TOOLBAG TUESDAY

There are a few teeny tiny things wrong with taking up 90 percent of your first online date with someone talking about your “bitch ex-wife.”

The obvious being, you’re not over it.

The second being, you clearly aren’t a very good judge of character.

The third being, it makes you look bad that your wife had to go out and cheat with lots of people because she wasn’t getting what she needed from you.

(Hey-ooo)

The fourth being, I DON’T CARE.

Now that I think about it, there really is nothing I care about LESS than hearing about the bitch ex-wife of a total stranger I met online. On a first date.

But somehow, there I was, in early 2015, eating at an Italian restaurant with Henry, who spent 40 minutes explaining to me in great detail about the time he found out that his “bitch ex wife” sold her wedding dress and engagement ring on eBay.

Who uses eBay anymore? I wondered to myself.

Henry added that “bitch” was “crazy” (aren’t ex-wives always crazy??) and even though SHE cheated on HIM, which he knew for a fact because he had her phone traced (ohhh…boyfriend material!!! JK, LOL), she's been making his life a legal hell and he needs all kinds of lawyers.

Plus she shattered his car window with a beer bottle.

I don’t really know what Henry was expecting from divulging all this information, or if he knew that I was uncomfortably darting my eyes to the door to see if there was a similarly short, blonde female pointing a gun at us.

(You know, between checking her eBay bids.)

Ha

I suppose he thought that I’d feel bad for him or something.

I hate to say it, but it wasn’t the first time a guy had unloaded to me about a messy, baggage, unattractive EX on a first date.

At least this time the ex wasn’t a legit crack whore.

(I wish I was kidding.)

But no.

At least with Henry, I didn’t need to confirm that his ex who he had been reminiscing about for the past 20 minutes, who he had lived with and SLEPT with, was actually a crack addict, and also a prostitute.

“Only a prostitute to pay for more crack!!”

Oh, well, that’s way better.

WHY LEAD OFF WITH THIS INFORMATION???!?!?

HOW IS THIS A GOOD IDEA?

WHO'S GOING TO GET EXCITED ABOUT EITHER ONE OF THESE GUYS???

Ugh.

No bidding.

-Jenny

TOOLBAG TUESDAY

It started off as a typical conversation you’d overhear on any honeymoon.

“Babe, you need to delete photos off your phone so we can take pictures of Hawaii!”

Peter was driving at the time, in their rented car, in Hawaii, so he asked his wife of two days, Greta, to delete his phone pictures.

After a minute of looking through his camera roll in silence, Greta spoke.

“Do you want to keep pictures you have of text message screenshots?” Greta asked.

“No,” Peter said. “Those are probably from work, when I had to reference an order number.”

Greta paused.

“Ok, well what about the screen shot of texts between you and someone named ‘Jessica’ about wanting to know what color panties she’s wearing?” Greta asked.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“DO YOU WANT TO KEEP THAT ONE??” she asked.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG. Nightmare.

It was amazing that Peter didn’t crash the car into a volcano after that.

“What?” he played dumb. “Who?”

And then all he could manage was, “What, you don’t trust me?

Um.

No.

Then, “You really don’t trust me? I’m your HUSBAND.”

LOL

LOL

(Like he takes that role seriously.)

Greta then looked in horror as she pulled up “Jessica” in his phone and saw MANY, MANY texts to her, the most recent one about her panties that was sent TWO DAYS BEFORE THEIR WEDDING.

OMG.

Nightmare.

“Pull the car over!” Greta shouted. “PULL THE CAR OVER NOW!”

He did, at the closest restaurant, repeating himself, while she jumped out and instructed him to leave.

“You don’t understand, it was nothing…” he said.

LOL

But Greta had seen the rest of the texts and they weren’t as PG as asking about her panties. (If you don’t think asking someone about her panties is "PG," then you definitely don’t want to see the rest of this douche movie.)

It was a complete shock. They had dated for EIGHT years and Peter had given no indication that he was a cheater, or dumb.

DUMB in that he couldn’t even cover his tracks correctly…who saves a screen shot of their affair?!?!?

Greta would never have married someone that unintelligent, had she known.

VOMIT.

VOMIT ALL OVER EVERYTHING!!!!

PINEAPPLE HULA VOMIT!!!

Peter eventually admitted that “Jessica” was a co-worker, but insisted that it was “nothing,” despite what MONTHS of sexting revealed. 

And then Peter decided to go ahead and remind her again that he was her husband, as if that wasn’t adding insult to injury.

"I know I'm an asshole cheater and liar, but I'm your HUSBAND!"

LOL

I hope her divorce lawyer works the line, “take a picture, it’ll last longer...than your marriage,” into the proceedings.

-Jenny

TOOLBAG TUESDAY

There’s a time and a place to ask a new girl for her number.

