The Athlete Chronicles

                During my mid 20s, unlike a lot of girls who even to this day are in denial, I accepted the hard cold reality that I will never date or marry a professional athlete.  Some girls are just blessed with quality looks and perfect bodies, others are just normal and average.  The ugliest of guys can turn attractive to any girl upon discovering that they not only have money, but are popular on a national level.  Where mostly these guys have a money hungry skank parade following them everywhere they go, others are humble and do not indulge using their popularity to bang as many chicks as possible. 

                Since I've never dated a huge name in the sports world, my life took a turn in to the semi pro realm during my mid 20s.  For those of you that don't know, I had a very promising singing career back then.  Not only had I released a 5 song demo that was being shopped around to other singers to cover, but I had also become a National Anthem singer.  The gigs ranged from semi pro boxing matches, hockey, soccer and even 2 Pittsburgh Penguins games.   Looking  back on those golden years, I encounter some strange individuals, that lead me to believe that looks and money aren't always everything.   Here are some of my experiences:

The Hockey Player

                During my singing career, I had landed a national anthem gig for a semi pro hockey team. I had never been to a real hockey game before, so I found the idea of men basically beating the shit out of each other in an attempt to score a goal rather sexy.  I had had my eyes set on this one absolutely gorgeous player.  Of course, being attracted to power, he was the co-captain.  He appeared to be around my age, and by looking at the program, I understood why I was attracted to him...He was not from Pittsburgh.  He was build like a brick shit house, and his ass was perfection, especially in his uniform.  Before I even knew there was a term for it, during every game I would "eye fuck" the hell out of him.  I couldn't keep my eyes off of him, this wasn't just lust, this was an animalistic attraction.  Finally, on the verge of giving up and my 4th singing appearance, I was stoked when a team staff member approached me right before I was about to perform, telling me that my dreamboat player was asking about me and wanted my phone number.  At this point, I was the happiest girl alive.  With all the confidence in the world, and giving one of my best performances, I patiently awaited to hear from my hockey player.  Like any normal guy, he abided by the 3 day rule.  When I received the call, I felt as if I was 16 again and crushing on the captain of the football team.  When he asked me out, I couldn't wait.

                The date was set, so I put myself in to A-game mode, and made my way to the Wexford area to meet him at the house that he was staying with his "host family."  When I pulled in to this neighborhood, you would of thought I had entered heaven.  The houses were at least 750k mansions that were just stunning.  When I arrived at the house, I had instant lady wood.  It was the nicest house I had ever been in.  Greeting me at the door, he was wearing a white t-shirt (the type that a guy would wear under a shirt, and a pair of denim jeans.  Not that I was wearing a prom gown, but I definitely felt over dressed considering his attire, thinking we were going somewhere nice.  He then proceeded to introduce me to his "host" family's nanny, who thinking about it now really resembled Tiger Wood's ex wife.  She was polite, and I could only understand every third word she was saying, but he proceeded to give me a grand tour.  In addition to the 7 bed rooms and open spiraling staircase in the living room of this house, it also had an indoor pool, bowling alley and movie theater.  Knowing that he was only staying there during the season, there was still wow factor to him at the simple fact that he inhabited this house.  After the tour, he asks me if it's ok if we go run an errand real quick.  Still in awe about this house, I agree and it was at that point that things started going down- hill very quickly.  We hop in to a beat up mini-van (it was more brown than white considering the rust that had been on this thing) and like two Mexican illegal immigrants, we make our way down the highway.  As he is driving (and mind you we are both 20 at the time), I notice a cooler in-between the driver's side and passenger seat where a console used be.  I asked him what the cooler was for (thinking maybe he was an avid fisherman or something), to which he proceeded to open it up to show me an entire case of Budweiser...on ice.  While driving he then cracked one open, and pounded it before we even got to our location.  Confused and a little terrified at the fact of what may become, we ended up at K-mart of all places.  Sitting in the parking lot, he then pounds another beer, and tells me that he will be right back, leaving me...in the car...underage...with a case of beer and 2 open containers. 

                I start to freak out a little bit, and started to think "ok maybe he is just nervous, but this is even a little weird for me."  Finally 10 minutes later he comes back with nothing.  At this point, I am super confused as to why he incorporated a trip to K-mart in to our date activities and didn't even purchase anything.  In addition to the drinking, he also was a chewer, so seeing something bulging from his pocket didn't really phase me I just assumed we were making a chew run.  We then arrive back to the mansion, where as he is getting out of the car, rather than a can of chew falling out of his pocket, I am stunned to see a box of condoms laying on the ground.  Not only was I on a date with an underage alcoholic, but I had also been invited to attend my own condom run.  Looking down at the ground, and livid I asked him why he felt the need to have them, to which his response in a cocky tone was "We'll you know, just in case," and winked at me.  At this point, dumbfounded by how non chaliant this guy was about the condom thing, in a polite way I told him that would not be happening.  Convinced that his good looks and cocky attitude would get me to give it up, he started to play nice and asked me to come inside and watch a movie in the theater.  After informing him that he will not be getting laid, he seemed ok with it and we proceeded down stairs.

                It was the first time I had ever seen a screen that retracted from the ceiling in someone's house.  It was so cool.  Equip with leather couches, we proceeded to watch the movie, while I maintained a safe distance away from him.  Eventually in a horrible attempt to recreate a scene from Full House, he inched closer to me and put his arm around me.  For having a shitty personality, he had the body of a brick shit house.  With a beer in one hand, and his other arm around me, we started watching Office Space.  10 minutes in to the movie, and up to his now 5th beer, the liquid courage started setting in.  One minute I am snuggled up next to a sexy yet sort of douchy semi pro hockey player, then next thing I know, out of nowhere I'm getting mouth raped by this guys tongue.  I don't recall what was worse, the fact that his tongue provided my teeth with an impromptu cleaning, or the fact that his breath smelled  like what I imagine leather soaked in urine tastes like.  Then the dry humping began, and at that point I felt like I was making out with a rabbit on steroids.   When he started getting handsy, I stopped him.  Still being naive and in my early 20s, I was still in the mind-set that by telling a guy no, he will respect  you more and my body was a temple blablabla.  Mr. Hockey Player didn't like the word no.  After giving me 7 reasons why I should in fact have sex with him, I politely excused myself from the room, ran as fast as I possibly could out of the house and left.  I never expected to hear from him, nor wanted to ever again.  A few games later, he actually got traded and had a successful semi pro career until 06.   That is where his google trail turns cold, and I now envision him being an overweight copy machine sales man with a drinking problem...

