker in the ‘hood

I don’t feel very good today, so forgive the fact that the title of this blog post is a fairly poor attempt to play on the title of the Wayans Brothers 90’s classic movie that you might guess now that I gave you a hint.

So this is another story from about 4 or 5 years ago. I believe I met this guy off of OkCupid or another free dating site. And apparently, this was before I was too lazy to drive to Boulder or the suburbs or other places outside of 15 minutes from my house to hang out with dudes. I recently realized this when I was talking to a guy on Tinder and was unwilling to continue talking to him once I realized he lived in Boulder. It’s just so far away, and there’s always construction!

So I meet this dude online and he wants to meet up to go on a date in Boulder. I figure why not, it’s the weekend, I can go up to Boulder. So I do, and we start dating. I hang out with him in such illustrious Boulder locations as Mountain Sun Brewery, that outdoor fancy shopping mall area, walking along Boulder Creek, at the Dushambe Tea House… it was pretty much a best of Boulder montage.

At some point in our dating I discover two key things about this dude. #1 – He literally JUST moved here from India, like weeks ago, and knows nothing about Boulder so I am the one who has to think of the ideas for things to do. #2 – He has no car. So it’s up to Boulder for me if I want to keep hanging out with this guy. I’m not really sure what I liked about him, but probably it was the fact that he was super into me. I remember he would give me the weirdest compliments, like “I love the shape of your eyebrows, they are so perfect!” I swear he said that to me.

He also liked EDM music (back when it was called electronic music or something like that) and the club and was really impressed with himself for having gone skydiving, so maybe I should have seen the end coming. Also, he had a soul patch. I just remembered that detail, which really completes this story in my mind.

We would make out a lot in public places because he was squatting in CU Boulder University Housing without being a student and lived with 4 other Indian dudes. They had very little furniture and none of them seemed to know how to clean, so I wasn’t really trying to get frisky at his house.

One day, we made out at one of the Boulder Open Space parks while hiking, in his designer outfit, so not real hiking. He wore really nice clothes, as in fancy jeans and really Euro-y looking shirts. Come to think of it, my friend who likes European bros probably would have liked him, at least in terms of his wardrobe. We got some dinner or something and then I went back to Denver. Unbeknownst to me, he had left his fancy sunglasses in my car. This will become relevant to the story later.

So, as you may recall, I am a social worker and I work with teenagers. This is also about to become relevant to the story. This guy and I talk on the phone sometimes during the week because I can’t drive up to Boulder to hang out with him except for on the weekends. One day, because we have been hanging out for a while, I decide to actually tell him something real and vulnerable and not just try to be entertaining. I tell him about how I feel sad because one of the students I work with just found out she is pregnant and it always makes me depressed when 15-year-olds get pregnant. He asks me, “Is she black or Mexican?” That is literally the first thing out of his mouth. I ask him what the hell he means by that and he says that he “can’t care” about black or Mexican people and I shouldn’t worry either. Wow. There went your shot at me and my eyebrows continuing to hang out with you, motherfucker… I started yelling at him over the phone about being racist and broke up with him. I try to put myself in his shoes because I know they have a caste system and everything in India but still come to the conclusion of hell no, I don’t want to hang out with him any more.

So that’s that, I think. Until he starts texting me constantly about how I have his Gucci sunglasses because he left them in my car. Sure enough, I do have them. Fine, I say, what’s your address, I will mail them to you. He tells me that he doesn’t want them to break in the mail because they are so very important and expensive and can we just meet up sometime and he will get them from me. First of all, if you paid that much for sunglasses, I would like to think that mailing them would not result in them breaking, but whatever. Second of all, the idea of meeting up with him makes me want to punch him in the face and break his sunglasses.

So, at the time, I was living with a roommate who had a boyfriend in Boulder, and the two of them went to Boulder about every other week for the weekend. He probably had only been living with me for a few months and he had started dating his boyfriend almost immediately after he moved in with me. So I didn’t really know either of them super well but I could tell we were all going to be friends. So, for some reason I think it’s normal to do what I do next…

I decide to explain this situation to my new roommate and his boyfriend the next time they are over at the apartment. I then ask them if they will go meet this guy, Racist Indian Guy, as I now call him, in his sketchy unauthorized University housing living situation, and give him his sunglasses. For some reason, they agree. I guess they did want to be my friends! I am, incidentally, still friends with both of these people, so I guess it worked out somehow.

So, my roommate and his boyfriend bring Racist Indian Guy his sunglasses, and they say it was ok, not too awkward. By the by, they thought he seemed nice and was a good dresser so they could understand why I was initially into him, despite the racism, soul patch, and bro-ishness. That was nice of them to say.

