Dating for Dinner

Tag: satire

Just Imagine Me Eye Rolling & Doing The Jerk Off Motion With My Hand…

Hey!  Wanna know a little secret?  Well, I don’t know if you’re already aware of this or not, but I figured out the reason why guys try to compensate for being a bad boyfriend in saying, “This is just really hard for me…”  I’m sure you’ve heard that horse shit before, right?  They say that communicating and working through problems is “hard” and you know what?  They’re actually not lying this time; it really is hard for them.  Because in order to make the most basic relationship work, guys have to think of our feelings and put aside theirs for approximately ½ of the time spent together.  Which means not only mastering the unfeasible idea of sacrifice, but also math

Whoa!  All that to make a harmonious relationship?  You know I used to think heart surgeons had a lot riding on their back, until I realized how “hard” it is for guys to be a good boyfriend; wow.  This has really changed my entire perspective and now I totally understand how mine has disappeared over the last three weeks and subsequently collapsed under all of this pressure.  Poor guy, he must feel so… helpless; so… defeated.

The second I’m through making this frowny face in his honor, I’m going to pick up the phone and console him…LOL not!

I’m More Panicked Than That Time My Hair Got Momentarily Sucked In The Blow Dryer

Even though I changed my number, I have been getting a lot of calls this week.  I guess my friends and family are worried I’ll get down on myself and fall into a black hole of despair or something?  But I don’t want anyone to worry because  I have found plenty of ways to deal with the stress of a lying, cheating, bastard of an exboyfriend.  Hey- speaking of coping mechanisms, I’m drinking Wild Turkey  from a dixie cup on this fine Sunday afternoon and it’s bringing up a lot of interesting questions about my life.  I’m starting to come up with some deep shit like, what is the purpose of it all?  Have I made a mistake in moving to New York?  What truly makes me happy?

But more importantly, what should I do with this fucking David Yurman ring?  You know, the ring.  The more I drink, the more I
can’t decide if it would bring me greater pleasure to have plus 2k in my bank account or go trade it in for an upgraded version from the flagship store on Madison Avenue…?

I know, right?  How can anyone make that kind of decision?  This is one of those gut wrenching predicaments I wouldn’t even wish on my worst enemy.  I feel confused.  Out of sorts.  And lost.  Is this what it feels like to be asked to donate one of my kidneys?

I’ll CC You On That E-Mail… And Totally Go Home With You…

I guess it’s not enough that I’m tormented by a break up that has changed my phone number and left me obsessing over my empty e-mail inbox, but I also had a meeting with one of the online publications I write for…and the guy who started it is totally hot.  And he’s younger than me…and I didn’t wear a blouse with cleavage…

Really, Sarah?  No cleavage? Really?

You know, my life is complicated enough as it is, and now I’m expected to follow along “strategy meetings,” and try in vain not to strategize how to get into Hot Magazine Guy’s pants.  Shit, and I thought trying to get my Colombian EXboyfriend to be honest with me was a losing battle? Ha!  Try making a, “Why, yes I’m paying attention to your ideas” face look legitimate while imagining ripping off cuff links and dress socks to get it on over a conference table.  It’s no fucking joke…

You see?  You see the shit I have to endure?  I think it’s pretty obvious now that the term “suffer” isn’t confined to just terminal diseases and human trafficking anymore…

3 Cheers for No More Years

After my breakup last night it was hard to feel anything but heartache.  I guess that’s normal when someone throws away a year and a half’s worth of love and time together for promiscuous sex.  When I finally picked myself up off the kitchen floor I got to thinking how there’s something about realizing when someone doesn’t love me anymore, that makes me want to drink the fuck out of some expensive Champagne!  Yeah, I’m not sure why either, maybe it like, helps the rejection go down a little smoother or something?  Either way, I did feel some gratitude when I remembered the bottle I had chilling in the fridge.

Except I should really be thanking the guy I met several months ago that bought me the nice bottle of Champagne.  So I did, I thought to myself, “Thank you Meaningless Lunch Date Guy; I’m so glad to still have this Vueve Clicquot that I was saving for a special occasion- like a visit from the now former love of my life, but since he’s going to be very busy whoring it up I’ll just drink the shit now.”

As if the juxtaposition of drinking Champagne while crying wasn’t ridiculous enough, I decided to do it at a stranger’s house.  I’m not good with bottles and corks and shit anyway so when “Guy with a Girlfriend” offered to keep me company, and open the bottle, I went to his apartment.   It was a nice distraction; I got to tune out whatever the hell he was saying about his own relationship problems and wonder if I would ever meet someone I’d want to kiss more than the person I just lost.

It was really a morbidly amusing evening.  I mean you have to laugh, right?  Champagne is for celebrating and I’d hardly call being dumped for another girl, a cause for celebration.  But like I always say; there are two types of people in this world: Those who drink expensive Champagne after a breakup, and ingrates.

I Hope He Knows JUST How Lucky He Is

Okay so after crushing Vicodin in my Ginger Ale I rethought the whole “breakup” thing and realized that even though my Colombian Boyfriend and I may have been headed for a split, it simply wouldn’t work.  Mature relationships are about recognizing when to walk away and giving it your all.  You have to show the person you love your true colors and I’m not just saying that because I’m high as fuck listening to Delilah on FM radio.

