I just won my “epic” battle with Firestone, the tire company. Well it wasn’t entirely epic, but I was pretty damn proud of myself for my victory. It just goes to show that you shouldn’t fuck with me, because I will in return, fuck with you. It all started with an oil change…
I had my oil changed before I drove home for the holidays. I can change my own damn oil, but since I live in a city, it is very inconvenient for me to do so, so I have it done. Now, I typically trust the “professionals” who have done hundreds maybe thousands of oil changes to know how much oil to put in my car. If I, the inexperienced oil changer, know that my car takes four quarts of oil, I expect that the professionals know that as well. Apparently not.
So I have my oil changed and then I head off on my merrily little way. All is well until after the holidays when I make the trek back to the city. I made it about thirty miles when I stopped for gas. Realizing that my windshield washer fluid was out, I decided to pop the hood and fill it up. As I do so, a billow of steam/smoke comes from the engine. Oh fuck. I had just spent over a grand to get the freaking radiator fixed, so there should be no over heating. It was only minimal steam, so when that cleared I took a better look.
There was an oil explosion on the inside of my car. Oil was everywhere. Son of a bitch. Luckily there was an auto shop a block away from the gas station so I went there to have them asses the situation. Upon first glance, the mechanic tells me that my oil was overfilled. WHAT? Then he said that they would have to check for sure because they didn’t think anyone was stupid enough to overfill engine oil.
Six hours later… After checking literally every possible solution, engine oil leaks and other stuff beyond my understanding, the mechanics final analysis – some dumbass overfilled my oil. The mechanics showed me how much excess oil was in my engine, about a quart. So the fucking “professionals” at Firestone had overfilled my oil.
Not only was my day wasted, but also money wasted to have mechanics work on my car for SIX HOURS!!! I was livid.
Oh but I wasn’t taking this sitting down, Firestone was going to pay for this.
I decide to go and talk to the store manager once I was back in town. I didn’t really expect reimbursement, but I wanted an apology.
I meet with the store manager and this was how our conversation went:
Me: Hey so you guys overfilled my oil [showed mechanics receipt] I just wanted to know how that happened and tell you that I’m kind of upset about it.
Store manager: Nope. Didn’t do it.
Me: What do you mean you didn’t do it, it says right here that you did and I saw the oil explosion in my car.
SM: No way. There is no way that that happened. You are mistaken.
Me: Well I don’t think I’m mistaken, it says right here [show receipt]
SM: I’m telling you there is absolutely no way that happened. You don’t know what you are talking about?
Me: [Fucking irate by this point] So you are telling me that there is NO way that ANYONE made a mistake? Whatever, I’m never coming back here. [And I storm out.]
Next day I call the corporate office to complain. They told me they’d have the district manager get in touch with me. The following day, the fucking dumbass store manager who is so ignorant to think that no one makes mistakes called me back. I was calling to complain about THAT dumbass, so why would I want to speak with him?
I went one step further… I sent this letter to the Firestone corporate office…
Dear Firestone:
I am writing to file a complaint. I was unsure as to where I should send it or call.
I have called the Firestone Rewards Customer Service line and they told me they would get someone in touch with me and instead they referred me to the man I was filing a complaint about.
In December I had my oil changed at Firestone and they overfilled my car with oil. Oil then exploded all over the engine of my car and I was forced to take it into a shop. After spending nearly six hours on my car, the mechanics determined it was overfilled with oil, an assumption they came to minutes after looking at my car, but then took the time to look deeper into the issue and thus concluded that in fact, the engine oil was overfilled.
Quite upset that someone had ACTUALLY overfilled my car with oil, I went into the Firestone on [location] to complain to the manager. I was met with rudeness and utter unwillingness to comply or apologize in anyway. The store manager told me that “there was absolutely no way on earth that they could ever overfill my oil.”
I have a receipt saying that my car was in fact, almost 1 quart overfilled. I felt as if the Firestone store manager was treating me as if I was ignorant and he kept saying there was no way that could EVER happen. Apparently mistakes are NEVER made at Firestone. Which I have a hard time believing as I saw the oil all over the inside of my car and I saw the excess amount the mechanics took out AND then spend over five hours determining that the oil was indeed overfilled. They checked everything.
I have a very hard time believing that mistakes are NEVER made when the engine oil is changed, therefore I am quite upset that I was met with such ignorance on the store managers front.
After receiving no help from him, I called the Customer Service line. I told them the story and they said they would have the district manager contact me.
Two days later, the store manager, of whom I was complaining about, called me back. I do not wish to speak to this man as I was treated as though I was ignorant.
I don’t know where to contact next, so I am trying this. I will then try different corporate numbers. If I am continuously met with lack of assistance in this matter I will then contact the Better Business Bureau.
