Fuckwittage: It's catching

Recently, I met up with Luigi. I probably shouldn't have, but I needed some closure.

I didn't get it.

Turns out, it's complicated. (Isn't it always?) It's also a long story, which I honestly don't feel like getting into right now, because when I do, I pretty much always start to cry. Let's just say I'm not the problem, but until the complications go away, I have no closure, and I just sit around wishing things were different. I even went on a date with the Pool Boy, which was a perfectly nice date, and I enjoyed myself, until it was all over, and I was thinking of Luigi instead of the Pool Boy. And then I started to notice that the Pool Boy was playing a game.

It started when he was teaching me to play pool. Before he even asked me for my number, he announced, unprovoked, that he had come out of a relationship last year, and that he was damaged goods. Aren't we all? We're not kids anymore, at this stage in our life, everyone has a few bruises. I knew this was his way of telling me before I had even thought to ask, that he wasn't interested in a relationship, so if I wanted one, I was barking up the wrong tree. Don't worry, Pool Boy, I'm not interested.

His good friend did the same thing to my friend Amelie. He and Amelie went out for drinks one evening, but before the evening started, he was sure to inform her that he was also out of a relationship last year, and he didn't want to get into anything either. Then I noticed that both of them are playing the same game. Hot and Cold. One day, they'll greet you in the student union with enthusiasm and a kiss on the cheek and tell you how great you look. The next day, they won't even acknowledge you. Amelie and I decided immediately we were not about to play this game. We're not in high school anymore, boys. Grow up.

But the "emotionally unavailable" rash is spreading. And yesterday, I had a good, long, coffee and pastry break with my friend Audrey, who is seriously hot. (And who I'm trying to convince to go out on a date with my housemate.) But take heart: Even the really pretty girls get their hearts broken. She had been going out with a guy who is also a friend of mine (we all go to school together), although there was something about them that always made me squirm a bit. He's ten years older than she is, and she's so pretty, and he's so... not. Also, I could see how much she liked him, but I also knew from being friends with him, that he wasn't exactly looking for anything at the moment either. Sure enough, on the same weekend I saw Luigi, Audrey was having a slightly similar conversation with him (although with more fuckwittage). He told her that he had lately started thinking about his ex, and now he wasn't as enthusiastic about her as he had been at the beginning. Seriously? He's not as enthusiastic about her? She told me she felt like he was making it out to be her fault that his enthusiasm had waned. It's not her fault. He's being a fuckwit.

I mean really, guys. If you are still hung up on someone from your past, that's fine. But don't start something with someone else. I really don't know what's worse: starting something and then pleading emotional unavailability, or walking around telling girls you're "damaged goods" as a get-out-of-jail-free card. In the latter case, you're covering your bases immediately. That way, we can't call you a fuckwit: you already warned us.

In the meantime, get thee into therapy and move on.

Raging Bull

Last week, I tried to be angry, only I wasn't truly angry. But now I am!

It started on Wednesday. The cute neighbor had told me he would leave it up to me if I wanted to contact him again, and we had left our last conversation a little upset and frustrated. I called him on Wednesday to tell him that yes, I knew it probably wouldn't work past his leaving date, but that I was hopeful. And also, that I wish that had been reiterated before he left, because I feel like I've now been put through this twice. He apologized and took full responsibility for how he handled it. Then we chatted casually and he ended the conversation by saying, "Ok, I'll talk to you later." An hour later, he texted me to give me an update on where he was watching the baseball game.

Really? How am I supposed to get closure with "talk to you later" and conversational texts? I was very proud of the fact that I didn't respond.

Then I made the mistake of watching The Proposal on tv. By the end of it, I was getting a little weepy. When Ryan Reynolds chased Sandra Bullock back to New York from Alaska, I practically threw the box of wheat thins I was eating (for dinner) at the tv and screamed, "THAT'S NOT THE WAY IT WORKS!" Then the weepy turned into whole body sobs with ugly tears. For about a half an hour.

On Thursday I swore off watching all romantic comedies for awhile and called McNerdy to come hang out with me in order not to have a repeat of the previous night. It worked.

Then on Friday, The Rage really kicked in. I have the cute neighbor to thank for kick-starting it too. On Friday afternoon, while at work with a 5 and 10-year-old, I got a text from him. Another random, conversational text. It threw me for a loop. I felt sick and distracted. I stopped paying attention to the kids, and had to shake myself out of my stupor when I realized that one of the kids was trying to beat up the other with the step stool. That's when I got angry. I couldn't get home fast enough to call him and tell him to leave me the fuck alone. Of course he didn't answer his phone, as it was in the middle of his workday (but he interrupted mine, so I figured it was worth a try), which only made me angrier. How dare he?! How dare he act as if nothing had changed? It would be so easy to fall into that trap with him, but I'm going to be very mature and grown-up here, and tell him that we can be friends someday, but we can't be friends now. And now by not answering his phone, he was depriving me of this conversation, which in some way I think would have really helped me on the whole closure process.

I got angrier and angrier. He knew exactly how he felt, and he knew how I felt, and yet he strung me along all summer, and I was left feeling like I had gone through two big break-ups in two months. Nobody deserves that! Nobody can take two break-ups in two months! Why would he do that to me? The bastard! The douche bag! He was not honest with me. I expected so much better of him.

Eventually he sent me a message telling me he had a phone meeting and couldn't call me back but that he was sorry he texted me and he shouldn't have. I got angrier. I wanted to be able to tell him that myself. He still hasn't called me back, which I guess is what I want, but I also want the pleasure of telling him these things myself. Finally yesterday I emailed him and told him no, you shouldn't have texted me. Yes, we can be friends someday but no, we can't be friends right now because 1. I need time and space, and 2. I'm very angry about the way you handled this and put me through this not once but twice, and I expected better from you.

And now I need a rebound. Badly. Unfortunately, Baby-child left town on Monday, and that was way too soon. I was hoping The Dark Horse would come through for me, but he's out of town. I feel like I'm on the clock too, since I'm going back to Pennsylvania next weekend, and heaven knows there are absolutely no chances for a rebound there. Another reason to be angry. His handling of the situation could prevent me from properly rebounding. FUCKWIT!

