Operation No More Douchebags: A Tale of Douche Dating- Part 2

Don’t read this unless you’ve read Operation No More Douchebags Part One. Or don’t.  Whatever.

Tweedle Dumber:

Next came the amazingly stunning model/tennis player.  Helloooo, gorgeous.

We ran into each other at the Hard Rock, exchanged numbers and he actually called the next day.  He wasn’t the smartest guy, but his looks could possibly make up for that for a couple months.

On our first date, we made out like teenagers in the backseat of his Jeep.  Not super comfortable, but super fun!

We decided to go out again the very next night.  This time, I let him pick me up at my house.  I drove to dinner and when we came back to my place we made out some more and it was going great.  Super duper great, in fact.  I didn’t trust myself to not be a total whore with him so, as hard as it was, I asked him to stop and to go home.  I had to work the next morning and it was already almost 1:00 a.m.  He was a good sport.

About two minutes after kissing him goodnight, my doorbell rang.  He said his car wouldn’t start.  Of course, I laughed and didn’t believe him.  I thought he was being cute and just wanted to kiss me some more.  I was wrong.  His car really wouldn’t start.

“Can you take me to a gas station?”

“Are you just out of gas?”

“No, I need jumper cables.”

“I don’t think they sell jumper cables at any gas station around here.  I think you’ll need to go to an auto store or Walmart or something.  Let’s just call a tow truck or Triple A.”

You would have thought I suggested feigning injury on the side of the road until some kind soul stopped to help me and then pulling out a sawed off shotgun and putting it against the random stranger’s forehead and firing while laughing manically as blood and brains splattered all over my body.

After his little temper tantrum, he said, “Just take me.”

Much to my dismay I felt forced to take him.  I’m not gonna act like it didn’t make me happy when I proved to him that the tiny gas stations near my place didn’t sell effin’ jumper cables!  I realized then and there, I’m never too annoyed to gloat.

“Now, can we please just call a tow truck?  If money’s an issue, I’ll pay for it.”  I was practically begging this guy to just do the only rational thing.

“It’s not money.  And no, I’m calling my friend.”

He starts calling his friend.  It’s almost two on a Sunday morning, his friend isn’t answering.  We get back to my place and he sits in the car and tries to start it for twenty minutes.

“IT’S NOT WORKING!  WE’RE CALLING A TOW!”  I demand.

Just then, his phone rang, it was his friend, who did indeed have jumper cables and would leave his house immediately.

Fine.  Whatever.  “How far away is he?”  I ask.

“He’s in Coral Springs.”  A fucking hour away, then.  Great.  Awesome.

“Okay, I’m going to bed.”  I was so tired and irritated.  Why we didn’t call a tow truck an hour ago, I just couldn’t understand.

“Wait.  What am I supposed to do?”

Ugh.  “You’re gonna play with my hair and spoon me until I fall asleep.”

We got in my bed and he turned his phone on vibrate so it wouldn’t disturb me when his friend arrived.  We both fell asleep and awoke to my scream of terror as the phone vibrated under my face.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Your phone just scared the shit outta me!”

Realizing his friend was probably calling, he answered it.  I walked him downstairs and let him out before locking the door and running up to bed.

About a minute later my doorbell rang.

“FUUUUUUUCK!”

I considered pretending to be the soundest sleeper ever and completely ignoring him, but he was the persistent type.

I opened the door, “Do you have a flashlight?”

I got him the flashlight and told him to keep it.  I went back up to bed.

About a minute later my doorbell rang.

I’m going to kill someone.

I open the door, “Can you come help us?”

Are you fuckng kidding me?

This nightmare isn’t going to end unless I just help.

I go outside and Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber have no idea what they’re doing.  I show them how to put the jumper cables on and they try to start the car.  The car won’t start.

They try again.

The car won’t start.

Again.

The car won’t start.

The car’s not gonna start.

“I’m calling a tow truck,” I say as calmly as possible.

“Wait!  I have an idea,” exclaims Tweedle Dumber.

“I have rope, we can tie the cars together and I’ll just pull it home, I see Mexicans doing it all the time.”

“That will totally work!  Let’s do it,” says Tweedle Dumb.

“Are you guys serious?  You have to drive over 60 miles…. You know what?  Fine.  Do your thing.”

I start to go back in the house and then, “Can you hold the flashlight while we try to tie the cars together?”

I’m never dating again.  I’ve said it before, but I’m totally serious this time.

I hold the flashlight and there’s absolutely nothing for them to tie the rope to on Tweedle Dumb’s car.  They mess around with it for way too long and then I finally say, “I’m calling a tow.”

