never tried internet dating
I was thinking about this recently and I can safely say that the only good thing that came out of internet dating was blog material. Maybe I’m bad at screening dates. Maybe my LEXpectations are too low. Maybe I just didn’t try it long enough?
And I didn’t just do the free ones either! I once paid for an online dating service called “How About We,” where you propose dates you want to go on and see if anyone responds:
I got 76 responses and convinced myself to go on at least one date, which ended up being the worst date I’ve ever been on. Let me put this into perspective for you: one of the first things the guy said to me was, “So what are you, a C cup?”
Of course How About Me is not nearly as bad as OkCupid. One of my all-time favorite messages? “You’d be perfect if you didn’t live up Satan’s ass crack.”
never asked my cousin Devin if he thought I was fat
“No you’re not fat, Lexie. You’re just a little husky.”
And I don’t think he meant like this:
never stayed in a 2.5 star hotel in the “bad” part of Charlotte, NC
Brian wanted to go see comedian Doug Stanhope perform at the Chop House in Charlotte one time, but I wasn’t totally sold on the idea. Seven hours was a lot to drive for a 48 hour trip, and I never seem to have much PTO stored up despite the fact that I’m too broke for a real vacation.
But at the end of the day, homeboy offered to drive and get the hotel, and even agreed to put us up for two nights in NC if we could find a cheap enough hotel.
Man oh man did he ever find a cheap hotel.
I should have known after our experience planning our weekend in NYC that Brian couldn’t be trusted picking hotels (when I googled the hotel he recommended, the first suggested searches included hotel murder, hotel bed bugs, and hotel haunted. Now lay your weary head to rest, tourist.).
We got to Charlotte around 4 p.m. and I had a blast surprising my unsuspecting coworkers at my company’s Charlotte office.
When they asked where I was staying, my response was met with trepidation, to say the least.
“Well if you want to buy drugs or hookers, that’s the place to do it,” my coworker Ryan told me. He later compared that area of Charlotte to the NE area of D.C. No bruno–which is of course what my Mac autocorrects “no bueno” to.
Nonetheless, we checked into the hotel, which clearly some people choose to live in because it’s cheaper than paying rent. The first thing I noticed was the smell of smoke, which isn’t a particular turn off for me in most scenarios because it reminds me of my Grammy’s house. The difference being Grammy’s house doesn’t usually have blood and other questionable bodily secretions on the wall.
Whatever, I thought. It’s not like we’ll be in the room much this weekend anyway.
After a few $3 sangrias from Brazwell’s, my 8 hours on the road caught up to me and we called it a night relatively early.
As I crawled into the bed at my 2.5 star hotel, I started to…itch.
“Brian, are you itchy?”
“No it’s in your head.”
“Are you sure? I think it’s on my head, not in my head.”
We checked the bed for bugs, but didn’t find anything. He covered my pillow with his tshirt, and I managed to fall asleep for about a half hour. My $40-a-night hotel slumber was forcefully disrupted by a loud slamming of the door to the room beside us.
“Ohhhhh helllllllll naw,” the neighbor next door yelled down the highway.
“Aaaaaaron!!! Aaaaaaron!!!” she called.
“We aint stayin’ here,” she told Aaron. “There’s bugs ‘n’ shit. Aw hell no. We’ll go stay down the street.”
Let me tell you, no words have ever spawned more fear in me than that simple proclamation. If the hotel wasn’t good enough for her, it certainly wasn’t good enough for me.
Brian and I managed to pack all of our stuff in 10 minutes and left the hotel, the Rodeway Inn, around 1:30 a.m. We were checked into the Holiday Inn 30 minutes later. I showered for what felt like an hour and strongly considered burning my clothes and my luggage.
While I don’t think the hotel actually had bed bugs, I did see some reviews that mentioned cockroaches. Either way, I’m pretty sure Brian learned that budget shopping for hotels isn’t always worth it. In this situation, it ended up costing him $90 and will probably cost me years of therapy.
And by therapy, I do mean bacon bloody marys from Terrace Cafe.
Is it a bad sign when your brunch costs more than your hotel? Probably.
never gotten dermal piercings in my back