5/1/2023 0 Comments Crazy hedgy to be continuedThe "I'm gonna punish you for slighting me with this passive-aggressive onslaught"s.Īnd then, one day, I went to the mailbox.and what surprise do I find inside? The "I'm not going to ask you on a date, but I'm not going to stop talking to you either"s. The "I'm gonna text you, but I'm gonna be vague"s. I left, and assumed that'd be the end of that.īut that's when he started with the hedgy communications. He then spends the rest of the evening doing the "pressure you for third date sex" dance. He begins the date by asking me to take a trip with him (we've had two dinners). Third date, his place (I still had not invited him to mine). And that, my friends, is where it all went awry. ![]() ĭespite my better judgement, I decided that having a rose-laden romance stalker was a forgivable offense and agreed to a second, noneventful date. but one with a glaring catch: I HAD NOT YET TOLD DATE WHERE I LIVED.Īpparently Dude had means, time, and inclination to track down my abode. Like the offer to pay the ticket, the flowers were a nice gesture too. The next day, after attending class, I return to my apartment and there are flowers on my doorstep, with a note thanking me for a nice time. No worries though, DATE took the ticket and offered to pay for it, as the restaurant (and therefore the shitty, timed parking) were his choice. This particular transformation took three.ĭate one went well, with the exception of the parking ticket I attained when the meter ran out. But as any single gal or guy can tell you, a pristine whitewashed profile can go from "swell" to "hell" in a heartbeat. Once upon a time, about a year and a half ago I'd say, a single me found myself on a date with a good-on-paper guy (attractive, steady job, single, Jewish). Sometimes Life, in its infinite goodness, sees fit to giftwrap a present and deliver it straight to your inbox. THIS JUST IN! BLACK SOX TAKING BETS ON WHICH COMES FIRST: UNEARNED, UNDESERVED MILLIONS, OR DEVELOPMENT OF WORK ETHIC. Now all I have to do is come into millions of dollars. Sure, the Ethics Board might have a thing (or eight) to say about it, but I'd proudly wear the Black Sox emblem if it meant someone less fortunate got a real shot at feeling the victory of a score. I thought, if I could muster up enough influence, I might even be able to convince our All Star pitcher to give a hapless batter or two a free base on balls. ![]() hair-woe haze), I decided I should begin a non-profit, dubbed "Born on Base," where those of us born on first, second, or third (read example above for reference), could offer goods and services to those who were born up to bat without even the benefit of a practice swing. That acknowledged, I was gazing in my bathroom mirror this morning, attempting - fruitlessly - to tame my mangled mane, when an idea struck me! Unfortunately for the world (but mostly me), I am a woman of many ideas and zero follow through. ![]() "Sure, some people transcend their circumstances, but it’s callous for those born on second or third base to denounce the poor for failing to hit home runs."
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