And, well, with that being said  I just went to Seattle to visit my dad and bought my Colombian Boyfriend a refrigerator magnet!  Yeah, I know, lucky guy.  How ridiculous would it be to walk away after “giving my all” by way of a $4.00 magnet?  It’s not just a regular magnet from a corner store either; now that would be lame!  This magnet happens to be a map of Washington State with a star over Olympia that lights up.  Did you get that?  The magnet twinkles.   I’m seriously invested here…

You know some people think expressing love has to be through vacations to Mexico, a time share in the Florida Keys, or even an engagement ring- but that’s simply not how I see things after ingesting prescription pills.  Those people don’t even get it.  I get it, however.  And nothing,  I mean nothing says, “I’m committed to the longevity of this relationship” like a Washington State souvenir magnet.

Do These Fake Eyelashes Make Me Look Fake?

I’m easily discouraged now that I’m unemployed.  I do write a lot of bull shit still, but I can feel myself slipping into a pitiful state of mind.  It’s scary to think how quickly someone in my position would get depressed so I have to make extra strides to take care of myself since I value my mental health about as much as I value peanut shells.

Which is why I did myself a favor and got false eyelashes.  (And you thought you had a productive day! Ha!) Although, it was sort of work in itself since there’s like, 40 different styles of eyelashes to choose from!  Seriously, 40.   Talk about pressure with a capital P; I stood in front of the enormous wall of synthetic black lashes a little glad I didn’t have a job.  I mean, career stress on top of the stress of choosing the right eyelashes  would surely have made me faint.  But don’t worry… I did in fact pick out the perfect pair without collapsing.  And they were just $12.00 dollars which means I  only overpaid by $11.99!  They’re just magnificent aside from the glue splotches, and make my eyes look glamorous which is really important when you aren’t making any money!

So yeah, that’s why I have so much cheap hooker sex appeal in this blog post… because I’m wearing them… right now.  You’re welcome.

I Already Thought I Had The Best Boyfriend In The World. Jewelry Is Just The Cherry On Top.

Don’t you just love Christmas?  It’s a remarkable time of year to be cherished and there’s truly nothing more special than spending time with loved ones and family with a big fat rock on your hand.  I have been so blessed to be in DC with a beautiful family and the kind of ring that dominates an entire party’s line of vision.  It just warms my heart
to see babies in party dresses, mother’s laughing with daughters, and of course, a ring the size of a quarter that matches my flute of Champagne….you know what I mean?

No?  Your present doesn’t sparkle in the light?  Gee, that’s too bad.  What did you get?  A what?

A gift card to Victoria’s secret?

Oh Gawd, that is horrible!  I understand not all girls will get to enjoy the luxury of expensive jewelry this Holiday season, but mass produced lingerie? Wow, in that case I’m sorry your boyfriend works part-time at Best buy.  I’m also fully aware that not every body cares about materialistic things, but as for me with a refined taste and a boyfriend who wants to get laid; I got a David Yurman!

Oh it’s just sensational!  I’ve never seen anything so bright on my hand!  I’ve never had a boyfriend so amazing! So loving! So, PERFECT! But I’m not really one to brag, so I really don’t want you to feel jealous your boyfriend didn’t love you enough to get you a magnificent symbol of his commitment. You got that?  It’s just a David Yurman.  It’s just a thing; a thing with a 15 millimeter Lemon Citrine stone surrounded by Pave’ diamonds that doesn’t even do anything except glisten as it catches light refractions off it’s perfectly cut edges. And between you and I, it doesn’t go very well with a candy apple red manicure; so you see?  It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

And you know what else?  You never know, maybe in 2012 your boyfriend will get promoted to electronics manager and then you’ll get one too.  But don’t let it consume you; that’s tacky.

I Can’t Work Under These Conditions!

You know what, don’t even start with that, “You haven’t been blogging” shit again okay? I have a huge headache from my invisible Tiara and quite frankly, my lack of writing is obviously not my fault (when is it ever?). Let’s point the finger at My Colombian boyfriend since he’s the one who’s really to blame here; him and and his outrageous expectations of me!  I am just beside myself with it all because I try to write, I really do.  But it’s nearly impossible to get anything creative done during my evening foot massages.  And then immediately after that he takes me to dinner or has me look through magazines at my “ideal” engagement ring.  Isn’t that just awful?  How the hell can I concentrate on Dating in Dresses with those kind of conditions?  Someone needs to talk to him about this actually, it’s getting a little out of hand.  Not only do I have to be taken on mini-vacations to California & Boston, but there’s also fancy dinner dates, surprise presents from Chanel, meet-my-mother lunches, trips to Nordstrom for lingerie and red lipstick- I mean wow. Between the 60 phone calls a day and “send me a nudie pic” text requests, I am absolutely fatigued. 

So you see my lack of blogging is directly associated with him and anyone with half a brain can see that I’m practically being tortured over here.  The entire time I’m being pampered by my boyfriend I’m wishing I could just blog, I swear. Why won’t you believe me?  I mean let’s get real, do you really think I’d abandon my hard work here just for a hot steamy love affair with a good looking Latino who loves me to death and spoils me rotten? Do you

You’re sick!


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