Dry Spell No Longer

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. It is official. Awkward Dry Spell has broken her snap...with this winner. At first glance, you may think to yourself: 

"Hmmm. He doesn't look too bad. Frattastic flannel paired with a perfectly poured dark draft. Could do worse, right??"

WRONG, WRONG, WRONG...TERRIBLY WRONG!!! (sorry, girl.) Allow me to lay this one up with this photo:

Homeboy chewed on rocks growing up. Now, normally I wouldn't be so rude and judgmental, but once you get an earful of this story...you will tend to agree.

What started off as a "night in" with ADS and OD turned into blackout binge eating butterfingerz at 5am wearing a onesie. Hawt. BDH was visiting her "long distance relationship" for the weekend, so it left just us two. We casually decided to stay in and watch movies (American Psycho...duh)  after a solid workout at NYSC. Self help day, if you will. But, Hane sucked us in...again. That place is a black hole, I swear. Half priced drinks and cheap delicious sushi is a win-win in my book. (Thank you, Asia)

After 4 Pom Martinis, we decided to meet my college frat stars out in the West Village. It was fun...for a few minutes. Then we all hopped in a car and headed uptown to drop the boys off at their temporary sleeping arrangements. ADS and I were clearly ready to rage our faces of...so we did. But what bar? We were around 84th street. Dorrians, duh. Guilty pleasure #1. I have heard many myths of this establishment. I've even heard that the Dorrians crowd is synonymous with Bowery Electric, and Brother Jimmy's in Murray Hill. I was sold.

ADS and I start trotting to the bar. The pace picks up in anticipation. Once we arrive, our expectations are exceeded. Attractive bros? Furreal?? I caught myself eye-fucking the same doucher about ten times in five minutes. Things were looking pretty promising. Unfortunately, upon our grand entrance (at 230am, perfect timing for Hail Marys) I run into an old friend from my teenage years, and he proceeds to monopolized ADS and me. He was definitely coked out of his mind, and his terrible breath really didn't help the close talking that was goin' on. This guy was relentless...not leaving us alone. This night went from first class to coach real quick. We had to leave.

One last gulp of my brew, and I was ready to make my exit and try to throw a Hail Mary with the doucher. But wait, I was intercepted. This kid and his pal swoop in on us. I entertain the underage finance wannabe for a few minutes as I see ADS is engaged in conversation. Wait...could this be??!! A DFMO. DANCE FLOOR MAKE OUT EVERYONE!!! Holy hell. My dreams have come true. I flip a switch in a second and go on wingman autopilot. I like where this is going. Pre-pubescent boy tries to get aggressive and test the waters. He says we should all go back together. ADS is DTF. So I play along. Homegirl just needs this one piece of ass (however flabby it may be) to get her back into gear.I'm all for it. ADS' bro claims he has a "Penthouse". I immediately flash back to the American Psycho flick I had just watched. This could get weird. ADS and I chat it over with a simple head nod. We know wassup. We all hop in a cab.

Sean/John (still not sure of his name...let's call him P. Diddy. makes sense, right?) speaks over the two of us in the back seat and says to my choir-boy,

"Wait Dan, is this a good idea?" 

I said "WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, SERIOUSLY?!" 

He then attempts to silence the women in the car and kept asking the question. Dude, you're ugly...we're not. Obvi. I start getting heated. ADS is too blackout to notice anything but P Diddy's hand going down her shirt. Woof. Dan then covers it up and says something sweet about us and we all pretend like it never happened. I'm quickly starting to hate this guy. But, I'm putting up with it bc ADS needs this. I'm taking one for the team...hard.

So P Diddy's "penthouse" is nothing but a regular NYC apt in Tudor City with a balcony. Biggest. Disappointment. Ever. I am uninterested and the conversation goes south quick. He thinks he knows everything about everything and won't stop talking about his I Banking gig he has. Dude, we're all in Finance in this shitty excuse for an apt right now. Get over yourself. I am now uninterested and trying to plan my exit. I literally just walked out of the apt. Wow, that was easy. I get home, binge, put on some cozy pjs, and fall asleep at 6am. Perfection.

Well. 10:30am rolls around and I wake up. I immediately call ADS and I am thrilled she has gotten a GC under her belt. (Gentleman Caller for those who don't know.) She walk of shames back to my apt and we rehash the night. We're slowly piecing this story together and ADS just realizes that P Diddy is the exact bro that got into a fight with her roommate earlier on this year. This guy is THE WORST. Literally it was a heated argument probably followed by some windmill punches. 

Now on to the real reason why I wanted to make this a "Blopic". Well, I log on to match.com tonight and who do I see winked me?? None other than:

Let me give you a few of my personal favorite quotes off of his profile:

"I am an alumnus of a top undergraduate institution, and currently working as an investment banker in Manhattan. I work long hours, but am genuinely interested in what I do."

TOOT, TOOT! Yep, you're definitely cool. Yep, I want to fuck you now that I've read that sentence. Vom.

"I would characterize myself as a classic, romantic kind of guy" 

Yeah, one that silences bittys and asks fellow bro if "this is a good idea" right in front of the meat he was trying to get a piece of that night.

This is absurd. I do not want to vent any longer. I am just glad that ADS has gotten out of her DS. But, I think has gotten more awkward because of it. Wahhhhhhh. 

Let's ask ADS to blog about her new found obsession of match.com. Yes folks, I have officially introduced her to the glorious world of online dating. I can't wait to see where this goes...

xoxo,

Online Dater