Four Faintly Funny Stories

Four short stories that at times read like fiction, but I can honestly (and somewhat unfortunately) say, they are truth!

The funny: Say my name, bitch!

I tried internet dating a couple of times. Had a couple of pleasant dates, some lecherous dates, went out a couple of times with one guy and then there was ‘Nick’.

Nick and I met on NZ Dating, he lived in Auckland and I lived in Hamilton. We dated for about 3 months. It was never very serious and simply ran its course, but that’s not the funny story here.

You see, one weekend I was up in Auckland visiting him, this was about 2 months into dating and we were getting to know each other reasonably well. When I left on Sunday night I accidentally picked up his phone charger, back when they weren’t mostly all the same. So we decided to courier them to each other as we didn’t have back-ups.

So I went ahead and couriered his, he sent me mine and then the next weekend I went to see him and he sat me down to ‘talk’. He’s looking all awkward and nervous and I’m thinking “Oh god, what on earth is this confronting?”

Turns out, his name wasn’t Nick.

I had addressed the courier to Nick and when he got it, he’d been confused.

He’d been confused?!! I had been dating the guy for 2 months and I didn’t even know his freaking name! Neither of us could even work out how I could’ve gotten that wrong… obviously I’d not called him by name in the entire time we had known each other and it wasn’t like his name was Rick or something… I won’t say it out of respect, but it was as different to Nick as say, Simon is.

The worst part? Telling my mum. She asked after ‘Nick’ and I just had to tell her. When she stopped crying with laughter she begged me to let her tell my aunt and between the two of them I still haven’t lived it down.

The cringe-worthy: The trouble with Ex’s

One night I was at a memorial party with a group of close friends for the 5th anniversary of the death of a high school friend of theirs. I knew everyone there and had been included as part of the group for the occasion.

Trouble was that my recent Ex was also in this close group of friends and we hadn’t seen each other since we broke up (you may remember him from the last blog post – broke up with me on Facebook chat then moved to England with the girl he left me for?).

Anyway, I didn’t want to make it awkward for my friends as it was already an emotional night, so I decided to have a couple of G&T’s to relax and join in with the drinking games etc. (It was the ‘Tron, of course there were drinking games!)

So John eventually turned up… with the girlfriend in tow, along with her sister and two other friends. Most people were a bit taken aback at all of the extras and I think John was a little embarrassed because the girls obviously thought they were going for a night on the town and he wanted to go to the memorial.

I had a couple more G&T’s and the girlfriend started introducing herself to everyone, individually. She made her way around the little groups, shaking hands and saying “Hi, I’m Cheryl, John’s girlfriend!” like a chirpy little… *ahem*

It makes no difference to the story really, but I’d like to say although I’ve changed his name, I haven’t changed hers… mainly because her name was Cheryl, she was from West Auckland and she turned up in a denim mini skirt, a leopard print top and ugh boots. I couldn’t think of a more fitting name!!

At this point, I should say that John had contacted me the week before, practically begging to get back in my bed (I actually think he pleaded) and I had managed to have the self-esteem to say no. He never once mentioned that they were still together and I naively assumed they weren’t. So while she’s introducing herself, I’m shooting him dagger eyes and he’s looking scared about what is about to happen.

She finally gets around to me, and I’m a couple of sheets to the wind, just enough to make me a little more confident than my usual non-confrontational (at least in real life) self, and she shoves her hand at me and says again “Hi, I’m Cheryl, John’s Girlfriend!” and I take her hand, look her calmly in the eye and say “Hi, I’m Janine, John’s ex-girlfriend.”

It more than kind of took the wind out of her sails. She whirled on John and after a terse discussion during which he looked hunted, she then proceeded to get so wasted she passed out in the back of his car and he spent the rest of the night trying to talk to me while her friends and sister ran interference.

Looking back it was a bit petty, but god it felt good at the time. And quite out of character for me. I’m usually the pushover, the Miss Nice Guy. But I think I just got pushed a step too far on this occasion.

The Friend: Not quite a doppelganger

I think we all have that friend or acquaintance that we feel like we are competing with for the attentions of those we find attractive (at least I hope we all do, otherwise maybe I’m just weird).

Sometimes these competitions are completely in your mind and if you look at things realistically there is nothing to worry about except your own self-esteem and then there’s Helen.

Back when I was living in Sydney and I was denying my bisexuality (there’s a turn around) and living as a lesbian, I had a friend called Helen. We weren’t close, she worked with a close friend of mine and we got along okay, but we weren’t besties or anything.