Let's be rational

So now that I'm no longer in a (slightly) drunken rage, it would be a good time to re-evaluate the Fuckwittage of Jonny Damon.  It's been a week, and fear not friends, I'm ok.  Sure I still think about it, and yeah I still get kinda bummed at times, and no, I haven't really eaten much at all this week, and yeah I have gotten drunk a few times,  but I am OK.  For real.  I've already made some crucial steps that tell me I may not be over it, but I am over him (or at least I'm well on my way).    

• Unfriended on Facebook. After I deleted his fuckwitting Facebook message, I unfriended him.  Not because I hate him, but I don't want him showing up on my newsfeed every other day.  I particularly don't want to see that he's "In a relationship" next week and although that would seem fast,  if there's something we've learned from fuckwitts it's to never underestimate their inherent fuckwitting ability (yes, you can quote me on that).
• Figured out what actually happened.  In his final message he made a lot of "I" statements ('I just can't do this right now') but what he was really saying was "I'm just not that into you".  It had nothing to do with timing or whatever the hell else he blamed it on.  He's just not that into me, plain and simple.  And the thing is, that's ok.  I know I'm not the average girl, I'm not everyone's cup of tea, I get it and I'm ok with it.  
• Having the fantasy.  No, not that he'll suddenly change his mind and declare his love.   The other fantasy that every girl has.  Running into the man that wronged her several months later.  I, of course, will look glamorous, skinnier, prettier, and happier than ever, with a taller, darker, handsomer (not to mention better endowed and fuller hair) man by my side.  He will look like he lost a little weight (due to the perpetual diarrhea I cursed him with) but his hairline will have receded and there's sadness in his eyes as we have a polite conversation in which he regrets ever saying goodbye.  (In reality, in the slim chance I ever would run into him I would, of course, be wearing sweats, with crazy unwashed hair, eating a doughnut all alone.  Life never happens the way I want it to).     
• Giving the silent treatment.  I've been drunk a few times this week (for good reasons, I swear) and I haven't drunk texted/called him once! Hoorah!  I did hear from him the other day, "Hey Grayer, I know you probably don't want to hear from me but can I have your address, so I can send you your movie."  Well yeah, you better send me my movie and shut the hell up, I'll decide if I want to hear from you or not.  Ass.  I told him to stop being so dramatic (and also stop assuming I'm sulking/hating).  As for that dvd, I'll believe it when I see it. 
• The realization.  I've realized why I'm disappointed.   It's not him.  He's just made me realize in this whole crazy ordeal that I might actually want an actual boyfriend.  There I said it.  I didn't get on OkCupid to find a boyfriend, I got on OkCupid to date (and to save this blog).  But maybe I don't want to just date, maybe I just don't want to be alone anymore.  That's a big revelation.  Although I would have gladly called that kid my boyfriend (he's still really, really cute) I'm glad it didn't come to that, it could have taken me months to figure out that he was a fuckwit.  And he is, by all means, a fuckwit.  

The return of Fuckwittage

(Disclaimer: Not going to lie, I basically drank a bottle of wine as my dinner tonight, for good reason. However, if the dropping of F-bombs as if it were World War III, offends you, you needn't read this post).

Mother. Fucker.

It's my word of the day.  Go on, say it aloud.  It will make you feel better.  It's really the only thing you can say when dealing with first class fuckwittage.   I had a Facebook message from Jonny Damon this morning.  He never sends me messages.  Mother. Fucker.  Jonny Damon was breaking up with me via a Fucking Facebook message.  Mother. Fucker. 

We'd only been dating for a month and a half, maybe it wasn't that bad of a protocol to end it that way.  But wait, let me explain.  An hour after I left his house, he sent me a fucking facebook message to end things with me. Two hours after he made me breakfast and kissed me goodbye, he sent me a fucking facebook message to end things with me.  Three hours after we woke up and laid in bed talking, 12 hours after we had sex, 14 hours after we snuggled on the couch watching a Christmas movie, he fucking sent me a fucking facebook message to end things with me.  What. the. fuck.

You know the great thing about being dumped via Fucking Facebook? You get to reread the message several times, have all those feelings over again, and then copy and paste into a blog meant to bash the fuckwit.  The subject line is "Hi" because really, what else could it be?  

Grayer,

I know this is not the best way to handle this situation, but  I've had a lot of fun with you and think you are an amazing person, but I don't want to hurt you if things get more serious; which I feel is starting to happen.  I just don't think that it is the best thing for me right now. I hate having to do this, but I've been in situations where I would have rather somebody told me earlier than to keep something going that wasn't meant to be. No matter what I write I know you will hate this and probably hate me, and I am sorry, but I just don't think I can do this right now. I'll miss you Grayer and I hope you have a great Christmas with your family.

Jonny Damon

See?  Isn't he an asshole?  Ok, maybe he doesn't exactly sound like an asshole out of context but please remember that I had just been with him an hour earlier, and he said nothing.  Everything was fine and fucking dandy.  So that's why the first and foremost feeling I was having was fucking rage.  And really just wanted to send this back.

Subject:  Hi? Asshole.

Jonny Damon,

Fuck you.  You MotherFucker.  Why couldn't you grow a pair and tell this to my face? I was just with you. Think of all the moments that you could have brought this up.  You had no problem being around me.  You had no problem sleeping with me.  You're a dick.  You're starting to feel like this is getting serious?  I see you once a week!  You're the one that invited me to a fucking wedding and introduced me to friends! And don't say you just can't do this right now, because you knew exactly what you were doing.  And, you had to do this on the one time that I ever left something at your house.  I want my fucking dvd back.  If your plan was to make me so mad that I wouldn't be sad, congratulations, you did it.  May you be cursed with bad karma and perpetual diarrhea.

Grayer

No, I didn't send this.  I just sat staring.  Tried to do work, just kept staring.  I eventually texted him.  It was cool, it was casual, it was "Seriously? You couldn't have told me that this morning?"  Ok, it may have also eluded to his lack of balls.  We had a brief conversation in which he apologized profusely, said he was awful at confrontation, felt bad for me driving to his place, yada fucking yada.  After I stopped being so pissed about it (ok, I'm still kind of/really pissed about it),  I just kind of had to laugh.  Who the fuck gets dumped via a fucking facebook message.  The subject was 'Hi' for fuck's sake.   I was just starting my day at work and I get dumped.  Via Fucking Facebook.  At least he didn't post it on my wall...