I would also just like to add that when I told my roommate I was finally writing this story in my blog, she started making up a song about the Racist Indian Guy. It was pretty good, maybe she will record it for me later and I can embed it in this post. And we started discussing ways to make a sitcom about our dating lives. Because I now have two other female roommates and we all have our assorted dating stories and rotating exes and most of them have names such as “Johnny New Year” and “Tim 2” and “LA guy.” And all of those could make for excellent characters in a sitcom. We also have this one friend who we always run into at every rock show in Denver who tried to date/dated one of my roommates and several of our friends but has no game. He could be the George Costanza character from Seinfeld, or maybe Nick from New Girl. So stay tuned for a pilot for “That One Girl in Menver and Friends Dating Variety Show.” Or some other name. Ooh, or maybe it could be like that show, “Singled Out.” You know, with Jenny McCarthy before she was primarily known for telling people not to vaccinate their kids.

In conclusion, don’t be racist and try to date a social worker. This should be obvious, but so should other things I have written about, such as don’t send random girls you don’t know dick pics.

Just for the fellas: A treatise on penis photography

Hello, everyone. I hope you have all been enjoying your holiday season. And of course, no holiday is complete without some reference to dick pics… Right? Surely that’s a thing in this day and age.

Anyway, I have recently been hearing a lot about the strange phenomenon of the North American male dick pic. Men seem really into sending ladies pictures of their penises. And no offense, guys, but women don’t really want to see that. Penises are not beautiful and we are not really that into looking at them. At best, you see a dick pic and think, yup, there’s a dick. At worst, it is burned into your eyes forever.

For example, a friend of mine once got an unsolicited dick pic (is there any other kind? more on that later…) that was super weird-looking, like, it had weird coloring, probably due to some medical issue… but anyway, she got it and thought it was so hilarious that she saved it on her phone and showed it to a bunch of us at a party. And it was one of those ones that gets burned into your eyes forever. In retrospect, I’m not sure why I looked at it. Maybe dick pics are also reminiscent of car crashes. You know you don’t really want to see it, but you can’t seem to help yourself from looking anyway. But, the point is, dudes, this is what will happen when you send women dick pics without their consent; random girls and guys you don’t know will laugh at your dick at parties, or over happy hour. My friend (the recipient of the multicolored dick) was even saying she wanted to make a website dedicated to making fun of unsolicited dick pics. There probably already is one, but a) I don’t actually want to see that shit and b) I am using my parents’ computer and don’t really want that in their search history. Merry Christmas, Mom and Dad!

But I digress. The point is, don’t send random girls you haven’t met pictures of your wiener! I have also received a few of these beauties myself, many via Okcupid’s chat system. Thanks for that, nerds of Okcupid who invented that feature, a word of warning that you can send pictures over that thing would have been nice. Actually, the people who programmed the Ockupid chat function to enable photo-sending are probably guys, and probably thought about their fellow surprise dick-picking brethren when they made that more than they thought about the women who would log on to a multitude of windows popping up with dicks and messages starting with “sup?” And that is why I’m not on that site anymore. I ditched that one long before my latest pizza break.

So, again, where was I? Yes, my central thesis about when to send dick pics. There are two times when this seems to be advisable.

Acceptable Dick Pic Scenario 1:

I have heard that women do exist who will request dick pics from their partner when they are in a relationship. Something along the lines of, “Honey, I’m out of town for work and I miss you! Most specifically, I miss your penis! Will you send me a picture of Pookie so I can see that he misses me, too?” In this case, I would guess that said penis probably also has a nickname (maybe not Pookie). If it was me, I would probably just want to talk on the phone or attempt to have phone sex or sexy time Skype. But, to each their own. In conclusion, if asked, by all means give your ladyfriend the photos she desires! Then you won’t be having strangers laugh at your manhood until after you break up (or until you run for office)!

Acceptable Dick Pic Scenario 2:

You are gay and sending your member picture to another dude. Again, still recommended that you ask first, but my very informal and skewed-sample study of gay men who are also friends with me leads me to believe that in many cases, this is acceptable. Especially if you meet on Grindr.

If you do not find yourself in either of these situations, it is best to refrain from dick-picking. And by all means, do not use a photo of your dick as a get-to-know you icebreaker! If I don’t know you, there is no way that is the first part of you that I want to meet. That’s the equivalent of a dude in a trenchcoat whipping it out and then running away in the sketchy stairs of the library of my college campus. Believe it or not, this was an issue when I was in school at a certain liberal arts college in the South that will remain anonymous to protect the “indecent exposure guy.” That’s literally what they called him in the school newspaper.

I know, it’s tempting. I know that you think somehow this will prompt your victim to send you back some boob shots or full nudes. I know of exactly zero instances in which that has happened. I get the feeling that you don’t mind this, men of the early-weiner-shot-sending persuasion, having your dicks running around the internet everywhere. You are either just playing the (very low) odds that someone will respond favorably or like the feeling of showing off your mini-me that you are obviously very proud of, to innocent bystanders.

So lastly, if you are not willing to heed my advice and insist on sending wiener photos to women you don’t know well, at least follow these tips to make it less likely that your penis will be the running joke of her next girls’ night out.

