Shirtless Hunk Refuses to Put 'Em on the Glass

Brace yourselves, readers. Shirtless man actually wore a shirt to our date. I don't know how it happened, but he somehow managed to put a shirt on before leaving his home, and judging by his all-shirtless calendar of Match.com photos, it may have been for the first time ever. SHIRT VIRGIN! This has to be because it was 20 degrees outside. It's the only explanation. He's a practical man, after all. If this had been a mid-August, or even, dare I say, mid-April date, he surely would have shown up bare, recently-waxed chest exposed without an ounce of shame. And really, I was wearing 4 dollar bangles from H&M and red hooker heels, so who am I to judge?

Anyway, we went to Auction House, he was pissed they didn't have Heineken, we talked about South American dictators, U2 (he's a superfan, and I refrained from making fun of THE MOTHAFUCKING EDGE. I'm a saint!), and his Polish ex-girlfriend he wanted to marry but who ran out on him and moved back to Poland to be an architect. He didn't know why she couldn't be an architect here. We're going out to dinner this week. The end.

sthoy sthause pleathse?

Alas, I have finally had my first internet date and thus have discovered why people need to hide behind their computer screens. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not totally against the idea of internet dating, you can just as easily pick up a loser in a bar as you can in the privacy of your own home, wearing your hello kitty jammies (an absolute must for a G.G.). So, back to the story. I have another AIM stalker, from before I learned my lesson (see my Hamptons post). He is the very worst kind, the second I sign on he makes himself known, even though we have exhausted every conversation possible before actually meeting. I work a billion hours a week, so I can never meet him, but he just won't quit. I find his exuberance and enthusiasm utterly revolting, therefore he shall now be known as, eager beaver.

Since I can't block Mr. Beaver's sorry ass, I went out with him last night. Judging by his pictures, I wasn't expecting an Adonis, just a regular joe with a quirky look, more commonly known as a hipster in these parts. From the first sentence, I knew I wouldn't be able to control myself all night. Why? HE HAD A LISP!!!! How does that happen? Do parents just allow their kids to walk around with that? I mean a slight one is fine, sometimes a little cute, but the man couldn't even order saki properly. Not kidding.

Well of course I made the best of the situation and tried to get him to use an "s" word as much as possible and then made a scorecard for myself. To make the game fair, I gave the beav points for avoiding using "s" words; it would be plain mean otherwise. By the end of the night, I got pretty creative if I don't say so myself. We talked about the finer points of scrabble, I asked him about his experiences sailing, I asked him to place my order without scallions, and even asked him to procure some sodium free soy sauce. Final score was:

Chloe: 73
Beaver: 46

I win! I win! I refuse to believe this makes me a bad person. I blame his parents. I just can't wait until he asks me out on a "sthecond date!"

-chloe

My Date With a Brazilian Imposter

FIRST of all, if you're going to tout up your Brazilian heritage all over your Match.com profile, you should actually be Brazilian. This simply means, when you call me, I expect you to have a distinctly foreign accent that wisks me away to another time and place without the jet lag and travel costs. Instead, what I got on the other end of the phone was a dude who sounds like someone I could meet in a Des Moine Holiday Inn sports bar. Rude! This is not only unsexy, it is also deceitful!

So Des Moine tells me he'd like to take me out for drinks somewhere downtown. Immediately I (mistakenly) assume he'll take me somewhere semi-nice, like Little Branch or Death and Company. Instead, he suggests Kenny's Castaways, which is basically a smelly dive venue for shitty bands that arent good enough to play Mercury Lounge. ROMANTIC! The date lasted all of two hours before I bailed. Here's the stats rundown:

1) His "accent" came and went throughout the date, which means he's not only a dating con artist, but he's a LOUSY dating con artist.
2) He ordered a sex on the beach in what I think was an attempt to look foreign and sensitive, but really just turned out looking lame and vaguely gay.
3) He went to DeVry.
4) The band played only orignal Dutch socialist jingles that somehow sounded like Heart song parodies. Des Moine was very impressed by them. Very.

After their set was done I escaped to gayville to be with my people. And Chloe. THE END!

-Cate

One down, TONS more to go!

Sorry for the lack of updates! We didn't all three meet sketchy dudes and get raped and killed this weekend! I swear. See... we live! ALIVE!!!

I met my first dude this Sunday to watch the Giants game. All in all, good time was had. I've been talking to Cate and Chloe, and out of the three of us, I'm the closest to a G.G. I mean, sure, I still like to do non-G.G. things like get drunk, meet bartenders and go home with them. But I actually kind of like guys. Well, sometimes.

So anyway, my dude was really normal. And I stuck to all of the rules like a pro! Drank Bud Light (I figured I had to drink beer since it was a sports bar). Talked about a few G.G. things. Knew NOTHING about guy movies (though that's not a stretch for me, I really don't know shit about movies). Guess the date went well because he asked if I wanted to go back to his place as we were leaving. I said no! Holla at me! I fucking said no! The real Jessica would have for SURE gone back to his place. No kissing either.

AND... get this! That was Sunday, and today is Tuesday, and he already called me. Interwebs... I'm not talking about an e-mail. I'm not talking about a text message. He picked up the phone, remembered my name and he called me! Shocked, I let it go to voicemail. But I just called him back, so here we go! I'm turning into a G.G. !

-Jessica

Poppin' the Jamestown cherry!

Welcome to Jamestown! And look at me... already snatching up dudes! I decided to do Yahoo! Personals. Sifted through the gross "hey mami!" messages and found a half way, non-rape me and kill me kind of dude, and started talking to him. But he's a fucking Boston fan (hah.. not the band, just sports)! Shit... watch this last until April and I have to buy a pink rhinestone Sox hat, since the rules say I have to.

So the guy actually seems pretty normal and nice. We've e-mailed back and forth a few times. He asked if I wanted to grab a drink in his second e-mail to me, so I got super girly and said, "I'd love to!!" Yes, two exclamation points. I felt it was necessary. So the guy suggested grabbing drinks Saturday night after he saw his friend's play. Not too keen on that idea; sounds too like too much of a booty call. Which actually sucks, cause normally I'd probably be so into that! But my new girlfriend-girl persona (not to mention the rules) say, "NO SLUTS ALLLOWED!" At least on the first date.

Anyway, just waiting to hear back on plans for the big date! Haha... this is hilarious! Go Jamestown!

-Jessica