Once I chilled out a bit I sent him a final message:  "I don't disagree with what you said.  I disagree with how you said it.  Don't be that guy.  You could have told me."  I was very proud of myself for being so eloquent.  I didn't ask him why, I didn't try to change his mind.  He did the right thing, I just didn't like the way he did it.  When it comes down to it, once I stopped being so pissed, I'm really just sad.  I liked him.  I liked him a lot, and clearly he did not feel the same way.  And that sucks.  He sucks.  Dating fucking sucks.  Mother. Fucker.

Facebook fuckwittage

I got talking to Grayer today about certain facebook behaviors that annoy the hell out of us. We decided the only way to end facebook fuckwittage was to be proactive about it. We cannot sit idly by and let these facebook fouls continue. So without further ado, may I present Facebook Fuckwittage: Behavior that Must Stop Now! In no particular order, as they are all equally heinous.

1. Taking the time to tell the world just how busy you are.

Violet J. Bickerstaff has a busy, busy day! Heading to work, morning meeting, lunch with Grayer, afternoon meeting, GYM, zumba class, dinner with Fenella, then American Idol! Whew!

If you are so busy, why are you taking the time to tell everyone just how busy you are? Does being busy make you more important than me? Let's face it: you are not that busy. Your day is not that productive. Here's what your status should really say:

Violet J. Bickerstaff has a busy, busy day! Heading to work, checking my e-mail for the first hour, then checking to see what everyone else is up to on facebook, as well as checking on my fantasy baseball team, then maybe I'll get a bit of work done before having lunch with Grayer, then more of the same in the afternoon.

Cut the crap. You're not that busy.

2. Letting everyone know just how much you work out.

Violet J. Bickerstaff just had a GREAT workout! Can't wait to do it again tomorrow!

This is especially for the ladies. I do not care how much time a day you spend at the gym. I don't care that you go to yoga class or zumba or pilates or whatever flavor of the week class you're taking. I can see by looking at you that you are not in really great shape. Bottom line: If you're in good shape and feel great and secure about it, you don't need to tell the world how much you work out. (The exception is if you're training for a half-marathon like Fen, and are using Facebook to raise money for it. Keep up the good work, Fen!)

3. Using your sonogram picture as your profile photo.

We're very, very happy for you, but is this really how you want to tell your 362 facebook friends that you've got a bun in the oven? On second thought, why do you even need to tell your 362 facebook friends? You don't even know half those people! Worse yet, never EVER post a picture of your positive pregnancy test. That's just gross. And yes, I've seen it happen. Sadly, it turned out to be a false positive, which made it even worse.

4. Constantly referring to your significant other and calling them baby.

Violet J. Bickerstaff loves coming home to a home-cooked meal and fresh flowers! Thank you baby!

We already know that you are "In a Relationship". Congratulations. And we're sure he's a really, really great guy, but let us figure that out on our own.

And speaking of In a Relationship...

5. Changing your relationship status every 5 minutes.

Sure, it's great to let all your exes and the girls who thought you were a lesbian in high school know that you're capable of actually having sex, but you know what really sucks? Letting everyone know that you are no longer "In a Relationship." You've been dating the guy for 2 weeks. Until you move in with him, get engaged, or better yet get married, leave your romantic life off facebook. (In case you're wondering, the cute neighbor and I are not in a facebook relationship, nor do I mention him endlessly in my status updates. Or at all, really.)

6. Posting vague, sad messages, but never elaborating.

Violet J. Bickerstaff is really, really sad and disappointed.
Grayer X: Oh, no! What happened?
Fenella Middleton-Brown: Are you ok?
Violet J. Bickerstaff: I sent you an email. I'll be fine, I think.

If you don't want everyone to know about it, don't mention it. End of story.

7. Getting your anger at other people out passive-aggressively.

Violet J. Bickerstaff thinks that some people need to grow up. I guess I know who my true friends are.

We are not in high school anymore. There is no need for you to be a cyber drama queen. Facebook is not a place air out the drama. It is a place for you to quietly stalk your exes. (Kidding!)

8. All the kissing.

Fenella Middleton-Brown is tired and needs to go to sleep. xx
Violet J. Bickerstaff can't wait to see Toy Story 3! xx

Fenella is the one who brought this to my attention, and while I've not really noticed it and suggested it to be a UK issue, Fen reminded me that we are an international blog and therefore must discuss international issues. Excellent point. On the same note, please refrain from posting pictures of you and your S.O. kissing. Again, we know you are "In a Relationship." What you do alone should not be posted on facebook for all the world to see.

If you find yourself committing any of these facebook crimes, we have three words for you: Knock it off!

Time to let'em loose

You may remember my good friend and current roommate 8-year-Lisa. Yes, she is still with her loser of a boyfriend, who I shall call the Loser-of-8-years. When I first met him, I thought he seemed like a decent and fairly cute guy. However I have observed him, as well as their relationship more and because of this, my opinion has changed. (A) I think he's a douchebag (B) I still think she's an idiot and (C) I don't think they like each other. At all.

(A) Lisa and I have lived together for 4 months now. The Loser has only visited 3 times. Of all of his visits, I have been amazed at the time he either is on his computer, or is in her room (He seriously doesn't leave it!). Doing something social/fun with her friends is always out of the question. Not only does he not want to meet her friends, he also has no interest in anything she does and has refused offers to see the lab in which she works. The Loser still lives at home and has always lived at home. He's 26. One time, he called Lisa with a cooking question. Oh wait, no it wasn't a cooking question, he was asking her how to make speghetti! I swear, this guy does not have a personality. The only reason why I liked him at first, was because he thinks I'm funny. I'm over that, and she should be over him.
(B) Lisa is a funny girl with a great personality and a lot of love to give. She can do so much better. I know she's not a shallow person, but I swear she likes him for his looks (obviously it can't be his personality, because he doesn't have one). When I told her that I had a thing for Conrad her immediate response was "I just don't find him attractive at all." (That was her exact same response as when I told her I had a thing for my ex-Imaginary Bf). Conrad is a fairly good looking guy but I really wasn't attracted to him until I got to know him. Now I think he's HOT. And that's because he's got a funny/smart/goofy personality. Lisa doesn't think like that. She's even gone so far to call the Loser her "Trophy-boyfriend". He's really not that attractive. He's also not that nice of a guy. In the 2+ years that I've known her, every single one of my non-boyfriends (that's right I haven't had a real boyfriend in almost 2 years), has made the Loser-of-8-years look bad! She recently commented that I can get Conrad to do anything for me. It's not that he's so into me that he'll do anything, it's that he's a nice guy and doesn't mind helping out. The Loser is not that kind of guy.
(C) Maybe they're different in private, but I never see any type of affection between them. Not even loving looks. Not even laughter. In fact, I hardly hear them speak to each other. I think I saw them hug once, but that was after not seeing each other for a month. The only thing they seem to do is go out to eat and go to the movies. If you don't really like each other and have been together 8 years, there's only 2 reasons why you're still together 1) It's comfortable and 2) you don't know how to not be with them.