The Boxer

                I had a pretty steady gig singing the anthem for boxing matches that took place at a casino.  The fights would take place every two months or so,  and being that 85% of the boxers were local, keeping up with that strategy, they brought in me, a local singer to perform the anthem before the main event.  I had been singing at these matches for a little over a year, and networked my ass off making a ton of connections and friends.  One night, I spotted a local boxer, who I had heard of before but had yet to officially be introduced to.   He was pretty cute, and normal looking.  Dark hair, blue eyes, and judging by the amount of chest hair he was sporting, I would make the educated guess that he was Italian.  Every fight that I had previously watched of his, he had won, which turned the hotness factor up to full blast.  My good friend Leah had been dating a boxer who trained with the one I had my eye on.  I begged the guy that Leah was seeing to pass my phone number along to the Italian boxer.  He told me he'd see what he could do, and 2 days later I received a text.  Super excited that things were actually working in my favor, we began to text for a week (at which he was funny, easy to talk to and very humble).  He finally asked me out and we began to plan our date. 

                Being that in my mind, this was no ordinary guy, but in fact a semi pro boxer, I made sure to have my A game ready.  I begged Leah to come over to help me with my outfit, hair and makeup.  Once everything was assembled, I went on my way to meet him at the halfway point between our two houses. 

                When I arrived in a fast food parking lot, he was waiting for me.  He was all decked out in his white shirt and Guido gold chain rocking Jesus on his necklace.  He was a lot taller in person and had the prettiest blue eyes I had ever seen.  I was instantly smitten.  I immediately started thinking that if this works out, him and I would be the "Zack and Kelly Morris" (Saved by the Bell) of the local boxing scene. 

                That's when he opened up his mouth....For someone sounding normal via text messages, he was completely opposite in person.  Where I don't remember the conversation, the only normal moment I remember was him telling me that he was 27 and was considering retiring within a year.  Other than that sentence, the convo was all over the place.  He would begin a sentence with one topic and end with something completely different.  He would be in mid sentence and would pause and break out in to laughter for no obvious reason, claiming that he was thinking about something funny from earlier in the day.  A few times during our date, I even caught him talking to himself.  After the 3rd time mistaking that he was talking to me, and he was in fact talking to himself, I had a brief moment of clarity and thought to myself, "Jesus Christ this kid is like Forrest Gump, I think he has gotten hit one too many times in the head." 

                Upon concluding of the date, he brought me back to my car and proceeded to kiss me goodnight.  I felt the need to pity kiss this one, because there was something obviously wrong with him and I felt bad.  What started as a pity kiss, he attempted to turn into a "let's make out on the hood of your car," in which I wasn't having it.  I said my goodbye and instantly called Leah to fill her in on every play by play of the evening.

                That next week, there was a fight. The boxer and I had been in contact all week, however it was very limited contact.  I didn't want things to be weird or awkward considering we would in fact run in to each other at these events.  Being that it was the eve of a title bout, there had been some interviews in the local paper that I didn't bother reading because I figured it was stuff I already knew.  That night, my mom, dad, Leah and myself headed down to the Casino to partake in some pre fight gambling festivities.  We drove separately because Leah and I wanted to go to the after fight parties.   As I was sitting at a slot machine next to my mother, she informed me about the news article.  My own mother informed me that the boxer that I had previously gone out with a week before, was not 27 but in fact in his late 30's, and his girlfriend was also interviewed in the newspaper showing her support.  Being livid, and Leah laughing her ass off uncontrollably, I decided to send a polite yet sarcastic text to the boxer calling him out on everything.  Since he already thought he was in outer space, he proceeded to laugh about it and not really grasping the severity of how pissed I was.  Leah's boxer had been acting a little shady too that week, so she decided to begin drinking well before the fight to calm her nerves.  Normally, during almost every singing event, my mother and I would bump heads at times, her being more nervous than me and me getting annoyed because would dictate to me what I should and shouldn't do before my performance. 

                That night, Leah was the greatest buffer ever.   Belligerently drunk and making a scene, my mom had a new person to shift her nerves towards with Leah.  After singing was done, and considering I drove us that night, Leah waited to hear from her boxer.  A half an hour went by, and no word.  Finally Leah decided to call up to his hotel room to see where he was at, when she received the shock of her life.  A young lady answered who proceeded to tell Leah that she was the boxers girlfriend.  In a moment of drunken clarity, we proceeded up to the boxers room where Leah and the girlfriend proceeded to exchange timelines discovering that they were in fact being played.  Enter sudo boxer.  Upon seeing both of the women he had been dating in the same hallway, the mental picture of his "Oh Fuck" face will remain in my distant memory. 

                Pulling Leah's drunk ass down the hallway, I got her in the car and we started driving home.  We later found out that that evening the boxers actual girlfriend ended up beating the shit out of him.  Just when I didn't think the night could get any worse, it did...

                Driving on back roads from the casino, there is little to no street lighting, which leads any cautious driver to turn on their high beams.  Unbeknownst to me, I was unaware that it was illegal to drive with them on, especially when the car passing you in the opposite direction on the 2 lane highway happens to be a cop.  I get pulled over, and have an underage drunk person ready to pass out in my front seat.  Begging Leah to just keep her shit cool, she sits up stone cold staring straight ahead and does not make eye contact with the cop.  Upon giving him my registration and him walking back to his cruiser to run my information, the events of the evening and the nerves of getting pulled over got to Leah.  She proceeded to start throwing up, in the front seat of my car catching it with her hands and then trying to throw it out the window as if it was a soccer ball and not liquid.  Fortunately the cop let me off with a warning, and the entire experience turned in to a memory that I had hoped to forget.

The Football player

                One random Friday night, Maria and I decided to go out to a bar that we normally wouldn't frequent, just to break ourselves from the monotony of the South Side scene.  We ended up at a bar past 15th street, which was unheard of for us.  The bar was jam pack (then again, it was so small that 30 people made it seem busy), but luckily we managed to find 2 seats at the bar.  Sitting down, we then noticed a group of guys next to our seats that were well beyond wasted.  Being a little loud, they weren't really harming us in anyway, but it was clear that they had been drinking for quite some time.  All of a sudden I noticed a decent looking guy heading our way.  He really wasn't my type at all, he had slightly balding blonde hair, and was wearing an Affliction shirt, which for me is the ultimate vagina repellant.  Being in a good mood, rather than being so cynical, I decided that if he did talk to me, I would play it cool.  Eventually he made his way over and he was even cuter up close.  Excited that he may actually be a normal individual I was then discouraged when he came up and started talking to us, but directing the conversation more towards Maria's than me.  He opened by apologizing for the guys behind him, claiming that they were his friends and if he needed to keep them in line for us he would.  Assuring him that they were not a bother, the conversation continued...with Maria....

                There is nothing worse than being single and out with your friends when you spot a cute guy, only for him to approach one of your taken friends and not you.  It's almost like God's way of smacking a single person in the face, with your friends unintentionally doing it.  The interesting thing is, a respectful guy, once he knows a girl is taken will back off, which is what this guy did, shifting his attention to me.   Nothing is a bigger turn off than feeling you are second best to one of your friends, but to witness it first hand...that only means game on for me. 

