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".

Dating Tip #1: No one wants to see your manlybits!

Sooo, I now consider myself a veteran of internet dating. I've noticed a strange phenomenon. People (I'm being all equal opportunity and assuming women do it too) seem to think it totally normal to send pictures of their bits to total strangers. Let's not forget, even 42 emails and 15 text messages do not make you 'friends". We are all still strangers. So why would you send a picture of your poorly manscaped (or she-scaped!) manlybits!?

There have been several incidents of these, ranging in age from 21 to 63. The first memorable event was the 21 yr old boy that had been messaging me even after I told him he was far too young. My birthday was coming and he asked if he could call. Thinking there was no harm in a phone call, I was slightly shocked to receive a text and attachment saying "Happy Birthday, here'sa gift". This wee young Kyle (all boys that age are named Kyle, right?) had sent me a photo of himself, looking very happy. VERY HAPPY. He received a phone call from the Wolfpack to thank him for his efforts. the mockery was incidental and I am sure he has now recovered...or at least learned a valuable lesson!

The next: While enjoying an evening of ghetto karaoke (why is karaoke always held in the SEEDIEST bars?!?!), we played pool with a group of lovely little boys from the East Coast. Being original (and needing to individually identify all 4 kyles but not being nice enough to learn their names) I gave them names: Blue Shirt, Bling (he had huge cz's in his ears!), Chexmix (he had a checkered shirt) and the Other Guy. They were entertaining as all get out so I gave them my card so we could play pool again. Yes, just to play pool - they're only 4 yrs older than my son for crying out loud. It even said "THIS IS NOT FOR BOOTYCALLS. You kids were fun, call us next time you're playing pool". I think that's fairly clear, no? Sooooo, 2 hrs later I get a text message from Blue Shirt asking for me to send his number to my BFF Amy...along with an attachmet of his nether regions..covered in Fruit of the Loom underwear and displaying an abysmal lack of manscaping. Like a veritable pubic hair forest barely contained by those poor FOTL's!!. I dutifully sent it to Amy and enjoyed her reaction (more horrified by the lack of brand name underwear than the balls it took to send this picure in the first place!). When Blue Shirt requested her response, I kindly said that she prefers to request such photos. Then he sent me a photo "just for me"..which was a full text monty. Sweet mother of pearl. I am still scrubbing my eyeballs and memory banks.

the most recent: Met a lovely man. Single for a year. Kind of a slow speaker, but attractive. Drawback? Reminded me of my ex-husband (another lovely man, but there's a reason we're not married anymore!!) so much that I could almost finish his sentences for him!! We shall call him the Clinginator. I wasn't gagging to date him, but I wasn't sure that he was a total write-off. He was very attentive (or clingy?) and if his texts were not responded to within a half an hour he would ask what he had done to annoy me. ARGH. ANYHOO, after finally getting through to him that I am not the woman who enjoys a man hanging off my left teet all the time (yeah, I said TEET!!), I thought we had made headway...until the night I received a text from him..Transcript as follows:
Clinginator: "would u like a sex pic of me?"
Me: "pardon me?"
Clinginator: "Did I say something wrong? I guess not! Sorry! (Private parts showing)"
Me: (did not respond, was beating head into wall)
Clinginator: 11:03: "Sorry! Hope I didn't offend u"
Me: (did not respond, was busy being offended!!)
Clinginator: "I'm sorry if I did that wrong"
Me: What the hell would make you think I would want something like that?! All you've done is kiss me goodnite and now I'm supposed to look at your junk?!?!"
Clinginator: "I did that wrong. I have shorts on. It's not like that"
Me: (forwarded previous text with the words "private parts showing"
Clinginator: "I raelly (sic) feel like I screwed this up"
Clinginator: "sprry (sic) goodnight".

For your viewing pleasure, in the future I will share all unwelcome "manlybits" shots on the blog (obviously there will be an artfully placed "CENSORED" bar across the goods...it's bad enough I'm scarred, you all shouldn't have to be!). Watch for it!

Moral of the story: Ladies, don't be afraid to tell your dates that there's nothing wrong with leaving a little to the imagination! Men, We don't want to see your self-portraits. Also, you seem to consistently be confusing millimeters with inches. Your self-esteem is laudable, your unit of measure? ummm, debatable!!