I would appreciate a speedy response.
Thank you.
Ha, well that got a response. Five minutes after hitting send, the district manager called me. He offered me a free oil change, reimbursement for the work I had to have on my car and he apologized profusely for 20 minutes. I was satisfied. I hope that ignorant store manager got his ass chewed.
-Alexis Patron
Filed under: douche baggery | Tags: alcohol, alexis, anastasia, boyfriends, commitment, dating, friendship, green bay packers, kissing, new york city, rangers, relationships
I do not scare easily. Spiders gross me out, but I can handle them if need be. Love heights- flying is like home to me. But throw that “commitment” word around and I bolt faster than a shot fired from a gun. There will be an Alexis-sized hole through the nearest wall.
My horoscope characteristics: a nagging need to feel free (which can lead to trouble), fears responsibility, impatient, a risk taker and gambler at heart, argumentative and has a lack of commitment. Soooo very true.
So when someone tells me they want to enter a committed relationship, I freak out. Especially if I don’t see it coming. Now you know why I haven’t had a boyfriend in the last eight years. There were some events that triggered this fear, but that’s a much longer story best saved for a therapist.
Well, when I went to visit Anastasia, not only did I have a wonderful time with her, but I also was put into a “scary” situation. A man told me he was “head over heels crazy about me.” Fuck that makes me shudder even now.
I knew a lot of people from this bar I used to work at in NYC, one of which I had gone on a date with about two years ago. Billy is a super nice person and I enjoyed his friendship a lot. But dating? Yeah, not so good of a time. He just wasn’t for me. I was in my “nice guys finish last phase,” where I only dated horrible men. So, Billy, he would never have worked out. I ended up avoiding him until I moved.
Since being away from Billy, we were able to establish a pretty sweet friendship. We have a playful football rivalry (Packers v. Giants) so we tend to talk a lot during football season. Finally I decided to go back for a visit (to visit Anastasia) and I ended up mentioning this to Billy. He got excited and told me he’d take me to a Rangers hockey game while I was there. This excited me because I wanted to see the old gang.
In the weeks leading up to my visit, Billy and I had begun talking a lot. Even to the point that I may have developed a slight crush on the guy. It was a I-like-you-only-because-you-live-far-away kind of crush. But who knows. Maybe, since I’m now 25, I am mature enough for a relationship? So I was excited to see him and therefore told him so.
Things turned sour fast. Our flirtation turned into “I’ll do anything to be with you,” in zero-60. It was bad. It didn’t help that I got hammered at the game and ended up making out with him. My bad. In my defense I didn’t know it’d lead to the following text conversation that happened the day after the game.
Billy: There’s something I wanna tell you when I get home tonight
Me: Um OK that makes me nervous
Billy: Haha don’t be. It’s nothing bad. Just something I’ve wanted to say for awhile.
Me: I hate waiting
Billy: I promise it’ll be worth the wait.
Me: Just give me a hint
Billy: It has to do w/how I feel about you but I’m a little nervous to say it
Me: That’s what I thought
Billy: I’m just gonna say it now… I’m head over heels crazy about you
Billy: You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the honor of meeting
Billy: Honestly, I want to do whatever it takes to be w/you even if it means packing up and moving out to where you are
Billy: I mean it. I want you in my life no matter what it takes
Billy: I love being near you. I miss you so much and I wish I had you in my arms right now
Ah, ah, ah… cue hyperventilating. Yikes. What the fuck happened. I know I’m a damn fine kisser, but holy shit, I did not see that one coming. I had to squash this shit quick.
The texting continued for the rest of the weekend that I was visiting Anastasia. He said more things like “I want to protect you,” and other creepy shit like that. I had to agree to meet with him on Sunday in order to “discuss” what we were going to do.
Sunday rolls around and I really didn’t want to go, but I felt it necessary. I go to meet him to watch a football game somewhere downtown. When he sees me, he immediately goes in for the kiss. I turn my cheek. He tries again. I turn my cheek again. HE FUCKING TRIES AGAIN. Yes, he really did for a third time. That last time I finally just pulled away. That shit wasn’t happening. Then he goes for the hand holding. There is nothing that scares me more than public displays of affection… but I felt bad. This man was going to cry if I didn’t do something.
We end up walking around for almost an hour trying to find a bar. It was rainy and gross. Did not help the situation. We finally found a bar. We sat down and took off our coats. He was wearing the EXACT same outfit as me. Son of a bitch. I AM THE PACKER FAN, NOT HIM. But to impress me he decided he would wear a Packer shirt. Fuck, I had decided to wear mine as well, in remorse of the fact that the Packers were out of the playoffs. Never thought he’d wear a GB shirt as well, especially since he’s a Giants fan. We looked like morons.
