Wild Ginger

I know it's been a while since I've last posted! I was preoccupied by other travels and some crazy times at work!

So let me tell you about my latest date. Meet the Ginger. Most people know a ginger to be a redhead. Granted, gingers are usually not my thing. I decided to go out with this guy because a psychic told me a few months ago I'd meet a ginger with a great personality. She was right - he was a ginger with a great personality, but this guy is not the one for me. Take a look at his Bumble profile:

He looks like a possible good prospect, right? I can deal with the bald head. I can deal with the beard. He looked like he had a nice body. We chatted for a while and eventually met up for dinner. What is advertised in photos and what you actually get don't always comport. Observe: 

This guy has an overgrown bush on his face, and I COULD NOT STAND IT! It was wild ginger beard. When we met up for dinner, he was nice, classy, and fun. We got along, but more in a friendship kind of way. I couldn't stop thinking about his pseudo-Duck Dynasty beard. I wondered how much oil was on that beard. I wondered how dirty that beard was. The thought of that guy having sex and having that beard on top of me repulsed me.

He must have read my mind because he asked, me, "So what do you think of the beard?"
"It's okay, I guess. I'm not a huge fan of beards, but it's whatever you want to do to your face."
"Good! Because I'm not getting rid of it. I want to grow it out, make it nice and long!"

And that was that.

The other fatal flaw with this guy is that he lives an hour and fifteen minutes away. I didn't bother keeping up with him. The text messages he'd send me of himself with his ugly ass beard did nothing but make me want to vomit. How on earth did this guy think the beard was hot?

He would send me photos of himself and his beard in bed, at work, getting ready for work, or just stuck in traffic. I had had enough. I did what any single woman does when she wants to silently strangle a no-go man - conveniently "forget" to text him back.

He also had me on his Snapchat. I think after I blocked him on Snapchat and "forgot" to text him back, he got the message and backed off with the beard photos. Eventually, I told him I didn't think we were going anywhere. He was perplexed.

"I thought we hit it off?"

In my mind, I was thinking, "You must be mentally ill." Just because I sit through a dinner with you without running away and the conversation seems to flow doesn't mean we "hit it off." You might have had the hots for me (and why wouldn't you!), but I certainly didn't have the hots for you!

That was the end of the Ginger. No more Gingers for me.