Watch and Sigh

It is an immense relief to know that I’m not the only person in the greater LA area that has bizarre luck in relationships. This is not to say that I wish any sort of freaks on my friends but, sometimes it’s reassuring to be reminded that when the circus sideshows broke free, they weren’t all magically magnetized to just me.

Nope. I share the wealth.

Seeing as I was down and out in headcold land all last week and most of this weekend, I wasn’t in my tip-top, extrovert, smack-it-up-flip-it-rub-it-down shape. This allowed me to ride the bench and be, predominantly, an observer to the dating freakshow.

First of all, men do some stupid shit. If you recall a few weeks ago, I got my feathers ruffled because the term “dude” was used to refer to me by a person I’ve seen naked. Bogus. Well, in line with that, was an “episode” that I witnessed yesterday. Enter Friend A and Guy A whom she dated for a couple months earlier this year. Since they parted ways, they have not run into each other – until this weekend. Luckily, I was perched at the top floor of a bar and could see the whole thing through binoculars (yes, they keep binoculars on the bar). Friend A walks up to seemingly, partially-normal Guy A. She smiles and says “Hi, how are you.” Guy A extends his hand for a shake.

I almost dropped the binoculars. A handshake. A mother-farkin’ nice-doing-business-with-you handshake. The look on her face was priceless. She walked back upstairs to me with the look permanently pressed on her face and she says, “I have heard him make weird noises naked and I get a handshake. Awesome.” I almost fell off my stool.

It gets better.

Let me tell you about Friend B. Friend B just had a first date (and I use that term loosely) with Guy B. They decide to go to a Dodger game. When he picks her up, his buddy is in the car with him and that forces Friend B to ride bitch in the backseat. Kick ass start. At the end of the date, she, again rode bitch home, and as Guy B pulled up in front of Friend B’s house, he threw his hand back and asked for a high five. I repeat. A HIGH FIVE. And to add insult to injury, he didn’t even turn around to give his feebleminded attempt at an adult adieu. Just a backwards high-five as a “sayonara sucker”. Unbelievable. (It’s at that point on the “date” that you close the car door just enough so it appears completely shut - until they pull away and then it flies open and cracks into something. Oopsy!)

So why do we bother? Why do we insist on putting ourselves out there time after time? Are we sadistic gluttons for punishment? Do we do it to continue to entertain our friends? Or maybe just our blog readers?