As soon as we sat down he said: I just want you to know that I’m serious, I’d do anything to be with you, even if that meant moving.
My response? - Oh… uh that’s not necessary.
In the next two hours I proceeded to tell him that I didn’t want to date him, didn’t want him to move, that I’m a tad bit crazy, that I sort of married my yoga teacher in Bali… and so much more. Nothing scared him. My goodness, all you have to say to me is the “C” word and I’m scared out of my mind. Shit son. He’s like Earnest on steroids. Where do I find these men? It didn’t end well; I think he thinks we are getting married next month… I didn’t want to crush his soul so I tried to be nice. I’ll have to go for a more drastic tactic next time. Anastasia saved me half way through the “date.” Our code text was “I hate Brett Favre.” Which was appropriate because I was watching the Vikings game. She called and said I had to meet her sooner rather than later so we could go to a dinner party. I made Billy leave the bar shortly after.
He walked me to my train, kissed me, and I ran for my life, slightly fearing he may have gotten on my train in a different car. Yikes.
-Alexis Patron
Filed under: douche baggery | Tags: alexis, eric dane, kissing, mcdreamy, men, new zealander, player, relationships, yacht
Read part one: Asshole of the year
I have done the walk of shame many-a-time… but the run of shame? Never happened before tonight.
Oh you cunning little New Zealander, you. How the hell did you convince me to stay?
I was not about to be left alone with the player New Zealander after his roommate went to bed, so I decided to go home. New Zealander had to escort me back up the dock to free me from the locked gate. We made small talk which was nice. After all, I was trying to be his “friend”.
He fidgeted with the lock, thus encouraging more conversation. By the time we got through the gate, our conversation had taken a deadly turn into personal sharing and emotional story time. It was no longer about work, weather, rainbows, and various topics acceptable to discuss with strangers in awkward social situations. He shifted the tone into loneliness, his Alaskan girlfriend, hopes and whimsical dreams. Shit. How did it get so far so fast? I was just trying to be pleasant.
Ten feet away from my car. I was ten feet away from freedom and almost released from the obligatorily numbing pleasantry exchange. But no, of course the conversation took a nose dive for the worse:
New Zealander: Yeah, this job can be lonely sometimes when you move around all the time
Me: If you are lonely, fix it. I don’t buy the whole shit theory that your job makes you lonely. If you miss your girlfriend who just went to Boston, go visit her. Okay. Well…have a good night. I’m sure everything will work out.
Attempt to exit stage left.
New Zealender cue tears.
Me (aside): Fuck me sideways. He’s crying? He’s fucking crying? I’m so fucking close to my car I could touch it and he’s CRYING? Damn this shit night will be longer than I had hoped.
He literally cried. Wept. Man, this player is fucking good because I fell for it. He cried! Everyone has a weakness and mine just happens to be tears. When I see eye ducts flowing freely with beads of saline and emotion, I want to fix it.
Tears streaming down his face, he started to explain his “situation.” He was lonely. He wasn’t sure he liked the job. He doesn’t want to work and travel all the time…sob.
I did my best to be a friend. And I thought I was doing a damn fine job. It was now 3:30 am and cold outside.
We sat outside talking at the gate until about 4am, when we decided to go sit on the warm little boat and finish our talking. By this time I was hooked. This “poor” guy was so broken. I actually, legitimately felt bad for him.
He grabbed a sweatshirt for me from the “big yacht” and then we went to go sit on the 30-footer, or small yacht. He laid out on the bed and I sat on a chair on the bed so we could finish talking. I prided myself on being JUST A FRIEND. I did not want to date or hook up with him in anyway, I still knew he was an asshole.
I kept thinking as I sat there “please don’t fall for me right now, please don’t fall for me right now.” I knew he would. I have some sort of a weird power with my eyes that when used properly I can totally seduce men with the blazing blues. (*note: New Zealander later told his roommate that my eyes were what made him do it.)
As he gazed into my eyes, he started saying shit. “You are an amazing person.” “This feels really right.” “You are very beautiful you know that.” To which I responded, “yeah I know I am thanks.”
I kept saying to him over and over “I will be a really good FRIEND to you.” It didn’t work.
Next thing I knew he was kissing me. I let it happen for a second and then pulled away thinking ‘please think this is a mistake and don’t do it again.’ I really wanted him to not kiss me. I knew I had no control over the situation. If he kissed me, I’d definitely kiss him. Why? Because kissing is my most favorite pastime and he’s hot. So I was just hoping he would have realized it was a mistake. But he didn’t.
