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The Cockblock Heard Round The World™

Once upon a time, I lived in a house in Los Angeles with two other roommates. One was a really cool guy, and the other was a professional cockblocker named Nick. In 2007, he had a career-best 6 blocks…on me alone. Women of provenance, women I knew only on the internets, it did not matter. If she breathed, he blocked. It’s believed that he came from a long line of highly successful blockers, with blocking in their blood. If there were a league (which I’m not ruling out) he would go down as one of the greatest. Nick was inventive; his resolve unshakable, his hide impenetrable. Getting cockblocked by Nick was like how I imagine a police chase to be. Nine times out of ten, no matter how good you are behind the wheel, he’s got a Crown Vic with two tanks of gas and unlimited spike strips. One time he successfully blocked just by eavesdropping in on a phonecall and blocking in the background.

The most notorious block, the one that would go down in history—its tale passed down through the ages from bro to bro, scrawled on facebook walls in deep dark lettering—occurred on a warm saturday night. I was still sort of using Myspace at the time (don’t look at me like that) and through a mutual friend I’d been introduced to a cute Vietnamese girl. Eventually we made plans to meet.

Word got around, as words do, and eventually Nick’s spidey sense went into overdrive and what is now famously known as The Cockblock Heard Round The World™ was underway.

As a cockblockee, I don’t profess to know all the mechanics on how it works, but long story short, the girl forwarded a message my pal Nick had sent to her the night of our big date. Apparently, he had sent her a coverletter of his awesomeness in the hopes that it would win her over. The cockblock was so over the top and so absurd, I kind of wish it had worked. I’d later find out that she was 4’9”, straight-edge, and high-pitched (not in an adorable way, but in a Vietnamese Mike Tyson sort of way). Needless to say I dipped.

I never really confronted Nick about any of the cockblocking…maybe I was too nice of a guy. Maybe I felt sorry for him. It was probably a combination of both. Eventually I moved away to live by myself and in my own loft, which had it’s own set of challenges and opportunities. I still look back fondly on those days though. A mutual friend sent me a photo of Nick’s birthday cake almost two years later after the fact. They faithfully reprinted in cake frosting the message Nick sent that night to the girl.