The one who was a bad vegan

This a repost of an earlier story. I feel like I might do this from time to time because some of you kinky boot beasts newbies might have not seen some of the older ones and it's fun for me to reread and reshape a little bit.

BUT, for some reason this particular entry has been collecting Japanese spam comments EVERYDAY for the last 5 months, and it's really annoying. So I figure I would just delete it to throw the spammerbot off the trail and then repost rather than trying to delete all 150 comments one by one.

And also, these graphics I've found after googling "bad cheese" are awesome.
---------------------------------------------------------

Have you ever met a vegan that has the worst diet ever? I mean if you’re going to cut out that much protein, you have to replace it with some really good stuff. Also, you have to be really careful and read labels.

I could never do it. I like chicken and cheese too much. And it turns out that being vegan isn’t the best thing for the human body or animal rights anyway. (Not that I don't respect that way of life, I'm happy to admit that I am too lazy.)

Anyway, this guy called himself a vegan and ate Nacho Doritos. ‘Nuff said.

The one who wasn't crazy enough

The Professor was nerdy and cute, just the way I like ‘em. But one thing kept us from really connecting: he just wasn’t that crazy. And I mean crazy in that dirty, playful kind of way.

The Professor was seven years older than me and a math professor at a small Catholic college (a good place for a nice Jewish boy). I met him on that Jewish dating website. His pictures were nothing special, I think what drew me to him was his love for his students. I was in academia once upon a time, so I could definitely relate.

The Professor also loved music.

He sang in a local choir, liked to jam out to Billy Joel and musicals on his keyboard. We bonded over our love for the Camina Burana. He didn’t own a pair of jeans, was allergic to cats and lactose intolerant. He also danced like a white man should. You know, like my Dad.

Sounds like my type right?

He hadn’t had a lot of girlfriends either, surprised? Turns out, The Professor had dated a woman a year before me who he said showed him “the ropes” (remember he was seven year older than me, putting him in his mid 30s). So once he worked up the courage to kiss me, we entered that territory.

We would make out on his couch and then he would say “Want to go inside?” Meaning, “let’s go in the bedroom and get naked.” Whoever this woman was that he dated the year before taught him well in some areas but I don’t know what was going on in others. He was good with his hands, but when it came to “performing” it just wasn’t there. I blamed it on nerves and figured maybe it would get better in time, but no dice.

He just also wasn’t “crazy.” I mean there was no passion in the bedroom, he wasn’t into trying something different and I didn’t know what to make of it. Was The Professor still nervous? Was he just too nerdy? Was he just not comfortable? Was he really a 17 year-old boy and had an aging disease? WHAT? And of course I was too weirded out to ask him. I figured we’d work it out if and when we had to.

What was bizarre about that though is that just being around The Professor physically excited me. So there was definitely something going on there.

We had only been seeing each other for three months and he was scheduled to go away for six weeks for the summer to visit his family. About two weeks before he was supposed to go he had a little picnic in the park with some of his friends. I noticed that he wouldn’t show me any affection in front of them, it was really awkward and it made me very uncomfortable. I didn’t feel this way when I had met his friends before and he hadn't acted in the same way.

I confronted The Professor about this the next day and all he could say is that we didn’t have that "lovely- dovey" vibe he wanted. So I said, well, I’m not waiting around six weeks for us to figure it out. So I guess I’m just going to go home.

And that was that.

And it was okay. I needed to go find me some dorky AND crazy.

I know he's out there somewhere. I keep getting closer and closer to him. I can feel it.

The one who was old and douchey

This is one of my favorite flattering stories. It was one of my best friend’s birthdays and she was celebrating in a restaurant where she had gotten a gift certificate through her job. If it wasn’t for that, I would have not been caught dead in this bougie part of town in this swanky restaurant. I just don’t go to this part of town.

Anyway, we only ordered one bottle of wine because we didn’t want to shell out cash for another bottle. But then the waitress came by with another bottle of wine courtesy of a generous gentleman at another table. She said that he sent a “happy birthday” message to my friend and a special “hello” to me. At that moment I could feel my entire face go red.

Everyone at the table freaked out. Ooooooooo. That guy LIKES you.

Are we adults here or what?

I will call him The Old Man. He was 42. I was 28. Perhaps “Old Man” is a little harsh since he's really not that old. There are other 42 year-olds I would date. But for some reason, being 42 and douchey makes you an Old Man in my book.

The Old Man came over to our table to say hello and chat a little bit with us, but really, chat with ME. I thanked him for making my friend’s birthday a little more special and he gave me a piece of paper with his name and contact info on it. I guess he was nice enough.

“Will you call him?” “You should CALL HIM!”

Thanks guys.

After some cyber-stalking I found out that The Old Man was one of those guys that likes to buy and sell companies and it looked like he had made a lot of money doing it. What do they call them, Venture Capitalists? Totally my type. ha!

I figured "what the hell" and emailed him, thanking him again for the wine. He asked me out to a bar in a much less douchey part of town. Once he started name-dropping and telling me he could hook me up as a music writer, I was flattered, but a little weirded out. He hadn’t even read anything I had written. But I went out with him for a second time anyway. Why? I don't know. Maybe I had nothing else to do.

When The Old Man figured he had buttered me up with his money and connections, this is when he figured he could bag me now, right?

Wrong, sucker. Get your hand off my leg.

Now, I have a friend who’s into rich, powerful guys. It's just her thing. You go girl! After telling her about The Old Man, she was way more interested than I was. But she said, he won’t like me, he likes YOU. But I figured, what the hell, this is a perfect way to get rid of him. In an email, I wrote (and I’m paraphrasing):

“Hey Old Man, thanks for the drinks, but I don’t think it’s going to work out with us. But I have a friend who you might like, interested? If not, no need to reply.”

No reply. Oh well.

Thanks for the wine anyway Old Man!

I leave you with the wise words of Ke$ha's "Dinosaur"

D-I-N-O-S-A U R a dinosaur!
O-L-D-M-A-N You're just an old man!
Hittin on me, what?
You need a CAT scan!