                Now that the attention was focused on me, because knowing that I am single, I am all of a sudden more appealing.  Knowing this, I tried to play nice and give this guy the benefit of the doubt, but secretly knew that after this night, things would go no further.  Making general conversation, and visibly seeing that he was getting drunker by the second, he was very reluctant to tell Maria and I what he did for a living.  Maria and I had to pretty much pry it out of him, for him to finally tell us that he was the Quarterback for a semi pro professional flag football team.  From the minute the words Quarterback were spoken from his plump luscious lips, it was as if we had invited a Vampire in to our conversation.  During the next 10 minutes of our conversation  he used the word "Quarterback"  at least 8 times.  Being that he went from being super modest to semi cocky by allowing 1 word to be entered in to the conversation, I decided to drink more with the hopes of playing nice.  That didn't last very long.  Upon abusing usage of the word "Quarterback" for the 9th or 10th time, I looked at him and said, "Wow, you really enjoy being a Quarterback don't you?"  To which his response was, "Well yes, I do.  That's why I don't tell people up front.  If I would of walked up to you ladies and introduced myself as a quarterback, what's the first thing you would think?"  Staring in to his pretty blue eyes, not sure how I wanted to answer this question, I looked him with a stone cold stare and said, "Rape."  As Maria almost spit her drink out of her mouth in laughter, he looked at me with a stunned look on and his face and said, "That's not very nice."  My reply was simple, "You know for being a Quarterback, you really don't have thick skin do you?"  Knowing that I may make this poor guy cry, I decided to lay off the sarcasm and try to be nice.  Maria and then got formally introduced to the guys behind us turned out to be fellow teammates. 

                His teammates were cool as hell.  There were 4 or 5 of them at the time in one group and they were so nice by buying us shots and talking to us.  I thought that maybe I had found new friends that could adopt me as a little sister, considering I always wanted a brother, and what better to have a football team protecting you?  That's when one of the super drunk members made me lose faith in all humanity again. 

                I have my back turned to the group so that I could focus on the Quarterback, when the next thing I know, one of the players wraps his hands around my upper body and is literally hanging on me.  Not being formally introduced to this one, I only knew that he was the loudest and drunkest and could hear his entire conversation about his proudness for Black History Month from across the room.  With his arms slowly getting tighter and tighter around my upper shoulder area, rather than introducing himself, he looks at me and then Maria and says, "I'd do you so hard, I'd break your hips".  Shocked and blindsided by this comment, Maria and I just laughed it off, while the Quarterback kept asking us if we were ok and he would make him go away if he was making us feel uncomfortable.  In the spirit of the moment, and the influence of the vodka spirits that I had been drinking like water, I decided to be nice I mean I did have a Quarterback to impress, and rather than starting a war, I decided to use poetry as a form to keep the piece.  I then proceeded to recite the lyrics to TuPac's - "I Ain't Mad at Cha" in such a way that went from a rap song to a spoken poem.  You would of thought I had turned in to a priest, because he was praising every line I was saying from the song.  The Quarterback turns to Maria, who has tears forming in her eyes and asks her, "Is she always this sarcastic?", to which she replies back, "You ain't seen nothing yet."

                We then proceed to another bar, were we actually get separated from the boys.  They were having issues getting in and Maria and I were too cold to wait, so we just walked in expecting them to follow.  I was a little bit pissed that I had not gotten the Quarterbacks phone number by this time, but I blamed it on fate and got on with it.  20 minutes later, we spotted them, and my Quarterback came over.  He was drunk out of his mind at this point, assuring me (without me questioning) that he was in to me and not Maria, and he wants to take me out and he really likes me.  The 17 year old version of myself was dancing around as if I had just got asked to prom by the most popular guy.  The 28 year old version of me was facing the reality that I was actually taking advantage of a drunk guy to lift my self esteem.   For a minute, I felt a sense of self loathing, but after doing another shot, I bounced right back.  Eventually, the inevitable happened, and a fight broke out with the team and some random guys, causing my Quarterback rush to his teammates side, promising me he would call the next day.  1 text message...that was all that I ever received from the Quarterback.  Where deep down, I could tell that he wasn't serious at all about getting to know me and that I was just a random girl that he met out drunk one night, I think the worst part of all was that I came to find out though a bit of light Facebook stalking that he lied about his age.  He told me that he was 27 (making me feel like a predator), when in fact he was in his early 30s.  Why anyone would lie about their age to someone who is within a year or two of it, is beyond me.  I should of followed my initial instincts that I had learn the hard way a few years before, "Never trust a man who wears Affliction clothing and claims to be an athlete."

               

Keeping it real -

Shelby

Just when I thought I had it bad

            For as much as I blog about emotionally retarded individuals, I also provide proof of them via dating websites and emails.  Where I have experienced many tools and douchebags in my life time, it's no wonder that I have changed my outlook on relationships and dating. I am just the only one with the balls to bring how terrible the dating scene in Pittsburgh is, so it's expected that people assume that I am either a bitch or a negative Nancy.  I've accepted that 95% of the men I meet do not want a relationship, they just want to get their rocks off, and where I still find it pathetic and dumb, I've accepted societies changing views and my faith in humanity wears thin. 

            One question that I absolutely hate getting asked is "Why are you single?"  That's like asking a blind person if they are wearing matching socks.  Most of the time, depending on my mood, my usual reply is "I'm currently dating 2 men at this time, one is named Mr. Duracell and the other is Mr. Energizer."  Being single is not a disease, it's a choice (it's even harder explaining this to your married/in a relationship friends, because they don't know what it's like in the real world of dating.)

            I had thought about starting my very own singles support group.  Where people could share their horror stories about dating, experiences and whatnot, but then decided that would be too much of a commitment.  In the last 5 years, the only thing I have been able to commit to is a long distance carrier.  Then I had a thought, rather than overexposing my entire life, what if I gave others the chance to share their horror stories. 

High School Blues - Submitted by Brandon M.

It was sophmore year in Math Class.  Feeling confident, I had my eyes set on 3 girls.  I ended up going after the one that sat behind me, so for like 3 weeks, I would purposely change the desks around because the janitor kept putting the desks in her spot, so being a nice guy, I would switch them before she showed up so she would be happy, and I could sit closer to her.  I finally drum up the courage to ask her out to Hundred Acres Manor, she says yes and life is good.  It was my first date ever.  With new clothes and a new found confidence, my parents pick her up and take  us to the Haunted House.  Upon arrival, ironically two of her friends are outside waiting in line. 

            Trying to be a nice guy, I invited them to join us. The entire time she is talking to her friends totally ignoring me. The only conversation we had was about the Counting Crows, and how I would buy her their newest CD because she loved them.  So we go through the haunted house, my parents pick us up and we go to Eat N Park.  There was no conversation during the remainder of the evening whatsoever.  Bummed out, I avoided her for a little bit.  While I was avoiding her, I came to find out through some friends that she told her friends that we were going out, and her friends felt the need to "save her from me," realizing that the coincidental encounter of her friends being at the same place as us was a set up.  Since I had already promised her a CD, a few weeks later, I handed it to her and said "Here Ya Go, as promised."