He pulled me up to the bed where we continued making out until 6:30am!!! I totally KNEW BETTER! WTF. I totally fell for all his lines and I knew it was such a bad idea to do that. Good news is I didn’t sleep with him.
I do have to admit, it was super fun making out with the hot New Zealander. But what followed, was utter humiliation. At 6:30am I said it was time to go home so we got off the boat. Oh! Wait! Here is a fun side note: we weren’t supposed to be on that boat and his boss was awake now. Awesome. I was shuttled back onto the small boat to wait. We had to WAIT until the boss went to bed and stopped watching the cameras. New Zealander went onto the big yacht to watch his boss and communicate with me via phone as to when I could get off the boat. Talk about humiliation.
A call around 8am told me to RUN! The boss had gone to the bathroom and I had to literally run down the dock. After sitting alone on the small boat for an hour and a half. I was pissed. I knew I’d never hear from New Zealander after that. I knew it was a bad idea. I don’t regret it, because it was fun. Plus New Zealander was quite attractive with his seducing accent, a strong jaw resembling Eric Dane’s and McDreamy eyes… But still, I would like a little revenge for having to do the run of shame.
-Alexis Patron
Filed under: douche baggery | Tags: Alaska, alcohol, alexis, asshole, dating, New Zealand, roommate, yacht
Not too often do you get to award this reward to someone. But I found a man deserving of the title “Asshole of the year.”
The sad part is… I fell for it.
It all starts in the spring: My date with a kiwi.
He was sweet, worldly, entertaining, had a beautiful accent and liked country music. That to me = perfection! Except for the part that he worked on a yacht and only spent a few months here and there.
We went on a few dates, had a wonderful time and then he left for Alaska. He was in Alaska for two months. Of which during this time he emailed/texted me often. Naturally I thought he was interested and therefore I was excited for his return in September.
This man told me over and over how excited he was to see me and couldn’t wait to hang out… blah blah blah. I am usually smarter than that. I never fall for these types of lines. But for some reason they seemed to be true when they were spewing out of a New Zealander’s mouth. Lies. All lies.
September arrived. He visited me at work the day before his birthday. Everything seemed to be as it was two months ago. He said he had no plans for this birthday so I told him I would go out with him if he wanted. He said yes and that he would call me the next day.
No call.
I didn’t hear from New Zealander for three weeks. By that time I had gotten the picture of course that he wasn’t into me. I never called/emailed/texted him. I figured if he wanted me, he’d find me.
After three weeks went by his roommate stopped in where I bartend to visit me. Roommate and I had been good friends, so I was curious as to why I hadn’t seen him in three weeks either. He apologized and said he just didn’t want to feel uncomfortable around me “after all that happened.” What all happened??!! I went on a few dates with New Zealander and didn’t hear from him again. It’s not a big deal. It’s not rocket science. He’s just not that into me. I accepted that. What’s worse is the rest of the information I found out from Roommate. He was drunk and ended up spilling info on the New Zealander that he later regretted he told me.
Here’s what I found out:
-New Zealander=asshole
-He has a girlfriend in every port
-He wanted to make me his girlfriend in this port
-His girlfriend from Alaska just “showed up” and ruined his plan to do the preceding
-He was going to get rid of Alaska girl and then call me
I told the roommate that he could go ahead and tell the New Zealander that he never has to call me. I’m not interested in being one of his “girlfriends.”
Once we settled the fact that I’d never date an asshole like New Zealander, Roommate and I decided we should all be friends. So he calls New Zealander and tells him to come to the bar… with his Alaska girlfriend. That was fun/awkward.
So all was well. Hung out with New Zealander as a friend, with his girlfriend and all was well. That was Wednesday. Friday the girlfriend moved to Boston, all wasn’t well.
I was totally content being his friend. Until Saturday.
New Zealander and his roommate came into the bar on Saturday to salsa-it-up. They stayed the whole night. And consequently got a tid bit drunk. Roommate asked me if I wanted to hang out with them when I got off work at 2:30am. They wanted to go have a drink on their small boat (not the actual big yacht.) I said sure, you know, “since we were all friends.”
As we walk down the dock to the boat, Roommate pulls a fast one. He said he was tired and was going to bed. Smooth. I think he felt bad talking shit about his friend so he was trying to make it up by putting us together. Wow.
I said, no fucking way, and I decided to go home.
Or did I? Stay tuned…
Part two: Get ready…. RUN!!!
-Alexis Patron
Filed under: douche baggery | Tags: alexis, boyfriends, dating, girlfriend, relationships, sex, sex-ting, tequila, women
I never wanted to become the “other woman.”
It all began very innocently.