This has been a long distance relationship for almost all of their 8 years (Apparently, the year that she was living in the same town as him and he ignored her even though they were dating, doesn't count). Three years ago, when Lisa started grad school, the Loser was supposed to follow her. He looked for a job (for about a month I'm sure) but had no luck. So he kept on living at his parents. As Lisa's now trying to find a real job, the Loser has agreed to move to the local area with her. He still has yet to look for a job. I'm hoping this will be the breaking point of the relationship. There's no way she can be that much of an idiot to fall for it twice. Wait, can she?

The Fuckwit Hall of Shame

Oh, The Disappearance. The torture tool of choice by fuckwits everywhere. By now the entire world knows that John Boy pulled one on me. And yet, he did actually call me last week to let me know that he was still alive. He acted as if everything was fine, but I know he was hiding something. I'm going to assume it's herpes.

Of course, he assured me when I talked to him that he would call me again soon, because he really did want to see me before he left. With him scheduled to move on Wednesday, I still hadn't heard from him by Sunday night. Obviously, by this time I was seeing red and didn't want to be chummy with him, but I still had unfinished business: I wanted my books back.

So I called him and left a message that I would swing by his place on Tuesday afternoon to collect my books. He didn't respond. (Was I surprised? Of course not.) On Tuesday morning I sent a text. No response. When I finished at work, I called again. He didn't answer. I got in my car and drove to his place. With him leaving on Wednesday, he should be home, packing up all his stuff.

I told Grayer that I was planning on going over there to get my books back, and she told me, "that better be all you do." Unless, of course, I poked around his medicine cabinet to find out which STD he was hiding. I assured her I would pick up my books and leave, but I did wear a super cute dress just to remind him what he had missed out on.

As I got closer, I started to feel really silly. Was I really going over to his house? On the off-chance that he would be there? But yes, I was. I really wanted to re-read Ordinary People, dammit! As I pulled on to his street, No Doubt's "Don't Speak" came on the radio. I laughed at the appropriateness of it, and wondered if it was a sign. For what, I don't know. Although I still got out and knocked on the door, it didn't take long for me to realize no one was home. His truck wasn't there. It was official. I was never going to see John Boy again.

He's Just Not That Into You says (repeatedly) "don't waste the pretty." I had no intention of wasting the pretty, so after work that night, I drove to The Highlander's so he could pay up on a bet that he lost. My cuteness was definitely not wasted on him. I believe the word "amazing" was thrown around. And he's cooking dinner for me tomorrow night. Who needs John Boy?

Besides, he is a distinguished member of the Fuckwit Hall of Fame. And he has herpes.

May you be cursed with perpetual diarrhea

I know, I know. John Boy is NOT my boyfriend. But it is now Wednesday, he returned to the country on Saturday, and I have heard nary a peep from him since Saturday night. I know that we have all been victim of The Disappearance, but this is truly baffling. The last email I received from him said "look forward to seeing you when I get back" and he did text me upon landing, and then did (eventually) call on Saturday night. So when I got no response to the voicemail I left Monday, I sent him an email listing all the possible things I think have happened to him since Saturday night that have prevented him from picking up the phone. (And before you judge my list, I just want to point out that we have a very loose, casual relationship that doesn't know serious, so I never really worried about the appropriateness of it.)

1. He acquired a parasite before leaving Costa Rica, and hasn't been able to leave the toilet since returning home.
2. He came home with a souvenir of a different variety, i.e. syphilis, gonorrhea, the clap, herpes or the like and is a bit embarrassed to tell me as much, seeing as I expressly warned him to stay away from Costa Rican hookers.
3. He is Married/Engaged to said Costa Rican hooker.
4. He has always been Married/Engaged to someone else the entire time I've known him and has just done a really good job of covering it up.
5. He missed me so much while away for only two weeks that he decided to cut off ties immediately.
6. He's just not that into me. (Which kind of goes against everything he's have ever said or done, but seeing as the status of our relationship is that of friends, I'm not sure why this requires pulling off a Disappearance.)
7. He liked those books I lent him so much that he doesn't want to return them. (And I REALLY WANT THOSE BACK.)
8. It was actually he who told me The Disappearance is usually resorted to after finding out something you just can't live with about the other party. Not sure what sort of savory tidbit he could have unearthed on me while in the jungle, so I think I may have to cross this one off the list.
9. He had a major life epiphany: decided he was gay, that his best friend was the true love of his life, and ran off to Iowa or Maine to be married immediately.

I even pointed out to him that I really have no right to be angry at him for not calling (hoping that he won't avoid calling due to fear of the repercussions), and that I really just want to make sure he's still alive. And that I want my books back.

When The Heavy Breather pulled off The Disappearance, I was simply pissed. I had been wanting to break things off with him, and he disappeared before I could. And while I am pissed off now (rage is apparently good for my softball game), I'm more hurt than anything else. I'm getting the heavy pit in my stomach when I realize I haven't heard from him. Which only makes me more aware of the fact that if I had truly accepted him as only temporary, I wouldn't be this upset over it. I mean, he's already guilty of so many of my other dealbreakers, why not add one more?

Yes Virginia, Love really IS a battlefield

Pat Benatar was a genius. Love really is a battlefield. It's chaotic. It's full of rash decisions that you're positive are right a the time, but you can never really assess the damage until all the dust has settled. And it can surprise you, just like an ambush.

We are young, heartache to heartache we stand
No promises, no demands
Love is a battlefield
We are strong, no one can tell us were wrong
Searchin our hearts for so long,
both of us knowing...Love is a battlefield

The other night I went to a baseball game with McNerdy. I hadn't seen him in ages, and John Boy is out of the country. When I got back, Scarlet asked me how the game, and McNerdy, was. I responded with, "I realized that McNerdy is not nearly as much fun as John Boy." Scarlet laughed and told me there was a time she never would have guessed she would hear something like that from me.