Fish for dessert? - Submitted by anonymous female

            I was set up on a blind date through one of my friends.  Convinced that it may be worth trying, I decided to agree, and my friend coordinated everything.  Our first, and last date started at a local chain restaurant.  During dinner I couldn't help but notice that he was chewing his food a little weird.  It was almost as if his teeth were shifting in some sort of way, but I couldn't tell if it was real, or just an illusion caused by the spectacular lighting that the restaurant had.  I got my answer...Mid way through dinner, he proceeded to take his false teeth out and lay them on the table so that he could "give his gums a rest."  I was in shock.  He wasn't at all bad looking, so I was really confused as to why this was happening.

            After I sat at the table staring at his chompers, and a little freaked out, I tried to make the best out of it and proceeded to ask him the "getting to know you" questions that are typical on any first date.  It was at that moment that he mentioned, he was just recently released from jail for a crime I can't even remember because I was half paying attention once the words "recently and Jail" were used in one sentence.  How could my friend do this to me?  Was this a joke? 

            Prior to getting any history on this guy, I had agreed to let him drive.  Once dinner was over, he then asked me if we could stop at Pet Smart real quick.  Agreeing, unaware that we were running errands and not on a date anymore, he took me to Pet Smart where he purchased a fish.   A pet fish?!  Really?  As I sat holding his new pet fish while he drove me back to my house, I realized that was the last blind date I let that friend set me up on.  I was worried if he asked me out again, he would want to go to the zoo, and would try to steal a lion.  I haven't heard from him since.

She drove me to drink...literally - submitted by Mike G.

            I was set up on a blind date through a friend.  It was a Sunday evening, and she lived 45 min away from me, but being a gentleman, I decided I would offer to come pick her up and we would go to the movies.  She decided to have some southern comfort and sprite while waiting for me. As I was driving to her house, being that I am horrible with directions, I had called her to help me navigate in the right direction because I knew I was lost.  Rather than being polite about it. she sounded slightly flustered and said "I just can't explain to you how to get here, figure it out on your own."  So I was very late finding her house and by the time I got there she was slightly more drunk than I had envisioned for a normal Sunday Night Movie Date. 

             By the time we got to the Waterfront, we were late for the movie,  so we decided to see the later show.  Unfortunately, this meant we had to kill time at the bar.  This resulted in me buying her several overpriced drinks at Loews and forcing me to drink so I could find her more interesting.  By movie time she was wasted and clinging to my muscular arms (really Mike?) like Velcro.  After the movie, and her still really drunk, I start thinking I'm gonna get a little Ew La La action.  We went back to her place, and she led me in to her bedroom, where we started giving each other massages with these little massage thingies.  With the massage putting me in the mood, I was ready to conquer.  As I was getting ready to make a move, her roommate walks in.  Unknown to me, she SHARED a 1 bedroom apartment with a roommate, so you can imagine my surprise when the roommate came home and my date informs me that her "share" time was up and I needed to leave.  Can't say that I was upset about leaving. She never got a 2nd date.

In the Ghetto - Submitted by an anonymous female

            When I was in my teens (honestly can't remember the actual age) I went on a blind date thanks to a friend. He picked me up we decided to go to Eat n Park in Sewickley to grab a bite to eat.  The dinner conversation wasn't outstanding, it was more general "getting to know you" stuff.  Just as the bill came, he tells me he forgot his wallet.  I was dumbfounded.  I couldn't tell if he was trying to get me to pay the bill, or if he really did in fact not have his wallet.   He then wanted to dine and dash, but having morals, I told him to go home and get his wallet and I would wait there. (stupid I know) who's to say he wasn't going to leave me stranded there? (and this was before i had a cell phone ). About a half hr later, he shows up, pays the tabs and we leave. Trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, we get in the car and move on to our next location. 

            He had mentioned to me he wanted to take me to one of his favorite places to hang out.  While we are on our way to the "surprise" location, then proceeds to show me a gun that he keeps under the seat "for protection."   Who the hell did my friend set me up with?  At this point, all I wanted to do was just go home, he clearly was showing the signs of either being a gang banger or a drug dealer.  To add the cherry to the topping of this superficial sundae, we the head to Linmar Terrace in Aliquippa! (For those of you that do not know the Beaver County Area, Linmar Terrace is Aliquippa's version of a Compton, CA neighborhood.)   I was thankful that we were only "driving through" however in a failed attempt to impress me, he kept bragging about how all of his friends lived there and how he hangs out there all the time. By this point I was freaked out and begged him to take me home. On a whim, I made up an excuse as to why I needed to be home immediately and played the "I told my parents I wouldn't be out very long" card. For some unknown reason, the kid took me home, and dropped me off safe and sound. Seriously could have raped, kidnapped or murdered that day. That was my first and LAST blind date!!!

Wings and Strippers - Submitted by John B.

My date from hell consisted of buffalo wings and strippers, something most guys might call a dream date, but it isn’t as clear cut as it sounds.  This may be the closest I will ever be, or ever want to be, to Tucker Max.  While living in Virginia, a friend of a friend suggested a blind date.  I reluctantly said yes.  I picked the girl up, and she was more attractive than I expected, so I texted my back-up buddy that I didn’t need an immediate emergency excuse call.  I did not plan accordingly for my date, and all of the restaurants that I was anticipating taking my date had ridiculous wait times.  We then decided on Buffalo Wild Wings for dinner and drinks. 

            While dining at Buffalo Wild Wings, I ran into a cousin of one of my friends from PA, who lived in Virginia.  I had not seen him in a few years, so he came over to the table to talk for quite a while.  During the conversation, he revealed that Buffalo Wild Wings was the first stop of his bachelor party that had just started.  He said, if he had known I was living in Virginia, he would have invited me.  I am not sure if my date felt guilty at this point or what.  She then said that I should go, and that she would find a ride home.  I refused, because I really thought that would be rude.  She then asked the groom-to-be if the bachelor party was headed to the strip clubs just across the VA-WV state line.  He said it would be.  This is where I should have parted ways with her, but for some reason the coolness factor of this girl went up 1000% when her eyes twinkled at the sound of strip club.  She then said that we were attending the bachelor party strip club activities and my friend seemed as excited about this as she did.  I did not fully think this through.

            I am not a connoisseur of gentlemen’s clubs, but the strip clubs on the state line of West Virginia are far from being mistaken for gentlemen’s clubs.  Virginia does not have strip clubs.  A whole state full of perverts drive from Virginia to the border towns of West Virginia to see the first strip club that draws them in with a neon glow.  I had more teeth in my mouth than the rest of the customers.  I remember saying to myself when I walked in, “What the hell am I doing here?”  Then, out of nowhere, my date points to a sign that says, “Amateur night.”  No sooner did I say, “Are you kidding me?!?!” she was talking to the bouncer and being escorted up on stage.  I started shaking my head as the bachelor party began cheering her on. 