Two drunk friends upping the stakes of a regular game of fooseball. If he won, I’d kiss him, if I won… well I don’t think I got anything out of it. Doesn’t matter anyways, I lost and had to kiss him. Innocent turned into PG 13 when one kiss turned into full make-out outside in the freezing Wisconsin winter air.
Ah, but how innocent kissing turned into fucking. At his parent’s house by the way. While his mom was home. It was magical. Especially since she came and watched TV with us later…
The post-sex awkwardness did not exist. I don’t live there, so we remained friends and parted ways. It was one of those post-sex-high-five then peace out situations, very unattached and unemotional. That is my favorite situation. Of course, now every time I go back to visit I have a fuck buddy.
The second time I had a vacation romp with my old friend was during a family wedding that I swung by his work and had a little fun. His work? A funeral home. Enough said.
We didn’t really keep in touch in between our wild sexual encounters, until one day when he out of the blue emailed me. Thus beginning our email/texting long distance sex game.
We were both young, single and bored. Why not send naked pictures and talk dirty?
I had never done the cyber sex thing so I was nervous. The first picture I sent was of my butt. Very PG 13. I kept it this way out of fear that he’d show our mutual friends or he’d send them to my father. All of which would be a bad situation. We continued on the PG 13 track for months, just emailing pictures, nothing too exciting. Plus he would always mention how much “fun” we had during my visits. To be honest, the sex wasn’t great, but I enjoy the concept of having vacation sex.
After a few months of our email affair, the emails ended. I heard through the grapevine he got a girlfriend. I was bored of the cyber sex anyways, so it was good for me. Plus my fear of them ending up on facebook kept me from wanting more.
One night however, after I had stumbled home from the bar at 5am NYC time, I got a text.
“How are you? I miss our fun.”
Huh, maybe he broke up with the chica.
In fact, no he hadn’t. He still wanted to do pictures. Turns out, after two months of dating the girl, he wanted more of my action. Something I wouldn’t have wanted to offer if I was sober. Three shots of tequila and two gin martinis said different. Alcohol = horny. And I was alone.
The filter I had the previous months flew out the window as did my morals. PG 13 turned to R. He could ask me to take a picture of anything and I did it. Of course he reciprocated. Once I sobered up, I freaked out about the girlfriend thing. He said he deleted the pictures and she’d never know. What a classy fella.
In my drunken/depression months of early 2008, this continued often. Sex-ting had become the only relationship that I had. I never wanted to be the other woman and I never actually slept with him again, but I still felt like we were cheating.
Now, more than a year later it hasn’t stopped. And he is now engaged. I’ve gotten him to stop for months by saying I didn’t want to do it anymore, but he is addicted I think. He will ask me if I want a picture, I will say no and he will send one anyways. I have so many penis pictures on my phone, it’s disturbing. I delete them when I remember. He doesn’t even send them at appropriate times, like 3am on a Saturday. Now they come when I’m having dinner with my parents, or eating breakfast on a Tuesday. It’s very strange. He has put me in the category of the “other” woman and I don’t know how to get out of it. And he’s ENGAGED!
He talks about wanting to fuck me when I come visit, I just don’t know how someone can be engaged, yet completely dishonest.
I don’t reciprocate anymore with the pictures or sex conversations, but when I get drunk… well lets just hope I don’t get that drunk again.
I really don’t find looking at penis pictures to be any sort of a turn on, so I am unsure as to why he keeps sending them!
- Alexis Patron
My coworker/ex-sort-of-hookup is a real treat. Granted, I am the dumb ass who dated him for about a month, but in all reality I was shitfaced the entire time. It really shouldn’t be my fault. This was six months ago and since then he has become an even bigger douche bag. Lucky for me, I rarely work with him. I adore the guy I normally work with, he’s a real sweetheart and a good friend. But on occasion he leaves my ass with douche bag of the year and I want to slam my head against the wall.
Last Saturday was one such day. I had to work with d-bag. I knew this in advance, so I had prepped myself for a shitty night. Plus I have been so unbelievably sick the last week, I just knew it was going to be one hell of a shift.
D-bag started texting me an hour before he was supposed to be at work, saying he was going to be late. Shit. Sign number one.
“Hey im running just a little bit late k just letting you know im tryin to hurry without getting pulled over k luv ya see ya soon.”
What the hell? “Luv ya?” Son of a bitch, I thought, if he tries to follow me back to my apartment again I’m going to freak out. Sign number two that it is going to be a shitty night: cutsie language.
The next two texts were confusing/sort of scary. All I responded with was “ok, see you when you get here and I don’t care if you are late.” He responds, “K you sure i dont want to leave you hanging because you know your my favorite bartender thats got a lovely ass right jk no but you do have a nice ass ill see you soon then k luv ya and thanks.”
