The One Who Double-Dribbled..

* the hang out *

It was a typical night my freshman year of college when a small group of us would get together and go to Barley's, the local Irish bar who let underagers drink, for $1 pizza, and $1 Amberbock draws. My clique of friends would  fill their bellies with beer and grease and then head back to one of the off-campus apartments belonging to a few of the basketball players. We would all cram into their tiny apartment and sit on their questionably stained furniture preparing ourselves to watch the greatest show to have ever aired on television, One Tree Hill. These were the days before DVR and Tivo, so we would always hope that the VCR recorded the correct channel for the allotted time because my week was devastated if I didn't find out what was happening in Tree Hill, North Carolina!

Our group of athletic friends always had a good time getting in trouble together whether we were dancing, bowling, swimming in the bottoms or just watching tv. I attended a private, Southern Baptist college in Tennessee and security sat at the front gate to make sure students didn't stay out past curfew. Now, there were a few small glitches in the system of security. One, if you didn't get your vehicle back on campus grounds by 3am, the driver had to give their last name to put on record. Well, each student got three free passes each semester, so you just had to take turns driving back onto campus grounds. The second glitch was the fact that they only had security at one gate. The southside gate of campus was surrounded by a wide open field with a gate blocking the driveway back into campus. If you drove through the grass around the gate, you were magically back on campus! Also, if for some reason you couldn't get a ride back to campus or a vehicle back to campus before 3am, you could wait until 6am and then gates opened up again! Impressive, I know. 

So there I am awaiting the start of my fun-filled night of OTH, sitting next to the guy I was "seeing" at the moment. I say "seeing" because we never had a DTR (define the relationship) talk before then, and I was a young, impressionable freshman so I didn't want to question my 6'5" big-man-on-campus basketball player in fear that he might break up with me. If only I knew then, what I know now...he was the type of guy who would tell all his buddies that I "belonged" to him, but then when we were at Barley's he would act like he didn't know me because it might make him appear taken. He was also the type, when he wanted to pay attention to me, that would give me money to go buy a round of drinks for him and his friends, and always leave me short a few dollars so I'd have to fork over my own money just so they could get a buzz. He was an all-star player, both on and off the court, accordingly to him, and hanging with that crowd made me part of the cool kids, or so I thought. Not sure if it was the excitement for OTH or the Amberbock that was running through me like a full-court press, but I quickly got up and ran to the closest bathroom, but someone was already in there! So I rushed down the hallway to my man's bathroom to relieve my bladder. Now, I've never been the snoopy girlfriend because more times than not, I've found things that I'd prefer not find. Ignorance is bliss, right?! As I'm sitting on his toilet, I can't help but notice the array of Victoria's Secret scented body wash and lotions. I knew that he always smelled good, but I couldn't remember him ever smelling of Love Spell or Romantic Wish.

I walked back to the living room acting like I didn't see anything and sat down to watch this show I had become addicted to. It was almost as if I was in love with OTH much like people are in brand new relationships, that you see past all the bad qualities in a person because of their infatuation. I looked past the terrible acting and unrealistic story lines, just like I had looked past all the shady things this guy had done to me. Since I didn't want to miss out on the happenings of the Tree Hill Ravens, I waited until after that episode to confront him. He lied of course about having another girlfriend, but eventually one of his fellow basketball teammate's told me that he had a girlfriend in Memphis, and conveniently had me in Jackson. He must have thought since his girlfriends lived in different area codes, he could hide it. I didn't want a real life love triangle like Peyton, Lucas and Brooke to play out in my life, so I quickly ended it with this loser. Turns out he wasn't an all-star player after all, because that girl eventually found out about me and dumped him too about two weeks later. 

R.I.S.P. (rest in syndication peace) OTH!  [teary-eyed]

The One With His Life In The Crapper

This is contributed from a guest blogger sharing her crappy experience. 

Through all the wild, wacky, bourbon-ed and blurred nights of nookie (that I thought might possibly lead to something more), I have managed to stumble into some gems of men. Sometimes these nights led to a date or two. More often than not though, they left me shame-faced and learning to treat men as they often treat women: ignoring phone calls until the wee hours when the liquid libido-enhancer has kicked in, getting in one last hook-up before breaking off a "relationship," and going for the weekend one-two punch (one Friday and one Saturday).   

* the panty dropper of cologne*

By the time my birthday rolled around in July of 2008, I had once again ensnared a "winner" of a man. He drank, he smoked, and he visited the bathroom for some aromatic excursions hourly. I met this swooning chap where all women meet the man of their dreams: the South Port Sports Bar on Army Post Road. For those of you not familiar with Des Moines and it's ranking of "sides," South Port is on the "South-siiieeeeeede" of Des Moines, and I would say that it's deep South. On that fated night, when I ventured into that bar, I picked up the classiest of the super classy Southsiders.   He donned an Affliction button up shirt and wore yellow, motorcycle riding glasses on his head.   He smelled of Curve for Men, and I knew instantly that I wanted to make this douchebag mine. So, with a bat of the eyelashes before leaving this muddy watering hole, I caught his attention, and we exchanged phone numbers.  

