I wanted to say thank you to all of you who read my post yesterday about anxiety and commented and emailed and stuff. It’s a weird thing for me to be dealing with, and I’m not sure how exactly to handle it. Anxiety, that is, not blogging, because, hell, I’ve been blogging so long that dust comes out of my fingers when I type.

I’m fortunate enough to have a doctor who is quite possibly the World’s Greatest Person. Like, I know I’m constantly giving the Nobel Prize for Awesome out to random things, like the guy who invented the bacon cheeseburger, and the person who made this picture:

Best-Picture-on-the-internet

If you don’t think that’s the greatest picture ever, I will fight you.

My doctor deserves the medal for Awesomest Doctor Ever.

Getting help made me I realize how long I’ve been pretending that everything was okay when it was not. Problems are bullshit. Denial is a bigger pile of bullshit.

The first order of business is to start thinking like an editor. I’m cutting out any excess [words] noise. Getting rid of everything I no longer require (I wrote about that on Curvy Girls). Literally and figuratively (when in doubt, throw around big words and hope you’re using them properly).

Then? Organization, Pranksters. After, of course, many hours of snow cone eating and dancing cactus videos.

CLEARLY.

—————-

I realized I’d forgotten to announce The Winner for the Shut Your Whore Mouth Shirt Contest yesterday, but by the time I realized it, I’d already put up my post about being all anxious. It seemed so vastly incongruent to be all After School Special, “Pranksters, I’m struggling and anxious,” then, OHMYGOD, WINNER! #UNICORNBLOOD trumps #TIGERBLOOD!

shut-your-whore-mouth

But today, in a completely random post, I can announce it.

QCMAMA, come on down! You just won a Shut Your Whore Mouth Shirt! (soon to be available in PURPLE)

shut-your-whore-mouth-shirts

———-

This seems like an excellent time to tell you about Robert, the Worst Date of My Life.

Remember when coffee shops were like the new black and suddenly, they sprung up every-fucking-where? This was after that. One of my good friends worked at a coffee shop attached to a small, local video store, in one of those combinations that seemed like a good idea, but really wasn’t. One of his coworkers was a guy named Robert, and I should have known by his foppy haircut that he was Bad News for someone Like Me.

But, I was between boyfriends and when he asked me on an actual date, (I had boyfriends, not actual “dates,”) I accepted. What’s the worst that could possibly happen? I reasoned, even after uncomfortably noting his extremely well-manicured fingernails and soft palms.

Robert, it seemed, was the worst that could happen.

The night of Our Date, I met him at the coffee shop and he chivalrously offered to drive to the multi-theater complex located a good 45 minutes away. Okay, I thought, anyone with hands like that was probably not a rapist or axe-murderer.

And he wasn’t.

Robert was of a completely different ilk.

Robert was Mr. Sensitive Pony-Tail Man, sans pony-tail.

Now, I’m all for a guy who likes to talk about His Feelings without the use of hand-puppets and other props, but Robert took things to a whole new level. A whole new level that made me so uncomfortable that, had we not been in a car on the highway, I might have had him pull over so that I could show my own feelings. Vomity-type feelings.

In that 45 minutes, I learned this: Robert was 22 (I was 18) and lived at home with his mother. He’d had a long-term girlfriend who he’d recently broken up with because she’d moved away to be a part of some traveling Renaissance Faire and he couldn’t handle the distance. They’d tried, he informed me, and his mom was pretty mad at him because they’d racked up massive phone bills.

Apparently, Robert’s answer to being so far apart was to spend each night on the phone, sleeping together.

Yes.

You read that right.

They “slept” together. On the phone. Listening to each other snore.

I’ll wait while you vomit.

….

….

….

….

I appreciate romance as much as the next person, but that’s just plain old creepy.

He waxed on and on about his ex for the entire car ride. Clearly, he was not only co-dependent, but also still not over her. Ugh. By the time we arrived at the movie theater, I was ready to go see a movie – any movie – by myself. But, no. Cell phones were still relatively new, weighed about 6 pounds, and cost hundreds of dollars to own. I had a snazzy gold beeper instead.

