It's 2012. I've lived in Atlanta for 3 years.
3 years have gone by and I've met a total of 1 person who I would want to date, and he didn't live in this state. BUST.
3 years have gone by, each one year closer to the funeral of my reproductive organs.
3 years have gone by since I bought a "too expensive for my peanuts income" Camry, because I thought "surely by the time I'm 26 I'll have car seats in here". WRONG.
3 years have gone by and let's be honest, my life is still as empty as it was at 23 and if it's possible, emptier than my left ring finger.
After taking inventory of my life in Sept of last year, family is a mess, friendship and jobs are good, lovelife is non existent, death seems more likely than a diamond, I decided to pick myself up by my bootstraps and join match.com. For those of you that have read my blog, this was a big step for me. Not only do I despise dating and think it is nervous, sweaty, awkward and terrible, but I was (in a VERY LITERAL SENSE) scarred from a past online dating experience. If you haven't read, it's a good preface---link here.
I joined match, and in a matter of 48 hours, I had met a very cute guy and had a date with him (" Hey! That was easier than I thought!")-- His screen name was GrizzlyJeep-- let's just say, that's my kind of guy. We met that week at Taco Mac for dinner and a couple of beers and really hit it off! Following a few more weeks and several more dates, we were officially facebook official, and I had an awesome boyfriend! ("Hey-- is this my life right now?? SCOREEEEEEE!!!!!! Callie: 1 World: 0 HAHAHAH SUCKAAAA") For the first month, he was wonderful, flowers, talking about the future, cooking for me, great conversations....so after some coaxing, I decided to shack with my bf. Mind you we didn't "do" anything, as that's not something that I give away willy nilly, even if I am in a relationship-- buttttt, let's just say.... I felt it. Sort of.
And by Sort of, I mean I had to go back and feel it again 3 more times, not for his pleasure or mine, but simply to make sure it was there. After the fourth time checking, the "quadruple check" if you will, It was definitely there. And it was definitely, I established, how shall we say.... aroused ( to be politically correct. Although when you're exposing an ex-boyfriend for having a small penis, I'm pretty sure we've passed any sort of level of political correctness.) Moving on...
So, Just admit it-- you're wondering how small... Well, readers, let's take out your miscellaneous smartphones and have a look, so you can get a visual...
Droid: Not even close, if he was a good guy, I could have made that work , no problem.
Iphone: Ummmm, still no. If he was a good guy with a lot of money, who would BUY me an iphone, I could have made that work too.
Blackberry Torch: eeehhh, getting closer
Blackberry Curve 9330, with NO cover: yep. I'd say that's about accurate.
Anyway, My desperate self and my aching womb kept dating him despite his shortcomings, and tried to be the best girlfriend I could be. ("Come on Callie, you either get a good husband or good lovin, not both. He's nice and he likes you, that would be mean to break up with him because of that. He can't help how his anatomy is. Suck it up and get your ring girlll!")
Well over the next few weeks, I baked for him, cleaned for him, spent time with him and wore cute outfits and makeeup for him, helped him do housework, paint, learned about tools and watched terrible shows like GoldDiggers Alaska for him-- and WAS NOT clingy. He always made the first move. Most common girl mistake ever.
I'm not sure what alternate universe men live in where if women are nice and accommodating, that means they should be dumped, but I've experienced this alternate universe about 23 too many times. Long story short, this jackass goes on vacation, doesn't talk to me for 5 days, sees me when i get back, assures me nothing is wrong- that he was just spending quality time with his family... I leave to go home and at 9:30 that night i get a text message saying something to the effect of the following
"I didn't really want to do this by text because i'm not good with words. but I think we should break up, I just don't see you as long term"
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
He brought me my stuff from his place, that night and I haven't spoken to him since.
My final thoughts on this terrible experience are this:
If your penis is smaller than my Blackberry, I'm NOT sorry we broke up.