“Here!  We can just tie it to this.”  I never looked to see what “this” was, but they did it and at four a.m. they were out of my development.

I leaped into bed, giddy with excitement and holding back hysterical laugher or hysterical tears.

About a minute later my phone rang.

NOOOOOOOOOO!  NOOOOOOOOO!  WHAAAAAAAAAT??

Ignore.

About a second later my phone rang.

“WHAT?”

“There’s a problem.”  The other end of the phone states.

“No fucking way.  How could there be a problem?  I never would have seen that coming.”  I say as sarcastically as I can possibly muster.

“Okay, I get it, can you just come get us.  We need the flashlight again.  We went the wrong way out of your development and when we tried to turn around the rope got stuck somehow in the tire and it won’t move now and we’re in the middle of the road.”

Fuck my life.

I put on some jeans and flip-flops.  I can’t find the flashlight anywhere and don’t recall ever getting it back.  I look around for it outside, but it’s too dark, and ironically, I need a flashlight, so I give up and get in my car and drive to the site of the idiots.

Sure enough, they were stuck in the middle of the street.  Tweedle Dumb was on the ground and I saw something shiny in his hands.  Long and shiny.  I roll my window down, “What’s going on?  What are you doing?”

I get a closer look and the dude is using a machete to hack at the rope.  A mother fucking machete!  What the fuck!

“Um, that’s not creepy…. I’m not getting out of my car.  Who the fuck drives around with a machete?  I don’t even know you people.”

“Sonny, please… Enough dramatics, just come help.”

Defiantly, “I’m not getting out.  Seriously.  I don’t have the flashlight, you two Mr. Fix Its have it.  There’s nothing I can do.

“Wait….”  There was a long pause and then, “Can you just call a tow truck.  Please.”

He was so incredibly defeated at this point, my elation was put on hold.  However, my severe animosity was not.

“Are you fucking kidding me?  You want me to call a tow truck now?  This has been a four hour ordeal of complete bullshit!  I will give you the number to call a tow.  You two assholes can sit here and wait for it.”

And that’s what I did.

What a douchebag!

The Love of My Life:

My next date was a fix-up.  I usually don’t like those, but I welcomed this one because at least I have some sort of validation that he’s somewhat normal if he hangs out with my friends.

He picks me up and he’s beautiful to look at, he drives a Mercedes and he owns his own company.  He has lots to talk about and to ask me about and I’m falling madly in love with him, more every second.  He’s got a great English accent, he’s well read, well traveled, philanthropic… perfect.  Plus!  I can tell he’s super into me!  Boo-yah!

Dinner is superb and he takes me home, walks me to my door, kisses me sweetly on the mouth and says he’ll call me tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes and that man calls!  He asks if I want to meet him at a bar near his house for some live music and a couple drinks.

Do the Kennedy ladies wear black?  Hell yes, I do!

I meet him and he’s just so cool.  He holds the small of my back, he touches my hand flirtatiously, he looks at me as he speaks and smiles when I say something funny.  This is it!  We’re the only two people there.  This is how our life together will be.  Just us.  In love.  Forever.

We go back to his house on the intracoastal.  Yes, it’s an almost-mansion.  Yes, it’s decorated with amazing artwork and a minimalist touch.  Yes, my Chinese armoir will look perfect in that corner.  Yes, I’ll love waking up to this view.  But, wait…

“It smells funny in here…”  I say.

“Really?”  He sniffs.  “I don’t really smell anything.”

“Oh, man, what is that?  It’s not something dirty or anything, it’s just something… OH!  God, it smells like baby in here.”  (Lots of disdain in my voice when I said “baby.”)

He was quiet.

“Well, that’s probably my baby, then.  Elliot.  He’s asleep.”

A nanny came downstairs just as my mouth was hitting the floor.

She says, “Wow, you must be something pretty special if he’s bringing you home.  He hasn’t done that since I started working for him.”  She gives him a little wink and looks back at me while saying to him, “I approve.”  She smiles at me and says goodnight.

He looked at me as if I was the most vile thing he’s ever seen.  He was truly disgusted.  He then, ever so politely, asked me to leave.

I tried to apologize by saying that, “I just can’t stand kids.  But, I could learn to.  I’d make an exception.”  Nothing was really coming out right.

It didn’t matter.  The damage was done.  I tried to turn it around and say that he should have told me.  He in turn said that his bringing me back there was him telling me.  He wanted to share it with me differently because he thought we had a connection, he thought I was special.  He thought I was NICE.

I AM NICE!

As he was shutting the door behind me, a little too quickly, I might add, I heard him mutter ever so slightly, “What a douchebag.”