It All Adds Up in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

Um. There. That’s all I got. Truth be told, I can’t wait to get the hell out of there. I can’t send more bumbling dumbshit movers all up in there fast enough. It pains me to unpack any more because with every box I unpack I think about having to turn around and pack it right back up. What a waste of energy.

Good news is, I know that anything I throw away will be immediately recycled. There are bums that swarm the dumpsters constantly. In fact, I went to toss a heap of crap (literally—it was cat litter) into the container, and had to catch myself from throwing it on some poor old guy’s head. He popped right out of the bin and scared me speechless. I had to warn him though, when I caught my breath, that he didn’t want to go digging through my dumpage. Because that’s what he’d get if he stuck his hand in that bag.

Speaking of bags, I need to gather the clothes I’m taking to SF and LA next week. I think I have my interview garb together, thanks to a shopping side trip in NY the week before last, a long lunch break one day last week, and then a small shopping excursion I took between leaving work early on Friday and getting drunk (all before 9pm). I’m not in love with the ensemble, but I it’s a pretty decent combo of hip and class. Only one chance for a first impression and all that shit, ya know? We’ll see. I just wish I were a little more svelte, but I always wish that, no matter how trim I am.

I simply cannot wait for my vacation time and a little exile from this place. Aah, sweet exile. You can’t come fast enough.

There was an article in the local paper over the weekend about dating in this fair city, and all of it is negative, negative, negative! Um…no surprise there. So I only skimmed over the online version of the article, because hell, been there done that (quite literally). Well, somebody brought the article in to work this morning and waved it in my face and asked if I’d read it. Yeah, yeah, yeah. But there was more to it than the online version and as I scanned the added pieces, I noticed that there was a special section dedicated to people who are writing online dating diaries.

Guess who’s writing one?

Quentin. That’s right. Quentin: the asshole who never paid for a single date. The one who pursued me and pushed and pawed at me until I finally gave in. And ALSO the one who got pissed and pushed me away when I tried to get a little of that same action from him.

Here’s a little sample of his “Dating Diary”:

Too many women date men they don’t like. They do it for free food and drinks. They do it because they want to get back at another guy. They do it just for an ego boost.

That’s cruel, ladies. You don’t like being used for sex. We don’t like being used for money. If you are not interested in a man, don’t accept gifts from him- including nights on the town. Expecting a man to throw $100 bucks at dinner and not want some lovin’ afterwards is like dropping a steak on the carpet and expecting your dog not to lick the spot.

Okay, that sounded weird. But you get the idea.

Besides, having dinner together for a first date means you have to watch each other chew food. Nobody needs to see that.

Is it me, or does this sound like old schtick? Why can’t he come up with something more original? Why doesn’t he admit that he makes his dates pay for dinner and then acts like it’s so emasculating? Why doesn’t he say that he doesn’t like being used for sex? It’s always turned around on the woman. And yet, he goes on to say, “I’ve never met a woman who was man enough for me.”

And yeah, I suppose it’s all for show and that nobody’s going to really lay it out there in that kind of forum, but come on. I was hoping to read something funny. Or smart. Or at least different.

Just one more reason to get the hell out. They’re adding up quickly.