Thursday, 10 September 2015

Mr Sweatpants.

I haven't posted in a bit because I went on exactly 3 dates with exactly 3 losers in 2014 and it was so depressing I almost couldn't write about it. But I just got home from another disgusting waste of time date, so I was like... ok... what's in the archives?

Mr. Sweatpants. 

I found myself shopping checking online on the dating sites to see what's what. Not much to be honest. I find that on sites like "Plenty of Fish" people click the "Christian" box when they are a) not catholic, b) think they should click it so they can go to heaven, or c) click it so they get more people looking at their profiles. Either way if someone makes no mention of God in their profile, I usually skip it. We talk about what's important to us and I feel like that should be on there.

I exchanged a few emails with a guy... lets call him Mr. Sweatpants. He seemed nice, normal, a little boring but it's honestly hard to tell without meeting someone in person. I just like to get it over with asap, so since I found myself working at an outdoor festival this summer- I was like hey come on by and say hi! (Not my best move...)

He said that he would come check out the festival, and I showed my friends his profile picture and said to watch out for him. Unfortunately they saw him before I did! They told me they saw a guy in sweatpants riding a bike around. Oh man. Sweatpants? I don't know the logic behind that decision.

I'm not a guy, but... would you think it makes a good impression to
a) be dressed like a 5 year old child?
b) give the impression you have been sweating?
c) have a pork sword flopping around like that?

And no... they weren't cool sweatpants as per the fall 2014 fashion season. They were forrest green and didn't match his shirt. So I am pretty much automatically turned off by this. No effort at all to look nice or clean when you meet someone. Plus, he rode his bike right in my booth, (NO!) and interrupted me with customers, and basically made an A.D.D nuisance of himself. After a long, boring monologue about a forklift... he got on his bike and rode away. But then he came by and offered me some fruit. I don't know where he got the fruit, but I know better than to accept fruit from a guy in sweatpants on a bike. And I never saw him again.

Fast Forward a year later... and my friends saw him milling around at my work, so what do I do? I hide under my table.