            So yeah, I got to see my blind date naked on our first date.  Unfortunately, she could not dance, and she invested a lot of money into that bra that made her look much more gifted than she had falsely advertised earlier.  Think this is the worst part of my night yet?  Guess again.  She phoned a friend after her first set on stage.  Her friend showed up about 35 grueling minutes later.  During this period of time, I did not get to talk to my date, as she was being molested by rednecks and the bachelor party.  I did get out of buying my date any more drinks for the evening, and she was turning a nice profit, but I was the fly on the wall during what started out as my date, and now became her audition. 

            Her friend showed up.  At first her friend was saying, “I can’t believe you would do this?” and “What are you thinking?” and “Aren’t you on a date?”  My date then showed her a wad of cash.  Her friend’s morals went out the window and she crawled up on stage.  This is where I saw my exit strategy form before my eyes.  Her friend is here.  I can bail and she has a ride home, as we were now about 45 minutes away from where she lived.  I walked up to my date, said I was going to head home and wished her a good night.  She was trashed at this point.  She said, “You can’t leave us here.”  “Us?”  What do you mean “us?”  It turns out, her friend got dropped off at the strip club.  It also turns out that her friend can’t hold her alcohol and was already half trashed herself. 

            If anyone had morals in this story at any point, mine kicked in here.  I was not about to leave two fairly attractive drunk girls in another state, 45 minutes from their house, especially after they had shown their goods to all of the local mouth-breathers.  If they got raped and thrown in a ditch, I would never be able to forgive myself.  I talked two very drunk girls out of the bar, having to hold one of them up on each side of my.  The locals were not happy that I was taking away their entertainment.  It was a struggle, but a round of beers with some of the cash I grabbed from the stripper profits were bought and I made my get-away.  I only had one beer bottle thrown at my Expedition while pulling away. 

            Drunk girls in cars equals one of 4 things in my experience.  (1) Very loud talking/squealing/screaming, none of which is coherent.  (2) Passed out girls. (3) Crying girls. (4) Vomiting girls.  Guess which jackpot I hit?  I was pissed at this point.  I got to my date’s house, now with two vomit covered, passed out girls.  Carried my date to her door, opened it and threw her on her couch.  Went back to my Expedition, picked up the crying, vomit covered girl in my back seat, carried her into my date’s house and threw her on the couch as well.  My gentlemanly duties are now complete.  I went home, threw away my now-vomit covered clothes into my washing machine, showered and went to bed.

            Needless to say, I never called her back.  I got an apology call the next day from my buddy for the situation that I was put into the night before.  I never heard from or saw my date again.  The bright side to this story is what happened the next day.  I went to my Expedition with a garden hose, carpet cleaner and a shopvac to assess the damage.  While I did have some vomit to clean, there were dollar bills all through my vehicle.  It was enough to cover my bill from dinner the night before and the few beers I drank.  While the date was a total loss, the experience did not hurt me financially.

Go Steelers - Submitted by Michael S.

            I went to a Football game with a "supposed" hard core  Steelers fan who claimed she new everything about football. We decided to grab a bite to eat before the game, and during dinner this girl is taking shots and drinking like a Kennedy. Before we even get in to Heinz Field is when her true colors started to sparkle.  Belligerently drunk, she starts mouthing off the security guard informing him that she was a "puncher" if you get my drift.  At any given random time during our date, I was not paying attention, she would randomly punch me in the arm, stomach and shoulder, and this was our first date.  So we are on our way to our seats and bumps into a browns fan when her "inner thug "came out (hands in the air, making racial slurs and calling him a dog), meanwhile the guy was white and a browns fan.  So security comes over and tells her to slow her role or she's going get ejected.  Her reaction?  "I don't give a fuuuuuck."

           

            We finally get to our seats, and she calms down till about halftime.  We get up to get some beers and she's says "We should smoke a joint over here by the ledge".  After telling her there's no way I'm getting arrested, she proceeds to call me "pussy boy" for the rest of the evening.  By the 4th quarter, she isn't even aware who our coach is, meanwhile the punching continues..  The last straw came when she overheard the Browns fan (the one from earlier) asking me why I let her hit me like that, to which her response was 1. to throw a drink in his face, 2. a lunge at him, 3. during the lunge her pants fell down exposing her bare ass and vagina to the crowd, and 4. security kicking her out.  Realizing that she had drove, and I was now stranded at the Steeler game, I proceeded to call a cab and try to forget about what had just happened. 

           

            At 4 am, my phone rings, and it's a call from the Allegheny County Jail.  The officer informs me that my "girlfriend" told him that I would be posting her bail, to which I bring him up to speed on the entire series of the day's events.  After she somehow posted bail, I started receiving text messages every two minutes ranging from death threats to "I would of had sex with you if you would of bailed me out."  The last straw was when her father called me trying to get me to reimburse him for the bail money since he claimed it was my fault she got that drunk.  I filed a PFA the next day.

Special thank you to all those who submitted their stories!

Keeping it real -

Shelby

St Patricks Day Shenanagins

Prior to moving to Pittsburgh and working at a Brewery, I didn’t really get too excited about St. Patrick’s Day.  Where I am part Irish myself, living in Beaver County for most of my life, we really didn’t make it a big deal.  Clearly in the years after moving to the city, I found a way to make up for lost time.  Each year, I manage to do something memorable, even to extremely drunk people.  These are some ridiculous stories from St. Patrick’s Day’s past.

St. Patrick’s Day 2008

                I had been working at the brewery for a little under a year, and one of the requirements as Promotions Coordinator was to participate in the St. Patrick’s Day parade.  This would be one of the last 2 years that the City actually allowed you to drink during the parade.  Being it was my first year and didn’t know much about it, I decided to invite my roommate at the time, Lam to tag along.  My co-worker Katie invited about 30 of her friends, so we ended up having a pretty decent crowd.  I have never really been a fan of beer, however, if its 1. free and 2. some sort of beer related holiday then I will comply.  After drinking in Mellon Arena parking lot from 6am until 12p.m. , the parade was over and Lam and I were dropped off at Market Square.  This was our first time ever doing Market Square, and had heard from a lot of people that it was the “it” place to be, so we decided to embrace the opportunity to do what a real “Pittsburgher” would do.  We proceeded to grab a beer, and about an hour later, both of us had to pee.  As we walked over to the classy porta-johns, we noticed a line that was about 20 people deep at each of the 10 toilets.  Having no choice and refusing to pay ridiculous covers to any bars just to use the bathroom, we just decided to wait our turn in line.  When you are drunk and have to pee, 5 minutes seems like an eternity and after 10 minutes you start questioning your faith.  Lam and I waited in line for at least 20 minutes.  During this time we were barley talking to one another in fear that we would laugh and piss ourselves.  The entire time I was pep talking myself in my head saying “Shelby, whatever you do, do not piss yourself, hold it.”  Finally Lam and I were up next to use the facilities.  It was at that point, I made the genius decision and said to her “Lam, if I don’t go in with you, I may piss myself, you take the toilet, I’ll take the urinal.”  As we entered the porta-john we couldn’t get our pants off fast enough.  With Lam sitting comfortably on the toilet, I was struggling to contort my body to make sure that I was peeing in the urinal.  Being drunk and a girl, not only was I too short for this urinal, but I also discovered why a urinal is made for men.  I proceeded to not get one drop of pee in the urinal but in fact peed all over myself.  To make matters worse, I look at Lam and tell her that I’m peeing all over myself, yet don’t care because it feels so good.  At this point, Lam is laughing hysterically, and with pee running down my leg, she asks me, “What are you doing to do now?  You literally pissed yourself.” I’m a moment of drunken clarity, I decided to wrap my hoodie around my waist, and proceed to drink more because that is what my Irish ancestors would have wanted me to do.  We managed to make it until 4 pm.  When questioned as to why my pants were wet, I would lie to people and tell them that someone had spilled beer all over me, and would proceed to laugh telling them how ironic it was that it looked like pee.  The nice thing about drunk people, is that you can fool them easily, because they are too drunk themselves to care.   

