Princess MoMo

To read about Mr. Car Part I, click here.

Date One 9/3
Brief recap of Mr. Car Part I: He lives locally. We met at Friday’s because there’s nothing else to do out here in the woods. Upon first glance of this specimen, I determined he was too skinny for me to take interest. About halfway through the date, one of my friends dial pad-ed me. He usually doesn’t call me late at night, so I answered. I stepped outside to take the call. My friend was wasted out of his mind and lost in Long Beach Island. I suggested that he catch a cab or use the GPS on his phone to locate the place at which he was staying. He refused to do either. I continued the conversation for about 15 minutes and then told him I’d call him back. I went inside, wrapped up things with Mr. Car and then called Mr. Drunk ‘n Lost on my way home.

I spent quite some time on the phone with him trying to convince him not to sleep outdoors and encouraging him to continue his quest to find his intended destination. Finally, he said, “I’m such an idiot. I’m here, but I didn’t recognize anything because I’m on the wrong side of the street.”

Back to Mr. Car. The day after date one he texted, “Well needless to say I had a good time last night. Glad we were able to meet within 24 hours of our initial convo :-) No BS. Maybe we can get together again sometime soon Momo.” I gave some bullshit response that included the word “likewise.” “Likewise” is my code word for “whatever you say, I’m just throwing out some bullshit word so that I seem cordial because you don’t annoy me enough to warrant my real thoughts.” Luckily, the code word is a lot shorter than the phrase it actually represents. Three days later was his birthday. So I texted him, “Happy birthday” because I’m a considerate individual. The next day he called and texted in an effort to schedule future plans. My responsiveness level was low, very low.

Date Two 9/17
The next weekend, we had the following text exchange:

Mr. Car: U hanging around town today?
MoMo: Nope. Not even in the state
Mr. Car: Oh out of state…. where did you go?
MoMo: Marthas Vineyard
Mr. Car: Pimp
Mr. Car: So are you on vacation or do you just fly there causally on weekends? :)
MoMo: This time was a spur of the moment casual weekend
Mr. Car: Not bad for causal haha. Did you drive up?
MoMo: No. Aircraft.
Mr. Car: Well.. I wasn’t kidding then last night when I said pimp. When do you arrive back? I’ll notify the governor so he can have the motorcade ready.

That was the weekend I flew away with Mr. Plane.  Upon my return to dreamy New Jersey, Mr. Car wanted to hang out on Wednesday.  But, Mr. Plane had claimed me first.  Then, that Friday, Mr. Car again wanted to hang out, but Mr. Plane beat him to that too.  That Saturday, I was finally able to pencil Mr. Car in.  This is when the annoyances began. Rather than suggesting a plan, Mr. Car said, “What do you want to do?” I told him it was not my responsibility to come up with an idea.  If he wanted to hang out, it was incumbent upon him to be a man with a plan. He threw out a couple of suggestions and sought my approval.  I emphasized my disinterest in being on the planning committee.  I explained that Mr. Plane never even told me where we were going.  I would just show up and be whisked away somewhere.  That’s how I roll.  Anyway, two hours later, Mr. Car called me and told me we were going to Atlantic City.  It was obvious that he was trying to compete with Mr. Plane.

The two hour ride (by car) down to AC was filled with beats courtesy of DJ MoMo.   When we arrived, we went up to a room in the Tropicana.  Mr. Car whipped out a bottle of Goose.  He had studied the MoMo user manual (aka this blog).   We sat opposite each other across a round table drinking Goose for quite some time.  Then, there was a knock at the door.  Who the eff could it be?  He opened the door and it was a security person.  The person asked if we were running around in the room.  Mr. Car said, “No. We’re just sitting here.” I got up and showed the guy my heels and said, “Do you really think I’d be running around in these?”  He asked if there were any others in the room.  We informed him that it was just the two of us.  He said, “Alright. Well, just…you know…you know…”  No, we didn’t know.  What the fuck?  He went on his merry little annoying security guy way and we continued our Goosing.  While we were sitting around drinking, I told him we needed to come up with a blog name for him.  He spit out Mr. Car (because, remember, this was during the Mr. Plane time period).  I liked it. That’s now his name.