I agree. There was a time when I thought McNerdy was the cat's pajamas. He and I were as close as you could get to a guarantee. It was really only a matter of time. He didn't seem all that comfortable with an actual relationship, but I was convinced I was the one who would change all that. But he kept stringing me along until I couldn't figure out if we were in fact just friends. People asked what was going on with us, and I would answer that I had no idea.

You're beggin me to go, you're makin me stay
Why do you hurt me so bad?
It would help me to know
Do I stand in your way, or am I the best thing you've had?

Not really a good sign when you're one of the people involved. Eventually, he realized he better make a move or lose my devotion, so he did, then continue to string me along without telling me what was going on, until he finally socked me in the gut with a big fat dose of reality. Even after he ripped my heart out and stomped on it a few times, I still couldn't figure out what went wrong with such a seemingly sure thing.

Of course hindsight is 20/20, and now I realize that McNerdy had a big fat stick up his ass (and while it's loosened up a bit, it's still up there). And while he is still a good friend (I am apparently a more forgiving person than I thought I could be), I realized the other night that I would much rather be hanging out with John Boy- and not just because of the benefits that come later. McNerdy wouldn't hold my stack of All-Star ballots, lining them up for me so I could punch out five at a time, and John Boy wouldn't roll his eyes at me for doing so. Last week John Boy really, really wanted me to come out to his place to hang out and grill with some of his friends. And while I initially scoffed at driving an entire hour out of the city (how quickly I've become a city snob), I was happy to go, and had an excellent time. Then I realized that in the year that was McNerdy's and my imaginary relationship, he never once invited me onto his turf. Of course, I noticed this at the time, but I brushed it off. We were a sure thing, you know.

Once of the things that convinced me that McNerdy was so perfect, was that he was exactly my type. As the name would imply, he was the perfect dose of nerd. On the skinny side, glasses, well-read, prefers staying in with a friend over going out. As much as McNerdy is my type, John Boy is not. He's big and burly, and likes his beer. I can barely tell you what color his hair is, because I've seen him without a baseball cap once, (and that was in my room; it was dark...) and he has tattoos! Three of them! Which I refuse to let him show me. He voted for George W. Bush (gah!), but then rectified that by voting for Obama last year. And as I discovered last week when I couldn't breathe, he easily outweighs every guy I've ever been, er, horizontal with by at least 50 pounds. But when I say jump, he asks "how far?" and has emailed me pretty much every day from the tropical beach he's been hanging out on (and did I mention that he told me I should accompany him and his friends multiple times? My bank account didn't really allow for it.) And not only is he not intimidated by my sporty prowess, he took me to the driving range and I believe was a bit turned on by my natural affinity for a 9-iron. (Had our dad been a pushy sports parent, Grayer and I would be the Williams sisters of golf, I swear.)

But all of this really doesn't matter, since he will be making himself geographically unavailable in just a few weeks. I remember when I was a bit relieved when he told me this; I needed an easy out. "Be careful what you wish for" is a cliche' for a reason. As Scarlet pointed out, I'm going to need a distraction when he's gone, so I'm dragging myself out to meet The Highlander tomorrow for ice cream.

No promises, no demands...Love is a battlefield.

Operation: Cockblock

Last night over burgers, my friends and I hatched a plan to put a stop to The Ultimate Fuckwit.

The Ultimate Fuckwit just happens to be my former boss. When he was my boss, we didn't realize how much of a fuckwit this guy really is, but after he was promoted to an even higher job and no longer our boss, we figured out that he's not just an ordinary fuckwit. His fuckwittage goes way beyond your run-of-the-mill fuckwittage, like not calling. He destroys lives.

When TUF was my boss, he was married, but by the way he talked about his wife, I wasn't sure. He certainly didn't sound like someone who was too terribly in love with his wife, and I wondered if he was already divorced (he wasn't). There were rumors that he was carrying on an affair with a married woman in the company for which we worked, but nothing more than speculation. After his promotion, he began an affair with my new boss, his replacement. She was married, has two children, and her then-husband also worked for the same company. Her husband, poor guy, heard about this through the grapevine. He quit his job. They got a divorce. TUF divorced his wife. Meanwhile, the first rumored affair woman had a baby. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE asked the obvious question: Was it her husband's or The Ultimate Fuckwit's?

My new boss and TUF moved in together, bringing all 4 of their combined children with them. A few months later, he left her and resumed relations with the first woman. Seriously. This man grew up a Nerd, and now he works in a profession dominated by women, and he seems to be making up for lost time.

Flash forward 1.5 years. I no longer work with this company. He is still at his job. And he has his sights set on a newcomer, a poor, innocent newcomer. New in town, who knows nothing of his reputation, and thinks he is just a nice guy who is willing to show her around town. She also happens to be my friend Penelope's new supervisor. Penelope can't really say much to stop her, since this woman writes her reviews. As we sat there last night, another friend said, "I want nothing more than to cockblock him."

That's where I come in. I don't work for this company anymore. His prey is new to town, and in need of a yoga partner. Penelope is going to set up a friend date for the two of us. At some point, I'll talk about my time working for him and how scandalous everything was, feigning innocence at her current relationship with him. From there, it's up to her, but she has to know that everyone she works with knows exactly what's going on when they see the two of them talking to her. Operation Cockblock is about to commence...

100th Post!

My math may be shoddy (I was an English major, you know), but that last post was #99, making this #100. Thanks to our two readers, who really make this possible. Here's to another 100 posts of fuckwittage, bad dates, good dates, smug married complaints, singletonness, compilation mood playlists, and adventures in searching for a real life Jim Halpert. Mazel tov, ladies.

Don't Hate the Player, Hate the Game

Forgive me if I ramble, but I'm still in a bit of shock. As you know, I met Halpert last week, and it was kind of awesome. He sent me a "Have a great day" text on Tuesday, then called on Wednesday, which was also kind of awesome, and we made plans to go out on Friday. He asked if I had any other food aversions (I have a lot), so he would know what kind of place to take me to. He made me laugh, ne', giggle. Then he called me again Thursday afternoon, just because he knew I had several hours to kill between my classes. (I was bra shopping at the time, which I decided I shouldn't tell him; it may give him unrealistic expectations regarding our date.) Needless to say, I was really looking forward to our date on Friday.

Then on Friday, just as I was about to start getting ready, he called with bad news. Something came up, and he had to go baby-sit his 2-year-old niece. He sounded genuinely disappointed, and wanted to make a plan to reschedule right away. I figured this was probably a good sign, since he a.) actually called, as opposed to texting and b.) rescheduled right there on the phone. So while I was seriously disappointed, I couldn't really be made at him. I mean, he was baby-sitting his niece. That's kind of adorable.

