Sep 29 2014

T.

Published by admin at 11:02 pm under Uncategorized

Back in May, I joined (heavy sigh) a dating website because I wanted a boyfriend. I talked to a lot of guys, and because I’ve never really looked for a boyfriend before, I didn’t realize how disgusting men are. All of my relationships are just something I fell into, whether it was a friendship that became something more or a chance encounter that turned serious, but actively searching for somebody and them knowing what you’re up to? Some guys apparently use it as an excuse to be complete perverts.

Rule 1, guys. Don’t text a dick pic to an unsuspecting lady.

I know that I’m woefully naive about certain things, especially when it comes to men, so I always had at least one person who had full access to all of my information if I ended up in a ditch somewhere. Luckily, only one of the guys I went out with turned out to be completely insane, which he demonstrated by pushing me up against a wall in his apartment and wrapping his hands around my neck, then whispering into my ear “because I can.”

Rule 2, guys. Don’t even kind-of choke people unless those limits are clearly fucking defined. I’ve never been so afraid in my life.

Obviously, I did not go out with him again.

I met two other guys, one was a father of three who was really into Doctor Who and works for a really nerdy company that rhymes with StinkMeek. He wasn’t interested in anything serious, or even monogamous, and it turns out that I can be crazy jealous, so that didn’t work out. The other runner-up was a nice 39-year-old man who had never had a girlfriend longer than two months in his life, and at first, that kind of worried me, and then by our second date, I had what I think Oprah calls an aha moment. Dude was insane. We got into a fight waiting for a table at the Cheesecake Factory because he apparently thought he was The Pickup Artist and kept insulting me slightly and then pretending he was just kidding. Look, if I need somebody to take my self-esteem down a notch, I’ll just call my mom and discuss why I don’t have a B.A. even though I’m 28 years old.

Then, I met T. He was not what I was expecting at all. He’s 29, he likes poker, he has 3 roommates, and works for a software company. Clearly, I have a thing for semi-nerdy boys (look at the last, oh, everybody I’ve ever dated) and he had dark hair and a sideways smile, plus he plays 6 instruments, so I agreed to go out with him. We met at a Starbucks on a Thursday night at about 9 pm, and I expected to be there maybe an hour or two, and because I’d been striking out so well lately, I figured he’d never call me again.

We were there until 4 am, just laughing and talking and joking around. He is pretty much the smartest person I’ve ever met even though he’s only beaten me once in Words with Friends which drives him crazy because he wins against me at everything else. He is a good cook and I like him a lot. We went to Delaware this summer because he found out I’d never seen the Atlantic. We go camping and bowling and all sorts of fun things. We’ve been together for a little shy of five months now, and I’m actually typing this on his couch because he went to bed awhile back and I had too much coffee today.

T. has been excellent with helping me with my homework now that I’ve gone back to school. I’m taking 15 credits, which was maybe a bad idea for my first semester back in seven years, and I’m overwhelmed because I’m still working 30 hours a week. I’m actually taking next week off work because I can tell that I’m about to crack under the pressure, and if I didn’t have my little genius to help me properly conjugate -ar verbs in Spanish, I don’t know what I’d do. Like I said, he knows almost everything. He knows Captain Crunch’s full name (Captain Horatio Magellan Crunch, in case you were wondering) and what a cosine is and he can calculate percentages during an 8-person poker game to know how likely he is to win based on the cards he can see, and I miss a lot of what he’s talking about, but did I mention he has dimples? He’s pretty freaking cute.

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