1) Refrain from using objects for scale.  Your dick next to a pencil, cucumber, other phallic piece of produce, etc. does not lead us to marvel at it’s size, it just makes us laugh at you.

2) Don’t have outfits, piercings, tattoos, or drawings on or near your penis. And don’t wear underwear. A dick pic while wearing underwear isn’t even a dick pic, it’s just dumb. Also, Anthony Weiner, much?

3) Don’t include any text in conjunction with your picture. Also, no emoticons. I once knew someone who got a poorly-lit dick pic with the caption “U want this” …she most definitely did not. Relatedly, although the “moments” feature on Tinder (one of the dumbest features on Tinder, in my opinion, it’s basically a snapchat of a picture that immediately disappears, but all of your matches can see it) invites you to add text to any photo you put on there, do not take this as license to add text to your latest dick selfie. Also, don’t use the moments feature on Tinder to give your Tinder matches moments of your dick in the first place!

Which brings me to my last tip….

4) Put your best dick forward. Pay attention to lighting. Most dicks look best in soft, indirect light, but not with weird shadows… Never involve a mirror. Pay attention to your environment, as in, keep your pile of laundry, pit bull, stack of video games, Ninja Turtle sheets, etc. out of the photo.

The last thing that all of this makes me think of is one of my holiday favorites. Giving someone a dick in a box is pretty much the same thing as sending them a dick pic. Which, as Justin Timberlake can attest, makes a great gift for any occasion. To re-iterate my main point here, please note that the gentlemen in this video were presumably dating the recipients of their dicks in boxes.

Dick in a Box

I think that’s about all I’ve got for you today, dear readers. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Tales from the friend zone: Part two

Here is a story about when I was the asshole and had to put a really nice guy in the friend zone. This all just happened over the past couple months, pretty soon after I “broke up with” my non-boyfriend/friend zone/worst-friend-with-benefits-ever… See previous entry for that.

So yes, after starting (well into 2014, I might add) what a friend of mine and I are calling “No Bullshit 2014!” (said with emphasis), I decided to go on the hunt for a good guy. Where shall I find him? I ask myself… The internets, of course! Actually, I did find a really good guy.

On Okcupid, after sifting through various profiles similar to the ones that my dear friend Undateable discussed, full of bathroom mirror shirtless selfies, incorrect grammar, quotes from Anchorman, etc…. I discover a guy who is my soulmate, if his profile is any indication! He describes himself using correct spelling and grammar, mentions things he is passionate about, refers to an astrological concept known as the Saturn’s return where you have epiphanies and change your life around your 28th to 30th years (something I am interested in and think I have experienced), he’s a teacher, he knows what he wants in life and in a relationship…. Shit, he is amazing! His pictures aren’t great but there are enough that I don’t suspect catfishing and I figure maybe he looks better in person. I have noticed that boys are surprisingly bad at choosing pictures for their dating profiles.

I actually message him, which I rarely do because when I message people, I usually get rejected. When people message me, they usually get rejected. I think people go for people who are too hot for them or something online? I don’t know what it is… but I get a pretty small rate of return on messages I send to dudes. However, homedude does indeed message me back and actually suggests going out. Great, I am not a big fan of endless small talk on dating sites, I find that after a certain point, it usually gets really boring or starts to involve dick pics. I might write a whole other entry on that later…

So yes, this guy not only messages me about meeting in person, but I send him my number and he calls me! Calls me! Not texts! This is truly a miracle of modern dating… In recent years, most dates I have been on have involved facebook chat, texting, or emailing, but pretty much never calling. Except for catfish, they love talking on the phone; see “Gone catfishing” for more on this. But I think most dudes do not have the balls to call a girl, or maybe most dudes that do internet dating do not have the balls to call a girl. They are probably online because they have trouble talking to girls, as evidenced by the content of most of this blog… I have actually had a lot of internet dudes text me endlessly but never actually manage to ask me out. Like, for days, stupid small talk texting with no mention ever of meeting and no actual phone call. Usually I just stop responding after a while and never hear from them again. That always makes me feel very happy that I spent time texting them for three days…. So, needless to say, after an actual phone call, I am very excited about my first date with Mr. Teacher.

