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:: 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

Flatch

Smelly Cat


:: part 1 ::

No Socks Guy

The Shrub

spy

25

the yogi

Mr. Playoffs

the dodge

the yawner

Undeclared

the wedding guy

The 40 Year-old Orthopedic Surgeon

Skeletor

Philosophy Guy

Spanking the Yogi


  :: mr. playoffs ::
Mr. Playoffs is the older brother of a college friend. I met him while I was still with my ex-boyfriend but in that bad end phase of a relationship where all you want to do is flirt with other people. He was kind of balding and slightly out of shape but was strangely charismatic. He called me, but I didn’t call him back because I was still moping. Then he called me like a year later out of the blue. I was psyched. We decided to meet at a bookstore near Astor Place. He looked great- he had lost some weight and shaved his head. We had instant chemistry. And he had a very hip East Village tenement with lots of mod dull metal cabinets by some Swedish designer and a bathtub in the kitchen. I think he even called me the day after our date- unheard of in the rules world. Then we scheduled another date. He got sick and had to cancel day of which was annoying. We tried again. Then he had to suddenly go out of town for a wedding. Whatever. Finally we scheduled a second date like six weeks later. It was sadly lacking. We tried half-assedly to schedule a third date. We spoke only through voice mail for like a month. He was out of commission one week because he had friends in town from L.A. and was partying too much “for an old man.” Then he got really busy with work. The last straw was the message he left saying that the next week wasn’t good because the baseball playoffs were on and he’d be watching a lot of TV. He dumped me for the fucking playoffs! I didn’t return his call.