SELF SUCKING & THE BIRTH OF DATING RULES

To quote the gifted “musician” Britney Spears on dating, "I don't understand the whole dating thing. I know right off the bat if I'm interested in someone, and I don't want them to waste their money on me and take me out to eat if I know I'm not interested in that person." (Please imagine this, like I did, with her trailer trash I f*cked my cousin country accent.)




Ok, let’s be real ... I am sure that there are many things Ms. Spears doesn't quite understand. (To quote Milli Vanilli, "Girl you know it's true.") And really ... how much could a Big Gulp and a bag of Flammin' Hot Cheetos really set this guy back? ($2.65 to be exact. Classy lady!) If it was my bank account with no prenup, my biggest concern would be getting my radar checked, because we all know K-Fed made it past the first date. (Fire yo' damn body guard!)


With that being said, the trailer trash is 100% correct about knowing right away. We all know if the person is worth our time, or isn't, right off the bat. I am not talking about love at first sight and all the bullsh*t. Love at first sight is just the desire to bump nasties. It’s LUST! (I ain't going to lie, bumping can be hot!) I am talking about the gut instinct that we should all listen to more often. If Cray-Cray Brit knows what's up, we all should be able to get it.


I admit that I too have fallen victim to the ninja's of the dating world. A dating ninja looks and acts like Price Charming in the beginning, that act soon fades and he becomes your very own K-Fed. (Fat golfing picture K-Fed and not hot backup dancer K-Fed!) The dating world has landmines right and left, and you have to get smart about how you maneuver through the battlefield of single life. The wrong guy can suck you dry! (And, not in the good way. Okaaaay!)


After moving to Los Angeles, I went on a ton of dates. (I'm that hot ... or is it slutty?) I wanted to meet people and experience my new environment. There was so much to do, so much to see and so many men in a brand-new dating pool. (I swan-dived the f*ck in! I was like a moist towelette!) Was I selective enough? No! Did I end the dates when I realized I wasn't into the shmuck? No! What the f*ck you say!? (Or, to quote my Mother's new texting phrase ... "WTF?". Disturbing ... Right?) I could have saved myself a lot of time and awkward moments through screening my mutha' fuckin' dates, but why didn't I you ask? Well, I didn't have rules in place, or the experience to guide me in the dating world. A lot has changed since then, and I am preaching the Book of Colby!


I want my fans (Chuck in Wichita) to get the full Colby dating experience, so I would like to share the three worst dates I have experienced here in the fine land of Los Angeles. These dates forced me to construct rules for how I went about dating. Trust when I say that I think we should all do what makes us happy and comfortable, but we should also use some common f*ckin' sense. Happy doesn't always mean healthy.


The very first date I went to on in Los Angeles was with a guy that I was fixed up with by a new friend. I will call this little peach "L.A. Guy". He embodied all that I thought L.A. was as a stereotype. On the phone he suggested PF Changs for dinner. I am a classy lady, and normally I would have suggested nicer accommodations for our first date, but ooooowwweee PF Changs is f*ckin' good. Just thinking about the Lettuce Wraps makes my mouth. (Mental note: Stop by the Changs after work.)


On the phone L.A. Guy suggests picking me up, and because the Book of Colby had yet to be written into the dating Bible, I said that it would be fine. ("Don't do it," my gut says.) He picks me up and right away I think he is a major douche bag. (My “new” friend, the Matchmaker, is now my “ex” friend.) L.A. Guy drove a car he couldn't afford, and was dressed in so many labels I thought he might be Euro-Trash. (You know the type with a tight black t-shirt that has Emporio Armani across it, decorative jeans and very pointy over-the-top shoes.) No, he was from the OC. (Worse!) He was dropping names here and there, and talked about clubs and work events with Red Carpets ... blah, blah, blah! In my head I had a song playing through the entire date, "Douche ... Douchhhhhheee .... Douche Bag Bag Bag ...", but I made nice and chit-chatted with him. PF Changs in my mouth was the only thing that was salvaging my evening! The waiter couldn't take our order fast enough, if you ask me!