We go to the Hornet, always a classic for first dates because they have pretty good food, you can get booze, and it’s generally sort of crowded but not too loud. It’s snowing. Mr. Teacher is not really better looking in person than his pictures, but he’s not ugly per se, just awkward. But nothing terrible. And the date is nice, he has a lot of things to say, he’s smart, direct, honest, we have some things in common, we both like backpacking and hiking, we both like to try new things and think about how to develop and grow as people, and we both have a passion for making a difference with kids. Someone who will finally understand why I care about things! Someone who has social skills! Someone who would want to have adventures with me! Everything about this date is amazeballs but the chemistry. It just seems a little awkward and I am not feeling very attracted to him, which I figure is no big deal, maybe it will happen. We end the date, he walks me out to my car and gives me a hug. He is a normal person… no weird shit has happened yet, hooray! Writing this is making me realize that I am really not asking that much these days in terms of my standards. I pretty much declare things a massive success if there is no major traumatic incident on the first date…

I’m not sure if he liked me but sure enough, he calls me for another date. We have another date, and another, and another. I start to learn other things about him that are great…. He has a dog, he is going to hike the Colorado Trail next summer, he has just decided to go back to school to get his Ph.D., which he is very excited about, he is willing to sing karaoke with me, even though he is horrendously bad at it… We did a duet of “Same Love” at Armida’s and brought the house down, mostly because I am a karaoke professional and because everyone loves that song. But I digress… He has a lot of great friends and is really close with them. I meet his friends along around maybe our 5th or 6th date. They love me. He actually told me that his friends all want me to be their friend even if things don’t work out with us… The more we hang out, the more I realize how perfect this guy should be for me. We start ending the evening by making out after one night, he asked me if he could kiss me. How nice… The only problem is that I still can’t seem to get attracted to him, or “get it up” for him, as the kids say these days. I start to realize that the day of friend-zoning is nigh. I don’t want to be mean to the nicest guy I have met in a while. He starts getting that look in his eyes, you know the one… and I realize I am going to have to either mind-trick myself into being attracted to him or stop leading him on.

He suggests that we “watch a movie” one day and I know that this is the exact opposite of the previous asexual “watching a movie” situation I mentioned in the last entry. I know he wants to awkwardly make out, maybe grope some boobies, you know, the usual. He comes over, we sit on the couch, and we watch Sharknado. If you do not know what this is, do yourself a favor and please watch below:

Basically, this is potentially the most ridiculous and non-romantic movie ever. But it is hilarious. During this movie, he does indeed start making awkward moves with his super cold hands and I just sort of want him to stop touching me. My attempt to mind-trick myself into being attracted to him is clearly failing. It dawns on me that I really do not want him to start making out with me. Ever again. Shit.

Because he is sort of timid and would probably ask me “Can I grab your boob?” instead of just grabbing it, because he is that nice… not much else happens during the movie but awkward cold hand-holding. We laugh a lot because, Sharknado… And then the movie ends and we start talking about stuff, like we always do, and he is talking about relationship stuff, and I just can’t take it any more. I can’t be mean to him in the long run so I have to be mean to him right now.

I clumsily break the news to him that I feel like we don’t have the right chemistry and we should just be friends, in a manner that involves a lot of jibbering about how he is such a good guy and I like him a lot as a person and other sorts of stuff that is true but I suddenly realize is a lot like the shit that no business time friend zone companion guy was saying to me. Now I’m the asshole, dammit! He looks so sad and I just keep talking until I eventually get a hold of myself. I tell him that it’s up to him if he wants to be friends or not, and I really do want to be his friend, but I tell him it’s only if he wants to, and other various things as I continue talking in circles. He thanks me for being honest, says he will be in touch, gives me a hug, and leaves. I feel sad and like a bad person, but also like I have released a magical creature, a good guy, into the wild. Go, magical teacher, and find a girl who is attracted to you and doesn’t exclusively go for guys who don’t like her as much as their phones!

Sometimes you don’t need a second date to tell someone is cray…

Hello, dear readers. Hope you had a lovely Valentine’s Day being happy or unhappy or drunk or high or oblivious or whatever works for you…

I have been back out there on the Okcupid with a vengeance lately, and I already have another story for you.This whole situation just happened fairly recently, a few weeks ago…

So I start messaging with a guy on Okcupid, yet another engineer. Because I have not yet learned my lesson about engineers… He keeps talking about how he wants to go snowshoeing but I have finally wised up enough in my life to have a few less intense dates before committing to something like that. So I suggest that our first date be a coffee date. He lives in the South suburbs so we decide to meet at a nice hipster-y coffee shop in Baker.

I head out on my way to this date, la la la… When suddenly a car pulls out right in front of me on 13th Avenue, causing me to have to swerve to avoid hitting them, which in turn causes me to run off the road into someone’s yard, somehow shooting the gap between a tree and a rock landscaping wall as my life flashes before my eyes. Miraculously, I am fine (except for a little whiplash) and so is my car. The people whose yard I am now parked in come out, they are very nice to me and not concerned about the damage to their yard, and this other guy gets the license plate of the driver (who didn’t stop) and gives me his info in case I want to file a police report. At this point, I probably should have just turned around and headed home. This was not going to be my day. But yet again I am too nice, I decide that it would be mean to reschedule because homeboy is probably already almost at the coffee shop because he had a long journey from Englewood or Centennial or Highlands Ranch or wherever (they all blend together in my mind because I always get lost down there!) So I call this guy and tell him I am going to be late because I just got in a car accident. He says thank you for calling, he is already there at the coffee shop. Of course he is.