Mother fucker. Sign number three: he must be drunk or high, as he has no concept of language. I told him it was fun as long as he was at work before ten.
“Ill be there way before then k thanks luv ya babe see your sexy ass when i get there i might even for the fun of it bow you up we ll see.”
I have no idea what that meant and I really didn’t want to find out, so I just let that one go. When he finally showed up, he was stoned. Awesome.
Lately the owners and managers have been wondering if d-bag is stealing money from the bar because his sales have been low. I heard months ago that he stole once or twice, but I didn’t think he was smart enough to keep it going for that long without being caught. Well, Friday night, my bar manager came up to me and told me he thought that d-bag was stealing. So on Saturday I decided to check it out. Unfortunately, I decided to be a nice coworker and sort of warn d-bag not to steal, but I did it in a very covert way.
I told him to try and keep his sales up that night because the owner looks at discrepancies, such as if I sell $1000 and he sells $400 the owner gets suspicious. I thought that d-bag had understood my hidden meaning but apparently he did not. I found out how he was stealing and where he’d keep the money. He wasn’t ringing in all of his transactions and just putting the extra money in the till in a separate spot. We don’t share tills so it is easy for him to do. I was pissed, he must be stealing thousands of dollars from the place. That really bums me out when people do that.
At my bar we have sections, separate tip jars and separate customers. I have a lot of loyal customers since Saturday nights are usually my nights. Typically my sales are always higher than whoever works with me, unless it’s my regular coworker. In telling d-bag to try to keep his sales up, I also said that I know he won’t have as high of sales since they are my regular customers but just to try and be close. Basically I was saying “don’t fucking steal” but apparently the dumb ass just didn’t get that. Instead he took my warning as a free pass to steal my customers. I let him do it a couple of times until I get fed up. I needed to make money as well. So at one point I said “excuse me what are you doing?” When he tried to take a customer who came directly to me.
Major freak out.
D-bag threw his hands in the air started banging shit around, and then started yelling at me. “I thought you wanted me to have higher sales, what the fuck, now I’m going to blame it on you if my sales are low.” I was in shock, what switch was just turned on? He was so pissed. As was I because not only was he stealing from the bar he was trying to steal from me as well. D-bag continued his rampage for about two hours; yelling at customers, breaking glasses, writing shit on paper about how no one cares about him. I was in a rage, I do not need to deal with this shit. Time for me to report the stealing to the bossman.
D-bag apologized later, but it was just a shit show. All the signs were there for it being a bad night… I just didn’t expect it to be that bad.
-Alexis Patron
I’m a whore for facebook. Why isn’t there an option for listing your significant other as facebook itself: Anastasia is in a relationship with Facebook. It would be appropriate, since it’s the only thing I’d never get drunk and cheat on.
My story with the book is actually eerily similar to the way in which some of my relationships have started. Once the book was opened up to schools other than Harvard, the craze took over my school. People acted like MySpace and Friendster had never existed; they couldn’t sign up fast enough.
I, on the other hand, was a little cool towards it, as I am with most technological advances and lots of men. I’m old school at heart, so I do my best to feign interest in new phases.
I go through a pretty obnoxious phase with these techy things. First, I think of all the reasons why it’s a fad that is doomed to die quickly. Second, I make mental pie charts demonstrating the convenience of old tried and true methods. Finally, I cave when I see how convenient the technological advancement makes my friend’s lives. This last piece is the most crucial to my social life and or bank account, because this is the stage when I become obsessed and need to have it immediately.
The iPod, facebook, laptops, you name the product and I went through my process with it. I thank the lord I wasn’t around for the first open-heart surgery because I’m pretty sure I would have found a reason to pooh-pooh that as well.
It was only a matter of time with Facebook though. I fell head over heels. Before I knew it I was obsessed: purposely posing slutty for pictures I knew would make the book, writing on random people’s walls so they will write on mine, coming up with clever status updates. It’s a sickness; really it is.
Facebook isn’t really that awesome though. My boring job allows me to spend too much time on it, and now I know more about people I couldn’t give a shit about. I recently discovered the “hide” button, and thank fucking christ for that.
Sadly, before this great discovery, updates on the married man I dated were flooding my account. Why all of a sudden, after he appeared to have abandoned the social networking site, he’s updating his profile regularly is beyond me.
I just spent the better part of a half hour reviewing the married man’s latest activity. Feel free to judge my cyberstalking, but don’t act like you’re not guilty of it too. Everyone is.
Let’s discuss what my ex disaster has been up to lately:
He’s clearly gained weight; unfortunate for him but awesome for me. I can’t help but to chuckle because I have lost weight and toned up since I was with him. Yes, this is vindictive, childish and petty, but fuck that guy! He lied to me and, oh yeah WAS MARRIED but still dated me.
