Cheap Frog

I've encountered my fair share of cheap frogs over the years.  I always offer to pay my portion on a first date (although I will admit that I would be shocked if someone took me up on it - amazingly enough, no one has yet to do so, but I know the day is coming).

One of my all time favorites is from last year.  I met this guy for an afternoon coffee date (sign number one that he's going to be cheap) that went really well.  Great conversation and lots of laughter.  We were really enjoying each other's company - so much so that the afternoon turned into evening and then to night.  A few times I subtly drop questions like his favorite restaurant, type of food, and if he's tried any of the restaurants in the area.  He finally says to me, "Wow, it's gotten really late.  Are you hungry?"  Of course I answer yes, after all it is now about 8:30 p.m.  To my complete shock he says, "Me too.  Guess I should be heading out."

This weekend I had another encounter of the cheap kind.  Remember the double header from last week?  See The Collector for more info on part 2.  Well, I actually liked lunch (part 1) enough to talk to him for hours each night last week and saw him again (that will be another post to come).  But after a great dinner, he pushes the check in my direction and informs me that it's my turn.  You've got to be kidding me!!

I don't need a man to buy me anything; I can afford my own food, drinks or movie ticket.  I don't expect to go to the nicest restaurants in town or be showered with gifts.  But if you can't cough up $15 for a meal in the very beginning, all signs point to cheap frog!

Have your own tales to share?  Send them to frog.tales@yahoo.com!

The Collector

One of my biggest pet peeves is when a guy says he is 5'6" (same height as me), and I show up to a man who is 5'3" -- my experience has taught me to wear flats for these occasions, but did you really think that I wouldn't notice the few inches that you are missing?!

So I arrive for round 2 of my double header to a man shorter than advertised, but I'm not shallow enough to leave the restaurant over his height so we sit down and have a drink.  He is a little shy, but he has a great job plus several rental properties, shows pictures of his adorable dog, very close to his family - seems to have his stuff together (isn't it amazing that these qualities are now enough to make you excited about a guy?!)

About 20 minutes in, he asks, "So do you have any collections?"  I'm thinking, only a collector would ask this.  He proceeds to tell me about his movie posters, life sized Darth Vader and cardboard Spiderman.  He informs me that all of these are stored in his media room so I chalk it up to the fact that everyone has their own unique interests (and at least it was better than Mr. At Least I Lived to Tell the Tale -- see previous post for more).

Then the fun starts.  He talks to me for over an hour about his airline miles collection! Apparently a blog exists of promotions for earning frequent flier miles - everything from taking surveys, watching advertisements and online shopping (all of which he does on a daily basis).  I think to myself, "I love to travel so that's cool.  If this works out, I won't have to buy another plane ticket again."  Then he drops the bomb -- he has a spreadsheet to track all of his credit cards for frequent flier miles.  Apparently he opens accounts, keeps them open for the required time period to earn the bonus miles and closes them before the annual fee hits.  He then waits the required time before reapplying to collect the bonus miles again.  He has a card for every major US airline in addition to select international airlines for destinations that he would like to visit.  

After dinner, we spend the remainder of the evening exchanging travel stories over another drink.  When the bill comes, he quickly reaches for it and says, "There are bonus miles for all purchases on this card over the weekend so I've got this." with a large smile like he had just scored a treasure to add to his collection.

I get home and was actually considering a second date with him.  Although his process is extreme, at least we shared some common interests, and he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.  Then I get a midnight text asking if I'm still awake.  The conversation went south as he informed me about his evening activities & yet another collection --- porn.

At Least I Lived to Tell the Tale

The weekend was filled with frog tales including a double header (both lunch & dinner dates) on Sunday (more to come on those two later).  But first, I must update you all on the paramedic who was cynical, deranged and an obsessive caller - a real winner, huh?

This guy seemed like a jolly, level-headed guy.  He actually called instead of the impersonal text, which I really like (until he started with the 5+ calls per day in addition to the good morning/noon/night texts).  He's easy to talk to (better be as much as he calls) and has a quirky sense of humor.  He's a huge planner (a breath of fresh air from the procrastinators that I historically date) and has confirmed every detail of his January vacation (yes, 6 months in advance) from airfare, hotel, car rental, cruise, excursions...the whole thing!  In addition, he has already started PACKING!  He has the cruise-only items already in the suitcase and a list of the items that he will need to pack but are currently in use.  For those of you who know me, you are thinking this is my dream guy but continue reading.

