A Waste of Gas

I should know better by now, but I fail to learn and become desperate for companionship so that I forget guys are douches in L.A. I met this guy off POF...apparently that is what the kids are calling it these days. I joined on a dare when I was a wee bit tipsy because my guy friend said it was amazing. At first it was, gorgeous men were messaging me and I was excited because they were all over 6'2.

I finally met this guy after talking on the phone for an hour. Our first date went amazing. We had great conversation and he even said he would help me move. A+ in my book. The next day he asked me if I wanted to come over and watch a movie. I said fine but I was exhausted from moving and didn't want to deal with any heavy petting. I wanted to get to know this guy for a bit, because my last relationship ended with my ex cheating on me with a porn star. Then the next guy I slept with was sexting girls in front of me. So to say the least, I was a bit jaded.

He lived thirty minutes away so it was already an annoying drive. I got there and I could tell he was drunk, but I wanted it to work because I really needed someone to help me move so I was forcing myself to make this enjoyable.

He kept trying to make out with me and I was getting pissed. I hate kissing beer breath. So I was politely asked if we could watch the show. He kept insisting on making out and that if I didn't make out with him the way he wanted it was a deal-breaker. Well stop jamming your tongue down my throat and licking my face! And pop a breathe mint, thank you. At this uncomfortable point, I wanted to leave. I didn't care anymore. He kept trying to kiss me and feed lines of bull shit that he really liked me.

I left and the next day he kept texting me and calling me babe, WTF? Don't guys ever get the hint. Why can't I ever just find a normal guy in L.A.? Where are they hiding?

Moral of the Story: Don't date a guy just so he can help you move.


Like this? Want more? Follow our writer @ohmymelons.