If The Shoe Stinks

Forgive me followers for I have sinned – it’s been a while since my last dating confession.  A loooong while in fact.  But after a stint of being dead inside, my cold black heart is back on the dating scene and boy do I have a story for you.  This is the story to end all dating stories.  The story to bring the blog back from the grave.  Enjoy fam!

I hadn’t been on a date in over 8 months and I was feeling like I was ready to put myself out there again.  I was missing the drama of having a man in my life and someone to get excited about.  So I downloaded Plenty of Fish (POF) off the back of a  a friend’s recommendation – she had met her partner on there and at this point, literally ANYTHING was better than Tinder.

I went in guns blazing: three dates in four days, and then another 20 mini dates via speed dating the following week.

Everyone was saying, “Wow what’s going on, you went from zero to 100 really quick?”  Yeah well, the clock is ticking okay guys?  I’m a few years away from living in a cat sanctuary,

Date number 1 went quite well (and I was seeing him for 8 weeks before he turned into a stage 8… but I digress – that is a  story for another time, another blog).

Date number 2 was probably one of the worst dates I’ve ever been on.  He was a guy from NYC who had just moved here.  I met him at a bar and realized instantly he didn’t look like he did in his pics (aka he was not attractive), he had bad breath (the ultimate deal breaker), he had lied on his profile about a number of things and to top everything off he didn’t offer to buy me a drink, he didn’t even get a drink for himself (?!) he just sat there awkwardly while I drank my margarita.

During our brief conversation I ascertained that he “didn’t really go out much” and preferred to stay home, play video games and smoke weed.

Fail.

He also told me that he was “hustling” and “grinding” in order to save for a trip to Bali.  I’m sorry, but if you’re in your 30s and are struggling to just scrape together $1,000 to go to one of the most inexpensive holiday destinations then something is very wrong.  At this point I knew it wasn’t going anywhere with this loser and started to formulate an exit strategy.

After 20 minutes of strained, pointless conversation, I thought I’d go out with a bang.  I started talking about all my gay friends and how I was quite into the gay scene.  He looked at me confused, “So you like women?” to which I replied “No, I like gay men!”  He looked at me puzzled and without missing a beat I announced I was going to the bathroom.

I’m not sure if anyone here is familiar with The Bearded Tit in Redfern but there is only one entry and exit point.  The toilets are out the back and the exit is at the front.  Essentially, it’s a lare, and I was going to have to get past him to escape.

At this point though, I gave zero f*cks, so I picked up my bag and walked straight past him out the front door.  For all he knew the toilets were only accessible via the front.

Once outside, I took off my heels and physically ran, uphill, in the rain (oh the drama) as fast as I could to escape.  When I got far enough away to feel safe that he wasn’t coming after me I stopped, put my shoes back on, got out my phone and text him.

“Sorry (name), wasn’t feeling it, had to run (actually though).  Good luck with everything”

And proceeded to block him so he could never contact me again.  Bye Felipe.

So date number 3 – the motherload.

I wasn’t going to be trapped in a cabinet again so I picked a pub with multiple exit points in case I needed to pull a Houdini.

I had already gotten pre-approval from the gays on this guy’s looks, so I was feeling optimistic when it came to him physically, at least.

He arrived on time and was cute, well dressed, well-spoken and nice.

But like many that had gone before him, he was great on paper but had no edge.  He worked in income protection/risk assessment  and was just a little too straighty 180 squeaky clean for me.  He chose his words very carefully and I kinda just wanted to grab him by the collar of his shirt and  shake him – get him to  loosen up a bit.

All that being said, tthe date was going a hell of a lot better than the one the evening before, and I was enjoying myself ever so slightly so we kept drinking for the next four hours.  I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was 8pm so I was blind… So blind that I accidentally let it slip that I wasn’t that interested in him.  I basically said something along the lines of, “I think we may  just be too different, you wouldn’t survive in my world with the gays, and I wouldn’t survive in your squeaky clean one –  it would never work”.  He seemed more upset by this information than I would have hoped and said that he couldn’t believe that he was being friend zoned.  He looked so crestfallen, that  I said “Well maybe we should kiss, just to see, like as an experiment?”

Look, don’t judge me.  a) I was very drunk, let’s be real and b) I like to keep them guessing – like is she into me, is she not, will I see her again, what’s going to happen next??  It’s like extreme dating. c) I’m deranged.

 

So I pashed him across the table.  We ended up making out quite aggressively when saying our goodbyes out the front of this pub to the point that someone yelled “Get a room”.  He asked to come home with me but I flatly refused – it was a school night after all.  He then asked “Do you want to see me again?” and I replied “Look just message me tomorrow when I’m sober”.

Within 3 minutes he had text me a winky face emoji so he was definitely keen as mustard (or DTF).

As requested, he followed up the next evening asking me if I was attracted to him.  I was with my housemates James & Owen at the time and they were both witness to the entire correspondence.  Owen (aka my ghost writer) instructed me to write “Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet” to which he replied “What do you mean?” So (Owen) wrote, “You’re way too nice for me but I wouldn’t mind having a go of that body”.

