"Wandy Dodd" or "Just say NO to speech impediments"

ohhhh, this one is a doozy!

So this past spring I was in the grocery store (in gym clothes and ponytail and really STINKING up the place!) when I noticed the same man kept popping up wherever I was. He was an attractive man. Well dressed, although he did have frosted tips and was definitely FAR under 5'10 - my usual man criteria!

Finally in the deli he approached me and asked me about a product (not being a fan of the processed meats, I was not much help!)..then as I grabbed milk and was heading to leave, he came up and told me he thought I was "attwactive" and would love to take me for a drink. Since I am a sucker for pretty much any man who flatters me, I gave him my number.

Thus begins the story the man I call "wandy dodd". Now Wandy seemed incapable of saying the "r" sound. At first I thought he was something we in Canada call a "newfie" or a native of Newfoundland, because they tend to have strong accents. It took me 2 weeks to figure out that it was indeed a speech impediment.

Wandy was also a former military man. He used to drive a tank. I think he bumped his head. Repeatedly.

Our first lunch date lasted for 2.5 hrs, as I acted as his therapist and listened to the stories of his ex. And her children. And the ex. More on the ex. What? We're still talking about the ex? Ok, more on the ex. Excellent! At the end of it, he hugged me and told me he couldn't wait to see me again. What can I say? I'm a great psychotherapist. I said yes because I didn't want to assume the worst - that I was out with the "rebounder". Oh yes, the dreaded rebounder, still in love/obsessed with the elusive ex.

Second date: We go for drinks at a pub of his choice. This pub is in what I like to think of as THE MOTHERTRUCKING GHETTO!! While walking in past 2 gentlemen, I was eye-humped to the point that their optical spooge could be felt dripping down my leg. I walked in and realized Wandy Dodd was late. Feeling the eyes of 20 large men on me, I slowly backed out of the bar and immediately called the Bestie...mostly so if I disappeared, she'd know where I'd last been seen! Wandy Dodd finally arrived and over our 2nd drink I pointed out that I couldn't give 2 shits over his ex...he did his best not to mention her for 10 whole minutes kids, but it was a write-off. After excusing myself and heading home, I mused to myself on how even in the grocery store, I attract the nutbars!

Flashforward to the next day: The phone rings. Wandy Dodd "weally weally wikes me and would hate to miss out on something with an awesome wady wike me". After being kind and gently explaining that perhaps he had to do some work on being single for a bit, I finally ended up yelling at the poor guy. It wasn't good. I am not a nice person when I start yelling, which is why I RARELY do it (road rage doesn't count, right?). Wandy Dodd yelled back. Which was sort of like being yelled at by Elmer Fudd. I was vewy, vewy quiet before hanging up. End of story. Seems simple right? RIGHT!

Nope...

2 months later I hear from Wandy again. He is calling to tell me I was right (no kidding!)and that he is now over "her". After once again listening to him spew vitriol about the ex, I asked what the point of his call was. He asked if I was seeing anyone. I said no. He asked if I'd see him. I said no. He asked if we could be "fwiends". I said...I guess so. ANNNDD this is how we ended up on a night out with the gf's (for A1's auntie's birthday!) with Wandy Dodd in tow. You see, the girls (especially the Bestie) couldn't believe he was as bad as I said. So Bestie cajoled me into inviting Wandy out with us.

We go to a North End pub (slightly ghetto, but we all know I loves me some ghetto!) and this is his 'hood! I called him to invite him and he was tickled. TICKLED! He arrives. Fairly well dressed, but the beers are catching up to the belly, IF you know what I mean... I hid, and he called...and I answered..and he came to sit with us. Now keep in mind that A-squared had each invited their respective ex-bf's. Why? Well everyone gets along and it's this whole painful, interconnected situation that really needs to end..but I digress!