Next, Mr. Car decided he was hungry.  Critical error.  Eating interferes with drinking.  We went to Hooters, where the skanks were ugly and the service was sub-standard.  But, the wings were amazing.  However, my eyes were being violated left and right by plaid-shirt laden men.  PLAID IS NOT A GOOD LOOK.  STOP WITH THAT SHIT. PLEASE. YOU LOOK LIKE FARMERS (which would be fine if you were on a field, but you’re not).  By the time we finished eating, it was almost 2 a.m.  I suggested we bring the remaining wings up to the room so that we could consume them later if hunger struck.  Another critical error.  When we got back to the room, I thought it would be a good idea to change into my comfy onsies.  I placed myself on the bed, closed my eyes and passed out.  That made for an uneventful evening.   In the morning, Mr. Car expressed his disappointment in my “early” slumbering.  Oh well.  That’s what happens when I’m tired, boozed up, winged up, dressed in a onsie and near a bed.  You can’t combine certain elements and expect anything other than the natural result.  Sleepy MoMo + Goose + Wings + Onsie = Bedtime.

There was still some Goose and wings left in the morning.  I ate the wings and he and I finished the Goose.  Breakfast of champions.  We then left.  Note, Mr. Car put no moves on me this whole time.  Nothing.  He did not even attempt to taste the delicious MoMo-lips.  Good for him.  I generally don’t like being touched, so I had no problem with him keeping his distance.

Date Three Mr. Car’s Friend’s Wife’s Birthday 9/24

The next Saturday, I was feeling particularly anti-social.  Mr. Car urged me to go out to his friend’s wife’s birthday dinner.  We arrived an hour early.  (Because his friend told everyone to arrive at 6 p.m. knowing that almost everyone would be an hour late.)  Fortunately, the bar tender was very amusing.  He sang to me in various languages.  I paid for the first couple rounds of drinks because he had paid for the room in AC the week before and because I assumed he was paying for dinner.  When it was time for round three or four of drinks, he expected me to pay again.  That wasn’t going to happen.  Aside from that scenario and birthdays, I can’t remember the last time I paid for a guy’s drink(s).  Dinner ended up being funded by his friend.

Date Four 9/25

Mr. Car just couldn’t get enough of me.  The next day, he wanted to see me again.  He said a bunch of his friends were going to the Monmouth Race Track.  He told me it was Oktoberfest.  (BTW, never again will I go to any sort of Oktoberfest unless it is in Germany.  My next Oktoberfest adventure sucked even more than this horse trash.)  Why I agreed to this activity is beyond me.  I was surrounded by white trash and horses.  Of the two, the white trash was definitely worse.  Mr. Car hadn’t gone to the ATM, so I paid for parking and the first round of beers.  He got next round.  (The tab tracking is important for a later part of this post.)

Date Five 9/29

I’m not big on weekday face-time, but he lives close enough to make it less inconvenient.  We met for dinner at a Thai place.  I offered to split the bill.  Intelligently, he declined my offer. He wanted to continue hanging out after, but we both live at “home” i.e., the homes of our procreaters.  My mom is cool, but I don’t like specimens coming over to the house because then there are too many questions asked of me.  I invited him to my house, but then thought about it for three minutes and rescinded the offer.

Date Six 9/30

One day after the Thai dinner, Mr. Car wanted even more face-time.  I texted him and asked if we were hanging.  I made a suggestion, so as to avoid the ever-annoying “What do you want to do? I don’t know. What do you want to do” discussion.  I said that if it were copacetic, I’d go to his crib.  He responded, “Giving it some thought.”  That was unacceptable to me.  It was either yes or no.  Maybes are crap.  So I said, “Never mind,” and immediately tapped into a bottle of wine.  By the time he was done eating dinner and ready to call me, the bottle was empty.  I was pissy on the phone and told him I just wanted to sit home by myself.  He insisted we hang out.  I told him he would have to pick me up because I was under the influence.  He did so.  We went to a local bar, which was lame like everything else (other than me and those close to me in an emotional sense, which is essentially two people and six chihuahuas) in Suburbia Bumblefuck.  He then took me to a little known treasure bar (or maybe it just seemed cool because I was annihilated).  When it was time to order drinks, he said, “Where is your credit card?”  I took this opportunity to explain that if he wanted to court me in a dating fashion, he was expected to cover the cost of drinks and dinner.  He seemed shocked by this.  Frankly, I was shocked by the reverse.

