Hey boys and girls! You know what time it is?
It’s time for more embarrassing stories about men I have dated!
This time chapter is entitled Austin.
If you’re not up to date with all escapades that would make Carrie Bradshaw shed a tear for me, then you can catch up here: Pre-LA
, L.A.- Year 1
, L.A.- Year 2
, and L.A.- Year 3 + 4
. (This invitation excludes anyone who goes by the name of “Mom” or “Dad” and has the last name of “Modery”. I’m super serious this times, guys, you really
don’t want to read these posts. This will cause awkward conversations for the next few weeks otherwise. Turn away now!!! DO IT!!!).
#13. You were the first guy I went out with in Austin after fleeing Los Angeles. “Going out” is a nice way of putting it. More like invited me to your house for a kegger, then a few nights later to coffee where you made me pay for everything. That’s like ten red flags rolled into one. You were a good-looking guy with a nice body, but acted a little awkward and clueless. It’s funny how in the beginning one perceives awkward and clueless as everything else but exactly what it is. You invited me to your house where you bitterly lived with your sister and put the your awkward and clueless moves on me. One of those, “oops, my hand fell next to your body…oops, now my hand is on top of your body…oops, now I’m moving my hand in an upward/downward motion…oops, I’m just going to finish this.” This is the only thing I will say nice about you- you’re good in the sack. Everything else about you makes my skin crawl. Including the last thing you asked me before you said you didn’t want to see me anymore, “Can I still use your employee discount at work?” We pretend to be friends, but you know that I’m convinced you ate paint chips as a child and you keep your distance from me.
#14. You were 19. That’s all I have to say about you.
#15. You were 35 and you should have known better! You weirded me out because you’d hang out at the local coffee shop and do your best Zoolander impression as girls walked by. You quite possibly spend more time doing your hair in the morning than everyone in Austin combined. You wear the official Austin rocker outfit of a white v-neck, black jeans, cowboy boots, and Raybans and I’m convinced you’re anorexic. You pursued me (and probably twenty others) for months before you broke-up with your girlfriend who you supposibly love so much (this I found out later). I guess your persistance finally broke me down and I agreed to go on a date with you. Like clockwork, you put the moves on me and when I didn’t instantaneously jump in the sack with you, you dumped me like a hot potato. There was something about you I liked though. You made me feel good. You knew how to treat a lady…man, am I fucking idiot.
#16. You were #15’s friend and quite possibly bi-polar. Though I live by the mantra of having no regrets, you are the one person that I would be more than happy never having wasted twenty hours of my life with. You were an actor….from Los Angeles. I move to fucking Texas and I go out with the actor from Los Angeles. Reading that sentence makes me want to beat my own ass. I guess you were good looking. At least you thought you were good-looking. You liked to remind me how handsome, caring, generous, and well hung you were. Almost like you were trying to convince yourself. I fooled around with you one night and you acted like I wasn’t even there. The next morning you sent me a text saying, “I enjoyed the immensely- pun intended”. If you were making a comment about your big penis again, I swear to God, you should be punched in the face. I finally (FINALLY!!! HALLELUJAH!!! PRAISE THE LORD!!!), had gotten to the point where disrespect and bad behavior didn’t turn me on, so I told you to get lost… and you went ape shit. You called me screaming, telling me I had a huge ego, that I was insane, and that you hated me. Then you asked me to come over. Then you would laugh manically. Then you would call me a Jew. P.S. You finally stopped harrassing me and I hope you go back to L.A. soon where you belong, you fucking crazy person.
What have I learned about my time dating in Austin? That assholes are getting old…and I’m growing up.