Only a week passed before I heard from him, so I knew he was a keeper. I invited him over to my residence which was, at the time, the 1/2 level of a 1 1/2 story house. We had some drinks, and I began to notice that he frequented the bathroom quite often and for no less than 20 minutes each outing. I shrugged it off. Perhaps he had just dined on a gas station tuna fish sandwich and his digestion was not acting appropriately. We partook in some extra-curricular that evening, and I was grossly disappointed in the performance he put in. Turns out that would not be the only thing gross in this relationship.  

After a 45-minute play date with the toilet the next morning, he finally left. I let the room air out for a while. When I finally braved the small bath quarters, I saw that my toilet paper supply had shrunk at least two full rolls in the 10 hours that he had been in my house! I don't go with the thin toilet paper either, this was Cottonelle that was hemorrhaged to the sewers of Des Moines.   

We went out a few more times, and the dedication he showed to the restrooms of any given establishment far out-weighed any dedication he showed to me. Whenever he came over, I had to make sure there was several backup rolls available for him. Between his smoking and colon evacuations, I hardly saw him when we did go out. I tried to look past his physical flaw, but it turns out that wasn't the only "crappy" thing about him. He just was not a nice guy.

It finally came time for his swan song, and it was a stinker. On the evening of my birthday, he met up with my friends and me about an hour before bar close. Though he is not a man of many words, he proceeded to talk shit about me to my friends when I wasn't around and then sat at the bar alone for the rest of the evening. By night's end, all that I had on my mind was getting my "present" and getting him gone. We left and headed toward the cemetery. We laid down a blanket among the tombstones near the pond and proceeded to have lousy, disappointing sex. After less than a minute passed, the misery ended and we had to evacuate the area so he could evacuate his bowels. Happy birthday to me!

I never spoke to him again, nor did I ever frequent South Port again. While I'm sure that his digestion's uproarious antics were not his fault, it led me to believe that karma truly does exist. For every shitty thing that came out his mouth... it exited 10-fold out his ass.

Top 20 Guys Without A Chance

Accounting for the winners, and mostly losers I've dated in the past, my closest girlfriends helped compile a list of deal breakers we've made into standards of dating . Most guys who portrayed one or more of these characteristics either didn't make it past the first date, or if he did, he isn't worth telling a story about. Here is a list of guys who do not stand a chance with us, ever, in this lifetime, again.

TOP 20 TYPES OF GUYS WHO HAVE A BETTER CHANCE WITH MARY CAREY 

1. The ones who send pictures of themselves without a shirt on...or pants for that matter - It turns on guys to get nudey pics, but it does just about the exact opposite for most girls. 

2. The ones who ask you on a date, but don't pay for you - Starbucks can be pricey, but even your minimum-wage job can afford to buy me a grande skinny vanilla latte. 

*my guilty pleasure*

3. The ones who wear Affliction t-shirts - Urban Dictionary even agrees with me.

4. The ones who collect suggested porn websites written on sticky-notes from guys at work - Next time take it out of your pants pocket before laundry day, dumb ass! 

5. The ones who are attracted to the same sex - ...even if they wear sweet t-shirts from Raygun.

6. The ones who live with their parents..when they are 30 years old.

7. The ones who know how to make a license plate...meaning, they are locked up! - Thanks for my license plate. Let me spend some more tax dollars so you can watch television all day.

8. The ones who are unemployed...for no good reason.

9. The one you call "boss" at your place of employment - Hey, he has a job...but still a deal breaker!

10. The ones who listen to too much Linkin Park or Nickelback - "Cause we all just wannabe big, rock stars.." Yeah, I get it, you like crappy music. 

11. The ones who jokingly threaten to "knock the shit out of you" - Yeah, because that's a hilarious joke, you big jokester. And by jokester, I mean d*ckhole. 

12. The ones who take showers with other girls - OOOh, I get it, you were just trying to conserve water...still not okay. 

13. The ones who forget your birthday - It happens once a year, even Facebook wishes me "Happy Birthday."

*sweet tat*

14. The ones who tattoo their best friend's face on their buttcheek - Not my proudest moment. [insert shamed face]

15. The ones who always want to borrow your car.

16. The one who is a bad kisser. 

17. The one who considers himself a "cat man" - Cough, ahem, HAIRBALL, cough!

18. The one who likes any professional sports team more than you. 

19. The one who buys you a gift then steals it back for his "new" girlfriend. 

And lastly, channeling my inner-Marilyn. I am guilty of pushing many of men's buttons so to speak, in order to see how long they'll put up with me and my shenanigans. So to me, the worst deal breaker of all is "the ones with bad tempers." 

Any guy possessing any/all of these qualities most likely has a link missing from his chain. If that's the case, he has a better chance of scoring with Mary Carey at Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew (who conveniently always wears dress shirts that perfectly hug his biceps) than with my friends or me. 