St. Patrick’s Day 2009

                After hearing about how much fun Lam and I had on St. Patrick’s day the previous year, my entire crew decided to attend the festivities this year.  Again, along with my crew of about 10 and Kate’s Crew of 30, at 6am we started drinking heavily.  2 weeks prior to the event, I had managed to obtain a lower muscle back spasm due to Nintendo Wii Yoga, and could barely walk.  In excruciating pain, I said fuck it and decided not to let it ruin the celebrations.  I started drinking heavily at 6 am and took a half a muscle relaxer before we even started walking in the parade is when the first mishap occurred.  We were partying in the brewery’s RV, which conveniently had a bathroom in it.  Being up since 5 am, while dressing myself half asleep, I stupidly decided to wear a thong that was basically made out of a string.  While in the bathroom, I managed to rip them, causing myself to free ball it for the rest of the day, with last year’s catastrophe haunting my mind.  Angry and drunk, I couldn’t get my pants up and or buttoned.  With the assistance of one of my friends, it was mission accomplished. 

During the parade, I would ride in the back of a pick-up truck and distribute beads to my friends who were carrying buckets handing them out to the crowd.   Being at a drunken scale of about a 7 already, rather than being normal, I was on the back of the truck “raising the roof” and basically being a brewery cheerleader, yelling at the crowd trying to get them pumped up about a brand that was at the time dying.  One of Kate’s friends, who was in fact very Irish (Kilt included), turns to me and says, would you like some Cherries?  Remembering that I had not eaten anything and Cherries are in fact a fruit, I decided to eat a few with the hopes of sobering up.  After about 5 cherries, I get informed that they were soaked in 151.  Trying to be a hardass, I said something smart to him along the lines of “Oh, well I will need a lot more than just a couple of cherries to get me drunk,” and proceeded to eat several more, all while we are in the actual parade.  Within about 20 minutes, I could not see straight.  By the time the parade was over, this dick move had set me over the drunken edge.  As we approached Market Square, my half of friends were yelling at me to get off the back of the truck, while the other half went looking for Jamie, who had drunkenly gotten lost looking for the bathroom.  When the truck stopped, I decided it was time to jump down, however at the exact moment that I was getting ready to get off of it, it started moving. It resulted in me falling off the back of the truck and face planting on to the pavement.  I faintly heard the crowd of about 2,000 (including the people in the parking garages), let out a sound of agony as the watched in disbelief.  As I jumped up, unharmed and un-phased as to what had just occurred, the same crowd gave me a warm applause as if I had just survived a potential life threatening hit from football player. 

Literally not feeling any pain whatsoever, we made it to Market Square.  It was at this point that we had run in to some old friends of ours from the County who enjoyed drinking just as much as us.  With beers flowing, and us dancing like total drunken idiots to no music, the pain in my back was non-existent.  I started getting a bit out of control, and was getting to the point of sloppy.  It was at that point that one of my friends had the genius idea to stand me up next to a tree for support.  Once they got me balanced, just as they turned their backs on me, I was down on the ground.  Somehow, the way I fell, resulted in me ripping a 4 inch hole in my favorite pair of jeans, which happened to start in the crotch and go down the right side of my ass cheek.   Now with no underwear and practically exposing myself in Market Square, once again, I wrapped my hoodie around my waist and proceeded to doing my thing.  If I can remember correctly, I made it until about 6 p.m. that day.

St Patrick’s Day 2010

                This was the first year that the City was enforcing “no drinking” during the parade.  With Market Square Shut down and it being a cold and rainy day, I was on my own with the parade.  As a group, me and my brewery guys decided we would bring beer with us because we had an “in” on the committee, and he assured us that we would be ok.  We all agreed to be super discreet and pretend as if we were drinking as if we were underage.  At 6 am, with all of my friends doing Kegs and Eggs without me, myself, 4 brewery workers, 2 kegs of beer and a 5^th of Washington Apples, made its way to Liberty Ave to line up for the parade.  Since all my girls bitched out, I decided to invite the Benstonium.com guys to join us.  Since their parodies had been giving the brewery great press, I decided I could at least return the favor by supplying them with free booze.  A lot of people think that working at brewery, that you live the life of Peter Griffin, which is not in fact true.  There is a lot of paperwork, responsibility and decisions that need to be made.  It was not my decision to tap the keg 10 minutes after we lined up.  It was not my decision to fill up my beer in a coffee cup seconds before a Pittsburgh Police officer walks by.  I am very respectful of the police; however this guy was just a down right prick. He started yelling and threatening us, rather than just politely telling us to put it away.  I’m not even drunk at this point, and I’m getting extremely smart with him.  Unfortunately, it was freezing that day, so all of my body parts were covered.  Making any girly attempt to win this officer over would have been just as pointless as a porno to a blind man.  

Due to the running of my mouth, he proceeded to threaten us even more by calling over another cop.  The second cop was a bit nicer, and it was obvious that he was a supporter of the brewery because he was mocking the prick cop w/ out realizing it.  Now the prick cop decides to make it a public affair informing 2 more officers as to the situation.  I’m freaking out at this point thinking “Oh Shit, I’m going to lose my job, I’m going to get arrested etc.”  After a 5^th cop walked over, I felt like the situation had turned in to a police fundraiser.  Finally, being politically correct, the police managed to form a huddle and quite possibly flip a coin to decide our fate.  After a 15 minute panic attack, we were politely asked to leave and not rejoin the parade.  I was dumbfounded for 2 reasons, 1. How the hell did this cop pass kindergarten, let alone the police exam, and 2. I had just single handily managed to get kicked out of a parade.  Where it wasn’t on my bucket list, I decided to write it in as an add on.  At this point, I had 2 kegs of beer, a 5^th of Washington Apples and a total of 5 people to drink it. I called up the Benstonium.com guys with the change of location, and proceeded to throw our own party, in the brewery parking lot, equipped with beer pong and flip cup.  I eventually met up with my friends later on, who thought it was pretty kick ass that I got kicked out of a parade.