Snazzy wasn’t about to get me away from Creepy Robert.

Oh well.

So, before we went into the movie of his choosing, I insisted he buy me the biggest vat of popcorn they had and a bucket of Diet Coke and some Junior Mints, because, well, then the date wasn’t a total loss. I wasn’t normally the kind of girl who did such things, but I’d just spent 45 minutes listening to the virtues of Megan, The Most Wonderful Renaissance Princess Ever Who Also Played Dungeons and Dragons And blah, blah, fucking BLAH.

I considered this my tasty and delicious therapist’s fee.

I’d been too busy craning my neck around to see if I knew anyone who I could bum a ride home from to notice what movie Robert had chosen for us to see, but it was no surprise that he’d chosen the lamest movie ever: Ever After: A Cinderella Story.

I dry-heaved.

Instead of focusing on the riveting plot (I’d have chosen a movie like Die Hard), I listed the Periodic Table of Elements in order my head: “Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron, Carbon…” Then, claiming “bathroom break,” I went into the lobby and played air-hockey with a couple of twelve-year olds.

When I came back, Robert was openly weeping.

Not at my absence or anything, but at the movie. Apparently, it was very touching and I had missed it! O! the humanity! O! the emoting! O! the beauty!

O! the vomitus!

I took my seat next to him and he sobbed so loudly that people began to turn around in their seats to stare at him. Not a single other person in the theater was tearful, so I guess it hadn’t been that emotional.

I was mortified. I was with That Guy. I had no idea how to handle it.

So I patted his leg reassuringly and said, “There, There.”

He wept louder.

The ushers came.

They asked us to leave.

The entire ride home, he babbled about how “beautiful” and “true” that movie was. I just stared out the window, willing the ride to go by faster, wishing I’d worn a mask.

When we got back to my car, he professed his love to me. I suggested that he “rescue” his “true love” from the Ren Faire.

He agreed.

Then he called me so often that I had to block his number.

The Moral of This Story: Never, ever date a guy with soft palms.

Comments = full of the awesome. Like gravy. I can haz an RSS RSS feed .

43 Responses to Forever Yours, Randomly

  • Liz says:

    LMAO! Ever After is actually one of my favorite movies :) but I am not sure why anyone would cry at it. Poor Robert :P.

    • Suzie says:

      I absolutely adore “Ever After”, however, like Liz, I can’t figure out why in the world someone would CRY about it!

  • Kim says:

    Um. Holy shit.

    Some day I will share with you MY worst date. Teasers:
    – My Name is Luca lyrics
    – How much money do you make?
    – Screaming like a little bitch
    – A poisoning

    I’m pretty sure he had soft hands, too.

  • Stacey says:

    I read “coffee shop attached to a small, local video store” and instantly? I’m thinking you’re on a date with one of the guys from “Clerks”, even though 1. it was a convenience store in that movie and NOT a coffee shop and 2. neither one of the guys in that movie would cry over the death of a sibling, let alone a movie. But dating one of them may have been worse. Silver lining?

  • What a well-written and funny post, and also, what a creeper!

  • Meg says:

    ROTFLMAO *thud* <—haven't written that in about 10 years…thanks for the flashback memories of the late 90s. I remembers seeing Ever After with a bunch of girls that lived on the same floor as me in the dorm. A few of us made the snarky comments through the movie and the rest sighed and had the 'i can't wait to get back to the boyfriend look'…

  • choosy says:

    Okay, like the first commenter I just don’t see where there is to cry in Ever After.
    Just be glad that you were not the ren faire chick.
    She joined the fucking Ren Faire to escape him? Um, no, she was still living at home. That was just her cover.

    I know, I’ve used it.
    (no not really)

  • Hand of Zeus says:

    He cried in the movie and you didnt turn into a pile of mush? Unusual.. It’s the dude’s responsibility to not embarrass you by crying while watching a movie in public. Should have excused yourself for the loo and made off with the toughest looking biker with a tattoo on his neck (that is your type, right?). As the wise old proverb goes: Your issues are not mine to suffer..

