I've decided to start a new label for my blog titled, "My Biggest Dating Mistakes," and I thought it would be best to start my new blog label with my latest dating disaster - the 40 year old Greek.
Throughout my dating experience, I've encountered my share of losers, douchebags, and biggest mistakes - you can say that my dating CV is pretty extensive; every freak you can think of, I might have have dated or gone out with. At one point, my friends used to nickname me the "Freak Magnet" and that is no compliment! So you'd be surprised to know that I was not shocked to find out that my latest flavor of the month (I had chosen to go Greek this time) was nothing more than a major pain in my neck and hence here he is in in the Biggest Dating Mistakes I have made in my journey to find the 'One'.
If there is one thing I've learned from my dating experiences is this (1) older men are kinky bastards and one needs to tread that path carefully and (2) men with accents, no matter how sexy they sound, sputter more bullshit than anything else. Mr. Greek did not fail to meet those criteria! So there I was, for once deciding to study at Starbucks in Downtown - in all honesty, I wasn't really studying; I was more people watching - and before I knew it, Mr. Greek walked right up to me and took a seat in the empty chair opposite of me. I would be lying if I didn't say that I wasn't impressed by his ballsy move and then, with his heavy accented English he said, "Hello honey, let me get to know you." He added a wink for emphasis.
Gag... But seeing how bored I was, I thought I could use the entertainment - a sort of pass the time until I was done "studying".
Within the next fifteen minutes, Mr. Greek thought he should tell me his entire life-story: I was enlightened to know about his whole family tree (Stifling a yawn), his first wet-dream, his first sexual encounter (apparently it was when he was 10 - do guys even ejaculate at that age?), and about the sibling rivalry between him and his brothers. Of course, Mr. Greek thought I would be impressed by him telling me about his sexual conquests.
Um... A little note to all you guys: Talking about your sexual conquests does NOT make you more attractive, in fact it just shows that you are a pervert. Also, just because I'm a psychologist it doesn't mean you get to shit your problems on me - Go have a verbal dump elsewhere, thank you.
Throughout our (um... more like his monologue) conversation, he kept on throwing sexual innuendos at me; such as: "Let me help you study my body." [Wink, wink]
No thanks, I'll think I'll pass...
However, I was interested in seeing how far this little meeting would go; so we decided to exchange numbers. Mr. Greek told me his name is Antonio and that he is 45 - but between us, he looked much older.
The next day, Antonio messaged me and said that we should meet up for drinks in Gemz (that's what I'm calling Gemmazeh these days - pretty neat, huh?). We decided to have a nightcap in some dark pub. In our own little corner, Antonio told me that his name is in fact Georges and that he is 50 - also, everything that he had told me the day before suddenly changed.
Red flag anyone?
Again, more sexual comments; my favorite is when he leaned towards me and whispered in my ear (what I'm thinking he assumed to be sexy), "Let's go back to my place and let me drill a hole in your ass." For some reason, that cracked me up. When I told him that that would be pretty unnecessary since I already have a hole why would I need another one, he frowned and said, "I don't understand."
Yeah... I wasn't surprised.
I spent the rest of the evening, gently pushing him off me, and laughing whenever he suggested he drill more holes in other parts of my body... He's a real charmer this one!
On our third date - yes, I kept on going back for more... I'm masochistic - Antonio/Georges threw another bombshell in my face; his name this time was Alexandros and he is 52 years old.
Okay, another red flag anyone?
As we sat in the back booth of a restaurant in Monot, I realized that my short (very short) courtship with Whatever-His-Real-Name-Is had truly run its course; I had tuned him out most of the time, and in fact, I reached level 12 on the Word-Mole game on my BlackBerry (a real success in my opinion - and that was the highlight of my evening). As the waiter placed the bill on the table - by that time I had decided to thank God for answering my prayers - Mr. Cheesy Greek guy leaned over and said to me, "How about I pay for dinner, and you can give me dessert in your car." [Wink, Wink]
Hurl.
In the past, when I was young and naive - Awww... how long ago those days seem to be, I miss being that dumb sometimes - I might have swooned at all the bullshit that he said. He did nothing but compliment me; saying that I was the most handsome guy that he has ever seen. But how many other guys did he feed the same crap to? Did he think I didn't know he was just trying to get into my pants? He thought he was a pro, when in fact he was nothing more than a stupid amateur; Please bitch! I've dealt with worse fuckbags than you.
As I watched him lick his lips; he had a piece of black sesame seed stuck in his tooth, I realized that I've become so mistrustful of men - I've surrounded my heart with a metal fortress that has become impenetrable; and that, I think, is pretty sad to realize.
He followed me to my car, spanking me on my ass more than twice, and licking his lips. Once we reached my car though, I turned to him and said, "Lose my number and don't bother me again." The stunned look on his face was priceless. He literally stood there, mouth open. He probably thought he was being so suave, so debonair. He probably used all of the oldest tricks in the book: he complimented me every chance he got; gave me the "I'm so lonely excuse"; the "I have nobody in Beirut" excuse; the "I want to be more than just sex" excuse; and my all time favorite excuse of all, "I want to make love to you, not fuck you".