This afternoon, I was talking to Scarlet while I waited for him to call and tell me what time he was going to pick me up, when I received a text message. It was from him.

I'm going to be honest...

Shit. Nothing, nothing NOTHING good can possibly come from these words, not after one date. It's The Kiss of Death and ranks right up there with "We need to talk." I didn't want to read on, but I did.

I just became serious with someone I've been dating, so I don't think it's fair that we see each other anymore. You're a great person, the timing just wasn't right.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. (Scarlet and I also noticed that, for two people who rarely swear in real life, we really let loose on this blog. That's what dating will do to you, I guess.) I was- and still am- seriously bumming, but as Scarlet pointed out, at least he told me this after one date, and not after seven weeks. But of course, the signs were there, I just chose to ignore them. Remember when he didn't call me for five days and Baltimore Dan told me to pick up the phone? And when he called to "postpone," he suggested Sunday as a make-up date, as opposed to Saturday. My guess is he and this other girl decided to become exclusive on Saturday night. So yes, the timing sucked. What if I had contacted him earlier? We were both aware of each other's existence for a few weeks before either of us made contact. And what if we had gone out again on Friday and I had been given a second chance to impress the pants off of him? (Not literally, of course, I'm not that kind of girl.) I realize that you're probably screaming at the computer screen right now that he was LYING, but I think that if he was indeed lying to me on Friday, that someone should call the Academy and get this man an Oscar. Yes, it is a possibility, in which case he is a complete and utter fuckwit. But if life mirrors Sex and the City (without the fabulous shoes) then I am a Charlotte, and I remain hopeful. And it's easier to do that when I think the stars just simply didn't align on this one.

At first, I decided I wasn't going to respond. But after cooling off a bit, I sent him a "thanks for the early heads up, good luck!" text. If nothing else, this will show him how cool I really am, and if things don't work out, he will be that much more likely to call me. Not that I will be sitting around waiting for the call.

But at least for today, you can find me eating Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream, listening to the S.A.D. playlist, and contemplating how the hell I'm going to get those stars to align.

Violet's Cyber-Dating Hall of Shame: First Round Inductees

I wouldn't call myself a veteran of the cyber dating world, but I've met up with 6 eligible bachelors in the last four weeks. Bachelor #6 seemed to me to be a complete failure- not only did he not pay for my hot chocolate, it turns out he attended the same Institute of Higher Education that Scarlet and I did, but only for one semester. Why only a semester? "I hated it," was his answer, and in my head I thought, "OK, this clearly won't work out." However, the next morning I received a text message from him (followed shortly after by a text message from Halpert), and even though I didn't respond to the text message, he called me later on in the evening. Clearly I made more of an impression on him than I intended. I'm going to have to turn down the charm...

Anyway, I've met 6, but have been contact by countless others. Some of them have been intriguing, others have been eye-roll inducing and laughable. So without further ado, I introduce the inaugural class of Violet's Hall of Shame.

1. Mr. Troubleicious: The name alone may be worthy of induction, but with Mr. Troubleicious, it just keeps getting better. He sent me an email with the subject line: You're cute. Email message: But you're not THAT cute :P What are 2 things about your personality that make you fun to hang out with? Lots of pretty girls on here, personality counts!

As if he doesn't need to impress me. But wait, there's more. This is taken straight from his profile: YOU: I’m seeking a like-minded woman to share a disastrous 3-9 month relationship with, ending in acrimony, emotional chaos, and possibly legal proceedings. I am looking for an attractive female who will at first give me obsessive love, praise and devotion - but whose paranoia, self-loathing and fear of rejection and abandonment will eventually lead her to alternately push me away and pull me closer in a love/hate cycle that will lead to infidelity, consensual sexual violence, and the eventual emotional breakdown of one or other party - or if we’re lucky - both! :)
Only message me if you are SANE, NO PSYCHOTIC WOMEN, I will cultivate you from my social garden so fast its not worth it for you. I know what I want and am a extremly picky person.

I'm confused. Isn't he seeking emotional chaos? Won't psychosis help him achieve that? Congratulations, Mr. Troubleicious, here's a golden douche bag to commemorate your induction.

2. Red Lion: The entertainment factor can only go downhill from there, but Red Lion gives it the old college try. He writes: You intrigue me i think you might be more interesting than you limited profile leads me to believe. for instance ...you are a virgo. So am I. You enjoy travel, and i want to have friends/contacts in many different countries. i also love your hair ....ok thats enough for you to have a first impression of me. lets see if you respond and possibly we could continue this conversation.

You're right. You loving my hair really does give me a solid impression of you. What more do we need? A quick look at Red Lion's profile tells us that he's also in the search for "casual encounters," i.e. sex partners. And that's why he's a first ballot Hall of Shamer!

3. The Very Clearly Old Man: This one comes courtesy of my friend Penelope, who is a bit of a veteran. Tired of hearing from Dirty Old Men, she posted an age requirement on her profile. This is a response she received:
"who are you to tell some one about age? u need to get off this site worrying about age diffrence? if u wanna act like that you will be single young lady! age appropriate? you beeter go get a job and pay some bills before u go telling someone about age"

Snap! She got told!

If nothing else, this online dating endeavour is worth it for sheer entertainment value.

Fuckwittage confirmed: Part 2

Continued from "Fuckwittage Confirmed"...

Yes that’s right The Engineer emailed me!! (I deserved a call at the very least, right?) And no, he did not have a good excuse for ignoring me five days. This was indeed a simple straightforward case of fuckwittage!

After saying that he “thinks” he decided that we shouldn’t go out anymore, The Engineer’s email went on to say that he had fun the “couple” of times we went out but he didn’t feel that click. He also revealed that he had his heart broken a few months ago and said that he needed to get out and meet new people. (This was news to me.) He placated me by saying that I’m pretty, smart, and caring and he is probably the one losing out.

The Engineer’s email may have been appropriate (and even flattering) should I have received it after one or two dates but after you get to the point where you no longer know exactly how many dates you’ve been on, an email is clearly not acceptable. I do kind of agree with his point that we didn’t “click.” While we got along really well, what we had was more friend chemistry than romantic chemistry. Even now I feel kind of guilty saying this but I wasn’t as attracted to The Engineer as I thought I should be. I had fun with him and felt more comfortable with him than the other guys I’ve dated so I figured I would give it a chance…I thought maybe with time it could grow into something more. My dad is always telling me I’m too picky and I can’t expect life to be like a romantic comedy. I didn’t want to prove him right.

