I can't believe how quickly 2009 is coming to a close! It seems the year went by in a flash. So many things happened this year! I hope everyone takes the time to reflect on the years events (both good and bad) and be thankful for what we have.

Something I'm thankful for this year is this blog! It allows me the opportunity to share with you some of the things which have happened to me and hopefully will never happen to you. And what better way to close out 2009, then by sharing with you a story about the worst man I have ever encountered... well as of yet. I'm sure there's a worse one out there waiting for me to naively wander into his claws-I mean arms.

Last week I told you about meeting my good friend Natasha's long lost second cousin three times removed, Tim. Well, this blog is about Tim.

You see after the whole Woody Allen stalker ordeal, I found out that Tim knew that I liked him. And so naturally I did nothing. It's what I usually do when I like someone, nothing. Some time went by and a couple months down the line my birthday came around. Well wouldn't you know it, it turns out that Tim and I have the same birthday! Well isn't that something! It's almost like a sign. A sign that would read: Please don't interact with the wildlife. Just keep on moving or you will be mauled.

It's too bad they don't make signs like these for people. Wouldn't life be simple if everyone wore a sign telling you what you should expect from them? Like: 'Danger: he won't call you back!' or 'WARNING: he is a giant jerk with nine illegitimate children and an elbow fetish.' They could also make some for the ladies like: 'Caution: biological clock ticking.' (I'm just saying.)

Well back to my sign, our mutual birthday. My friends and I went out for a birthday dinner, and while we were celebrating, Natasha decided to call her cousin and wish him well. She then passed the phone over to me. The standard exchange begins. "Happy birthday!" "Happy birthday!" "How are you?" "How are you?!" Blah blah blah...etc." It was swell. He was incredibly friendly over the phone and I have to admit, I may have been grinning when we hung up.

A few days go by and Natasha informed me that Tim has been asking her about me. I blushed. I always blush, it's ridiculous. I told her to go ahead and give him my number. If a guy likes you, he'll call. If he doesn't... well, there goes another one, right?

As it happens, he called.

And we had a conversation! A real one! A good one!

We probably talked for an hour. I don't think I've ever talked to a guy over the phone that long. We talked about the doom night from hell with Woody Allen and how he found out that I had a minor crush on him, and all sorts of other random stuff.

The next day, he called back. And this time, with the preliminaries out of the way, we talked more in detail. Knowing that he worked 'in security' I asked to hear more about what his job entailed.

He mumbled something non-committedly about doing security for night clubs and Russian strippers.

Hmm...

"Really?" I say, because what else could I have said?

"Oh yeah! In fact, there's this great story..." He laughs and goes on to tell me that last year he was Santa Claus at one of his security gigs and he had elf strippers giving him lap dances. Oh! And the best part is that now he can get me into any nightclub I want because he knows the Russian mob!

Oh aren't I a lucky lucky girl?

Yes I know what you're thinking. But no, I didn't run for my life. I kept talking to him.

It was around this point when Tim proclaimed that he wants to get together, he wants to take me on a date. And can I help it if I'm excited? I hadn't gone out with someone in a while and he seemed nice enough, despite the mob connection!

I ask when he wants to meet up, and he tells me that he would love to get together this week, but can't because he is going to Mexico with some friends to see a donkey show and eat lobster.

Well how DISGUSTING.

I am completely appalled. I mean how gross is that?

Lobster?!

You're Jewish! You can't eat that! Eww gross. I'm not Orthodox by nay means. I tend to fall under conservative and yes, I know plenty of Jews don't eat Kosher, but it's one thing that I still cannot wrap my head around. Come on, lobster?

At the time, I was clutching the phone thinking to myself, "unbelievable! Just when I think I've found a good Jewish boy, he eats lobster!"

Then the stupid voice of my feminine self comes back to play devils advocate.

Well, wait.... maybe he can work on that if things get serious, right? Maybe he just needs some good womanly influence! And at least he's going to see a donkey show! He obviously likes animals! And that sounds like a lot of fun. I'm sure there must be some cute little donkey with a clown hat on. That's pretty innocent fun for a party place like Mexico! I've never been, but I know what people do in Cancun. Never heard of a donkey show, but I'm sure they must have donkey shows everywhere in Mexico. Hmm. Hold on a minute, I'm looking it up on Wikipedia...

O. M. G.

Not even possible.

Oh. My. God.

If only I had done this Wikipedia search BEFORE agreeing to go out with him it could have saved me so much time.

(Note to the wise: If you are fortunate enough not to know what a donkey show is, please, please for your own safety resist temptation and do not google it. Let's just say there's a line between disgusting and wrong and this is LIGHTYEARS beyond that line!)