  • Beth
    Twitter: star_momma
    says:

    I’ve never even met the guy and I still feel like I should get a restraining order JUST IN CASE.

  • TheTameOne says:

    You hang up.
    No, you hang up.
    No, you hang up.
    No….YOU hang you. *giggle*
    Noooo. You hang up.

  • HAHAHAHHA OMG this is too funny. Robert was a winner on an EPIC scale. And we all know how I feel about that word.

    I dated a kid who my friend thought would be perfect for me needless to say she is no longer my friend HOW COULD SHE!! But after knowing him 15 minutes the kid was trying to feel me up. Ummmm Hello I require Lobster before you get that far buddy. WTF. And then he creepily rubbed my leg while we drove to bowling place. And while we were bowling at which I do suck he tried to show me a better technique, yeah sure by wrapping himself around me and trying to dry hump me. Look here Mr. desperate, I am not that kind of girl. And he too called me for months wondering why I never called back. And my “friend” thought he was great. Apparently she had bad taste in men too.

  • Jen says:

    Moral of The Story, Part B: Any mention of Dungeons and Dragons and/or Ren Faires, direct or implied, and YOU FUCKING RUN, girls. Cause that guy is probably one weepy Cinderella movie away from burying his mother under the floorboards of the house they live in, together. You don’t want to be an accessory to that shit.

  • Kori says:

    The good thing about men with soft palms is that it isn’t likely they are hiding in basements beating off to porn instead of having sex with you. NOT that I have ever experienced anything like that, you know.

    Anxiety-I had no words yesterday, nor do I have any today, other than I am glad you went to see Dr. Awesome.

  • Alyssa says:

    Ok, I am all for a slightly sensitive guy, one who isn’t afraid to cry at an actual SAD movie… but really, at Ever After?! Yet, I have been on a date with a “Robert”, so I can relate. One of my worst was a guy who took me to see one of the Star Wars re-makes (which I couldn’t have cared less about) and proceeded to tell me everthing that was happening as it’s happening and also what is going to happen, because he had seen it apparently a billion times before our date. There are so many times one can get elbowed in the rib by a 25 yr old saying “oh oh oh!!! Watch this part!”, without wanted to beat them. Then to top it off he tryed getting me to go home with him.. umm no.

  • Brandi says:

    I’m glad you’re getting help for the anxiety. Fucking Axiety & Asshole Depression have been my cohorts in Bullshitdom for most of my adult life, but I will absolutely testify that, with the right help & habits, they can be managed and you will be an even more amazaballs Aunt Becky than we’ve even begun to see or experience.

    We love you.

    Now…thanks for being a total whore and making it so I can never enjoy my favorite rainy Sunday movie ever again without thinking of your lady hand douche date.

    I will forever look at ole Drew covered in cidersoot and think about your gold beeper, crying stalkers and have overwhelming urges to play air hockey while eating jr. mints.

    Shit.

    I’m pretty sure the only thing that will soothe my woes at this point is for you to send me a Shut Your Whore Mouth t-shirt in pink (xl) so that at least when I’m watching the movie and it’s ruined, I can look down and think “Aunt Becky may have fucked this movie up for me, but she sent me this totally fucking rockin’ t-shirt. So it’s all good in da hood, yo.”

    I’m just sayin.

    xox

  • mumma boo says:

    Having the right doctor is key. Let the clearing out begin. You’ll feel so much better – I get overwhelmed and twitchy when there’s too much stuff in the house. You can do it, lady!

    As for Robert, I have no doubt that he re-enacted every painful scene from the movie when he caught up with Ren Faire. Pity the poor souls who had to witness THAT.

    PS – Cenzo announced today that Tootsie Rolls taste like purple. So, you see, purple IS a flavor, dammit.

  • Penbleth says:

    Soft palms are only bested by overly washed hands. Both are the signs of creepiness and are best avoided.