The One With Old Balls...And A Big Heart

*age doesn't matter for this beautiful couple*

I've always said age is just a number when it comes to dating. Two of my very best friends have dated and married men who happen to be at least 10 years older than they are, and they're extremely happy. I still believe this whole-heartedly as a rule for my dating life, however, now there is a few exceptions to the rule. Age is just a number, unless they are older than my oldest brother; he's seven years older than me. Age is just a number, unless my 3 year old niece, Bennett, is smarter than the potential suitor. Age is just a number, unless he still refers to my mom as Mrs. Borich, his favorite math teacher, or my dad, Coach Borich, as his golf coach. The age difference between the oldest guy  and the youngest guy I've gone on a dates  with is 18 years.

*working hard promoting Select 55*

When I found out my summer task was to work events with one of my seemingly much-older coworkers, Carlos, I thought it would be super lame! My first "big girl" job was to act pretty and hand out free beers to people and give them beads, bottle openers and shirts and other useless junk to promote new beverages into the market for Anheuser-Busch. Obviously, my college degree came in handy! Although, that's sarcasm, I shouldn't complain because that job opened up numerous doors for me and opportunities, as well as, provided me a few good stories (two so far) to post in this blog.  Every Wednesday I would work a string a bike nights throughout the Des Moines and surrounding area. I planned my last stop at a bike night not too far from my house so I could conveniently stumble home at some point after "work". I started to become pretty good friends with Carlos, who managed that particular last-stop bike night, and we eventually  started hanging out pretty often. By the looks of him, I could tell he wasn't my age but he's pretty active and good looking, and he had a youthful spirit, so I asked him one night how old he was. Eek...he was 14 years older than me! That freaked me out at first. Then we started playing the game, "Where were you when I was...8, 16, 21, etc." It became comical to think we could be such close friends with such a big age difference. 

Then one night, he asked me out to a Iowa Barnstormers arena football game with a few of his friends. People from work saw us together and it sparked rumors that we were "together." It made me mad at first because I didn't want people thinking I was dating some dude with "old balls," but after a month or so, I just let it roll off my shoulders and let people believe whatever they wanted to believe.

After work one day, I was with another girl from work at the local watering hole we call, Big Dogs, and he stopped by to say "hi". He had text me and told me to come out to the parking lot, because he didn't want to come inside. When I walked outside with my girlfriend to his pimpin' Oldsmobile and approached the window, like a cheap shot across the face, I unexpectantly noticed his three kids in the backseat eating candy and chips. Now at this point, I quickly calmed myself and thought this shouldn't be a big deal meeting his kids because we're just friends. However, as time went on and more bike nights happened, his daughters would accompany him, and I started to get to know them. The kids and I would take our dogs to the dog park together and go down the slides together at the playground. He is an amazing father and it was a little bit cute how he interacted with his kids. I overheard them calling me their daddy's girlfriend...and that's when I realized this might be a big deal.  

Before I knew it, our friendship did appear like we were dating, and Carlos had given me such a new, positive outlook on life. Was I dating a DILF? His sarcasm easily brightened my day when work was rough, and he cheered me up when I was having stressful custody issues with my ex over my dog.Then, we shared our first kiss one twisted night sitting on top of an outside air conditioning unit behind a small town bar that was know for their spiked apple cider (delicious!). Although I'd like to think it was just the cider playing games with my head, I didn't get those warm, fuzzy feelings (especially not from an air conditioning unit, but my butt was drenched from the perspiration) that is necessary in a long-lasting relationship. We shared a few more kisses, but eventually the friendship reigned more supreme than a romantic relationship.When I saw the light, I realized this friendship was something to hold on to, rather than to rush into a forced cookie-cutter, suburban life because I wasn't prepared for a ready-made family. Heck, I was 22, and still a kid myself, there was no way I could play a mother figure to three witty, beautiful kids. As much as I want a man who is ready to settle down and treat me sweetly like Carlos did/does, I also knew at that point in my life, there was no way I could give him what he needed in a significant other. When I would be experiencing the joys of my first newborn, he'd be experiencing his fourth child. When I would be at the height of my career, he'd be preparing for retirement. When I would be experiencing menopause, he'd be getting his diaper changed in a nursing home. For these reason, I knew it wouldn't work for Carlos and me. 

I posted about Carlos, not to rag on him or his age, but to point out that people of various ages come into our lives for many different reasons. Carlos and his kids made me realized that at 22 I was not ready for a husband and kids, but actually confirmed to me that I do want that someday, and someday soon. I liked being the young, fun role model in the kids' lives. Even though it was short-lived, I'd like to think we are an example of what good friends people can be to each other, no matter what their age. To be fair, every time we see each other, a spark ignites reminding me of the great friendship we have and we can pick up our conversation from where we last left it. Also to be fair, he doesn't have "old balls"....I don't think.