Time to clean up my messes

So, I’ve been letting any of the guys that may have been out there trying to date this hot tamale know that she officially only has eyes for one guy these days.

Sorry suckas. Snoozed. Losed.

Actually, I had just been blowing them off, as I’m prone to do with guys I’m not actually dating but maybe just went out with once or twice. I'm a Co-co-co-cold hearted, ssssssssnake.

First came The Greek. This went down yesterday outside my apartment. He had called and texted a couple of times but since we never actually went on a date, I didn’t think I owed him an awkward “Sorry dude, but I’m not going to go out with you” explanation. So I just didn’t return his calls.

I was walking B. yesterday and saw him across the street. I tried to just ignore him and act like I was super interested in picking up my dog’s poo, but I failed miserably. Darn poo! Why do you smell so bad?

He crossed the street and started asking me a series of questions about how I was doing, how work was going, yada, yada, yada. Then he laid this on me:

Him: So my friend said you’re seeing someone now. I’m glad for you, but I wish I could have gotten to know you better.

You know what I said?

Me: Did you hear about the streaker we had out here last night?

I’m such an ass. It was the first thing that came out to avoid a reply to that statement.

You see, I had an amazing experience with a streaker the night before. I was sitting in the apartment of Martini who lives a floor down from me, enjoying a glass of wine with her and our friend T. when we heard this incredible moaning sound. It sounded like someone having really loud, really rowdy sex.

Of course, we all ran to the window to see what was going on because there was no one in that room that’s been getting any action in a very long time and we kind of forgot what sex sounded like and wanted to be sure that’s what it was.

We’re all craning our necks out the window, staring into the darkness, when this buck naked man comes running around the corner, moaning and yelling. He then grabs his genitals in one hand and is trying to get in the building next door with the other hand.

Finally he manages to slip behind some unsuspecting person who, for some strange reason, wasn’t prepared to see a naked man run up to her at 9 p.m. on a Tuesday.
What seemed like two minutes later the police pull up and want to know what we saw.

I tell them we saw a naked man moaning and running down the street. He asks if we will give a statement. He wants to know exactly what I saw because, apparently, it’s a major offense for someone to show their special parts “to a minor.”

This makes me howl with laughter. I say, “A minor. I’m the oldest one in the group! I took a nap when I got home from work today.”

The next day I actually got a call from the “Victim’s Unit” of the police department. I felt like I was on an episode of Law and Order.

All this is to say that when The Greek tried to start spilling his sweet preppy guts to me all I could think to talk about was the Naked Man.

Mission Let The Greek Down Easy: accomplished.

Then today I had to write a very harsh e-mail to Tall Dark and Handsome to tell him to stop being Single White Male on me.

You may remember I went on one date with him just before breaking my arm. It was so incredibly dull that I drank my weight in Grey Goose. I think the bill was like $100 and I didn't eat anything. Yes, TDAH, you can pick up the bill. Who says chivalry is dead?

He called and texted after that, and I attempted my blow off routine. He continued to call and text. One night I texted back, “Sorry TDAH. I’m not interested.”

He thought I was drunk or something (whatever would give him that idea?) and continued to call. I never spoke to him once in all that time – more than two months.

Today he asked me to come to a party this weekend. He actually texted me this: “Bring your own booze. Swimsuits optional.” Classy guy. Classy.

So I e-mailed him and said “Dude, I’m seeing someone. I tried to let you down easy but you don’t seem to be getting it so I’m just going to be blunt. Please stop calling and texting. Get the net.” (I actually wrote that and kind of cracked myself up.)

He responded.

“You’re so sweet. Thanks for telling me. Please take care of yourself and if you need anything let me know.”

What the what?

Men always make fun of women who don’t get the hint and insist that guys like them and “just don’t know how to show it.”

Well, I think these recent events prove that some guys are just morons.