  • OMG! Are you sure his name wasn’t Donovan? Because he sounds just like thi sguy I used to go out with before I met DH and had to go off for the summer on the Ren Faire circuit with a friend who sells pottery just to have a valid excuse to dump him. “I’m just not that into you” was *NOT* a valid excuse in Donovan’s mind. It was a challenge to him. Drove me batty.

  • selena says:

    because of one of “those” guys that I dated, I had a sign on the front door or my apartment all througout my 20s that said “no one cried in my apartment except me. NO EXCEPTIONS.”

    And yes, I have one too…except after crying during some movie (I can’t even remember what it was now because I believe I blocked out the memory) he tried to dry hump me and kept asking, “Do you love me? Can you tell me you love me?” It was gross and disturbing.

    Now that I think of it, I have like 4 stories of sissy overly crying guys…

  • I need to clear out, too. It’ll happen maybe sometime this year. Or next. Or not at all because of the Mayan calendar assuring us the end is near and all that. (My 7 year old reminds me of this weekly.)

    That reminds me of a date with a guy I had when I was in college. I called him “ugly cat” and can’t remember his actual name right now. He wooed me via mIRC (I was very l33t back then) by agreeing with me that Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” was the best song EVER and we met for sushi. I had never had sushi and it was horrible (I’ve since grown to love it… but it was a cheap college town sushi place and was less than fresh). He tried to prove his masculinity by using too much wasabi. He had bright orange hair and pale blue eyes and reminded me of orange kitties which is why I called him “ugly cat” when referring to him in conversations with my friends. He wore acid wash jeans that may have been cool 10 years before… but probably not. He demanded a kiss at the end of the date and it was… clammy.

    I changed my mIRC handle after that and decided not to meet boys in chat rooms anymore.

  • marie says:

    http://myveryworstdate.com/
    It’s FULL of the awesome and you should submit it. :)

  • Kelly says:

    Wow…………………….

    <>

  • gaylin says:

    I have the bestest Dr. in Canada – so you have the bestest in the US, we are winning!

    A guy I know recently told me that him and his long distance girlfriend will put their laptops on the nightstands and open Skype and ‘sleep’ together via computer. He thought is was romantic, I think it gross and weird and makes me want to vomit. Glad I don’t date him.

    The worst dates I have been on were years ago, a couple of times I agreed to go on blind dates (WHY??), both times we disliked each other on sight and spent an uncomfortable stretch of an evening trying to figure out how to politely escape.

  • sue j. says:

    That creepy palm imagery is enough to satisfy me that you’re going to be all right.
    Hang in there, kid.

  • Karen V. says:

    I have two questions. One is what kind of “good friend” doesn’t warn you about Robert? The second question is how do you get boyfriends without an “actual date”?

  • loved reading this, i hate bad dates and don’t want to remember them! but i wanted to make a note that your hair looks great!!

  • Pam says:

    Thankfully I’ve never dated ‘that’ guy. UGH! But, perhaps, the hilarity of this post was worth it? LOL

    DD2 sent me this link today…thought you might enjoy it: http://damnyouautocorrect.com/6101/15-most-popular-autocorrects-from-february-2011/

  • Aimee says:

    OH, DAMMIT. I knew I should have added that part into my story – “Cameron” totally was into the whole sleeping on the phone crap, too. My husband still gives me hell for that. I wish I hadn’t told him.

    But…hahahahaha!

  • If BY Yes says:

    Can I share your doctor? Mine sent me to the pharmacy with a prescription for “three months supply diaphragm whatever brand you have available”.

    And your story about Robert is why I never dated. I just married my best friend instead.

  • Cindy says:

    Dude! I married that guy! (and divorced him 6 months later)
    Oh, soft palms- it’s the lotion. For the porn. In mom’s basement. He cried at Ever After too. (Did I just haiku?)
    So glad I married the biker later. (Except he’s not, but he should have been!) The bad boy is way funner than mister sensitive. Ugh.

  • Kristin
    Twitter: dragondream
    says:

    So glad your doctor rocks.