So I make my way down to the coffee shop, feeling really weird and shaky due to adrenaline/whiplash/thinking I was going to die… But I must soldier on, I say to myself. This could be my soulmate waiting for me and this day will start looking up!

Nope. I get to the coffee shop, meet Engineer #2, have some tea, start talking about stuff, etc. Not very far into the date, the dude says… because you know, these things just come up… “I used to hate everyone because I was bullied as a kid. But now I just don’t like most people. It takes a lot for someone to interest me, to keep me entertained so I want to bother spending time with them.” Or something like that. Great. My job and life mostly revolves around being interested in people, caring about people, having friends, being in social situations… I’m sure you will really understand me and how I operate given that you think of people the same way you think of inanimate objects… Hmmm… “Maybe that’s not something most people would say, but I’m brutally honest,” he says, one of those phrases which I have learned is code for “I’m an asshole but I feel good about it.” Wow… the more I think about it in hindsight, the more I should not have gone on a second date with this guy!

However, throughout this date I am also spending a ridiculous amount of energy trying to act normal, look normal, feel normal, do my “active/fake listening” despite the fact that my neck super hurts and I am now coming down from the adrenaline of avoiding crashing into a tree.

Upon further reflection, I somehow conclude that maybe this guy’s not a sociopath, I mean, he did open the door for me and say please and thank you… I say to myself that I will consider a second date if he contacts me again. Which he does. A lot. He apparently is really bored all the time at his job and tries to have extensive texting conversations with me all the time over the next two weeks that it takes for me to be available for a second date.

This time, I don’t know why, but I suggest a more ambitious date. Going to see a movie at the Boulder Film Festival. But it’s still Sunday daytime and I have plans (another date, actually) later on that afternoon/evening so that gives me an out. My intuition tells me that I don’t want this guy to know where I live (probably one of the few good moves I made during this whole story), so we meet near the Auraria Campus and leave my car there, and he drives to Boulder.

This is where shit gets real. It’s around noon on a Sunday, a beautiful Sunday drive up to Boulder. Sounds great, very peaceful and calm, right? Not for this guy and his anger issues that I am about to find are rather unresolved.

There are a few places along the way to Boulder that there are construction zones, or old people driving slow, or other minor bottlenecks that would cause a normal person just to slow down or maybe switch lanes. Not this guy. He starts road raging to the max each time any obstacle is encountered, engaging in some extreme and high-speed tailgating (I am from the East Coast so I know about tailgaiting, but out here you don’t see it that much, maybe because tailgaiting someone doesn’t actually make them go faster..), cursing and muttering about “idiots” and “people who drive like that can die in a fire.” Who says things like that?!? This situation is sort of freaking me out because he has to slam on the brakes repeatedly to avoid hitting the people he is tailgaiting at 55 mph, and also because I am generally disturbed by his massive road rage on what would be a leisurely Sunday drive for any normal person. I almost died in a car crash once already this month, I don’t need to die because of your terrible driving choices, sir…

But somehow we make it up to Boulder without dying, or hitting anything, despite coming close several times, including once when he changed lanes in an intersection and cut someone off at a light once we were actually in Boulder… And we go see a movie, good movie, no talking happening during the movie. Also, no groping. Which I think is good because I am a bit concerned about this guy’s barely-concealed rage and feel like that might translate into things I don’t like, like fierce face-sucking during making out, or copping a feel really aggressively… It’s not nice to tug, boys!

Anyway, the movie is uneventful but I am a glutton for punishment (and hungry) so we go get a sandwich and walk around a little bit on the Pearl Street Mall. During this time, he lets slip several gems about really weird stuff, including somehow telling me a story about how when he was a kid he had some sort of really intense lego set and he was so much of a control freak that he had to always put it away so his cousins couldn’t play it whenever they came over so they wouldn’t mess it up or put things in the wrong place. The thing that made this extra disconcerting is that he described this incident so vividly and with such emotion that it seemed like he was re-living it. He also made a lot of references to a bunch of sci-fi things, video games, etc. and seemed very crestfallen every time I tell him I didn’t know what he was talking about. He had seemed super excited on our first date when I told him that I liked Buffy the Vampire Slayer. That generally seems to be the only thing that I like that gets me any cred with nerds. Like the time when I thought it was a good idea to go to Comic Con to pick up dudes… I can save that story for later. But I am basically a nerd poser (yeah, I said poser, I probably haven’t used that word since high school!) because I only like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and just the show, not the graphic novel! So he seems fairly dissatisfied with my ability to keep his interest and entertain him (the purpose of people in his world, as you may recall) by talking about anime movies, sci-fi movies or TV shows, or fantasy books. He also gets into a whole racist diatribe about the time he spent working for his engineering firm near the Mexican-US border and about how all the people there were worthless and it was a cesspool, but that’s not racist because I don’t hate all Mexican people! Just the ones in that part of Texas! I have friends who are Mexican!

