Put A Cookie in the Douchebag Jar


T-1 day TILL FRIDAYYY.  Can’t be more excited.  I’ve been having major writer’s block this week…

There’s only so much sex I can have– and so many of those stories worth telling.

We’ve heard it all– the bad dates, the cocky guys aka the usual walking disasters I seem to be interacting with on a daily basis.

Bad dates aren’t hard to come by, actually it’s the good dates that rarely ever seem to happen for me.  I’ve experienced it all: cocky assholes, workaholics, cocky, shy, cocky, cocky, cocky.  And for many of us (like me), the time to say goodbye can’t come fast enough.

Unless they surprise you with that super awkward kiss attack– and then you both end up having to walk the same route to get home… FML, worst possible case scenario, happens WAY TOO OFTEN.  


But there’s only so much damage a guy can do during the date.  Sometimes, it’s the aftermath that really f#cks it up.

A few weeks ago, I went on a date with this guy from work.  He was fun to talk to in the elevator– so when he suggested Persian food for dinner, how could I resist?

*Please note: he was NOT Persian… Armenian Lebanese– everything my dad would disapprove of… which made him that much more appealing.

There’s something about tall, dark and handsome I just can’t resist…

…And mix that in with some chelo kabob– I’m done.  Sold.  All yours.  Not much room to mess that up, if you ask me.

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