St Patrick’s Day 2011

                Last year on St. Patrick’s Day started off quite promising.  After choosing to sleep in I awoke at 10 am prepared for the day’s festivities.  I can’t remember if it was Maria or my idea, but we decided to save money by brining flasks along to the bar with us.  With the help of our friend Mike supplying us with them, and taping in to my inner Mcguyver skills, I proceeded to cut a hole in the lining of my stylish back pack, so that the flask would hide in the lining of it, so upon bar inspection, there would be no evidence.  I arrived at the first location via the Pittsburgh Public Transit authority, and made a promise to myself that I would pace myself so that I could make it the entire evening.  When I arrived at Finn McCool’s, I was greeted by Maria and others and started drinking beer.  After choking down my 3^rd Miller Lite, I decided it was vodka time.  Maria and I ordered water, and proceeded to the bathroom where we filled up our waters with vodka.  Being slightly buzzed and fascinated with the toilet paper dispenser, Maria and I thought it would be a mature decision to steal a roll for later in case we may need it.  After barhopping to several locations, and losing members in our group, we ended up at Villa around 6p.m.  At this point the only people left standing were me, Maria and Mike.

 Being sloppy drunk I decided to text the Benstonium.com guys (since last year ended up being fun) to see if anyone was out.  A few of them showed up at Villa and we proceeded to drink our faces off.  Maria and I made a trip to the bathroom, and decided to share a stall because the line was a little long.  It was at this point that I pulled out the flask and the door opens.  It is the bathroom attendant who proceeds to start yelling at us because of our flask.  Maria, being a little spitfire decides to start arguing with the bathroom attendant, meanwhile like a good friend, I hurry up and fill up our drinks with vodka.  Maria and the bathroom attendant start going at it for about 3 minutes, when she proceeds to bar us from going to the bathroom together, like two kindergarteners.  This does not sit well with Maria who is now drunk and fired up.  I convince her to leave the bathroom, and give her a newly filled drink.    Shortly after the bathroom incident, my cell phone had died due to the shitty battery life of the first ever Droid, and I had gotten separated from Mike and Maria. 

At this point, I had no concept of time, or manners.  It was just me and my friend Chris from the Benstonium.com crew.  95% of the time, I am a mischievous drunk.  Sometimes I lie to people, flirt with guys I have no interest in, and at one point I was a kleptomaniac that would steal glassware from bars, leading to Maria never having to worry about buying another glass.  I don’t know if it was Maria’s hostility or the environment, but I suddenly flipped a switch.  Being way too drunk to care, I had been already been reprimanded 2 times at Villa for not following their non-smoking policy, ironically by a bouncer that my friend Giselle was dating at the time. Upon my third strike, he comes walking over and kicks me out.  Rather than complying, I refuse to go down without a fight, and start yelling at him telling him how terrible of a person he is and how terrible he treats Giselle.  I then tell him he is dead to me and at this point Chris is helping me walk out of the bar.  I’m not sure who’s idea it was, or Chris not seeing the Shelby drunken beast before, but we decided to go to Burger King to get some food to help sober up.

The events that occurred next were retold to me the next day, because I do not remember.   Apparently upon our arrival to BK, I was still fired up about getting kicked out of Villa.  When we got to the counter, I ordered my burger and fry in a drunken manner, and proceeded to the condiment station where I wanted ketchup for my fries.  At this point, the dispenser was empty, and rather than acting like a normal human being, I decided to go “Jeff Reed” on this ketchup dispenser.  (For those of you that do not know what this means, Jeff Reed was drunk at a Sheetz one night and “beat up” a paper towel dispenser in the bathroom.)  In the midst of me beating this ketchup dispenser up, I manage to get ketchup all over myself as well as in my hair.  The guy at the counter, rather than calling the police on me, streamlined my order to get me the hell out of there.  I am not sure if I was given additional food, or stole it on purpose, but the next day Chris informed me that we ended up receiving a ton of food that we didn’t order.  Hearing this story while picking ketchup out of my hair on Maria’s couch that next morning, only worries me as to what will occur this year…Stay tuned!

-          Keepin’ it Real!

Shelby

Did that really just happen to me?

                Every so often, any normal person experiences a "What the Fuck" moment.  Pending on their mood at the time of the occasion, sometimes it is taken in laugher, confusion and sometimes disgust.  I am not claiming that these occurrences happen to me on a steady basis, however when they do, they always make for a great story.

Indoor Waterfall

                My ex and I had hit the point on our relationship where going out was non-existent.  Him, being an unemployed college grad living with his parents, and myself being a professional waitress also living with my parents, a big night out for us consisted of Pizza and TV.  At times, when we would venture out it would turn in to me dating myself, in which I would pick up the tab for both of us, since I was the only one at the time with any kind of income.  Out of the blue and the kindness of his heart, my ex decided that he wanted to do something special for me and planned an entire day of fun filled events.  Confused because he was not really one to be spontaneous, I was ecstatic and looking forward to it.

                At the time, we were living an hour away from each other, so when I was walking out the door to make the pilgrimage to his house my mom (who thinks she is a self made weather reporter), warned me to be careful because there were some storms coming in to the area.  Being that my mom's weather  reporting skills reflect those of "The Girl Who Cried Wolf,"  I assured her I would be safe and got in the car to being my journey.  1/4 tank of gas, 1 hour and $1.50 in turnpike tolls I had arrived.  Upon my arrival, my ex was very excited and proud of the day's events that he had planned.  He wouldn't give me any details, so we proceeded to hop in his car and go to the first location. 

                We started on Mount Washington.  It was a sunny, spring day.  Some people feel that Mount Washington's look out points are romantic, spiritual and even picturesque.  This was about my 100th trip to it, however I didn't want my ex to know that in fear that he would be discouraged.  As we were basking in the city's view, I looked to my left to notice what appeared to be the apocalypse.  The sky was turning from a pale blue to a black death color which happened to be heading our way.  I pointed this out to him, and which he said to me "Well this may ruin our next stop, South Side Works."  I had never been to South Side Works, nor really didn't see what was so special about it, but like any good girlfriend I didn't question, I just got in the car and tried to show some sort of excitement for his planning. 

                While several blocks away, a torrential downpour started.  Lightning, wind and rain that was shaking the car.  It was what I had imagined experiencing a hurricane may be like and we are stuck right in the middle of it.  We proceeded to find shelter in a parking garage.  Sitting in the car for 20 minutes, with the rain not letting up in sight, my ex started getting antsy and made the executive decision to grab 2 umbrellas and proceeded to walk to the nearest store until the rain died down.   During our walk of about 1000 feet, a gust of wind managed to flip his umbrella inside out, causing him to have no shelter from the rain.  I began laughing at the situation and his stubbornness even though my umbrella was working perfectly fine yet the rain was too much and I too was getting wet.  My ex didn't find it to funny, nor did he really find me funny...Probably a key factor as to why it didn't work amongst other things.  We arrived at a store called the Z Gallery.  There were several people parked at the door watching this storm in amazement as if they were waiting for an arc to pull up.  The wind was blowing so strong that a nearby stop sign was standing at a 45 degree angle.