On the way home, I passed out in the car.  (Yes, there’s a trend.  I’m like a narcoleptic when I’m drinking.)  He pulled to the side of the road just before entering my neighborhood to wake me up.  Of course, a cop happened to be driving by.  It is so rare that cops drive past my hood. But of course, there happened to be one that night.  Mr. Car turned into my peaceful development.  The cop flashed his lights on.  Now, I am not fond of cops.  And by not fond, I mean I hate them.  The cop approached his car and asked for his license, registration and insurance.  I started spouting off at the mouth, demanding to know the basis for this Fourth Amendment seizure.  Did he have articulable suspicion? If not, he better step the fuck off.  MoMo is not the one.  The cop was not pleased with my antics.  He asked if I had had anything to drink.  I told him that I had had a lot to drink.  I wasn’t driving and I’m over 21, so it’s my damn prerogative to imbibe as much as I damn well please.  He asked to see my ID.  I refused.  I told him that I was not doing anything wrong, I was in my own neighborhood and that I would not stand for the violation of my Constitutional rights.  He argued with me stating, “When I asked you for your ID, it’s your right to give it to me.”  I wasn’t having any of that.  Finally, he walked away, realizing that arguing with a sleepy, intoxicated MoMo was not going to lead to a pleasant night for anyone.  He came back to the car after running Mr. Car’s papers.  Mr. Car had an expired registration.  He explained to the cop that he had the updated one at home.  The cop took his word for it, gave him a brief lecture about pulling over at the side of the road and then said, “Do you have any questions?”  Mr. Car responded, “No.” But, I had to have the last word.  I said, “I got some questions.”  The cop started walking away, not wanting anymore of me.  I said, “No, no, I got some questions.  WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU PULLING US OVER FOR?”  Mind you, the end of this episode is on video because I decided to video tape the seizure in the event that the cop stepped out of line.

When he pulled into my driveway, he stepped out of the car and began urinating on the castle lawn.  I slapped him upside the head and ran into the house.

“Date” Seven 10/7

Shockingly, after my stellar behavior in the presence of the po-lice, Mr. Car still wanted to hang out with me.  Disappointingly, though, he didn’t suggest we do anything on my birthday the day before.  He asked what I wanted for my  birthday.  I said nothing because I already have a lot of things.  But, he still could have made some sort of effort.  That Friday, he invited me to his parents’ house.  When I walked in, the introduction to his makers was the most awkward parent introduction ever.  He said, “This is MoMo.” (He used my real name, rather than MoMo, though.)  His mom and dad each said hi and then Mr. Car said, “Okay, let’s go downstairs.”  That was it.

When we went downstairs, I asked Mr. Car wtf that was about.  No parents had ever been so short with me.  Usually, they love me and chat me up for extended periods of time.  He said that he had pre-warned them to keep it short.  That they did.  The house hang out was pretty boring.  We watched some garbage on TV.  TV isn’t my thing. And, then I left.

“Date” Eight 10/8

This particular Saturday, I had planned to go out with a friend of mine in Hoboken.  Mr. Car wanted to come.  I asked my friend if he could crash at her place, along with me.  She agreed.  Not the ideal situation, but whatever.  I drove us there.  We did six shots before going out.  Needless to say, I lasted about an hour and two more drinks before I decided it was time for me to sleep.  Mr. Car and I went back to my friend’s place, where I immediately passed out.  Around 4 a.m., I heard my friend yelling at Mr. Car.  Apparently, he had thrown up in her bathroom sink.  Gross.  When I asked him what would possess him to do such a thing, he explained that he wasn’t feeling well and that her apartment was a mess anyway.  I told him that regardless of the apartment condition, vomiting in her sink was inappropriate.  The toilet was a mere one foot away…WTF?!  When it was time to leave in the morning, I begged him not to puke in the MoMo-mobile.  I have a weak stomach and the stench of vomit almost immediately triggers my gag reflex.  He grabbed a bag and actually did puke in the bag in the MoMo-mobile.  I opened the windows and minimized my breathing.

“Date” Nine 10/9

The following night, when he had recovered from his nausea, we again hung out at his parents’ house.  This time, I talked to his mom for a while.  She apologized for the brevity of the first encounter and explained that Mr. Car had demanded that she keep it short.  Mr. Car and I watched some more garbage on TV.  And, as I was on my way out, Mr. Car’s pops saw me and said, “May I have a word with you?”  He too explained that Mr. Car had told him to keep the initial convo. to a minimum.