Because I am thickheaded beyond belief, and was missing all the signs that God was dropping on my head, we still planned to get together.

Tim decides he wants to take me to a club. For our first date. On a Friday night.

Now this seems normal enough, right?

Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, boy takes girl to Russian mob owned night club to bump and grind on Shabbat...uh, I don't think so.

I am just not that kind of girl. I have standards and I am not ashamed to have them. I think all girls should have standards! It would make men appreciate us more...but I am digressing. The point is: I don't do clubs on first dates.

On first dates you want to talk and really get to know someone. And the more I thought about, the more I realize I didn't want to do this on a Friday night. He's Jewish! Doesn't he know better?

I tell him this in a very nice, feminine and non-committal manner. Tim thoughtfully "compromises" by saying "OK, well, where do you want to go?"

"Coffee?" I say. "Maybe dinner?"

"Sure!" He replies. "Next Friday night then, we'll hit up the Santa Monica Pier! We can just walk around and figure out where to go from there."

Sigh. OK. I tell him it sounds good, but I'll have to call him later in the week to confirm.

A few days go bye and after wrestling with my tenacious conscience, I decided no. I just can't go out on Friday night, it doesn't sit well with me. I know, I know. We're not going to a night club, but still. I just don't want to go out on Shabbat.

But you know what? It's cool! If he really likes me and wants to spend time with me we can pick another night to meet up. Right?

I could not have been more wrong.

I call my Prince Charming up the Wednesday before our date, and I am completely honest. I tell him I can't meet up on Friday night, due to Shabbat. I apologized and explained to him how uncomfortable it would make me.

I then waited for his sympathetic response.

(Will I ever, ever, ever learn?)

Instead of being kind and understanding, Tim proceeds to throw a minor fit. He takes ten minutes of completely illogical ramblings to tell me how much he had to go through to get the night off just to take me out!

Wow, OK. I think I am finally getting it. Tim is kind of a jerk.

While this fact resonated in my mind, Tim continued his beautiful speech. I have included a few highlights below:

*I was incredibly lucky that he was even able to make time for me!

*He had to get the night off from his security post and he had to explain to his "brothers" (I hate frat boys) that he was taking me out that night and could not attend some Sigma-Kappa-Pi- Fufa-Nita annual toga luau.

What he expected me to reply with I have no idea. Well gee. Really? Oh poor baby. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to ruin your plans! Uh, not so much.

Recapping this entire mess, he says: "So you don't want to go out with me?"

I resisted the urge to say: "Well your speech pretty much just sealed that one. What did you think? That it would make me realize you are the father of my 84 children?!"

Ew. I am so over this guy right here and now. I politely told him I had to go; I was picking my brother up from school. I hung up. Grossed out, but pleased that I was rid of Tim.

It should be over by now right?

If only I was that lucky.

Later that evening, Tim calls me back.

Just great.

But he surprises me. He wants to apologize for the way he acted on the phone earlier! He doesn't know what he was thinking! He just wanted me to know what he had to go through to get the night off and he really wanted to see me!

And of course, me being me, I begin to feel somewhat sorry for him. He tells me how busy his schedule is and that he won't have time to see me for at least 3 weeks!

Snap back to reality.

Well if I wasn't sure before, I am sure now. If you can't make time for me, I won't give you my time!

I wait for him to stop talking so I can let him down easy and say a very firm goodnight. But before I can he starts rambling again.

"Well uh, I'm going to Las Vegas in a couple weeks with my frat brothers... and while I'm there I'm hoping to find some hot chick to bang."

Horrific silence.

"So.... are you free?"

UH..... did he just ask me to go to Vegas and sleep with him? Is he really that charming?

What. A PIG!

Now, unfortunately I am not the most literate in severe moments of shock and nausea. Therefore, I did not come up with the cleverest response to such a lurid invitation. But I was in shock and it's the only thing that came to mind.

Tim: "So...are you free?"

Me: "Um... no, I have to ...work."

Oh God.

At that moment God mercifully intervened and my phone literally died. I think it was in shock as well. At least the phone had the courage to hang up on him!

The next day as soon as my phone was charged, he started calling again. I for once, had had enough.

Seriously, HOW do these creeps always find me? How? Many unanswered calls and texts later he finally got the picture, and I never did hear from him again. Thank goodness.

Perhaps he is lost in Vegas, in a Santa suit, chatting with the Mexican representative of the Russian mob as they are entertained by elf strippers who serve them lobster.

I hope no one else has fallen for that charmer. But seriously, who would? Except me that is....Hopefully I will have some happier stories in the coming year.

<--- Natalie's first Tim encounter, the night she was stalked by a young Woody Allen