Got some popcorn to go with that jizz?

So this past weekend I went to a granite party. Huh? Okay…well it wasn’t a granite party, but perhaps a celebration of granite. One of my friends had her kitchen renovated (nice job might I add) and invited me over for a dinner party in honor of her and her fiance’s beautifully redone countertops.

So as the dinner party moved from one room to the next, towards the latter end of the night, we moved to the, what I would call “family area” or “den” and started watching youtube videos. Among the videos watched were: some guy playing Mario and cursing up a storm (search for Mario frustration [about 5 minutes will do]); a photoshop lesson or two, or three; and a very hilarious music video called Jizz In My Pants. If you haven’t been one of the fortunate people to watch the video, please enjoy.

So! Now that you’ve had the chance to enjoy such a lovely video…let’s talk about Movie-Face Mark. I know I’ve promised to write about him in past entries and now here it is. It’s the awesome date story…possibly the most crazy date I’ve ever had…and the only time I’ve ever walked out on a date…um to date.

Because this is such a fun story, I’ve decided not to put the man on blast. I mean…if you find yourself dating a tall man who is intelligent, educated (bachelors and masters), and works in retail for a huge entertainment company as a manager, and whose name is Mark…then by all means, call me up and we’ll discuss particulars.

Anyways…Mark and I met on PlentyofFish. I guess you get what you pay for…free weirdos! Anyways…Mark and I set a date for Dave and Busters. Our plan? Arcade games and billiards.

So I meet him there. God this would have been horrible if he had picked me up!

So we met around 8 p.m. at the front of Dave and Busters. My first impression? Nice chiseled arms, great lips and tall enough to make me wish for bear hugs with those lovely chiseled arms around me.

If only you could hear me laugh right now.

So we put our names down for one of the pool tables and while we’re waiting, we decide to play a few games. I’m a competitive person (like always), and start to talk a little A-game. I am happy with most men who join in on the game talk. This one? Not so much. “I’ll let you win just once. I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Really? Are you serious? That’s your A-game?

So I’m doing all the asking and he’s answering my questions like a dummy-who’s-being-interview-for-the-newspaper-the-first-time. “Yes” and “no” and “sometimes” and “sort of” were among his educated vocabulary. Okay, I get it. Clearly, he’s not interested in me so I figure he’s keeping his answers short. So reading into this, I suggest since the pool table opening is taking too long, maybe we should just call it a night…but I try my best to make it sound like his idea. You know…for the man’s sake.

Why the hell does he say, “No, I’m having a good time. We can wait for the pool table. I don’t mind.”

Really?

So we wait. And then we finally get a table. Thank god…because I’m not sure if I could have taken any more of yes, no, sometimes and sort of. But I did. In fact, to make it less awkward, I still had to ask all of the questions to get to know him better, to make it look like we weren’t just two drones rocking the robot and playing pool.

Forward on to the end of the night. Now it’s 10 p.m. and at this point, I’m ready to get the f _ _ _ out of there. Surely he is too. But nooo!

So he offers to walk me to my car and I let him know that I can walk myself, but he keeps suggesting it. Like a teenager hating on their parents, I utter the word “fine”. So we get to my car and he goes for the chiseled-arm bear hug. Really? It would have been nice if you had shown some sort of emotion when you were talking to me earlier!!!! So once the hug is over and I’m practically in my car…he spouts off, “Look, I had a really great time tonight. I’ve been nervous all night, but I still want to hang out with you. Would you like to go to a movie?” 

Sigh.

Why the hell am I so nice? I totally gave in. I totally believed the whole “nervous” part.

And if anyone knows me though, they know that I hate movies on the first date. I mean how can you get to know someone by watching a movie? You’re sitting in the dark and you can’t talk out of fear of the movie police, and if it’s a good movie (like an action movie), why would you want to mess it up in the first place? I don’t understand why so many men suggest it. Well now, maybe I do.

The reason I gave in? The night for me had just begun. I was expecting to meet a fun, talkative guy. I was expecting the date to not be over until we closed the place down over drinks and conversation. I mean we talked A LOT online and over the phone, but I guess communication can be deceiving. So, I let him take me to the movies.

And that’s the last f _ _ _’in time I’ll let any man take me to the movies on the first date.

Don’t ask me the name of the movie or who was in it, because I don’t know. Thankfully, he paid for my ticket, because I would have been livid if I had wasted money on a 20-minute movie. Ten minutes of previews and 10 minutes of movie.

So we’re sitting in the seats and he pulls the whole “yawn and slide” and puts his arm around me. I guess he took too many steroids for his chiseled arm…because I kid you not, it felt like 80 pounds sitting on my neck. I kept fidgeting with my hair, and flexing my shoulder muscles in hopes that he would take his heavy arm off of me. And thankfully it worked! Too bad he put his hand on my knee instead.

So flash forward. Previews were gone and the movie was starting. And boy’s hand? Still on my knee and inching up closer and closer up my leg. So the more the movie progressed, the more his hand did. And at this point, I am clearly not paying attention to some random movie, but to see where “hand” wanted to go.

And so it stopped, right on my mid-thigh. It was there that he literally started to caress and “massage” my leg. All I’m thinking to myself at this point, is god, I hope he doesn’t try to kiss me. Instead? I start hearing these weird sounds. First he clears his throat a few times, then he tenses up and his arm locks into place and gets an ol’ mighty grip on my thigh. Then, I hear a grunt. The movie scene couldn’t have changed at a better time only for me to look over to my date and see him with this strange “o” face.

And as his “o” face became bigger and his eyes squinched together, it wasn’t until his forehead wrinkled up and he squeezed his legs together that I knew what was happening.

I was mortified. I had all of two seconds to figure out that I needed to come up with an excuse and get the hell out of there. So as his orgasm held on for dear life for the next minute, I gathered up my purse, my cell phone, and wiggled out of the kung-fu, orgasm grip he had on my knee and said I needed to get popcorn…that my blood sugar was running low and I needed something to eat.

And he bought that crap! Or maybe he didn’t and he scares off women like this all the time and knows it…but he said “okay” and didn’t feel the need to come with me, so I jetted. I jetted from a date. I have never, in my life, stood anyone up and left from a date, even if it was going horribly wrong! But thankfully, the grossed-out gears in my brain kicked in at the right time.

And so there you have it. Movie-Face Mark. He lives in the DFW area and works at a place that starts with “main” and ends with “event” somewhere in Texas. But don’t tell him I told you that.

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