Wandy Dodd took much offense to the chair dance/leg hump that A2's ex greeted me with. He then proceeded to tell one of my guy-friends that he "is not normalwy an agwessive kind of guy but these girwls don't want these guys here. How come these guys awen't picking that up?". The irony? Wandy Dodd seemed to think he and I were on a date and had rubbed his face on my shoulder, put his feet in my lap repeatedly (until I threatened to jam a shoe up his posterior if he put his dirty feet on my pretty dress one more time), and told aforementioned guy-friend that he was so excited to be here on a date with "Shewwy". Oh, he also told guy-friend that "you and I are the onwy two here who haven't slwept with these girwls". UHHH WRONG wandy, that guy-friend had tapped this. He'd tapped it repeatedly. He'd tapped it six ways from Sunday!!!! He also told guy-friend that I was a great singer and that I had a powerful voice...probably because of all that "pweshuh" on my chest. "If you know what I mean...". eurgh!

aside: Oh yeah, he didn't know my name. did I mention that? Somehow in the 2 months we hadn't spoken, I'd gone from SHERRIN to SHEWWY. Also, I hate being called Sherry. It's a number one dealbreaker!

Back to it: Wandy was in the process of giving my friend's aunt (a total stranger to him) a lap dance...for her birthday...because after the bikini-clad beer girl had given her one, he felt quite sure that she required his sweaty-self grinding up on her! Then he was back to threatening the boys. Finally, after telling Wandy in no uncertain terms to either be nice to my friends, ALL of my friends and to sit down and shut the hell up or leave, I was ready to go home. As I left the pub, Wandy proceeded to hunker down with A2 - a very understanding and sympathetic girl. Wandy did not leave the pub that night until the rest of my friends left. Imagine being stuck with a strange, angry, DRUNK, speech-impedimented, sweaty, close-talking, touchy-feely person for an entire evening because one person (ahem, Bestie) insisted they be invited out so they could witness the carnage for themselves!

Moral of the story? Trust your instincts! Just say no to speech impediments! and NEVER date a man named "Wandy Dodd"

By the way, Bestie left 45 minutes after Wandy got there because she had to work the next day. She's a diabolical genius.

Sgt Sexipants

Hang on kids, we're about to delve into my history of dating military men. I'm patriotic dangit!!

The first story is the tale of Sgt Sexipants. A product of online dating. Sgt Sexipants was what I like to call "good on paper". He ostensibly had it all. Funny, smart (a masters in criminology you say? well sign me up!!), handsome...a little on the short side, but who am I to judge?! He'd had several tours in war torn places and was a bit on the jaded side, but I figured this is where my "happy bubble" would come in handy!

The sparks with Sgt Sexipants? They flew. Had there been dried tinder in the area there'd have been a blaze! Thank goodness for my 5 date rule or I'd have been led down the garden path (and by "down the garden path" I mean bitten by the trouser snake!!). For our 3rd date, we decided to meet each others friends. Yes, Sgt Sexipants was braving the Wolfpack. As a combat-hardened veteran, how rough could the Wolfpack be? It was only 2 members of the Wolfpack vs the Sgt and his friend. sigh...it was ugly folks. As 1 of the 2 members of the Wolfpack I shall call "A-Squared" began an all out frontal attack on our poor Sgt, his wee chest began to puff in agitation. His scarred fists clenched on the table and he began to look around wildly, like a caged animal. (Who knew the caged animal was a badger or other rodent-like creature?) His short little legs began to twitch, his wee little foot began to tap....and he kept looking at me for permission to blow. So I said "go for it, she's a big girl"...but Sgt Sexipants refused to pull the pin on the temper grenade.

Now let's keep in mind that as soon as the Sgt's friend arrived, he turned from a doting and attentive date into a complete dirtbag. He was openly scoping the waitresses, making inappropriate comments about other women in the pub and generally forgetting I was there unless it was to stare at my chest or my feet (by the way, when did this whole foot fetish thing start? and well...EWWW!). Being a woman who doesn't feel a need to compete or make a scene, I proceeded to start texting and playing Sudoku on my phone (Gentlemen, if your date finds Sudoku more interesting than you, things are NOT going well!!). By the time A-squared arrived, I was glad to have reinforcements and had no issues with A-1 teeing off.

After about half an hour of verbal warfare, we decided to head to a bar I will call "Where Cougars go to Die". The median age was 60. There was an Elvis wannabe. There was a lot of 80's flash. There were a lot of Ed Hardy douchebags. It was people watching heaven! There were very elderly little men...I mean LITTLE men. The fellow that asked me to dance was shorter than I was, and I was wearing 4 inch heels so I was a staggering 5'3!!!