So we sit down for dinner, and he proceeds to inform me how lucky I am that he dressed up for me.  Let me explain - he is wearing a black faded t-shirt, jeans that look like they came from 1981, and his white socks show with what looks like black jazz shoes.  I realize at this point that I'm in big trouble, but am trying to reason with myself that all he needs is a good makeover.  When the waiter comes by, he orders iced tea so I order a diet soda and immediately get the paramedic speech about how that causes bubbles in my brain and by 50 I will likely have total memory loss.  

He proceeds to describe his reservations about me due to the fact that I would choose to live in California for 5 years of my life.  He believes that celebrities have distorted humanity's view of reality and that everyone who lives in California has an obsession with fame, money and looks.  This guy isn't stereotypical or anything.

The conversation continues to get worse.  Throughout the course of my meal, he tells me about his "toy collection" which includes every type of gun imaginable.  I'm sorry, I don't want a man who likes to play with deadly weapons!  The creepiness continues as he describes his "passion" for horror movies and informs me of the grim reaper costume in his nightstand.

All I'm thinking is, "Check please!"  At least I lived to tell this tale!

Mr. Ribbit

Recently I was introduced by a friend to a guy who was my ideal type physically - tall, light hair and eyes, beautiful smile and a laid back, fun personality.  Instantly I felt a spark that sadly, I hadn't found since my last relationship ended in 2008.  Sure, there were the red flags: recently divorced, near 30 living with his parents, not a good job (but at least he had one) and king of procrastination.  But as so many women are guilty of, I thought I could help motivate him to find a new job, get a place and make things happen for himself.  I liked this guy a lot from the beginning - enough that I was willing to date potential.  Big mistake.  Women should never settle for a man that needs to be fixed.

When we were together, I felt a strange sense of nervousness and comfort at the same time.  His kisses felt like magic.  When my phone would display his name, I would feel that school girl giddy.  But the truth is, my phone didn't display his name as often as it should.  He was distant when we weren't together, and my gut kept telling me that he was involved with other people.  He was late for dates, would decline invitations to do things or reschedule our plans.  Clearly, not signs of someone who wants to be with you.

Contrary to how it may sound, I'm an intelligent, well-educated girl.  Did I know better? Sure, I did.  But for some reason, I had convinced myself that he could be prince charming eventually.  It was probably the way he smiled and kissed me that made me feel special.  But the truth is, he spoke in ribbit.  He would give me enough to keep me around, but never enough to ease the insecurity.  Mixed signals don't even begin to describe it.  I made excuses for him, convincing myself that it was due to his recent divorce and that he just liked me to the point it scared him.  Reality is, he didn't feel the way that I did but was not man enough to tell me.

After the "sorry I've been really busy" texts and cancelling on my birthday to leave me sitting home alone, I knew he was a frog.  Problem was, I still wanted to kiss that frog...and on some pathetic level, I still do.  It's funny how our heart is so much more powerful than our brain sometimes.  Like an idiot, I kept putting forth the effort for a few weeks, just to make plans with him that he cancelled by saying "Sorry, can't make it now.  I will call you later." He never called; just eventually posted pictures and a status update on Facebook that he was now in a relationship.

Ribbit is the ugliest and cruelest language.  Had I known the truth of how he felt, I could have saved myself the hours of over-analyzing, discussing with my girlfriends and wondering what I did wrong.  Truth is, it was completely my fault.  I was willing to settle for potential and should have walked away the first time I heard, "ribbit."  Prince charming won't be slimy, and he will make it clear that he wants nothing more than to spend time talking to and being with you.  Learn a lesson from my mistake - run fast from Mr. Ribbit and don't look back.  If you have to make an excuse for his behavior, he's a frog.

The Horn Toad

As we all know, horn toads exists everywhere, regardless of where you meet them.  The inner horn toad occasionally surfaces in them all, but sometimes it just blatantly obvious and disgusting.

