Dating Chronicles 7 - DJ Matt and My Left Breast

January 08 2015

I love being single. My friends find this puzzling.

Most of my friends are in relationships, either with a spouse, significant other, pillow, or favorite cheese. I have almost always been single, unless you count that time when I was five years old and my Korean friend kissed me in the laundry closet. Honestly, I was at his birthday to eat as much kimchi as I could stand, but he clearly sought out a spicier dish. Now that I am of age, my friends are usually encouraging me to date online or in person, write Hugh Jackman, attend Meetups. Be anything but single.

My friends decided to buy and set-up my online dating profile. They chose a site where I can propose an activity and then do that with the interested party. My friends insisted on writing my profile and since they paid, a contract followed. You will find one of those dates below.

I write you from a dwindling state of tipsiness and a break from How About We. I pulled a temporary plug on the dating website because I wasn't having much fun seeing the same odd profiles over and over again. Really, you dudes need to make your profile photo a pair of shoes, a banana, or an 85 year young woman? Siphoning through profiles felt stale and I swear I began seeing people from the site while walking around town. After the two month hiatus, I decided I would give it one more go.

Matt listed Muppet Treasure Island as his most watched movie so why not see if he were a muppet or a man? Off to the pool hall we went. Matt shared that he volunteers as a DJ for a local radio station while tending bar at a BBQ joint in my neighborhood. We spoke casually and he did not insist on teaching me how to play pool by grabbing my hand or hip. Already bonus points given my previous experience. I played a measly first game and managed to yell, "I love not getting balls in holes!" On any other night, this would have been accompanied by a "that's what she said" but I looked down and noticed my left breast hanging out of my bra.

You see, I wore tight jeans and a decorative white top, but didn't realize that when I was bending over to shoot pool, my left breast kept falling out of my bra. Freeing itself from its cloth cage and creating a third middle breast. Who needs twins when you can have triplets! I was horrified. Every few minutes, I would walk over to the wall, sip some Magners and adjust myself in what I would like to call the nip and tuck. Sink the nine ball. "Oh, you graduated with a degree in journalism. I studied English down south." Look down. Nip and tuck. Prematurely sink the eight ball. "What did you think of Seattle when you visited?" Look down. Nip and tuck. Note to self, Victoria sucks at keeping a Secret.

Surprisingly, I don't think Matt realized what was going on because he seemed pretty focused on the game. After our third round, we sat down for a minutes to finish our drinks. At this point, I saw Matt blatantly staring at my triplets and I decided to throw on my fleece. We finished our date and before parting ways, he asked me on another. Go figure.

If you want more stories, you can search online for CatholicGelt. Otherwise, I hope to hear from any one of you about embarrassing dates intertwined with comedic self-awareness.

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New York, NY

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