…And that time and place is not after your EX-girlfriend confronts you at a bar in front of everyone about the dog you share custody of.

(That doesn’t really make you a good candidate for a new relationship, Mr. Baggage.)

But that’s exactly what happened to my friend Rachel last week, who had been talking to a nice, cute guy all afternoon.

Rachel met three guys at a neighborhood restaurant where they have long community tables and they bonded over burgers and all decided to move to a new brewery down the street.

At the brewery, one guy named Robert zoned in on Rachel, sitting by her, asking her a lot of questions, buying her a beer.

After about an hour exchanging life stories, a blonde girl came into the brewery and tapped Robert on the shoulder. All of the guys looked at her, stunned.

“WE NEED TO TALK NOW,” she said. Robert tried to casually play it off, smiling at Rachel like there wasn’t a demanding blonde girl next to him.

His friends tried their best to look away.

“NOW!” she yelled and yanked him outside where they were clearly having an argument using their hands. After five minutes, Robert walked back in and told the bartender to close him out.

“Sorry, that was my ex-girlfriend,” Robert said to Rachel. “We share a dog and if I don’t leave right now, she’s going to take him away from me forever,” he said.

???????

(Ed note: That dog isn’t the only thing that got its balls removed LOL)

“What?”

“It’s a long story,” Robert said.

“Wait…how did she even know you were here?” Rachel asked. They had all spontaneously decided to go to the brewery.

“I don’t know,” he said and he signed his credit card receipt in a hurry.

Then he looked over at her.

“Hey, do you think I could get your number?” Robert asked.

Hahahahahahahahaha

(Hmmm…I guess he does have balls.)

Haha

Who asks a girl for her number while being dragged out of a bar by their ex?

That’s not a good look.

“No I don’t think so…it looks like you’ve got a lot going on already,” Rachel said.

Ha

Then she watched Robert hang his head and walk out of the bar, presumably, on his way to the dog house.

-Jenny

TOOLBAG TUESDAY

We’ve long been in an era where guys expect to sleep with someone after a first date.

…EVEN AFTER THEY ASK THE SERVER TO SPLIT THE CHECK.

You can’t blame a guy for trying I guess, since first date sleepovers happen all the time.

But it’s what happens after they get rejected for a sleepover that is a true test of their character.

LOL

(Yes, this is how low the bar is set.)

(Also….PAY FOR THE ENTIRE DINNER BILL.)

I can pretty much guarantee that how a guy handles a sleepover rejection is how he’ll handle any other obstacle in his life, so this really is a good test.

Did he get pouty? Persuasive? Weepy?

Jerry, on the other hand, got mean and rude.

Not a good look, Jerry.

Jerry and my friend Kylie went out on exactly one date, after meeting through co-workers at a restaurant where she worked.

Jerry was cute, from ENGLAND with the accompanying accent, and had a non-restaurant job.

He lived in a nice neighborhood in a cool part of downtown and they made plans for Kylie to park near his house and they would walk to a café nearby for dinner.

She rang the doorbell (how chivalrous!) when she got there and Jerry’s roommate answered.

He was also cute, although not from England. Ha. 

They made small talk about the restaurant where she worked and mutual friends who worked there, when Jerry came to the door and they left for the restaurant.

Kylie said it was a perfectly fine dinner date—and he paid!! Bonus!!

She said they didn’t have a whole lot of things in common but she would definitely have agreed to go out again. 

...Until they got back to his apartment and it was clear that he wanted her to sleep over.

There are a million, ok, fine, 20 reasons why she didn’t want to spend the night with Jerry, none of which were any of his business. 

But they did make out a little and then Kylie politely said that she was just going to go home for the night. 

And that’s when Jerry got rude.

“Oh, OK, so it’s going to be like THAT?” he asked, as if there was a THIS that they agreed on, and she was backing out of it.

Kylie suddenly found his accent less cute.

“Ummm if by ‘that’ you mean going home then yes,” she said, still trying to be casual.

Jerry pulled away from her, angry.

And then he took it really personally.

“Well, my flatmate upstairs thinks you’re pretty,” he said. “You can go upstairs and F*CK HIM if you want.”

!!!!!!!!!!!

???????

WHAT?!?!?

She didn’t want to F*ck anybody!

 “What?” she asked.

Was this some sort of bizarre back handed compliment?

“Well, you know, if I don’t do it for you, then you can always go upstairs.”

WHAT?!?!?

Well, if he was doing it for her, he certainly isn’t NOW.

How insulting.

Kylie said she was waiting for Jerry to laugh, or say it was a joke, but that didn’t happen. 

He immediately walked into the other room, leaving her alone in the living room.

Feeling horribly cheap, Kylie immediately left the apartment without saying goodbye.

...And thought seriously about giving him four flat tires.

-Jenny