Mar 06 2011

I HATE TO DATE: No, Really!

Published by at 11:54 pm under Uncategorized

Greetings Picky Ones:

I suppose there are women who really love to date. Considering the number of men I have met and dated, one would presume that I enjoy it as well. While, of course, it can be quite palatable at times, it can also suck up more precious time than any activity known to womankind. It is a means to an end. I love being in a relationship. Dating? Not so much.

My first experience with dating was when my Barbie dated my Ken. But as we all know, Ken has no genitals and so that was a pretty safe bet, for Barbie. I have had to be far more careful.

The first man to ever make my hormones rage was Tony. Beautiful dark-haired, athletic, sensitive, gorgeous Tony. But when he married the school’s prettiest cheerleader, Victoria, right after high school, I forced myself to move ahead. That’s when I met Mr. Charisma, Jim: the player. I busted him on our third date when he showed up an hour and a half late with “bed hair.” I wasn’t terribly familiar with “bed hair” at nineteen, but when I saw his shirt was buttoned incorrectly and smudged with honey beige foundation, I kind of knew he had been somewhere first. (Yes, I’m wickedly observant. Duh!)

On the flip side, I briefly dated a guy in college named Buddy (the most common dog name in the country, I think), and he was the opposite of Jim. Buddy wanted me to think that women everywhere were clamoring for him. On our second and last date, he purposely made sure I overheard his end of a phone conversation in which he was telling a woman that he just had to let her go, he had found his soul mate in me. He blathered on for a good ten minutes and I would have almost believed it had his phone not rang when he was fake talking on it. He looked mortified and told his mother he’d have to call her back.

Ah, and then there was Chuck. Boyishly charming and the son of a family friend. While going through a desperate-to-be-domestic stage, I invited the Chuckster for a gourmet dinner using my grandmother’s brass candelabrum as the centerpiece on my finely dressed table.

When Chuck “forgot” to bring the wine, I graciously excused myself and ran down to the liquor store, leaving Chuck alone with my precious Jack, who in his feline mastery, was always able to suss out whether or not I had made a good choice.

Upon my return, with two bottles of Columbia Crest Cabernet, I found Chuck sitting on the couch, cringing, as Jack sat in front of him, on the floor, hissing.

“Molly, your cat hates me. I thought ‘bright-eyed and bushy-tailed’ meant alert, not that a cat with bright eyes and a bushy tail wants to kill you.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing, Molly. But I don’t like your cat.”

I counted to three and took a deep breath. Nobody insults my Jack. “You can go now, Chuck.”

“Oh, I’ll be glad to leave you and your savage orange beast,” he said. “Just one more thing, Molly. I don’t know who you’re buying your weed from, but it’s being cut with some real crap.”

I picked my jaw up off the ground and closed the door I was freakin’ gobsmacked. My weed dealer? Never smoked the stuff.

And then I saw it. The half-smoked joint lying on the counter. Right next to the plastic container of Jack’s catnip.

That’s all for this week, folks!

Yours in pickiness,


9 responses so far

9 Responses to “I HATE TO DATE: No, Really!”

  1. Janet Leeon 07 Mar 2011 at 7:45 pm

    Molly! Whose weed is it? The anticipation is killing me! Definitely LOLed when I read the story about Buddy. That happened to me too…. but ME! haha tried to get out of a bad date, and acted like my mom wanted me to be home.. but then my phone rang.. and it was actually my mom. Busted. :-/ awkward chuckle… looking back, definitely a memorable date.

    Til next week Molly,


  2. Mollyon 07 Mar 2011 at 7:55 pm

    That is hilarious that you got busted like Buddy did. Girlfriend, we have all fake called. So far, I haven’t been busted on the rare occasions I’ve done so, but my trusty little SOUND OFF button helps a whole lot. ha ha!

    My cat Jack knows a bad choice when he sees it, but when the dude mistook his catnip for weed, stole some, rolled it, and smoked it, Jack had his number in a New York minute.

    YIP, Molly

  3. Janet Leeon 07 Mar 2011 at 8:13 pm

    hahaha what an idiot that Buddy is! that’s hilarious Molly! I wonder if he got a head change from that haha

  4. Tamara Lynnon 08 Mar 2011 at 1:42 am



    Buddy must have been pretty broke to forget the booze, and missing some brain cells to try and smoke Jack’s ‘nip! Hopefully you forgot about that date by downing those bottles of wine.

    Cats really are great judges of character. In fact, my old (and much missed) cat pointed out a particularly crappy date to me months before I found out the guy was an idiot!


  5. Mollyon 08 Mar 2011 at 2:03 pm

    Hey girlfriend:
    Thanks for stopping by again. Just loved hearing your story. Aren’t our furry children just the best judges of character? I’ll admit it, Jack has hissed out of jealousy, and I do admit that, but he knows a bad choice when I’ve made one, and as you spoke about, often before I have known it myself. YIP, Molly

  6. AuthorTiffanyon 11 Mar 2011 at 3:12 pm

    Molly you were right to trust your cat. Jack is smart enough to know a bonehead when he sees one.

  7. Mollyon 11 Mar 2011 at 7:28 pm

    Thanks, Tiffany. Jack is rock solid loyal — and so smart. I can tell you are a cat lover! YIP, Molly

  8. Racheal Mon 18 Mar 2011 at 6:13 pm

    Good job Molly! Sometimes you have to weed out the losers to find the gold medalist!

  9. Mollyon 18 Mar 2011 at 6:17 pm

    Hey Rachael,

    Great to meet you. Now I’m just lovin’ the way you put that, g/f. I will be blogging again on some of the “weeds” I’ve had to pull along the way. I will get my gold medalist; that much I know! Thanks so much for stopping by!

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