And just like Greece's failing economy, Mr. Greek failed to get into my pants.
Throughout my dating experience, I've encountered my share of losers, douchebags, and biggest mistakes - you can say that my dating CV is pretty extensive; every freak you can think of, I might have have dated or gone out with. At one point, my friends used to nickname me the "Freak Magnet" and that is no compliment! So you'd be surprised to know that I was not shocked to find out that my latest flavor of the month (I had chosen to go Greek this time) was nothing more than a major pain in my neck and hence here he is in in the Biggest Dating Mistakes I have made in my journey to find the 'One'.
If there is one thing I've learned from my dating experiences is this (1) older men are kinky bastards and one needs to tread that path carefully and (2) men with accents, no matter how sexy they sound, sputter more bullshit than anything else. Mr. Greek did not fail to meet those criteria! So there I was, for once deciding to study at Starbucks in Downtown - in all honesty, I wasn't really studying; I was more people watching - and before I knew it, Mr. Greek walked right up to me and took a seat in the empty chair opposite of me. I would be lying if I didn't say that I wasn't impressed by his ballsy move and then, with his heavy accented English he said, "Hello honey, let me get to know you." He added a wink for emphasis.
Gag... But seeing how bored I was, I thought I could use the entertainment - a sort of pass the time until I was done "studying".
Within the next fifteen minutes, Mr. Greek thought he should tell me his entire life-story: I was enlightened to know about his whole family tree (Stifling a yawn), his first wet-dream, his first sexual encounter (apparently it was when he was 10 - do guys even ejaculate at that age?), and about the sibling rivalry between him and his brothers. Of course, Mr. Greek thought I would be impressed by him telling me about his sexual conquests.
Um... A little note to all you guys: Talking about your sexual conquests does NOT make you more attractive, in fact it just shows that you are a pervert. Also, just because I'm a psychologist it doesn't mean you get to shit your problems on me - Go have a verbal dump elsewhere, thank you.
Throughout our (um... more like his monologue) conversation, he kept on throwing sexual innuendos at me; such as: "Let me help you study my body." [Wink, wink]
No thanks, I'll think I'll pass...
However, I was interested in seeing how far this little meeting would go; so we decided to exchange numbers. Mr. Greek told me his name is Antonio and that he is 45 - but between us, he looked much older.
The next day, Antonio messaged me and said that we should meet up for drinks in Gemz (that's what I'm calling Gemmazeh these days - pretty neat, huh?). We decided to have a nightcap in some dark pub. In our own little corner, Antonio told me that his name is in fact Georges and that he is 50 - also, everything that he had told me the day before suddenly changed.
Red flag anyone?
Again, more sexual comments; my favorite is when he leaned towards me and whispered in my ear (what I'm thinking he assumed to be sexy), "Let's go back to my place and let me drill a hole in your ass." For some reason, that cracked me up. When I told him that that would be pretty unnecessary since I already have a hole why would I need another one, he frowned and said, "I don't understand."
Yeah... I wasn't surprised.
I spent the rest of the evening, gently pushing him off me, and laughing whenever he suggested he drill more holes in other parts of my body... He's a real charmer this one!
On our third date - yes, I kept on going back for more... I'm masochistic - Antonio/Georges threw another bombshell in my face; his name this time was Alexandros and he is 52 years old.
Okay, another red flag anyone?
As we sat in the back booth of a restaurant in Monot, I realized that my short (very short) courtship with Whatever-His-Real-Name-Is had truly run its course; I had tuned him out most of the time, and in fact, I reached level 12 on the Word-Mole game on my BlackBerry (a real success in my opinion - and that was the highlight of my evening). As the waiter placed the bill on the table - by that time I had decided to thank God for answering my prayers - Mr. Cheesy Greek guy leaned over and said to me, "How about I pay for dinner, and you can give me dessert in your car." [Wink, Wink]
Hurl.
In the past, when I was young and naive - Awww... how long ago those days seem to be, I miss being that dumb sometimes - I might have swooned at all the bullshit that he said. He did nothing but compliment me; saying that I was the most handsome guy that he has ever seen. But how many other guys did he feed the same crap to? Did he think I didn't know he was just trying to get into my pants? He thought he was a pro, when in fact he was nothing more than a stupid amateur; Please bitch! I've dealt with worse fuckbags than you.
As I watched him lick his lips; he had a piece of black sesame seed stuck in his tooth, I realized that I've become so mistrustful of men - I've surrounded my heart with a metal fortress that has become impenetrable; and that, I think, is pretty sad to realize.
He followed me to my car, spanking me on my ass more than twice, and licking his lips. Once we reached my car though, I turned to him and said, "Lose my number and don't bother me again." The stunned look on his face was priceless. He literally stood there, mouth open. He probably thought he was being so suave, so debonair. He probably used all of the oldest tricks in the book: he complimented me every chance he got; gave me the "I'm so lonely excuse"; the "I have nobody in Beirut" excuse; the "I want to be more than just sex" excuse; and my all time favorite excuse of all, "I want to make love to you, not fuck you".
And just like Greece's failing economy, Mr. Greek failed to get into my pants.