I knew the date was really going down-hill when he started oddly interrogating me. The first question being ... "Do you have veneers?" I said no. He doesn’t' follow it up, but just puts it out there. Second question ... "Are you wearing make-up?" I said no, but I didn’t let him get away with just dropping that bomb, so I asked him, "Why do you ask?" He tells me that my skin is perfect and that he couldn't see any zits (at least he wasn’t a complete moron), so he thought I must be covering them up. I said no. The final question ... "Do you have Botox?" He followed this one up on his own and said, "I am a little younger than you, but you look so much young than me." The bitch twinkled out of me and I said, "That says more about you, now doesn't it?" I put it out there and let it hang in the air. I was not amused by this interview concerning my appearance. All I could do was focus on my Kung Pao Bean Curd while listening to his boring chit chat.


Fast forward ... he drives me home. We are outside my building, and he asks, “So am I coming upstairs?” (Looking back, I should have had him pick me up and drop me off two buildings down.)


Ok ladies, let me tell you why I was confused by his question, and why my jaw hit the floor. After the third question, I decided that I needed an OUT. I needed something that could end this date with no questions asked. I was not against freaking him out completely, and risking him talking to his friends about Crazy Colby. I could live with bad press as long as the date ended when he dropped me off. I didn’t want an awkward “good night”, so I sent a clear message. I told L.A. Guy that I had really uncomfortable stomach pains. I said it midway through dinner and I let it build. I mentioned it a few times more over the next 40 minutes. So, when he asked if he was “coming up” … I was beside myself. To be blunt, I thought stomach issues might give the clear idea of explosive diarrhea. Oh yes … I was pulling out all the stops to seal the f*ckin’ deal! Obviously, this did not occur to him. (Good Christ! I realized that I would have to take this all the way and, as the song says, “Slide into home!”) I inform him that I have diarrhea. (Oh yes, I said it. A looooow in my dating career.) I thought that no gay man wants to risk the Poop D*ck during sex. (If they do … I may be in over my head. I like the fetishes and role-play action … but poop is a general area I don’t go. TMI? Get over it!) My confession worked, and I was able to leave him, and the date behind me for good. He never called again. Amen!


You would think I would have learned to screen better for the future, but no, it took a few more bad dates to learn my lesson. The second worst date was with a man I will call … Peso. (He was not Mexican, but the reason is for me to know.) Peso, in short (Hint! Hint!), was a nice enough guy. He was fun over dinner. (AT MOTHA’ F*CKIN’ ISLANDS … maybe I just screen Big Spenders that suggest that bullsh*t!) I learned that we had things in common, and he was very cute. I thought there was promise with Peso. It was early when we finished our fine-dining experience, so we went back to my place. (Don’t get any ideas, because I am a lady.) We talk, laugh and flirt a lot. I thought all was splendid!


While sitting close to each other he says, “Wow, you are hot. I really want to kiss you!” This could have been cute if he had not asked like a 16-year-old guy who was trying to grope me clumsily. He was a little aggressive and the tone was similar to begging. I was not opposed to testing the lip-lock waters, so I agreed to it. The kissing was fine. (Mostly because I have a gift.) Then he says, “I really like you … can we take off our shirts?” Oh yes, you can see how this progressed. Each time it got more and more like he was begging. It was starting to annoy me, but it was also like seeing a person with a big goiter that you can’t stop starring at, and you just want to thump it. Let’s just say we end up in only our jeans in my bedroom. As much as he talked about liking me and wanting to see me again, I realized he was a dating ninja, but not a good one. I could see right through his act.


He continued on with his mission and tried to get me out of my jeans. He asked several times and in “sly” new ways. I finally said ok, only because I was afraid he would say, “I have blue balls and I could die if I don’t get off!” If little immature Peso had said it … I would have laughed and hurt his little feelings. (Notice my foreshadowing with the word little.) We get our jeans off and we end up in our birthday suits. (Skipping the begging to get my underwear, that I don’t wear, off.)


Okay, was this a cosmic joke? I don’t like the “relish tray” at Thanksgiving, and I did not want no Baby Kosher Dill in my boudoir. (Okkkaaay!) Give me something to work with. He says, while making out and grinding his tiny business into my hard soccer-player thigh, “I only top!” If my eyes hadn’t already been closed, and if my mouth hadn’t been full of Peso’s tongue, I probably would have laughed and rolled my f*ckin’ eyes! Really… only a top with that plumbing? That boy was meant to be face down in a pillow calling my damn name! I go with it though because I was feeling so much like a played fool at this point, and I didn’t want it to become unbearably awkward. The worst part was I let it play out like that. It was my fault!


