The Tale of the Toight T-Shirt

I went on a date. A year ago. And then I wrote about it on another blog. Ima gonna post it here now.


When a dude uses the word “communique” within the first 5 minutes of meeting a prospective partner, you know it’s all downhill from there.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for big words!   I love big, multi-syllabic words.  Dems be ma homies.  But to be talking along, in a manner in which a drunkard could easily understand you, and then whip out “communique”, screams douche to me.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I went on a date last night.

No, he is most definitely not my soul mate.  Dang.  Back to the drawing boards!

Those drawing boards definitely do not include dudes who wear tighter shirts than I do!  I wish I was exaggerating on this one.  I happened to be wearing a tank top that was a size too big so it hung a bit loose anyways – but either way, that thing was toight!  Toight like a toiger!  I saw nerps – so much so that I kind of feel like my eyes got to second base.  Guess it was a tid bit nippley in Starbucks.  Thank gawd it wasn’t a V neck otherwise I never would have made it through the whole date.  Actually, I still didn’t, I begged off early saying that I had to get back to write blog posts – see? it wasn’t a lie!

Then there was his attempt to pull me into a political conversation.  There really aren’t that many topics I don’t have an opinion on,  general politics happens to be one of them.  I (purposefully) don’t know enough about them to converse intelligently – and therefore all conversation, on my part at least, halts whenever that topic is brought up.

Next we have the fact that he’s into poetry.  I’m sorry, but I’m just not one of those renaissance girls who are into that shit!  In all honesty, it’s not just the whole male-in-touch-with-his-feminine-side crap (Hi.  I’m the girl.  I have the feminine side, not you!) that turns me off, I just flat out dislike poetry.  Most likely because I suck at writing it.  I tend to dislike that which I don’t excel at.  Character flaw? Naw…

Last, but not least (I’m just hitting the highlights here), was the fact that he grossly lied about his height!  Yes, folks, I am a heightist.  Hell, my horse is 17.3hh!  I like having control over things that are much bigger than I.  And, since I’m 5’8″, I prefer a dude who’s at least 6 feet tall.  That said, attitude and personality can make up for a bit of discrepancy, but not in this case.  Today’s dating specimen claimed to be 6 feet, and was maybe 5’10″.

I don’t understand why guys lie about their height!  It’s not like we’re not going to notice when we meet you!  It’s a little obvious!  You know, you want to use a photo that’s a year or two old, you go right ahead.  You want to tell me you have an “athletic” build and then try to convince me that couch surfing is a real sport, fine.  Everyone has their own definitions of “current” and “athletic”, they can be subjective terms, but height is height dammit!  It’s a quantifiable measurement.  There’s no changing that shit!

So, Toight T-shirt and I weren’t meant to be.  He was at least better than The Ugly Laugher.  There is that, at least.  A step in the right direction perhaps?

And so, my quest continues.

One thought on “The Tale of the Toight T-Shirt

  1. Pingback: Friends Should Want You To Be Happy, Right? Mine Want Me To Date… | Crazy with a Chance of Rain

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