As for the rest of The Engineer’s email…I understand if he wants to get out and meet people after a bad break up but is a dating website really the place to look? Furthermore, this is the guy that told me that he wanted to see me more. His behavior prior to the cancelled date in no way implied that he wanted to be out there dating lots of people.

Despite my annoyance with The Engineer’s email, I must say that I felt an enormous sense of relief. Sure I was a little disappointed but it was liberating to know with complete certainty that it was really over and I could officially move on. Last week I was still kind of adjusting to not having The Engineer in my life. I had grown used to talking to him daily and I kind of missed him. If he had handled the break up appropriately and not acted like a complete fuckwit, I think I would have even suggested that we try to be friends. (I couldn't help but wonder after all that time if The Engineer was able to send his cowardly email and then move on without a second thought.)

I have not yet decided if I should email The Engineer back and call him out on his fuckwittage as a public service to our fellow singletons. What would Bridget do?

Why is this so f@*#ing hard?

The Dating Game. (And it is a game.) I don't get it. Why is it so difficult? Grayer doesn't know what's up with Hanging Out Guy, The Engineer pulled a disappearance on Scarlet, and the only guys I can get to call me back are the ones I'm not interested in. Seriously. We are attractive, intelligent women. This should be easy. Would it be easier if we were ugly and stupid? (Actually, it might be easier if we were MORE attractive and stupid.)

My 4-date week has yielded nothing. I thought things were looking up with The Cable Guy, and last Sunday night, I called him to see if he wanted to grab lunch that week, which I didn't think was too awkward considering we work so close to each other and we both eat. He was busy at the moment but he still 1.) answered the phone and 2.) said he would give me a call back later when he was free. That was a week ago. Still no call. Conclusion: Fuckwit.

John Boy is the total opposite. After our burger date, he said he would call tomorrow. Not only did he call tomorrow, but he called me at exactly 5:03pm, as soon as he got off work. He suggested lunch the next day, and I agreed. Yes, I had a fun time. Yes, I want to hang out with him again. However, the attraction still wasn't there just yet. And yes, he said he would call the next day, and he did. Over our lunch, though, he did let me know that he would be moving in July. So when he did call me back the next day, I let him know that while I really do enjoy hanging out with him, I couldn't start something that would be temporary at best. (I don't do long-distance. It's a rule I have.) He wasn't offended and did say that he still hopes to hang out with me, though he probably wouldn't pay for me anymore. I think I've got a new friend, which is never a bad thing.

As I told you on Friday, Halpert has some promise. He said he would call me "tomorrow." Tomorrow came and went and no phone call. I was about to put him in The Cable Guy's category when he called on Sunday. I know this could be a sign of things to come, but I'll take it with a grain of salt. While he didn't call on Saturday, he did call before the weekend was out. Plus, the guy hasn't met me yet, so I don't think I can really expect him to put me at the top of his priority list, can I? If he's as good as his word, we should be getting together for dinner next weekend. (Our schedules don't really mesh during the week.)

In the meantime, I have yet another coffee date tomorrow with another guy. I should really be keeping a tally sheet.

*************************** UPDATE ******************************************
Not long after he first called me, Halpert called again. His plans with friends fell through, and did I want to get a drink? I got ready in record time, as he was already in my neighborhood, and off we went. He dropped me off over three hours later. I'd say it went pretty well. He opened the car door for me and walked me to my front door when we got home. (Funny story: The first boy who opened a car door for me was The Heavy Breather, and I was so unaccustomed to it, I didn't know what he was doing and assumed he needed to get something out of the passenger seat. That kind of killed it.) Ah, southern boys.

Spring fever

Spring is not the only thing in the air. Blame it on the start of baseball season, miniskirt sporting fluzzies or seasonal allergies, but along with this new warm weather is an even more alarming trend: noncommittal fuckwittage. Scarlet isn't the only one experiencing the disappearing act. It is mating season afterall, but it seems The Engineer is not going against nature alone.

Last week I suspected I'd hardly be seeing Hanging Out Guy now that the Red Sox are in season. Turns out I was right, though I don't know if it really has to do with the Sox. He hasn't disappeared completely, but I find that he may be fading fast.

Thus far, our relationship has been as questionable as the Riddler, so it is no surprise that I am yet again confused. We've been hanging out for a few months now, and although we have taken steps forward, we have never had a destination in mind. Not dating, yet not quite friends with benefits either. I was quite content with this situation until I recently realized that he doesn't call me anymore. We've always been give and take with making contact but lately I've been the one calling him. I realized this on Friday night when after previously discussing doing something, he instead went out with his friends and never called. A) We kind of agreed to do something and B) He used to invite me out with his friends. Then I surprised myself. I got pissed.

I don't know why it angered me, he's obviously not my boyfriend and he can obviously do anything he wants. (I'd like to blame it on stress. Today, for instance, I walked around work wearing two completly different shoes without noticing). Don't worry, I didn't call and bitch him out. I read and went to bed early (It was quite nice, actually). Low and behold, he called me the next day to play frisbee golf, confusing me further.

So as of Saturday night, when he preferred to stay home, I resolved not to call him. If I learned one thing from He's Just Not That Into You, it's if a guy wants to see you, he'll see you. He won't wait around for you to call. This weekend will be the true test (since I don't usually talk/see him during the week). Maybe he's just not that into me, maybe we're just friends, or maybe the Red Sox really are standing in the way. Regardless, spring is here, and he's up to bat.

Fuckwittage confirmed

I had complete confidence in The Engineer. He gave me absolutely no reason to doubt him…until now. Last Monday he sent his usual “what does your schedule look like this week” email and asked if I wanted to go out to dinner or have him cook me dinner at his place. After I responded, he suggested a restaurant on my way home so I wouldn’t have as long of a drive. He called the night before the date and we chatted and finalized the details for the date. Looking back everything seemed completely normal. The engineer even emailed me on Friday as if nothing was wrong and explained that he worked late the last two days but there was no apology for canceling the date nor has he called. This of course confused me further.