Anyway, at this point my inner monologue is screaming “Mayday! Mayday!” So I talk about how I have to head back home to get ready for the other things I have planned that day. We walk back to his car, drive back to Denver with fewer road rage incidents, which is good. During the ride back, he also tells me a long and boring story about an issue at his work with the wrong parts for some sort of rocket-related thing. Much of the story revolves around the parts and the fact that everyone in his company and the company that makes the parts are idiots and can die in a fire. His conclusion to the story is that it was a really great week at work because he got to yell at people all week for doing their jobs wrong and sucking at life and it “made him feel alive and for once he wasn’t bored at work.” Awesome. If I for some reason kept dating you, you would a) never understand me b) die of a heart attack at age 42 and c) make me die of a heart attack, possibly before age 42. This kind of energy/person is why I moved away from the East Coast. I can get a little intense myself, and it just goes better for me if I am in a calm environment. Note, this guy was from Chicago. I have never been to Chicago, but I hear it’s like the East Coast. But they have thicker pizza and Kanye West? Anyway, that’s about it. Angry engineer guy dropped me off at my car, I basically bolted out of his and started mumbling about catch you later or see you around or some such other vague lies that you say to make sure you don’t sound too mean but also clearly don’t want to go out again. Mostly, I felt like a sailor rejoicing upon reaching the shore alive.

Anyway, the moral of this story is that sometimes you just need to trust your own judgment and not bother giving that dude a second date just because his level of craziness/incompatibility with you has not yet passed the “unacceptable” mark on the first date…

Adventures on okstupid from guest blogger “Undateable”

Disclaimer from thatonegirlindenver: ****My first guest blogger is a wonderful friend of mine who is a great girl and most definitely not undateable at all! However, I believe in self-determination of peoples and when I asked her what her nickname should be on the blog, she chose Undateable….*****

So, here with a fresh and hilarious take on how to create an online dating profile (old news for hardened online daters like me), I present the blogging debut of my friend Undateable:

