:: part 3 ::

Robert Frost

Class of 2000

:: part 2 ::

Update: Post-Traumatic Dating Disorder (PTDD)

The Republican

The Deceiver

The Absolute Worst Date Ever

Mr. Migraine

Little Side Burn Guy

The Hanger On


Smelly Cat

:: part 1 ::

No Socks Guy

The Shrub



the yogi

Mr. Playoffs

the dodge

the yawner


the wedding guy

The 40 Year-old Orthopedic Surgeon


Philosophy Guy

Spanking the Yogi

  :: class of 2000 ::
I was crashing a tony magazine party with some friends of mine. My kevorka was on full steam that night and I started chatting up this cute kid across the bar.
Turns out he was a graduate of the Y--- School but our name game was short lived due to the uh, 6 year age gap. That's Ms. Robinson to you, babe.

Cut to later that evening after much talking and much more drinking: we pull up in a cab in front of a building which was coincidentally the residence of a certain source of a MAJOR PUBLIC SCANDAL. There are TV cameras and journalists camped out in front of the building! Nice! That's right, nothing to see here, I'm just his babysitter!
So we run up to his apartment, large, unkempt and undecorated; the most noticeable features being the home entertainment center and the body fat measuring scale in the bathroom(!). He has more closet space then anyone.

We are - how do you say - getting down. and I can't help but entertain myself at his expense: "You have a huge.. [I breathe heavily]..closet.." I crack myself up.
Well, one outta two ain't bad.

I wake up with a start at 6AM. I's stiflingly hot.

The child is deep in slumber. Jesus! One thought is overriding my brain: MUST GET OUT!

Easier said than done. Having worn a rather complicated outfit the previous evening, I could locate my shirt & pants & one fishnet stocking.

List of the Conspicuously Missing:
panties, pearl necklace, and the other thigh-high fishnet.

I locate the fishnet with the pearls hooked onto it the between the baseboard and the end of the bed and start to slowly pull it out from the top of the bed.

Bad idea. The pearls drag on the hard wood floor.
A veritable cacophony in the silence I am trying my damnest to maintain. Plan B. I get off the bed and cross around to the outside of the baseboard to pull the stocking out from under the bed. I bend down.
My knees crack loudly.

OK, reality check time.

If the cartilage in my knees is cracking loud enough to wake this child up, I am TOO OLD TO BE HAVING A ONE NIGHT STAND.

I persevere. Finally, fishnet and pearls in hand, I sacrifice the panties and my pride, scrawl a quick "thank you for a funky time" note as the child snores, and before I know it, I am sighing with relief on the subway ride of shame home.

Dating Karma Rating: +50 for making that kid's millennium, but the hasty exit knocks it down by 9 points.
Total = 40.5

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