Date Ten 10/16

Mr. Car knew that I went on a date the night before (10/15) and he knew that I also participated in a date auction that same night.  So, it seemed like he wanted me back in his clutches.  He suggested we go to dinner.  We met at the Longhorn Steakhouse.   I was actually vibing with him that night.

“Date” Eleven 10/21

This Friday, we were both planning on being in New Brunswick.  He was going to some party/charity event his friend invited him to and I was going to my girl’s birthday outing.  Despite having bitched him out earlier in the day, I called Mr. Car and asked if he would drive me to New Brunswick.  He said, “So, let me get this straight: You want me to pick you up from your house, drop you off wherever your friends are, go to where my party is, then find you later, pick you up, drop you off at home and drive back to my house?”  I told him that that was precisely what I was proposing.  He said, “What’s in it for me?” I said, “Nothing. Are you going to do it or not, because if not, I’m just going to take myself.”  He agreed to take me.

He picked me up and dropped me off to meet up with my friends.  A few hours later, he texted me asking if he could meet up with us.  I told him where we were.  Again, we were vibing that night.  On the ride home, I, as usual, fell asleep.  But, this time, my MoMo-senses kicked in when we approached my neighborhood and I automatically woke up.   No police stops.

“Date” Twelve 10/23

Mr. Car LOVES face-time for reasons beyond me.  There are no pleasures of the flesh activities going on between us, but yet he wants to see me all of the time.  On that fine Sunday, I was driving home from a bridal shower.  Mr. Car really wanted me to come over.  I resisted at first, but then he said he missed me and I felt bad for being so mean to him.  I went to his house and hung out for two hours.  Most of this time was spent watching YouTube videos.

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What’s going on here?

Mr. Car has been around for almost two months.  That is a long, long time in MoMoLand dating time.  The life cycle of a typical specimen in MoMoLand is three weeks. Not coincidentally, that is the time period between PMSing spells.  Well, with Mr. Car, it’s not quite clear what’s going on.  As I said, at the outset, I wasn’t at all attracted to him.  He is also a beta male, which doesn’t usually do it for me.   I have a very dominant personality and I like my men to be even more dominant.  But, Mr. Car is sweet and very able/willing to deal with my moodiness and whimsical ways.

This past Friday (10/28), Mr. Car and I had a brief argument.  He gchatted me in the afternoon and asked if I had plans for the night.  I said, “Yes.”  He said, “Well, have a fucking blast.” And then said he was signing off.  He was upset that the plans did not include him.  But, I had several times told him that if he wanted to hang out with me, he had to bring a plan to the table and get at me in a timely fashion.  Later that night, we were on the phone and I told him he had three options: 1. Not hang out with me; 2. Go to Brooklyn to see my friend; or 3. Come up with another plan.  While it was framed as three options, it was actually one option because I knew he wanted to hang out (so option 1 was out) and I knew he sucks at coming up with plans (so option 3 was out).  Now that we had narrowed it down to option 2, he asked who was driving.  I told him he was.  He was not pleased with that.  He again started with the “Let me get this straight” bit, saying “So, let me get this straight, I’m supposed to drive there, pay for shit and then listen to your attitude all night?” I said, “Yes, that sounds about right.”  He said, “When are you going to start driving and coming out of pocket?”  Total turn off.  First of all, as you read above, I had driven and “come out of pocket” before.  Second, in MoMoLand, men are supposed to drive.  Growing up, I can hardly remember a time when my mom was the one driving if both parental units were traveling in one car.  Driving is a man thing.  Third, if I were going to drive, why would I take him? So that I could be encumbered by a someone requiring my attention and risk more unsanitary sink treatment? Fourth, yes, guys are expected to pay for dinner and drinks, especially at the beginning.  I don’t care to hear any equality bullshit.  If you want to be treated like a man, do man things.  Otherwise, chop off one of your balls and hand it to me in a jar.  Then, we can be equal, each with a testicle.  Since no jar was forthcoming, I drove myself to Brooklyn and had a fabulous time with my Cyber BFF.

That’s all I have for now.

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Your “likes” and comments are encouraged and appreciated.  Thanks.

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