Anyway, Helen and I were the two femmes of the group, and apart from having the same generous cup size, we didn’t really have anything else physically or intellectually in common. She was shorter, blonder and louder (yes, it is possible). Which is why it completely bamboozled me, and still does to this day, what kept happening.

First it was little things, like we would be at a bar and I’d be chatting someone up and thinking I was getting somewhere, until the second Helen walked in and you would think I was invisible. I put this down to the all-in-your-head competition I mentioned earlier at the time.

But it progressed… One night we were at ARQ bar, just off Oxford Street and I had picked up this lovely girl and we had been flirting and making out for a couple of hours, when I went to the bathroom. I came back no more than 5 minutes later to see her draped over Helen and my friends looking really uncomfortable.

To Helen’s credit she had no clue I’d been hooking up with this girl – she’d just arrived and was flattered by the attention. The girl wouldn’t meet my eye, Helen couldn’t work out why I was so angry. It was so loud and crowded in there I just left. One of my friends later told me that as soon as they could get hold of her they explained what happened, she had the pleasure of giving the girl a piece of her mind and leaving – if anything I am more angry that I didn’t get that chance!

The worst instance though was my ex-girlfriend Cate. I met Cate on the Mardi Gras Parade route when we were team leaders of adjoining sections of volunteers. First time I had ever been forward enough to give a girl my number without her asking. We didn’t date long, but long enough to introduce her to my friends. She eventually called and broke up with me over the phone*.

Helen called me a week or so later and told me about a weird experience she’d had. Cate had called her and wanted to catch up, they had both figured skated in their younger years and she used that as an excuse. Helen didn’t know we had broken up and thought it was just a friend thing until she got there. Romantic dinner, Cate professing her undying affection and even when Helen left before dinner, Cate hadn’t stopped trying to get in touch. Helen was mortified!

Now obviously Cate was a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but still, you get the picture of what I went through for three years. If I met someone and Helen was there, they usually lost interest in me quickly. If I met them away from her I was too bloody nervous to introduce them! It was ridiculous. Made even worse by the fact Helen felt bad about it and it wasn’t like it was her fault, she didn’t actively pursue people who showed an interest in me. But it definitely gave me a complex!

*Side note, when Cate broke up with me on the phone, she asked me to give the phone to my flatmate Sharon so she could make sure I would be okay. She then asked Sharon out on a date. Like I said, a loaf of bread short of a picnic. Classy too.

The Lingering: Why I shouldn’t date random’s

One night back in 2009, some friends from work talked me into going out on the town with them. I’d been single for a while since the end of a yearlong relationship, and little did I know they were going to try and hook me up with someone in town.

We spent the night bar-hopping and doing shots. And I spent the night cringing as they introduced me to guy after guy as their single friend. Their opening line was “Are you single? Here’s my friend Janine, she is!” and then they would practically shove me at them.

When it became obvious that I wasn’t immediately going to stick my tongue down the throat of any of their offerings they started telling people they should get my number and offering mine. Thank fully they were too drunk to get mine right and I had their phones, because I was the only one who took her purse to town!

It got to the point when I figured exchanging numbers with one guy who seemed nice enough was relatively harmless and it might just shut my friends up. It worked and we managed to have a fairly decent night after that.

I got home around 2am and fell asleep, woke up the next morning to a text from this guy – let’s call him Truck Boy (he was a truck driver).

Stupidly I thought it was nice that he’d texted so soon and so started a torrid hook-up that lasted for about 3 months. It was definitely booty-call material, I’m not ashamed to admit it. He was cute, but he wasn’t much for conversation and we’d usually hook up in the middle of the night.

Until one day I suddenly realised that it wasn’t pot that he was smoking in his dining room with his friends… it was P.

The day I realised that, was the last time I ever saw him. Unfortunately it wasn’t the last time I ever heard from him.

So this all happened in around July/August/September 2009 and I last heard from Truck Boy around Christmas or New Year’s 2012/13. I get 3am phone calls, I get 4am texts, one after the other. I ignore them, I respond telling him I’m not interested, I’ve told him I no longer live in the same city as him and still they keep coming.

No point in blocking the number because it’s different every time. Can’t track him down because I have no idea of his surname and I know he’s moved, because one of his texts said so. I just have to try and ignore it and hope it stops.

So that’s why I’m never that keen to exchange numbers with guys in bars.