Have Some Selfie-Respect

, , , , , , | Romantic | March 31, 2019

(I met this guy on a dating app, and we have been texting for a few days. I have several tattoos and he has asked to see pics — no big deal. I take some pics of the tats on my ankle and wrist and send them to him.)

Guy: “Who else is with you?”

Me: “Huh? I’m alone. Why?”

Guy: “No, seriously. Why is there another guy there taking pics of you?”

Me: “I just used the camera on my phone; it only needs one hand to take a pic.”

Guy: “No, someone else is there and you are lying to me. It’s not possible to take a pic of your right wrist with your left hand.”

Me: “Okay, you caught me. My house is haunted and the ghost was taking the pics.”

Guy: “I knew it. You lied about being alone. I can’t trust you.”

(Glad I dodged that bullet!)

Lactose Intolerance Versus Lactose Ignorance, Part 2

, , , , , | Right Romantic | January 19, 2019

Patron #1: “Why do you have two ice cream options?”

Me: “One is made with cow’s milk, while the other is made with coconut milk.”

Patron #1: “What’s the difference?”

Me: “One is vegan-friendly and safe for those with lactose sensitivity.”

Patron #1: “I don’t understand. Which should I get?”

Me: “I assume after the chicken you just had that you are neither vegan nor lactose intolerant, so I would suggest the ice cream made with cow’s milk.”

Patron #1: “No, I think I’m lactose intolerant.”

Me: “But your sauce was prepared with milk. Are you all right?”

Patron #1: “I think so.” *to [Patron #2]* “Am I?”

(I stare at both of them while [Patron #2] face-palms.)

Patron #2: “I think we’ll risk it.”

(I bring them their ice cream. Half an hour later I am asked to bring the bill, and [Patron #2] offers to pay with a card. I take him to the reader.)

Me: “Are you sure he’s all right? I don’t want him to get sick.”

Patron #2: “I don’t think he knows what it means, so I think it’s safe to assume he’ll be fine.”

Me: *worried* “Oh, I thought you knew each other. I shouldn’t have suggested the cow’s milk.”

Patron #2: “No, seriously. Even if he is lactose intolerant, I doubt there’s enough going on in there to make the connection. I think I’ve actually gotten dumber just spending the night with him.”

Me: “Oh, I see. Well, please let us know if there are any problems.”

Patron #2: “Sure, although I doubt I’ll see him after tonight. I don’t know if I’ll ever use Grindr again!”

Related:
Lactose Intolerance Versus Lactose Ignorance

It’s A Crazy Dating World Out There

, , , | Romantic | October 1, 2018

(I am talking with my cousin about her upcoming tenth anniversary.)

Me: “It’s so great that you’ve managed to last so long in a happy marriage.”

Cousin: “Well, it’s God’s blessing.” *pauses* “But it’s better than [Workmate]. She tried to go on a date with someone I hooked her up with.”

Me: “What happened?”

Cousin: “Well, the first few dates went okay with him, but when she asked if he would be comfortable with having sex, he just said, ‘How do I know you won’t call the police afterward and say I raped you?'”

Me: *a little taken aback* “What?”

Cousin: *shrugging* “That was her reaction, too. She told me, as well. [Another Workmate] is his sister and said that when he goes on blind dates or even spends a long time with a woman, he wears a homemade chastity belt.”

(I am really glad I’m already married.)

Should Have Taken A Detective Elective

, , , , , | Related | August 31, 2018

(It is when when Facebook is in its infancy. While my siblings and I each have created our own pages, our parents have not. My younger brother has recently moved six hours away from our parents to attend college out of state in Ohio. He posts pictures of his college life, one of which is of an attractive girl sitting on his bed with a textbook in her lap. I look at the picture and quickly spot a few “interesting” things. Based on what I see, I form what I believe to be a logical conclusion, one that I know our parents would jump to if they saw the same photo. I decide I’ll try to save my brother a headache and give him a call to see if I came to the right conclusion. I give him a call and quickly bring up the subject of the photos, commenting on how nice they look. My brother quickly catches on.)

Brother: “You want to know who the girl in the photo is and if I’m dating her.”

Me: “I won’t deny my curiosity about the girl in the photo, but I’m honestly more interested in how you’re doing.”

Brother: *sighs* “She’s a friend I’ve made recently. My roommate and I are in the same psychology class, we formed a study group, she’s part of the study group, and now we’re all friends. Just friends.”