Speaking of married, looks like the wifepiece is back in the picture. She’s pretty! She could do a lot better, especially since his 15 pound addition and current quaffed hairstyle really don’t do much for him. But I must give credit where credit is due: he still has a beard and the beard has never been more vital to him, as it differentiates chins from face.
Status updates have alerted me to the fact that he has an now has an iPhone. This is pretentious and douchey since he was on verizon, thus I can only assume that he switched providers solely for the purpose of getting that fancy phone.
Is adultery a punishable offense? He’s apparently in some legal trouble and has pleaded with his hundred some odd friends to offer legal advice. Awesome.
Yikes, pretty happy I got out of that one when I did.
-Anastasia Beam
When I have been dumped in the past, I understood that it meant the following: don’t call, don’t stop by, don’t plead, and just sort of disappear. Game over. I haven’t been dumped many times, but still, I didn’t take it as a mere suggestion, I took it as a final parting. However, it seems that with Earnest he is taking my “dumpings” as suggestions to be followed up with constant pursuing and “presents”.
As I have shared in most of my recent stories, I have now dumped Earnest officially twice. I told him I will never want to date him, I tried to scare him off, I told him about recent hookups and that I might consider dating women. Yet still, for some reason, he finds the shit that I tell him to be fun little quirks that make him want to be with me even more. Son of a bitch. I tried lying, telling the truth, cheating, being cold, not responding to calls and apparently he finds all of this shit just so damn cute that he won’t go away.
His incessant attempts to win me back are tiring and I have become so apathetic towards him. It’s exhausting to try and get rid of him. I think It will take me moving away to succeed.
Earnest made me a t-shirt.
We have no words.
In one of my early attempts at scaring Earnest, I apparently talked in circles about my hatred of dating. In one of my babbling sequences I said, “I’m a girl. I’m allowed to be indecisive, but I don’t know.”He found this so damn cute and hilarious he had it printed on a t-shirt and give it to me.
You have got to be shitting me. I assume that he made himself one exactly like it so that we can have matching t-shirts. This way we won’t loose each other when we go strolling through a valley of flowers while holding hands and whistling. Sick. I don’t actually know if he did make one for himself, but let’s be honest, he probably did. Also let me point out that this shirt is fire engine fucking red and about two sizes too big. He said he was trying to compensate for my “well-endowed breasts.”
I hate him.
-Alexis Patron
Filed under: birds and bees, douche baggery | Tags: alexis, humor, men, relationships, women
I had no boyfriends yesterday morning, but somehow by the end of the night, I had to break up with two guys. I have no fucking idea how that happened. Seriously how many times do I have to break up with these guys? I am getting so damn frustrated. Why the hell won’t they just let go?
First breakup – Earnest. I had to dump Earnest again tonight. One week after our initial break up. I thought the text message break up was sufficient, especially when he called me back and said that he was bummed it didn’t work out and he hoped we would still be friends. I really thought that meant he got the picture.
Well tonight we had to have yet ANOTHER discussion about how I don’t want to date him. I once again had to tell him very crazy things to try to dissuade his interest. I started off the evening by telling him that I might consider dating women since I just hate having sex (Which is untrue, I was just trying to scare the guy off). I went on and on about how I am apathetic towards sex, get no pleasure out of it and I consider it along the same lines as making out with someone.
That didn’t work. Then I just had to be straight up rude.
I was working at my bar during this time so he was just hanging out. After work, he walked me to my car so we could “talk.” Apparently he didn’t believe me before when I told him I’d never want to date him. It was time to be harshly honest. I told him it was never going to happen, even just casually. I was bound to cheat on him. I haven’t had a boyfriend in ages so I’m not used to having to be accountable to anyone, I enjoy being single and I hate rules of dating. For example, if I want to make out with a random stranger, I don’t want to feel bad about it, hence why I enjoy being single. Earnest seemed to be getting the picture after this.
I told him I didn’t want to hurt him so this had to end now before I went and did something crazy like make out with his brother or best friend. I have done it before many-a-time to scare off a man, but Earnest is way too nice for me to be such a bitch like that. I think he was a little shocked at this point, but he understood. It was actually the most honest I had been with a man, just telling him straight up that it just isn’t going to happen. Ever.
Phew, so I think it is FINALLY over. I just don’t understand how many times I need to dump this guy. I think the blunt honesty might have done the trick.
One break up down.
Then driving home, Mistake called me. My coworker, who I dumped once, he forgot, re-dumped me, tried to get back together with me two weeks ago, I turned him down, and now he tried AGAIN. He called to talk about this new guy he is trying to fix me up with (long story, I’ll have to tell you all about that later) and he wound up saying that he wanted to have sex again and make out in public. WHAT?
