Please welcome our special guest...

Last week, I spoke with Alecia about one of her dating experiences. The only words I can use to describe the story are "blog worthy." However, Alecia's fabulous blog theme-based, E-letters, didn't quite lend itself to a complete appreciation of the story. So, in order to get the full effect, I told her that I would be honored if she guest blogged at this little corner of the internet. And, without further adeu, I turn this post over to the fantastic Alecia with an e:

I’ve recently been released into the wild. Vulnerable, and innocent I’ve been thrust into this vast expanse where I’m easy prey for single, available, stupid men. Well, not that easy, let’s not get crazy here. I said they were stupid, not me. I’ll admit, my dating education is sparse. I lack the knowledge of a good date. Then again, I’ve never been treated to a good date. I’ve never actually dated until now. Serious relationships? You got a problem, come to me. I have life issues down pat. But “the dance” as my good friend likes to call it, is beyond me. The games, the manipulation, the toying, the sales pitch, and then the cliff hanger... what? Are we individual marketing firms or are we human beings? I’m not up for it. Leave me out of it. I’ll invest in a dog and a Santa size bag of sex toys. Thank you. What has led me to this weary decision? Date #4.

We’ll call him T. We were given phone numbers through mutual friends, which then led to a couple weeks of calling daily and messaging. We knew what each other looked liked, our conversations were pretty good, I knew a lot about him by the time the date was set up. Or so I thought.

The original plan was for him to come over for a couple hours and just hang out, possibly a movie, though movies are never good for a first date. (Please refrain from comments like, “Why would you have him over to your house on the first date?” I’ve already been lectured about that multiple times by multiple people. Nuff said.) However, that didn’t happen. He instead asked me if I would go to his house so he could cook me dinner. I wasn’t really up for that, and quite honestly, already annoyed with him. Changing plans before we’ve even had the first date cannot be a good sign. But, what did I do? I went. Yes. I went. And I was starving. I didn’t get there until around 9 or so and really thought he’d have dinner pretty much set. Nay. He had just started it, we didn’t eat until around 10 pm. Lame.

While he’s cooking I’m learning things about him. Examples you beg? Okay... let’s start.

First, he’s not that great of a conversationalist, I’m a talker...try to keep up with me. I’m wandering around and my eyes are taking in the site of his apartment. I’m thinking, not to be a materialistic wench but you’re a physical therapist why are you living in a frat house? And a frat house it was. As my eyes fell upon Playboy magazines and cut-outs of naked girls taped to the side of his fridge. Cut-outs. Yes you read correctly so no need to go back and figure those words out twice. He said he was 31 but that’s still out for debate. He laughed at things that weren’t funny and didn’t laugh at things that were. However, all this was just mildly amusing to me at this point.

I walked over to his movie collection. He had an entire row dedicated to Tom Cruise. You heard me. So I look back and say to him, “Oh, I see I have some competition.” Blank stare. Okay...moving on.

Dinner is ready and served to me in a small, shallow bowl. Chicken and rice. Let’s just say that by the time I got home I wanted to eat my face off because I was still hungry. He starts cleaning up from the meal that he considered a glorious creation simply because he used basil. Good job. High five.

As he’s cleaning I notice this bi-fold screen trying to hide a table. I’m like, “T...what’s going on here?”

“Yeah I try to hide that from everyone.”

“Well you’re not hiding it from me.” I poke my face around and what to my wandering eyes should appear?

From end to end is a village built of Legos. I’m speechless. Almost. I think I said, “Why?”

“Well it was all at my mother’s house and she wanted it out.”

“Yeah I can understand why.” I then turn around and with a raised brow expression say,


He then says to me...straight faced, completely serious, “Yeah...it’s a pretty amazing spread.”

In fear that I was going to completely bust a gut in this guy’s face I had to quickly turn around so he couldn’t see my face. I then just looked up at this ceiling for a bit and he goes, ‘What?”

“Oh, I was just looking for the glow in the dark stick on stars.” He didn’t think that was funny either.

The date did not improve. He wanted to watch a movie and I mistakenly let him pick it out. He managed to pick out the worst movie ever made. “Super Troopers’... what? That’s not a date movie. Ever. At least for me. However I thought that since it was a date he would at least sit next to me on the couch and perhaps we could talk whilst watching. WRONG. He sat in the designated guy chair and didn’t pay any attention to me for a solid 2 hours or so. Except for when he’d look at me and say a line of the movie right before the character did. For real? Stop it. I know. I still can’t believe it.

The movie ended and he looked at me and goes, “Okay.” like... "Okay, get the hell out.” So I’m like, “Okay.” Gather my things and head out.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Really? Please don’t.


“Text me when you get home so I know you get in okay.”

“Okay.” Fair enough. I can do that.

I drive the 25 minutes back home and let him know that I’m safe and sound. Meanwhile I’m still in my car. As I’m walking into my apartment all I can think about is the fact that I do not want him to call me the next day. So I send him another text:

“Yeah I gotta say, I don’t think this dating thing is going to work out for you and me.”

He writes back:

“I’d have to say I agree.”

Aaahhahaha. I’ve not heard from him since.

Worst. date. ever.

I immediately called my host here and spewed this story to him. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh so hard. In the aftermath, this story has become entertainment fodder for many so I thought I should at least write about it. Thanks to BA for letting me share it on his blog.

~Alecia (with an E)

No Alecia, thank YOU...

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