Since I knew I'd be leaving LA within a month, I decided to use the opportunity as a test run for dating in the real world. I haven't been single since I was 16 years old, and if I was gonna crash and burn, I'd rather do it in LA and get it out of the way fast. However, like I said, I HAVEN'T BEEN SINGLE SINCE I WAS 16 YEARS OLD. I had no idea what I was doing, so I went balls-out and selected who I thought was the most attractive candidate: 6'4'', broad-chested, broody, reddish hair and a werewolf. Operation: GingerWolf commenced.
I started like any mature High Schooler by pointing him out to a girlfriend, Rachel. Oh, that's (NAME REDACTED.) I know him- he used to date one of my friends!"
"Sweet," I said. "Introduce us!"
Rachel assured me that I had a good chance, as his last several girlfriends were blondes. I was convinced- I was setting my sites. I would test my wings with GingerWolf.
Unfortunately, we seemed to be starcrossed from the get-go. Rachel and GingerWolf were never there on the same night, so I never got my introduction. With the clock ticking down on the last week, I sucked it up and decided to introduce myself. Even if he laughed in my face, what do I care? I'm Baby Fuckin' Firefly! KAMIKAZE!!!
Me: "Hey, I'm Jaime- I think we're both friends with Rachel?"
Him: "Uh... OK... yeah..."
Me: "She told me you might have a thing for blondes, so I thought I'd try my luck and see if you wanted to come to the diner tonight after work."
Him: "What? Really? Actually, I'm kinda digging brunettes these days..."
Me: "That's cool," I say. "Because I have a hat."
(I put my hat on at a jaunty angle, in demonstration.)
Me: "So should I save you a seat?"
(He pauses for a moment, realizes I'm joking, then laughs.)
Him: "Definitely."
His responses were somewhat slow, and he definitely didn't have the quick wit that I prize, but since I wasn't exactly looking at him for marriage material, I let it slide off my back. I'd gotten a "yes," and that was what I'd wanted. I was mighty pleased with myself.
GingerWolf must've asked around to learn my last name, because later that night, I got a FaceBook message from him appologizing for not showing up- in his words, he was "surprised and turned on by my abrasive invitation." (Does he know what "abrasive" means? I was certainly agressive, but not abrasive. I let my grammar snob cool off and finished reading the message.) "But," (he continues) he has a girlfriend and their relationship is on the rocks- he really wants to get to know me better but he wanted to let me know about his relationship and be up-front and honest. And he was sorry he didn't come to the diner, would I please text him that night and let him know I got the message so he wouldn't feel like a jerk for standing me up.
So I did- I texted him, thanking him for letting me know. I wished him the best of luck with his girlfriend and said something along the lines of "my loss- you're very pretty."
(The text that launched 1,000 texts.)
A flurry of texts came that night from GingerWolf, well into 5:00 in the morning. He texted me his address asking me to come over and "just snuggle," he texted me all about how miserable he was in his "sexless" relationship, on and on and on. Highly amused, flattered and a little bewildered, I kept the conversation going from the comfort of my own bed- ALONE.
But the texts kept coming.
And the phone calls.
Apparently, I had grabbed a tiger by the tail.
GingerWolf told me that he was "on a break" with his girlfriend, and really wanted to see me. He'd dropped out of Horror Nights (like a pussy) because "it was too much work," but kept inviting me to come over at 3AM after I got off so we could talk and get high. He also wants me to send him naked photos of myself.
First of all, I don't get high. It's not my thing. Fine for those who do, but it's not my style. Also, I get drug-tested at a lot of my jobs, so I can't be around that stuff. Second of all, naked photos? Really, GingerWolf? I don't have any naked photos. And if I did, I really wouldn't keep them on my phone. And if I did keep them on my phone, why would I send them to a near-stranger?
"Do u like anal sex?" he texts casually, at around 2AM. There's 2 things wrong with that text: One, NO. and Two, I can't stand it when people text "u." I'm a grammar snob with a tight butthole, what can I say...
It was time to do something about the Pandora's Box I'd opened.
"Send me pics, pleeeez," whined a text.