                Cold, wet and irritated because I had looked extremely cute prior to getting rained on, I had never been to Z Gallery before so rather than being a negative Nancy, I decided to walk around and see what the store had.  After looking at the over-priced art decoish items that the store had stocked, out of the corner of my eye I had noticed glassware.  Not only was it glassware, but it was leopard painted glassware.  My curiosity got the best of me.  With my ex not far behind and hating every minute of this impromptu shopping experience, I had arrived in front of the glassware.  The leopard martini glasses sparkled in the fluorescent light of the store.  I was so excited yet nervous to see what ridiculous amount of money these would set me back, and at that moment that's when fate intervened. 

                As I grabbed the glass to flip it upside down I heard a sound that sounded like what I imagine a bomb sounds like, following by the sound of rushing water. Unknown to me, the water line that supports not only Z Gallery but the apartments above it had managed to burst due to the rain pressure, and I, alone was standing at ground zero.  The next thing I know, I get nailed with the newly created waterfall from the ceiling.  I stood there for a minute, confused as to what had just happened while the water continued to bounce off of my head.  The dumbfounded look on my face caused my ex (who was standing about 20 feet away) to start laughing uncontrollably.  Still stunned, out of nowhere like a Baywatch episode, one of the employees grabs me and pulls me out of the line of fire.  At this point, it had finally hit me what had just happened.  My ex came running over and we proceeded to laugh hysterically until we both had tears running down our faces.  Soaked to the bone, and extremely angry because the store would not let me keep the sweet leopard fleece blanket that was given to me to help me warm up.  They proceeded to take down our names.  We ended up getting $250 dollars cash and $250 in store credit.  I was very upset to find out that the geriatric parade that was parked in front of the door, that of which were untouched by the water, decided to file a class action lawsuit against Z Gallery claiming "emotional distress."   Z Gallery went out of business shortly after, ironically as did our relationship. 

Neighbor Next Door

                After living with Lam for a year, we decided to part ways and get places of our own.  Me being newly single and her starting to date a guy that would later turn out to be her husband, we broke up amicably and I found a cute little 1 bedroom apartment via Craigslist.  I had learned from Lam and I's living experience that all because you live in an apartment complex with other people,  it is not like an episode of Friends where you become social with your neighbors and hang out all the time.  The apartment had 5 units in it, yet I was hopeful that there maybe someone either close to my age or someone even remotely cool that lived there so that I could have at least one 3's company moment with.  My fantasy was crushed when I learned that it was not a college party house but in fact a small replica of "It's a Small World."  Next door lived an African American women and her son, upstairs was an Asian and a Jew, and on the third floor were 3 20something excommunicated soritutes.  Aside of the occasional "Hello, How Are You," there were no dinner parties, shopping buddies or potential boyfriends.  I kept to myself and proceeded doing my own thing.  I had hit a drought in the boy department, and the only guys that were staying at the time were friends that typically needed a place to crash when they were drunk.  I didn't mind, I enjoyed the company yet I would go to bed alone every night. 

                One morning after a night of heavy drinking, I was in a domesticated mood and decided to do my laundry.  Normally, I unload it on my mom when I go to visit, but this day I wanted to be a grown up.  Still reeking of last night's vodka, and dressed in my Spongebob SquarePants pjs, make up that resembled the lost member of Kiss, and worst of all wearing my glasses, I proceeded downstairs to begin my chore.  As I hit the last step and rounded the corner, I was greeted by an African American male, in his late 20's who had been finishing up his laundry.  Assuming it was my neighbors son, I smiled and politely introduced myself as the neighbor next door.  What started out as harmless conversation turned quickly in to him hitting on me.  It started with "Can I just say you are one of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen?"  As I stood there dumbfounded in my Spongebob PJs, instinctively I lied and made mention that my boyfriend thought so too, hoping this would end any further awkwardness.  In any other situation, I would make a smart ass comment and walk away, however my hands were tied because this guy was my neighbor and I didn't want things to be weird.  He backed off a little and then proceeded upstairs.  No more than 3 minutes later he comes walking down the steps again, in which appeared as if he regrouped himself for round 2.  Again, he starts laying it on think calling me beautiful, my boyfriends lucky and bla bla bla.  Then he starts questioning me about my imaginary boyfriend, with the hopes of finding out if there was trouble in paradise.  Like always, I manage to make up an entire relationship in a snap.  Not satisfied that I am imaginary happy, he hits me with a stunner.  "Listen girl, I've seen your boyfriend, and I'm not sure if you know this or not but my bedroom is right below yours.  From the sounds that I hear, he's not doing you like I can."  At that point it dawned on me how thin the walls in this apartment are.  I don't know what was worse, the fact that he thought a male friend of mine was my boyfriend, or the fact that he could hear me masturbating every night. 

                Two weeks later I am getting ready to go to my friend Ashely's toga party when there is a knock on my door.  It's him.  Knowing I'm home because my TV is on, I answer the door.  Holding a 6 pack in his hand, he proceeded to ask me if I would care to join him for "some brew" and "to smoke some bud."  Where I was relieved to know that if I ever got the urge to smoke,  all I had to do was go next door which would be super convenient, however, luckily I had a legitimate excuse.  I politely told him no, and he presents me with his business card, inviting me to the restaurant that he works at assuring me if I stop in he will "hook me up."  Fearful that a batch of hash brownies would show up on my door step upon our next encounter, I literally acted like a hostage rescue agent for the next few months.  I would park on the street (his apartment overlooked our parking area), I would literally run in to my apartment, I even would watch tv on mute when I knew he was home.

                My plan had seemed to work, because I hadn't seen him in a few months.  A guy I had never seen before kept coming out of my neighbor's apartment and was super friendly.  Assuming her son moved out, one day I caught her outside to non chilantly ask her if he would ever be coming back (incase I needed to prepare for round 2).  She then looks at me, laughing and says: "Nah girlfriend, that wasn't my son, that was my dead beat boyfriend.  I kicked his ass to the curb 3 months ago because I found out he was creepin' on me with some bitch on Penn Ave."  I never told her my encounters with him, the new guy she was with seemed to make her happy and there was no need bringing up the past.  Shortly thereafter, she moved out and newlyweds moved in.  Ironically, the first night they moved in is when I finally understood how truly thin the walls are...Now instead of having an audience,  I am the audience, and judging from what I hear, I'd say he's "doing her right."  It also gave me perceptive on marriage.  They used to do it like rabbits, now I barely hear anything.   I'm not sure if it is because when you get married, you don't have sex as much, or I'm wondering if it's because of the standing ovation I gave them one night.

Keepin it Real -

Shelby