(We continue to talk about this group of friends he has made. He states they’re all from different parts of Ohio, that he’s the only one in the group not from there, they’re all majoring in something different, etc. At the end of it all, I’m glad to hear he is doing well, but he still hasn’t addressed the reason why I called. I continue to play along and get as much information I can get him to divulge.)

Brother: “So… are we done?”

Me: “Not quite. I know that you’re not telling the whole truth about the girl in the photo. So I want you to tell me the whole truth about her, and in exchange, I’ll tell you why you should take that photo down before Mom and Dad see it.”

Brother: “I told you already; we’re just friends.”

Me: “Friends with benefits, possibly?”

Brother: “Uh…”

Me: “Look, I get it. Being away at college and living in a dorm allows you certain freedoms that you wouldn’t otherwise have living at home with Mom and Dad. I don’t care what, or who, you do, as long as it isn’t illegal, you keep your grades up, you’re not hurting yourself or anyone else, and you’re protecting yourself doing whatever it is. And I’m certainly not going to tell Mom and Dad, either; they don’t need to know. Just tell me the truth.”

Brother: *long pause* “Fine. I like her, and she likes me, but neither of us want to be in a serious relationship right now, so we hook up every now and again. What I want to know is, how did you figure that out by just looking at one photo of her?”

Me: “Easy. Clue #1: You’ve made a point to take and post a photo of this girl, and it isn’t a group setting or anything like that. That indicates to me she is someone special. And trust me, Mom will jump to that same conclusion. Clue #2: If you’re going to start posting your photos, figure out how to remove the time-stamp feature on your camera. The photo is time-stamped for Saturday at eight am. Way too early for a study session, if you ask me. Not to mention she looks like she just rolled out of bed. And finally, probably the biggest indicator, is Clue #3: You’ve freely admitted to me she is a local girl, so what reason could she have for wearing a t-shirt with your high school’s name on it? And don’t tell me there’s a high school with the same name in Ohio. Mom has washed that shirt plenty of times, and I’ve seen you wear it often enough to know that it belongs to you, because you can see the tear in the sleeve that yours has.”

(My brother was utterly baffled by this and immediately removed the photo from his page. A few days after that, our Mother called him to let him know she signed up for Facebook and wanted him to accept her friend request. He thanked me for helping him dodge a bullet from our ultra-conservative parents.)

An Army/Navy Family

, , , , | Related | August 18, 2018

(As my grandmother has gotten older, her memory has unfortunately started to get worse. Whenever I visit, I ask her to tell me family stories or look with me through memorabilia she’s collected throughout her life. This is to help jog her memory, but also so I can write things down I think the rest of the family would like to remember. One day, we’re looking through a photo album together, and we come across a photo of my grandfather in his Army uniform.)

Me: “Wasn’t Grandpa so handsome?!”

Grandma: “Oh, yes! This was the picture he gave me before he left to fight in WWII.”

(We flip a few more pages, and a wallet-sized photo drops out from between two pages. I pick it up, and it’s of another young man I don’t recognize, dressed in a Navy uniform.)

Me: “Grandma, who is this? Is this Grandpa’s brother?”

Grandma: *squints at the picture* “I haven’t seen that in years! That was [Man]. He was a Navy man, you see?”

Me: “Was he a friend of yours and Grandpa’s?”

Grandma: “Sort of. He was the other young man I was dating at the time.”

Me: *trying not to sound too surprised* “What?!”

Grandma: *shrugs* “You know, girls always dated more than one fella back then, unless someone asked us to go steady. It was very casual. Why you young folks want to go steady with someone you’ve only had one date with is beyond me.”

Me: *trying not to laugh* “I’m assuming [Man] went to fight in the war, too?”

Grandma: *sighs* “Yes, he left right after your grandpa did.”

Me: “So, what made you choose Grandpa in the end?”

Grandma: “Hmm? Oh, because he came back first.”

Me: *now I’m losing it* “Grandma! That’s the only reason?”

(She just smiled at me before putting the Navy beau’s picture back in the album and going to make us some tea. While I hope this other man made it safely back from the war and lived a full life, I’m also grateful she chose my grandpa because, you know, I’m alive thanks to that decision. Funny how life works, isn’t it?)

Page 1/712345...Last