He then sent me a photo of his wang. Taken from a southern vantagepoint, you could clearly see the entire GingerWang, as well as a daintily held limpwristed hand pulling a t-shirt up over pale ab muscles.
I'd suggested about a week prior that GingerWang and I become FaceBook friends so I wouldn't just view him as a piece of meat, but he had yet to seal that deal, which made me wonder... Plus, Rachel warned me that he was a compulsive cheater, which was why it hadn't worked out with their mutual friend.
I teamed up with one of my housemates, who was pals with GingerWolf on FaceBook, and we selected the girl who posted the most items on his wall- a girl named Katie (NAME REDACTED.) When we viewed her profile, it said she was "In a relationship with FUCKING GINGERWOLF!!!"
Oh! The ignominy! The shame! I'd been LIED to! Had I taken the GingerBait, I would've inadvertantly become someone's Other Woman- not cool, GingerWolf! Not cool!
"So, who is Katie (NAME REDACTED)?," I ask.
Loooong pause.
"Thats the ex," he replies.
"So it's OK if I FB mssg her and make sure it's cool if you and I go out for coffee?"
Immediate response: "NO PLEASE DONT DO THAT!!!"
I took the text photo of his penis as a gift from the Universe, and immediately became That Guy- the reason you DON'T send naked photos to people you don't know very well. Many a friend of mine got a GingerWang text on October 31st reading "Happy Halloweiner!!!"
A daintily held wrist became a popular handshake amongst my inner circle- everyone enjoyed a chuckle about GingerWang, and I washed my hands of it.
About 3 weeks later...
I get a text out of the blue from good 'ol GingerWang, saying how he's sad and he misses me. He asks me out for coffee, "nothing sexual," and just to talk.
I agree, knowing full well that this very blog would only get better if we met face to face.
A few hours later, he texts me asking to come over and cuddle.
"YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND," I respond.
He never asks me for coffee.
However, on my way out of town, I stop at the diner to have brunch with some pals and apparently blazed right past GingerWang on my way out. Naturally, this prompts a text.
"I hate this rain... I'm sorry we never got each other," he says.
I say, "I suspect we value different things."
"Like what?"
"I like rain. And monogamy. Lil things like that. Happy Holidays, (NAME REDACTED)"
And I left it at that. I never got my sex tiger. But I never got an STD, either. Winner winner, chicken dinner.
EPILOGUE
A couple of weeks later, while trying to cheer up a friend, my good pal Chelsea and I got a little drunk. We'd been trying to figure out how to make an Ap out of the dick pic- something that would make it ejaculate confetti on someone's birthday, etc. Chelsea came upon the brilliant plan to text GingerWolf a douchey photo of HER ex, taken distastefully in front of a bathroom mirror in just his undies.
We send it to GingerWang from HER phone (an unknown number to him) with the caption "5'11, 180lbs. Los Angeles area. Wanna meet up?"
We then distracted ourselves texting various pals to see if they had any good dick pics on their phones so we could flood GingerWang with texts of various images and invitations.
My auto-correct made it sound like I was soliciting my guy friends for "Duck Pix?"
Life got in the way, sadly, so we abandoned the pursuit and forgot about it until a few days later when GINGERWANG RESPONDED TO THE TEXT!
In his characteristic bad spelling, he asks (Chelsea) "What will u do?"
Chelsea responds: "Whatever you want."
A day later, GingerWang fires back. "bj."
WHAAAAAAATTTT!!!!
Upon recieving this news, I collapsed to the floor amidst a ton of latent pre-teen giggles.
Chelsea then sent me the biggest, veiniest bastard our harvest had yielded, (a frightening specimen which dwarfed GingerWang's) telling me that she'd forwarded it along to GingerWang with the caption "You First."
And we never heard from him again.
You learn something new every day, kids- but the moral of this tale is this:
IF YOU SEND ME A PHOTO OF YOUR PENIS, I WILL MOST LIKELY BE IRRESPONSIBLE WITH IT.
Also,
I DO NOT CARE FOR ANAL.
I think that about sums it up.
...Duck Pix?
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