A few days ago, I opened a profile on
It seems really weird to write so intimately about yourself and then feel strangely excited about the opportunity to present yourself in any way you wish, to reinvent yourself as someone you’ve always wanted to be, the illusion of  your best self, to this rainbow of strange men. This is not how people usually meet other people. In real life, men and women don’t walk around with a brief bio you can read before talking to deciding to talk to them. In real life, you have to be extremely lubricated with alcohol before opening up to a stranger and showing them all your photos. “Here’s me in my kitchen, and here’s me in my bathroom, and here’s me partying with my friends and you can see all of their faces too because I have no consideration for their privacy!”
I wonder how many people’s friends’ faces are on okcupid without their knowledge or consent.
There’s also this ability to constantly tailor and perfect your story. It’s strange how the more profiles you visit, the more you tend to want to update yours and make it more clever and witty, or blasé and above it all, depending on your mood at the time, or whenever you see something clever on someone else’s. The worst is when you discover an ex-flame on there so you have to scramble back to your page and check it for complete lies that they would catch you on if they happened to find you. Re-working and refining your avatar can take all bloody night.
One of the most stressful things is the visitor notification that pops up while you’re still completing your profile. This is awful! Why is this allowed? That’s like eating an under-cooked meal.
Sidebar: That question about drugs is really tricky. What if you just dabble in a bit of sour diesel in order to tolerate parties or the holidays? But if you check the box for “sometimes” or even “occasionally” you probably come off like a crack ho. Then again, if he’s not cool like that he won’t have a good time with someone like you.
Oh my god and then someone you had a thing with a year ago will spot you—someone you had to unfriend because he wouldn’t stop being vulgar and asking you to send him naughty photos of yourself—and NOW HE’S FOUND YOU.
Him: “Hiii.”
You: “Heyyyy.” (What are you doing? Why are you even replying? You don’t need this again.)
Him: “I got a new phone *** *** **** Let’s get warm.”
You: block him from your inbox.
Then suddenly there’s a text from a guy who you were friends with a few years back and then made the crazy decision to sleep with a couple times, causing him a complete freakout and subsequent public facebook venting when you told him you were seeing someone else. You haven’t talked much since then. But he has spotted your profile, and he has your number, so he has the luxury of hitting you up off of the website.
Him: “Hi. We’re a match on okcupid!! ;)”
You: “Oh really? Well, well. Howdy.”
Him: “How about that, eh?”
“And we both like sex too!”
You: “Haha!”
Be forewarned that if you have had a few drinks, you are highly susceptible to getting ensnared in weird conversations. You feel chatty, lonely, and impulsive, a dangerous and stupid combination. Maybe you become intrigued by the offer you just got to join a slightly older couple as a long-term third lover. You ask, how does that work, exactly? Or you bat back and forth with another entertaining weirdo and the conversation is enjoyable while it lasts so you make some plans to meet, but then you wake up the next morning and realize that you agreed to go out with him to a Goth night on Saturday. And you are like, “OH NOOOOO,” and start formulating your bullshit excuse to cancel.
The following night you open your account to see 11 messages. The flattery is at least ego building. You look at each message and click on each profile before answering any of them. This vastly influences the decision to reply back. Hmm, how about this lovely tall blond with the goofy smile? How about this bathroom selfie guy without a shirt? How about the French guy who looks like Jason Statham? It all depends on how they come across in their profile. It doesn’t matter if he’s beautiful, if his words indicate he is just short of mentally-challenged.
Most of the guys are as horrible at the pick-up lines as they are in real life. A sampling of INTRODUCTORY messages:
“The things I would do to you.”
“You are everything I never thought I wanted.”
“You should let me come over tonight and give you some pre-Christmas loving!”
Another bad look is when someone asks why you didn’t reply to their message only a few hours after they sent it to you.
Him: “Mind if I ask? Was it my profile? Or my pictures? The reason you didn’t reply? I’m just curious?!?”
You (after looking at his profile): “Get rid of all the selfies and that really random, unexplained picture of you looking like you’re singing a song on a stage dressed in a Jesuit monk costume, because your profile strongly suggests that you are about as sharp as a ball, so you just must not be intentionally making fun of yourself.  And it was your pictures, in fact. Here’s a rundown–Selfie one: you with the hoodie on (bad angle, makes you look trashed). Selfie two (same angle as previous): you with the hoodie off, two seconds later. Selfie three (same angle as previous): you in a big winter hat. Selfie four (same angle as previous): you with a backwards baseball cap. Selfie five (same angle as previous): you baking cookies! Selfie six (same angle as previous): you in a really dark living room. Then inexpicably: Jesuit monk.”
A different exchange.
Him: “You are rather fetching but your profile seems a bit pedestrian. If that isnt a correct statement, I would love to hear from you.”
You: “What does pedestrian mean?”
Him: No response.
Part of your profile questionnaire is a section called: “The Most Private Thing I’m Willing to Admit.” This one guy claimed “I know how many licks it takes to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop.” Ooo, how uninteresting. And then he had only one photo of his chest taken in the bathroom mirror. I don’t get the lack of face. Is he afraid he’s ugly? Or even worse, does he think he’s so beautiful that people must only like him because of his looks and so “needs” you to like him for his stellar personality first before he pulls back the curtain and allows you to gaze upon his god-like chiseled features? But all the blatant sexual innuendos and non-innuendos this stellar personality has written on his self-summary make you think he’s got a very one-dimensional mind, interested only in non-committal hooking up and admiring his chest.  I almost want to message him back just to laugh some more.
You start wondering why these men are single in the first place. The more you look at photos and profiles, the more you start to see some repeating commonalities that allow you to make some broad assumptions. Clues are to be found by the clever peruser in your hopeful suitors’ photos. For example: if he has mostly selfies posing in front of a mirror, then he is probably pitifully self-absorbed. In fact, if he has any selfies at all, especially of his bare chest, you won’t talk to him at all.
There are also a statistically significant amount of men who claim to be in bands and have at least one photo of them grimacing into a mic, usually with a guitar. Maybe there’s a correlation between musicians and romantic failure. One guy tells you he’s been on the road a lot and so he’s not looking for a serious relationship. What it sounds like he’s really saying is he likes to sleep with his fans.
Lack of spelling or writing skills infers an inferior intelligence or education. There are women out there who are fine with that, but in general, women want a smart, witty man with some drive. If he writes, “You you look good n that pic,” he comes across as a lazy, drunk Neanderthal.
It’s a tricky thing though to judge others’ personalities based on their profiles and messages. It’s hard not to judge hastily and move on without another thought, just because one thing turned you off. But with so many to pick from, why not try to find perfection? The reality is, there is no such thing, even on paper. You could always find some little flaw that justifies you throwing the baby out with the bath water. Everyone is going to have flaws, some that will really annoy you, even your true love (if you believe in that sort of thing). In real life at least you can feel a vibe, hear tone of voice, see body language, and figure out if you have sparks or chemistry or whatever while you talk/interview. Maybe someone who would have completely bored the crap out of you online is amazing in person.
Of course you can be picky though, and weed out whatever you deem is below your baseline for intelligence, lack of spelling or writing skills, being self-absorbed or a tool. Just try to take it all with a grain of salt. And realize that your profile is also being judged.
In that light, you realize the majority of guys on here are probably ok, that the ones you have just torn apart were probably the minority. Maybe you should branch out and, instead of waiting for someone to message you, browse a little more. Maybe if you initiate with a few handpicked gentlemen, you won’t be so disappointed.
Finally, you decide to take one up on a date. Numbers have been exchanged, details worked out, and then he cancels. And DOESN’T EVER CALL YOU BACK. Sigh. Back to the message board.