As you are not quite as emotionally involved, you may have already guessed based on my previous post and my intro…The Engineer committed one of the worst dating sins…the disappearance. (This has been discussed previously by Violet.) The problem with the disappearance is that you are stripped of your right of closure. Even worse is a sudden disappearance. In all of my previous relationships there was a withdrawal period prior to the break up. The withdrawal period gives you a chance to emotionally check out of the relationship so that when the breakup actually occurs it is like shedding a burden rather than a complete surprise.

So all weekend I was feeling shell shocked and somewhat in denial. I tried to keep busy and hung out with friends and family. All this time I was asking myself, “How did this happen? Why won’t he call?” After dating for almost two months and communicating almost daily, I couldn’t believe The Engineer was capable of such complete and utter fuckwittage. I kept thinking to myself, “There must be some mistake!” But I knew deep down that I needed to accept that maybe just maybe The Engineer was a fuckwit disguised as a nice guy.

Yes I know I am a woman of substance, complete without boyfriend. Not only am I awesome but I’m also hotter and younger than The Engineer so this is clearly his loss…so why couldn’t I stop staring at my phone waiting for it to ring?

I broke down and called him on Saturday but after a few rings it went to voice mail. So I sent a text saying that I didn’t know what was going on but it looked like he was blowing me off and I’d appreciate a call. Yet still I got no response! Finally on Sunday evening he emailed me…

[To be continued.]

The seven week slump?

Tomorrow marks seven weeks since my first date with The Engineer. I know this shouldn’t be a momentous occasion but for me it is a major accomplishment. Sure I’ve gotten this far with other guys before but at this point I’m usually considering the best way to break up with the guy. (This might be a good time for me to confess that I gathered the courage to break up with the Premature “I love you” guy from a fortune cookie. It said “Do something you’d rather not do today.”)

I’m happy to report that I’m still feeling optimistic about The Engineer. I’m quite proud of myself actually. When I made plans to visit Violet over a month from now, I was even thinking in the back of my mind maybe he could drive me to the airport!

So you’ll understand that it came as quite a surprise to me when The Engineer committed a major dating blunder this week. We had plans for dinner after work yesterday and The Engineer sent me a text message saying that he got tied up at work and had to stay late so he couldn’t make dinner. This of course wasn’t his mistake…I understand things come up. I was confident that he would call to explain and maybe even apologize for canceling later that night. He has been remarkable reliable thus far so I had no reason to think overwise. When I didn’t hear from him last night I was somewhat disappointed in him but my resolve did not falter. But here I sit over 24 hours later thinking seriously all I get is a text?!?! The Engineer is seriously in danger of committing fuckwittage if he hasn’t already.

Am I wrong to have such confidence in him when he has given me no reason to doubt that he is dependable? Is he so comfortable with me now that he doesn’t feel the need to impress me? Is this what I have to look forward to in the future?

I am determined to wait for him to call. And I do expect some groveling! (The amount of groveling should be directly proportional to the amount of time he waits to call.)

WWBD: Eradicating fuckwittage one man at a time

One of our purposes with this little blog is to support the eradication of fuckwittage. The most effective way to get rid of fuckwittage is to simply tell it like it is. This includes cases where the fuckwittage is not being committed against us. We cannot simply stand idly by and watch the atrocities of a fuckwitt play out before us and do nothing to help our fellow ladies. (Because no matter what the media tries to tell us, we are NOT in competition with each other. Like the song from HSM, we're all in this together!)

My opportunity to take a stand came yesterday, while cooking dinner with my ex-imaginary boyfriend. I asked him for an update regarding his previous female troubles (not menstrual cramps, but the fact that he liked a girl whose best friend liked him, he had to let down the best friend). This was a few months ago now. He still hasn't done a single darn thing toward asking out the first girl. The problem being the fact that they are friends, he is sure the first girl won't go out with him for fear of betraying her friend. This is a very real possibility, but from what he told me he really, really likes this girl. I think he has to at least let her know this. Otherwise, he'll always wonder what could have been.

We lamented the fact that they were friends, and that life would be so much easier for them if they were strangers. Then, (without really thinking about what I was saying) I blurted out, "Well, maybe it is easier for you this way. If they weren't friends, then you might actually have to do something about it instead of just sitting back and doing nothing." Or something to that effect.

Sha-ZAM!

Initially, he looked stunned. Then we did a way-lame "Oh, no you did-n't," "Oh yes I did" thing back and forth. Luckily, he knows I'm going to tell it to him like it is. We wouldn't be friends if he couldn't handle the truth; this isn't the first time I've put him in his place. I know he chewed on that all night, and probably most of the day too. Just trying to do my part. What have you done lately?

Nancy Reagan was on to something

We here at WWBD? are committed by putting an end to fuckwittage. Impossible, you say. While I admit that it is an uphill battle, I don't believe it to be impossible. How can we achieve this impossible dream? By saying no to fuckwittage every time it rears it's ugly head.

Of course, this will only work if women everywhere band together and Just Say No. Let me paint for you a picture of fuckwittage being allowed to happen. The scene: New Year's Eve, a Brooklyn bar, which just happens to have bocchi ball lanes, allowing for hours of fun. Sadly, the bocchi lanes have been dominated for quite some time by two complete and utter Fuckwitts. (and yes, that capital F was intentional.) Now I like to trash talk as much as the next guy, but these two jerkwads took it to another level. They made up their own rules, got nearly physical with anyone who dared question these imaginary rules, and even taunted two girls who dared walk on their bocchi lane (during a break in the action, mind you) that they "weren't pretty enough" to be invading their space.

So naturally, their best chance of scoring would be if they woke up next to each other, with a wicked hangover, shouting things like WTF JUST HAPPENED?!, right? Wrong. Sadly, wanker #1 was last seen around midnight, making out with a girl who clearly needs some therapy to work on her self-esteem issues, while douchebag #2 somehow managed to find a girl willing to flirt (badly) with him. I have no doubt he went home with her.

This is a problem. These two pricks are going to keep acting this way until someone holds them accountable. And since men of this age (or really any age) only think about the next time they will have sex, how they will have sex, and whom they will be having sex with, the best way to get them to stop behaving this way is to NOT HAVE SEX WITH THEM.

Sounds so simple, right? We, as women (or gay men) are also accountable. It's more than a bit hypocritical to whine about how there are no good men out there, and then go home with the next breathing male of our species. I don't care how hot they are (and these two twats would have been, had my vision not been clouded by their bad behavior), how desperate you are, or even if your ex is watching. JUST SAY NO.