As I previously mentioned, I signed up for online dating, the largest breeding ground for frogs.  So J had been emailing with me for some time and eventually asks to call me.  So we talk on the phone for over an hour with SO much in common.  We went to the same college (GEAUX LSU TIGERS for any readers out there wondering), had lived blocks from each other in Baton Rouge, and I even went to high school with some people he knew.  We had a great conversation that ended with him asking me to meet up the next day.

So the following afternoon rolls around, and I haven't heard where or when we are meeting up.  So I send him a text asking the plans (because it has been killing me that we don't already have this figured out, but I'm trying to play it cool), and he responds "Come over to my place."  Now I literally laugh and say "This must be a joke" to which I figure out, he's really serious.  And after a brief text exchange, I quickly realize his intentions for this "date."

I have met so many slimy men over the years (as I'm sure all of you have as well), but it's hard to believe that someone would expect the first time you meet to be in his bedroom!  If a man can't even take you out on a first date, he's a horn toad and not worth your time or energy.  We are women -- not a piece of meat!  Show some respect.

Guest Frog Blogger!

Special thanks to Stephanie K. from Irvine, CA for this frog tale!

My first date with Mr. C was a lunch date. It was fun and he wore nice jeans, an army green shirt and a nice pair of shoes. He was a little bit quiet, but we laughed and he asked to take me out again.

Saturday night rolled around, and I was actually ready on time. The doorbell rang, and I couldn't believe what I saw - Mr. C was wearing tapered jeans. Yes, TAPERED jeans! Nice shirt, nice shoes but tapered jeans. Where do men buy tapered jeans nowadays, and why do I attract those kinds of men? I let him in and grabbed my purse.

He then proceeded to ask, “Would you mind driving? I want to have a couple drinks tonight.” Did he just ask me to drive so that he could get drunk? I hesitantly agreed but grabbed my keys, and we were out the door. He decided that we were going to go to a chain Asian restaurant. We got there and put his name in for the hour and a half wait. The bar was too crowded so we sat down. I was tired from being out all day and wasn’t as talkative as usual. He was naturally quiet so there were some awkward moments.

An hour into the wait, Mr. C wanted a beer. As he went to the bar, I wondered if I should call a friend to save me but decided to give him a chance. An hour and a half later, after seeing his white sock (which made the tapered jeans even worse) and some pretty boring conversation, he proceeded to ask me if I was okay and if anything was wrong. I said I was fine and apologized for being so quiet. He asked me the same question a second time. Again, I said I was fine. He then proceeded to say that he was good at reading people and that he thought that I wasn’t interested. He was right though I didn’t say that out loud. I said, “Do you still want to have dinner?” He then said, “No, not really. I’m sorry.”

I was completely shocked. I handed him the restaurant's pager and told him to take his name off the waiting list, and I would drive him to his car. He said, “It’s okay. You go, and I’ll walk back to your house.” Are you kidding me?! He took the pager up, and I walked out the door. My first call was to my friend, and as I started to drive home (which was really across the street), I spotted Mr. C walking back to his car. I went a different route and waited for him to leave. Later that evening, I met up with my friend for dinner, where we spent the evening laughing about my unbelievable experience.

Lesson learned - never date men who wear tapered jeans!

Don't forget, submit your tales to frog.tales@yahoo.com

Life in the Shallow Water

Having recently moved from Orange County, California, the land of men who are more pretty than me and speak in "toad"-ally, I have had my fill of the superficial.  Coming to Texas, I had high hopes for true Southern gentlemen, but thus far, I have been quite disappointed.

I recently signed up for an online dating service and have been continuously surprised by the obsession with a woman's appearance.  I believe that Hollywood and the media have played a large part in disrupting a man's view of how women "should" look.  Long gone are the days when meat on your bones was a status symbol or women with a figure like Marilyn Monroe were considered beautiful.  Today, it appears that most men are just looking for stick-thin model types.

After speaking with a guy online, texting and eventually talking on the phone with a suitor from this website, I received a shocking request.  After scheduling our date, he comments, "Based on your photos, you tend to have fluctuations in your weight, and I see on your profile that your body type is listed as curvy.  And I love curvy, really I do.  Assuming we are talking about the Jennifer Lopez or Kim Kardashian curvy."  For one of the first times, I was truly speechless.  He then proceeded to ask me to go take a picture of myself in a swimsuit so he could determine if my curves would be acceptable.  

That's when I realized, frogs live in the shallow water.