    I almost wish I had some bad date stories like that to share.

  • Kristin
    Twitter: dragondream
    says:

    PS…Beanis is almost done and boy is he magnificent.

  • Elizabeth says:

    My boyfriend’s roommate and his girlfriend ‘sleep together’ on the phone. And cuddle. It’s so fucking creepy.

  • Julie says:

    Robert is special internet code for Ronald, right? Cause I totally dated that soft-handed, weepy douche for a couple of months in the early 90’s. Horrible, I know, but I was coming down from what I believe to be a 3-year booze-and-coke-fest, so what ya gonna do? I didn’t have to join the Ren Faire to get away from him though, just Missouri.

  • 3 comments for the 3 sections:

    1 – *cough* nice pussy
    2 – Grats QCMAMA! Awesome reply. I’ll be checking out your blog to see if your posts are as funny as your comments. :D
    3 – Better soft palms than hairy palms.

    Happy hump day!

  • I cry easily at any movie that is even remotely sad. Hell, I cried at the end of Homeward Bound. You know, that movie about two dogs and a cat who get lost and find their way home. Yeah, I cried.

    But Ever After? While I adore that movie (even Drew Barrymore’s horrific accent), it’s not sad and I most definitely did NOT cry. Even when her dad died because 1. it’s at the beginning of the movie and 2. you could see that plot point coming from the moon.

  • flutter says:

    You are totally a good egg. you know?

  • Depression & anxiety are like my BFFs. It sucks serious donkey dick. I have an asshat psychiatrist (posted about him yesterday), but he gives me the good drugs. I save the real shit stories for my shrink/psychologist.

    Cannot believe that dude was sobbing during Ever After. I don’t think I can top that.But it sure was nice to begin this it’s-not-friday-yet-morning with a laugh!

  • Josefina says:

    That cat picture is amazing. Have you told where you found it in another post? If you have, I missed it, sorry. Please tell me where I can obtain this picture. I have need of it.

    I wonder what Robert is up to now. What does a guy like that DO?

  • CycleNinja says:

    The only thing worse than a guy with soft palms is a guy who has lots of callouses on his. I hear.

  • JLK says:

    Shut. The Front. Door. You’re lying! Or exaggerating! You MUST BE, because no one’s worst date story centers around a guy THAT pathetic!!!

    EVER AFTER???? Seriously???????

    LOVE the snazzy gold beeper! Mine was a totally hot shade of turquoise and I still have it somewhere because I thought it might be a relic someday.

    And it is. Go me.

  • Nerma says:

    My worst date was with a guy I met in physical therapy, on the torture device next to me (he had big muscles and that was all it took to woo the 17 year old me, apparently). He took me to see Varsity Blues, which oddly enough he had already seen. He told me he would buy my movie ticket OR my popcorn but not both, and then proceeded to talk about his truck and muddin’ throughout the entire movie. I tuned him out and watched the movie, only to get elbowed each time I laughed because he was oblivious to my movie-watching (at you know, a MOVIE THEATER)and was convinced I was laughing at him (muddin’ is some serious stuff, yo. NOT to be laughed at). I asked him to take me home after the movie and he floored it, screeched to a halt in front of my house, threw it in reverse and backed up the driveway so fast that he hit the garage. THEN proceeded to ask me if he can call me again.

  • Anxiety sucks ASS. I deal with it all the time. I used to be laid back as shit, and now I get panic attacks. (Hence, the REAL reason for the Xanax.) I blog about mine too…I’m trying to not get dependent on the meds since they mellow me out a little TOO much, but I can’t get in to the new age bullshit either. I wish I could bottle up my own laughter for the bad days because I know that would make me feel better than anything else.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>

 

About Twitter Band Back Together Facebook Muschroom Printing Subscribe

blog advertising is good for you
Buy Cool Toys for Your Children at Everbuying.com at a cheap price.
Helping students solve academic writing problems through guides and manuals. TheDailyWilton.com - college newspaper devoted to essay writing.

Archives

Marchin’ for Mimi!


blog advertising is good for you