Let’s just say it was a lot of me faking it (didn’t know a guy could do that), and planning out what I was going to shop for the next morning at Trader Joes. My performance left him thinking he was a stud and promising to call me the next day. He didn’t and I was glad (and NOT at all sore). It was one of my worst dates because of the fact that I allowed myself to do something that made me feel ridiculous. I should have ended it on my terms. Now I get to see him around and know my shame.


The last of today’s tales is the Crown Jewel of my bad dating career! I am not going to make this long, because you will see from the beginning that this date was doomed. I met “John Doe” off a social networking site. It took forever to pick a day and restaurant to meet at. I had learned my lesson, some-what, and I said I would meet him there. I had no intentions of going back to his place or mine and I made that clear before the meeting. I should have canceled the whole thing when he proved to be so difficult, but I gave him a chance. Big mistake!


John Doe showed up late, of course. (This is L.A.) He showed up looking much older than his three posted pictures, and had some weird chip on his shoulder. He tells me over dinner that I am cuter in person, so at least he displayed taste. It started out slow, and I was trying to feel him out. I was already taken aback by the outdated pictures and by the fact that he must have thought I wouldn’t notice. It was like Gerard Butler sent me a picture, and Danny DevVito showed up.


We ordered our food, and right after ordering he dives in to the topic of sex. I felt like I was hit by a truck filled with dildos on the way to the Pleasure Chest. (No … that would have been more fun!) He says, once the appetizers arrive, “My d*ck is about 10 inches and I can suck myself.” Yes ladies, he said it. Not only did he say it aloud, but I had to hear it every time I replayed the scene later. At that point the date really took a nose dive into the deepest ocean of inappropriate first-date topics possible. He began to bring up people on my “friend list” so that he could inform me of which ones he didn’t like, who he had dated and which fellows he had “four-gies” with. I did all I could to tune it out, short of going into the fetal position on the floor and going “Na, Na, Na.”. If only I could have been Dorothy and clicked my cute John Varvatos Converse together, and been back home on my sofa. I would have rather been alone at home eating my weight in carbs every Friday for month than be stuck with John Doe and his tales of sucking himself. (Yuck!) Enough said about Mr. John Doe.


I would like to say that I purposefully edited out the horrible details that could make your balls and titties dry up and fall off. My past dates are my burden to bear. These men taught me about prescreening. The following rules have saved me a lot of time and pain over the last few years, so I hope they help you as well.


Dating Rules from the Book of Colby:


1. When meeting a date off the Internet you must see at least five different well-lit pictures from all different angles prior to the date.


2. On a first date, you should meet him/her at the public location and split the bill. Make it a public location, because no one wants to go hiking on a first date and end up on a mountain with a crazy person! Split the bill so that no one leaves feeling screwed if it goes poorly.


3. Put your best foot forward and represent yourself well. A first date could turn into more, so you should look your best, and be the most enjoyable you. No one wants to hear about exes, dead people, addictions and/or lost jobs. Those are what we call in the dating industry as “turn-offs”.


4. Be aware of your limits going into the date, and be confident in what you are comfortable with.


5. Be aware of what you are getting yourself into. For instance, when you are asked over to watch a movie, that can be translated as “Come over and f*ck.” It is as simple as that! (It also applies to going over to “watch TV”.)


6. You know your type, so don’t go on pity dates, and don’t “give people a chance”. Why do that to yourself? Stick to your guns bitches!


These are a few of my basic dating rules. These work for me, but we are all different.


To conclude this lovely tale, please do some soul-searching and know what you want. You can say one thing and want another, so figure your sh*t out. This will help yourself and those you date. If you want a marriage, don’t give up the sex to everyone. (Though it can be fun!) It doesn’t get you any closer to walking down the aisle. If you want easy sex, don’t say you want “love” just to get your pickle tickled. That ends up hurting others, and I don’t think any of us sets out to be a blatant douche-bag assh*le! If you are honest and communicate well, there will never be dating drama. Above all, strive for the happiness and balance that we all deserve. Oh and … stay away from the LA Guys, Pesos and John Does of the dating world. They have crooked paths to travel, so let them figure out things for themselves. Strive for better!