What followed after this was beyond anything I could have imagined.

pof1

So he’s a shoe creep.

shoe dog

I went along with it, out of interest and for that cash money yo!

pof2

 

Owen literally ran out of the house screaming.  Gives whole new meaning to the words “I’m gone, I’m leaving, my wig is out the door, I’ve left the country”.

He went on – requesting the type of shoe, pics of the shoes, pics of me in the shoes, etc.  The shoes were valuable to him because they had a story behind them.  He wasn’t just buying some random’s shoes from St. Vinnies, he was attracted to the wearer and he liked to have the back story to the shoe he was about to get jiggy with.

pof3  pof3.1  justputthemon.jpg

Meanwhile I hadn’t worn these particular mules in over 8 months, they had been under my bed collecting DUST and they had no odour whatsoever.  In an attempt to get these bad boys “odorous” for my waiting client, they were back in my repertoire.  I was wearing them on the daily and I soon remembered why I stopped – the blisters were nek lev.  I was killing myself in these shoes to score the three hundred.

The shoes took over all of our lives.  Daily snap chats ensued of the shoes being worn to the park, me wearing them to dinner straight from F45, and Owen wearing them with his gym socks on.  I even put them in a plastic bag for days with stinky socks but alas, the shoes still did not smell.

It didn’t matter so much though because the exchange was getting more and more tedious by the day.  He asked if he could also lick my feet for the $300.  I said no.  Then he brought up the fact that his father was sick and asked for a discount.  I held fast with my price.  This was a high-end product he was receiving (LOL)

lick1  dad1

This correspondence went on and on and on with no end in sight.  He texted the below:

tight

By then, I’d had enough.  We had been texting on the reg for weeks about this exchange.  Either shit or get off the pot, mate.  I don’t like you boy.  This is a business exchange now and you made it that way.

As you can see from the screenshots, I had basically ‘ruined the deal’ by calling him a tight ass.  Four days passed with no contact (which was very rare for ol’ shoey) so I thought I may as well have some fun with it and sent the following picture to pique his interest once again.

do-these-stink.pngdo-these-stink2.pngdo-these-stink3.png

Obviously never to be heard from again.  But after getting a bit carried away with my friends on a drunk weekend to follow, this was sent:

do-these-stink5.pngdo these stink6

Even after BLATANTLY making fun of him he still wanted to buy the ballet flats… DO THESE STINK?

Was this real life????

Anyway, contact was cut, laughs were had and eventually months passed by.

THEN, my friend (who didn’t know anything about this story) sent this through…

tammy shoetammy-shoe1.jpgtammy-shoe2.jpgtammy-shoe3.jpg

Turns out it was the SAME GUY.  As we compared stories we realised it was the same dialogue WORD FOR WORD.  Asking for a cheaper pair, mentioning the dying father, getting salty when we turned down his offer to lick our feet…

As it turns out he was a  serial tyre kicker.  He must get off on talking about buying girl’s shoes but never following through.  I guess it’s kinda like shopping where you fill up your basket with items you can’t afford and then ditch it before going to the register.

She matched with him on Tinder & Bumble (yes BOTH apps) whereas I met him on POF so he’s doing the rounds alright!  Prob has a real following going by now hahaha.

The story lives on though, because believe it or not he still messages me.  The latest below.

stillkeen.jpg

So there you have it.  So much for straighty 180.

And even though the deal never happened, this story and the dialogue that came from it, were honestly so worth it.

Running commentary from my fabulous hilarious friends included:

  • The shoe is like his porn hub.  He’d want as many as he can get.
  • I think a foot glory hole is a great business venture – start with a sheet with a hole cut into it and see how we go.
  • Well look your first red flag was that he had green messages.
  • I wonder what he does with them?  Lick them, smell them, wear them, put his penis in them like a sock?  (Update on this: Apparently they wank whilst licking/smelling the shoe 😐).
  • I wonder if he has a collection of shoes, like an everyday shoe he wanks over then like special shoes he only uses for special occasions – you’d definitely be a special occasion shoe.
  • Me putting the shoes on to wear to work “Like honestly how did it come to this?” … “Look, think of the cash.  Pull yourself together, sweat in those mules and get that cash money!”
  • What’s this discount about?  This isn’t Payless ok?
  • How did the price get down so low?  Are you selling thongs now? #boxingdaysale
  • Would you wheel your sick Grandma into Zara and be like “Hey my Nan is sick can I have a discount?” #bereavementdiscount
  • What about a website where you pick the girl and the shoe that you want her to sweat in before purchase #sideproject
  • Who cares if he never buys the shoes, this whole thing has brought us all so much joy.
  • Plenty of fish but only one guy obsessed with old shoes

Until next time,

CVC

 

 

Advertisements

Stage 7 Clinger

As a fairly experienced participant of Tinder, I was getting quite tired of typing out my entire life story to everyone I matched with, so I decided to up the ante and ask them to coffee/drinks/Netflix & Chill a bit sooner.