Ugh, I was so tired from having to break up with Earnest, I just didn’t have the energy to have to do it again, so I listened for a long time to Mistake explaining how he loves our friendship and “in a way I do kinda love you.” Shit.
Mistake didn’t even let me get a word in, he just kept talking and talking about our relationship. He told me he was just dumped by his ex so he thought we should hang out again. Seriously our “relationship” was such a disaster before that the thought of dating him again makes me kind of want to vomit. He invited me to meet his parents, said we should go on a date, have sex from time to time. Is he crazy?
I couldn’t say a word. I had worked for 16 hours, was so exhausted, already got rid of one boyfriend, why the hell was this day never ending?
Finally when I could speak, I said: “Listen, we are friends now, which is nice, I just don’t think we should go down the dating road again. Plus I kind of like this new guy, remember?”
Mistake: “Oh yeah, I was just saying if that doesn’t work out, you know.”
Mother fucker, JUST LET GO.
Finally after an hour and me saying over and over again that we shouldn’t date, Mistake said ok and we will talk about it later. I give up. He just doesn’t get it. Time for drastic measures, I need to meet his best friend.
-Alexis Patron
Filed under: birds and bees, douche baggery | Tags: anastasia, men, relationships
Call it low standards, call it a shameless need for attention, call it whatever you will, but if you dress a bearded man in any baseball paraphernalia (excluding Yankee garb) I am sold. That’s all it takes. Sure, a good personality and sense of humor are both desirable traits in the opposite sex, but if I’m drunk and I meet a bearded man who likes baseball, there is a 100% chance I will make out with him. This has gotten me in to trouble on many occasions.
I was waiting for Alexis at one of our pubs. The Red Sox and Yankees were in a heated battle, and one of my favorite players was up to bat. I noticed a cute bearded man standing next to me. I nudged him, delivered (and subsequently wasted) one of my most awesome pickup lines of all time: “I’ll bet you $20 Manny Ramirez hits a home run right now.”
Manny swung at the pitch, and with his swing I heard the unmistakable crack of a long ball. He had jacked a towering shot. Normally, I’m pretty confident with a few brews in me, but with my Babe-Ruth-style called home run, I knew it would be a matter of time before I was fucking this dude. He was impressed as well, and proceeded to buy alcohol, hookah and food for myself and Alexis the rest of the night.
At the end of the night, we obnoxiously made out while Alexis awkwardly waited for us, exchanged numbers, and promised to see each other soon. I was really excited. Not to overuse an old cliche, but if it seems to good to be true it most likely is. Not only did he have a stable job at a good company, but he was cute, had a witty sense of humor, and came from an area in Boston I’m familiar with.
Looking back, some warning signs were there from the beginning and I ignored them. Instead, I foolishly figured it would only be a matter of time before we shared leftovers in post-coital bliss.
For example, I have this bad habit of facebooking people quickly. I should probably apply the three-day calling rule to facebook. As soon as I got home from our first date, I requested his friendship on facebook. Weeks went by without a response. I didn’t jump to the conclusion that he had bitterly rejected me via the book because we were still hanging out. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t calling me or avoided me, we had been on several dates that included heavy petting. So I just assumed he hadn’t added me yet because he didn’t check his facebook that often.
My budding relationship with the perfect Bostonian guy came to a perfect halt one Friday when we met up for some drinks. We spent a few hours drinking and chatting about various things, before he invited me back to his apartment. I happily accepted. Finally, I thought, it was time for some weed and sex.
His apartment was only a few blocks away, and I walked there with that giddy-obnoxious grin people get right before they get laid. It didn’t last long. It’s pretty hard to keep a pre-sexing-smile on your face when your pseudo boyfriend delivers the verbal equivalent of a swift kick to the balls.
“So, I’m not really sure what the deal is with us,” he started, “but I have something to tell you.”
Hearing “I have something to tell you” alone is enough to end a relationship, but following it up with “I’m married”, as he did, was something I had not heard before, nor expected.
The man who wore no wedding ring, lived in a studio apartment and was barely a year older than me was married? Lovely. His wife turned out to be a pathological liar who was fucking some dude two blocks away from my apartment.
I’ve probably seen her dozens of times.
Despite the fact that I was more in love with his East Village apartment than him, Alexis encouraged me to break it off so I would avoid the crazy bitch coming home with a bat to us in bed. I broke off
all communication with him; I’m pretty sure he knew why.
He eventually accepted my request on the book and there it was in the middle of his profile: the dreaded married status.
Everyone knows if it’s on facebook it’s official.
-Anastasia Beam
