Let’s do a Donkey’s Men recap, shall we, in the years since the dumping from [REDACTED] apparently caused her to forever lose her fucking mind?
First up, Chas Foreman. Hot as hell, but she reportedly treated him badly. And brayed so much in his presence that he complained of tinnitus. And wouldn’t bang him, if his Tweet that he hadn’t had sex in eight months — a month after he dated her for three months — is to be believed.
Enter Eater Guy. Also hot as hell. He put down ground rules: No blogging or Tweeting about their relationship. But eventually she couldn’t help herself and even did a TMI Weakly shitshow about the fact that he didn’t like staying in Lilly’s Pink Shitter Box and put out the call for birth control recommendations because, you know, Google and her doctor couldn’t provide that kind of information. News of their relationship then mysteriously showed up on Gawker. Dumped. And Eater Guy moved on to a “tiny and cute” normal woman almost immediately.
A few months pass of random dating here and there and then we have Harvard Harley, an Ivy League catch-and-a-half. She went nuts over him. Remember these Tweets after only one or two dates? OH. DEAR.
Um … @MaryRambin? July 18th may have come a little early this year. (!!!!!)
Can you procrastinate your destiny? Hmm.
Not surprisingly, those Tweets freaked out both Har-Har and his family members and he fled. But not before introducing her to Jordan, who would also later flee in the face of insanity.
Around this time there was Jewish Writer Guy. He didn’t want a third date, and told her so. She responded to the rejection nastily, by Tweeting that he wasn’t very funny for a comedy writer. Because no one knows humor like our Donkey!
And then came BootyCall. This is one whose existence I doubt, along with Hipster Lawyer’s. Her gross-out “I JUST HAD HOT SEX 😉 🙂 😉 😉 ” Tweets about him seemed entirely aimed at making Harvard Harley jealous. And yet, in the dying days of BootyCall, she seemed to suggest she was developing feelings for him. So if he was in fact a real person, he dumped her as soon as that shit started and he realized she was very likely about to out him, and we had these sad-face Tweets back in August:
Even with a new beginning, it’s still hard to accept an end.about 1 hour ago from TwitterFon
The funny thing about falling in love … It always seems to happen when you least expect it. And with the last person you’d imagine.about 2 hours ago from TwitterFon
I just don’t understand why God has to treat my life like a particularly cheesy soap opera. I’m tired. Can we cut to a commercial please?16 minutes ago from web
Enter Codename TK. Ohhh yes. They Facebook messaged for three years, according to Donk, and she was basically calling him her boyfriend after meeting him once in L.A. over “sake bombs!” The Tweets were embarrassing, including one about how she’d told her friends she’d finally “found” a boyfriend. Just one problem — he had a girlfriend. Meltdown ensued, Lasagna was dispatched to reveal his true identity to us, and then she was soon boning some guy in Palo Alto, again with the smiley-face Tweets in the hopes that TK was still reading her Twitter stream.
Then Hipster Lawyer showed up, the one whose existence I sincerely doubt. Then Prom King. Then the showdown between Hipster Lawyer, aka Dadsers, and Prom King. And lucky Prom King!! He won because he lived closer to the Donkey, even though she’d spent the previous months braying about how she might be moving to L.A.
And now even Prom King, master of cheesy performance dates and possessor of large wallet, is tired of her ass too and weirded out by her wedding obsession.
Does Donkey see a pattern here? She has scared off just about every man she’s come into contact with in the past two years. When does someone who professes to want to get married SO BADLY actually do as she says she’s going to do and STOP BLOGGING/TWEETING THE SHIT out of her relationships and her obsession with getting married and, oh yes, to get some extensive fucking therapy to figure out why she is so completely mental that she Facebook-messaged a former boyfriend at 4 a.m. recently, sobbingly congratulating him on his engagement.
Therapy, Princess Pelts. T-H-E-R-A-P-Y.