I employ a yes-to-all tactic when swiping, and then just go from there with my matches.  Along came Rachel, she was cute, short and the banter was there.  To be perfectly honest, if a girl has nice eyes I’m sold.  We chatted for a few days and locked in a plan to meet for a coffee date that Sunday afternoon.

drunk-man-on-stairs
My attempt at getting home (youtube.com)

What I didn’t plan for was the paralytic state I found myself to be in on the Saturday night prior to the date which involved losing my phone on the way home, falling head first down some stairs and knocking over everything within my sloppy reach.  I was next level wasted.

I woke the next day with about half an hour before the date was meant to start, knowing Rachel would have tried to contact me on my phone which had been found on the street by a lovely gay man and had been returned to my friend.  The same friend who had been stressing about my whereabouts all night and was picturing me robbed, bashed and unconscious in hospital.

Now, not to talk myself up or anything but I can find just about anyone on Facebook.  My stalking skills are next level so, I quickly found Rachel and messaged her to let her know that I’d lost my phone and that I would meet her a bit later than originally planned.  Although she was rather surprised to hear from me over FB, she agreed to a later time and I made my way over stopping past my mate’s to get my phone along the way.

The date began like any other, the mild awkwardness made substantially worse by my hangover and growing lump on my head.  In an attempt to make out that I was far less hungover than I actually was, I ordered coffee after coffee on the date which I’m sure she thought was a bit odd.  We got on really well, so well in fact that we decided to grab pizza and drinks to continue the date.

As we talked and laughed she shared with me a few crazy dating stories – the most shocking one being that her last relationship had ended when she finally agreed after much persuasion to have a threesome with her boyfriend of 2 years and his female co-worker.  She was swiftly dumped the next day for the co-worker and now this woman is having his baby.  Nothing like a bit of Jerry Springer to relax the mood.

We eventually called it a night, and when we said our goodbyes I went in for the cheek, she went for the lips… Tad awks but such is dating.

As our schedules were quite mismatched, with me working a night shift job and her working during the day, we would only ever be able to catch up on weekends.  The following weekend I was going away for a bucks in Melbourne and we wouldn’t be able to see each other for a full 2 weeks so, going against all dating codes, we caught up the very next day.  It was only for about an hour or so in-between her day job finishing and my night shift starting but it was 34 degrees, so she came over for a dip in my pool.  We had our first pash in the the water and all was well.

We kept in contact all week and over the weekend I flew to Melbourne for the bucks which turned out to be a 3-day bender of course.  I returned on the Sunday evening feeling like absolute death but having had an awesome time.  Rachel knew I’d be back and was dropping not-so-subtle hints for an invitation to come over.  It was 9pm at night and I thought against letting her see me in the state I was in but I eventually crumbled because I was coming down and needed to be embraced.

holdme
Via giphy.com

She arrived and we begun a Netflix & Chill situation as my hangover got progressively worse.  She had already asked me over text before coming over if I had hooked up with anyone in Melbourne to which I replied,

“No, we were on a bucks and I spent 99% of my time there in a strip club”.

She brought it up again whilst we were on the couch and I started to get a bit funny about the line of questioning.  This Netflix & Chill session had no chill but I let it go.

We ended up where most Netflix & Chill sessions end up – the bedroom – but at this point I was violently hungover and struggling for dear life.  We started to bang whilst my body shook with the effort of having to hold up my corpse over her.  In my fragile state I lasted all of a minute before collapsing.  We laughed about it and she went home, you would think fairly unsatisfied.

The next day after the usual “Morning xoxo” carry on, I copped yet another question about if I’d hooked up with anyone on the bucks.  We had only been seeing each for a week it was way too early in the game to be dealing with this kind of shit.  Ask me once?  OK.  Twice?  Fine.  But three times is a bit much.  I decided not to just leave it this time and told her not to put her insecurities on me.

RACHELFrom then on she spiraled out of control and sent page upon page of writing, saying things like, “We need to start fresh” (meanwhile we’d met twice), that we could be throwing away something that could have been great, that I’d had her fooled and that I broke her heart.  Crazy level: expert.

She had left her lipstick at my place and wanted it back, and I’m not a jerk so I was happy to give that back to her.  She continued with the pages of texts, where I initially tried to let her down easy, but then quickly discovered that wasn’t making anything better so I just stopped replying.

I let her know that I’d put her lipstick in the mailbox which brought forth more messages such as:

“Do you hate me so much that you can’t bear to see me?”

the-notebook-waited-for-you
Via giphy.com

Once she was at my house she called and left voice mails saying that she would wait outside in the rain until I came out, and another message saying she missed my company.  Thankfully I was nowhere NEAR my house at the time, I was at the football miles away.

A week passed by and the messages finally stopped but not before the grand finale message stating that even after all that had happened between us, she would give me another chance and at any time I could message her and she would take me back.

buyagun
Via giphy.com

That one minute of sex with me must have blown her mind!

Bullet

If you have a story to share please contact me at claudsvscupid@gmail.com