Dudes telling me crazy stuff on first dates: Exhibit A

Unlike my catfishing friend that I mentioned in my previous entry, I will let you know when I am using old stories and will not try to pass them off as current stories to make you like me more! This is another example of where my social worker vibe/active listening skills get me into trouble in the dating world. I actually recently talked to another social worker about this and she tells me it happens to her as well, so it must be a thing.

As I said, this is an old story. If I were going to try to give it a year, I would probably go with 2009. So, imagine it is a Wednesday or some night like that in 2009, it has snowed a lot in Denver that day, and it is super cold. I barely want to leave the house, let alone drive to Westminster or wherever the hell this guy who I met on Okcupid lives… But don’t worry, he’s crazy so he is willing to drive to a coffee shop right across the street from my apartment instead. So I meet him at the coffee shop. This guy, who we will call the Brazilian (he was Brazilian), had also slightly lied in his picture (he only had one picture, a sure sign of the catfish, I realized later) so I didn’t recognize him very well but there was pretty much NO ONE ELSE in the coffee shop so I figured that must be him. And he looked all right, older than I thought, but all right.

So we get our drinks and go downstairs, there is a downstairs area that has couches and whatnot so we go down there to sit. I think, this is a basement, a little creepy but it’s still a public place so maybe there will be other people there. Part of what makes this date hilarious is that there were indeed other people down there, specifically, my neighbor and friend who used to camp out at this coffee shop to do work on his computer. So I sort of give my neighbor the head nod, and he can tell I’m on a date so he kind of just keeps working and minding his own business. I asked him later if he saw what went down and he told me that he tried to just stay in his zone and didn’t really see any of it. Which I suppose is better, because I might have started laughing in the Brazilian’s face if my friend had made eye contact with me.

The reason I say that is because we exchange about three minutes worth of usual first date chitchat, and he somehow moves the trajectory of the conversation to the physical. He tells me I look better than my pictures online. More feminine. Tip for the guys reading this, if there are any: This is not actually a good compliment, it just makes girls think they aren’t photogenic, or in this case, look unfeminine in their picture online? I wanted to tell him that he looked worse than his profile picture, but again did not due to the previously discussed niceness. Ok, whatever, I think, he’s trying to be nice. He also says, “You look so good, I bet you smell good.” What?!?! As he says this, he lunges in toward my boob region and SMELLS ME. “Can I smell you?” He says, AFTER smelling me. I was too caught off guard to not recoil so I didn’t have to say HELL NO with my voice, I said it with my body language. He apologizes and explains that this is just how he is and how they do it in Brazil. Yes, I understand cultural differences, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t weirding me out here, dude… Remember, we are in a coffee shop basement and my neighbor is a couple tables over. But at least he doesn’t seem to be paying attention.

So we continue talking and I try to be nice and not just write him off for being a little extra Brazilian on me… I am social worker, equal opportunity for people of all cultural backgrounds! So when he suggests we go get a drink at the bar a couple doors down, I say ok. At this point, I am still willing to entertain the idea that he might not be entirely crazy and that I should keep talking to him. So we go to the bar and shit gets real.

He somehow gets onto his exes, because everyone knows that is an excellent topic of conversation for a first date. But old “Active Listening McGee” over here is just acting completely normal, because now it is just starting to feel like talking to a client and I do that every day, so sure, no problem. He then tells me, “I don’t usually tell people this, but….” Just so you know, any time this happens on a first date, it is about to be followed by something completely ridiculous and you will want the date to end immediately after the crazy comes out.

So, here goes. “I don’t usually tell people this, but…” and he launches into a whole story about his ex who is his BABY MAMA (he did not list anything online about having a kid, and I generally do not date people with kids for reasons like this story) moved here with him, and then he made her sign a legal contract (with lawyers!) to not steal his kid and take him back to Brazil. But then she said she was going to take the kid to visit family in Brazil and never came back and that was last year around the holidays. And he tells me he is debating going back to Brazil and forcibly taking the kid back, or maybe he will just save that money and pay for college for his son. What?!? I just say things like “That must be really hard for you.” Or “Thank you for sharing that with me.” What I should really be saying is “You have no boundaries on a first date and we will not be having a second one!” But again, with the nice.

So, this date is over in my mind, and I start trying to figure out ways to get to my house without him trying to walk me home or otherwise know where I live. No dice, he insists on walking me home. Yikes. I manage to avoid kissing him and get in the door, and congratulate myself on the fact that at least it is an apartment building and he doesn’t know which unit is mine.

Last note on this one, the Brazilian was a journalist. And apparently, a writer of romantic prose. Because after our date, he sent me several dramatic emails about how amazing and beautiful I was and how special our connection was that he felt like he could tell me anything. There were metaphors with flowers… I wish I could find those old emails so I could give exact quotes but they are lost somewhere in the internets. I couldn’t help but think he probably sent those same sorts of emails to his baby mama after his first date with her. So at least I didn’t kidnap his child and create an international custody battle, I just didn’t email him back.