Ok, back to it: Due to the fact that we had all taken separate cars, AND that I get lost every-single-mothertrucking-time I leave my house, I got there after the Sgt and his friend, but BEFORE A-squared. I spotted the Sgt and moseyed over fairly slowly (I was NOT feeling this anymore)...just in time to see the Sgt trying to pick up a woman as wide as she was tall...in a floral muumuu. So I stood beside the Sgt to see when he'd notice me, and to enjoy the look of panic and then forced cheer as he realized he'd been caught. Again, not into causing scenes, I ignored it and mentioned that A-Squared were on their way. At which point the Sgt looked at his friend and said "The C**nts are here". PARDON ME?!?! PARDON ME YOU SAWED OFF LITTLE PIECE OF POOH?!?! I couldn't have heard that correctly...so I asked him to repeat it..and he DID! He said it again! He looked me square in the eyes and said "the 2 C**nts are here". At which point I waved buh-bye and walked out...

Let me do a brief segue here into one of the few tenets I hold dear...Chicks Before Dicks. Ladies, your girlfriends were there before these men and any man worth keeping will accept your fabulous friends as an important extension of you...Look at your happily married friends - don't their husbands accept you? Even if they do occasionally shake their heads at you and wish out loud that they were deaf? Don't they plot with you in great surprises for your mutual loved one? YES THEY DO! So find yourself some of that action, don't settle for ANY jackass that would refer to your friends in derogatory terms...

Back to our story!
So after squirming my way past many Guidos/Ed Hardy douchebags, I exited the bar to run into A-Squared. As I angrily told them what had happened, they just shrugged and said "so what dude? He's into you. We don't care what he calls us". Soooo I stagger back in to give Sgt Sexipants a chance to explain..or apologize..or plead temporary insanity/demonic possession...SOMETHING. Instead Sgt Sexipants tells me to chill out and that it's just a name. At which point I asked if it would be acceptable for his friends to refer to me in that manner. Immediately his Alpha Male tendencies kicked in and he exclaimed that he'd kill them if they spoke that way of anyone he was dating. I gave him the patented "raised eyebrows, you're a moron look" and waited for him to clue in. When he didn't and proceeded to grab my butt, I realized it was a losing battle...BUT AGAIN, A-Squared stopped me and sent me back for another try because "dude, he's totally cute and he's totally into you". (you know, A-squared isn't actually a surfer dude. They're two extremely gorgeous and accomplished women..I don't know why we all speak that way!)

3rd Try is a Nuclear Holocaust but not a Charm!!: Sooooooo I mosey back over to Sgt Sexipants. He has his arms around me and is making headway in this debacle. I'm laughing, noses are touching..until...mid-sentence...his head swivels around to a blonde with 3 inches of black roots carrying a BLUE FAUX-FUR jacket..and he says "hey baby, how YOU doin'?" Stunned silence. A moment of "oh no, that did NOT just happen"...and I was out. For the 3rd and final time. I passed A-Squared inhaling some carcinogens as I left and explained what was behind my exit and THIS time they were 100% behind me in my escape.

As I pulled into my driveway, my phone rang. Hello Sgt Sexipants. He apologized profusely and then pointed out that he hadn't "F**ked" her so what was the problem?". As I tried to explain the inherent disrespect in his actions, I realized I was talking to the human equivalent of a stump. (Ok, I'm going to be honest - had she been well dressed or perhaps even well groomed, I'd probably have been more forgiving!) I gently said I was tired and disconnected.

Flash forward two days later. Sgt Sexipants calls again and is flirty, acting like nothing happened. He seems completely oblivious to the fact that I am cold, speaking in one-word sentences and actually grocery shopping. Finally I jump in and say "hey Sexipants, where do you think we're at right now?". His response? "I thought after Friday night's awesome date, you and I were seeing each other exclusively." After listening to my semi-hysterical laughter for a few minutes, the Sgt finally caught on that perhaps we had been on 2 VASTLY different dates. Our conversation ended with an "eff you bi**h".

and THAT is the story of one of my stints as a patriotic dater...be good and I'll tell you the story of meeting US Marines in Vegas and turning into an incoherent, giggling, blushing moron who chickened out on drinks with some amazing Southern specimens because I was feeling bloaty and sweaty!! OR the story of the man I met in the grocery store - we shall call him "Wandy Dodd".