I’ve placed and responded to a number of Craig’s List Casual Encounters ads since the Ex and I broke up in August 2007.  At this point I get emails from random dudes who want to meet me because of something I’ve posted, or because of my response to something they’ve posted.  Sometimes I meet them, sometimes I don’t.  There really is no rhyme to my reason, but I do feel very lucky that I have excellent instincts and that I’ve NEVER felt like I was in danger.  The Craig’s List Killer and I would not have met.

I received an email from one of these guys and because I was being lazy and because he wasn’t all that engaging, I referred him to my Twitter as a way for him to figure out if he really wanted to meet me.  He did.

We met for brunch at Universal Cafe, as brunch with mimosas is one of my all-time favorite activities (after the fucking, OF COURSE).  He had a cute baby face, which I really dig.  He was stocky and had some serious Popeye forearms, only much harrier.  Well, I guess Popeye (as portrayed by Robin Williams), who is also hairy as fuck.  I can work with a lot of body hair–the Ex has back hair, which is not one of the many reasons we’re not still together.

We sat in the crowded restaurant and chit-chatted.  I recall the conversation was pleasant.  Before the food arrived he rested his elbows on the table with his fingers interlaced.  I have no clue of his intent, but his posture pretty much shoved his very large, very gold ring in my face. Brass_Rat_2007_Finger

I couldn’t help but see that it was from MIT.  Was I supposed to be impressed?  As you can see, it’s fucking huge.

If I’m into a guy he definitely knows it because we’re probably fucking.  This guy was in the realm of possible fucks but something about him was not making me feel bold and sexy.  Eventually we parted ways.   No kiss, no nothing.

The guy was nice enough but he didn’t light my fire and he wore that damn ring.  I tweeted that I had mixed feelings about him, and that he had a huge, gaudy ring.  It wasn’t until after I tweeted, and got @ replies concerning said ring, that I realized he knew my Twitter because I had told him about it.  Duh.

He emailed me a link to some long-ass story on the history of the Texas-sized monstrosity he chose to wear.  I did not read it, mostly because I didn’t give a shit.  If your justification for wearing a ring requires I read a tome then we’re probably not going to get along.

He then wrote that he would not wear the ring around me.  And that’s when I knew I would not be seeing the guy again.  Worse than wearing an ugly ring is wearing an ugly ring without conviction.  Have some balls, man.  I probably would have fucked him if he had said, for example, “I went to MIT, and I wear this ring because I am proud that I attended a prestigious university.  I know it’s fucking hideous but that’s part of its charm.”

But considering we live just blocks away from each other I may see him again.  If it’s a sunny day I’ll try not to let the glare off the ring blind me.

I swear.  True story.