There’s Always Thumbelina

I was checking out a family friend’s Facebook photos one day and saw one with her and a good-looking guy smiling with their dogs. I knew she had been online dating for a bit so I inquired as to whether the guy in the photo was a new beau. Her eyes lit up. She said, “No, but I did meet him on J-Date! We have no chemistry, but we’ve become friends – you should go out with him!” A cute guy with a good job, who has and loves dogs? The next step was obviously to make the aforementioned family friend swear to me that nothing was overtly wrong with him. Once that was complete, we were in business.

His name was Adam and he gave me a call a few days later. He was great – very personable, and asked what I would like to eat on our upcoming dinner date. We chose a sushi restaurant in an area we could both get to fairly easily.

I was pretty nervous on my way to meet Adam in person. Rather than simply reading about and viewing some two-dimensional images, I had a real-life person vouching for him. I got all spruced up in jeans and a cute pair of boots with a small wedge heel on them. When asked, one of my roommates at the time that my appearance was acceptable, so I left, on my way to meet Adam.

We planned to meet in front of the restaurant which happened to be on the corner of two streets. From several feet away, I saw Adam’s cute face as he waited for me. Yet that cute face was attached to the body of a 10 year old boy. The (now familiar) alarms starting going off in my head, telling me that this guy was very VERY short but all I could do was smile as he turned in my direction and greet him once we were standing in front of one another. I consider myself a (relatively) very short person, which is why it was important to tell you what footwear I was wearing at the time. I specifically recall having to bend down to give Adam a hug. And from that point on, I was traumatized, but had to pretend that everything was fine (again).

Once we sat down, and I realized that Adam somehow didn’t require a highchair, we got along great. Well, that was until I ordered a glass of sake and he stuck with water. “Oh, you don’t drink alcohol?” I asked. He explained that he doesn’t really enjoy drinking, and never has. Obviously, I was wondering how that’s even possible internally, but on the outside, I kept the questions going. I asked if he goes out at all, to socialize, watch games, be around people – you know, perform recreational human activity as I see it – in some way. He said he does once in a while, but doesn’t really enjoy being at bars at all. He elaborated (if you want to call it that) by saying:

“Well I do go to them and I would go with you for a bit. But don’t worry I would be good once we got home.”


Excuse me? I didn’t understand what the hell he was talking about. He was a smart guy with a logical head on his shoulders until this subject came up. I was pretty sure he was telling me would be a great sex partner after going to a bar and not drinking – and was proud of that fact. All I could think of was munchkin foreplay and I got really disturbed.

I don’t think we hit another awkward topic during dinner after that, and Adam was nice enough to drive me home from the restaurant. Even with an SUV, he didn’t need pedal extensions. I know…I was surprised too.
And that was pretty much it. He was short and a little creepy even as a very sober little person, so I just wasn’t into him.

And I’m almost positive that that is the exact reason why he was very interested in me. I received a voicemail from him a day or two later that specifically said, “give me a call back when you get a chance, or I will call you later.” So I figured that since he said he would possibly call me again, I didn’t need to call him back. I thought that was logical.

Well, I never heard from Adam again but wow – my family friend was not very happy with me. During the next family get-together when I saw her, she demanded to know why I didn’t call him back. I explained my reasoning, and also expressed that I wasn’t really into him.

Her response (exclaimed not only in front of my mother and brother, but her parents and everyone’s small kids):



Well, someone should have told Adam the second part – and maybe lowered her voice during this absurd exclamation around everyone’s parents. I ended up seeing Adam at the family friend’s wedding about a year later. Yes, he did ignore me, no – he certainly didn’t have a drink… and yes, his date was well over a foot taller than him. Good (albeit, slimy) job Thumbelina!



Cats: Not the Musical

There I was, minding my own business, when I received the following
e-mail from someone on *. This message has been copied and pasted. It truly pains me to keep the grammatical / spelling errors intact, but I’m doing it for posterity:

Subject: Passion for Animals


I have a deep passion for animals. I had an upsetting weekend. One of my beloved cats got very sick and has been at the animal hospital since Saturday. He had some kidney problems. He is not out of danger, but at least he is still alert and surviving. I am keeping my pet taxi in my car as a good luck charm with the hope that I can bring him home soon.

Another think positive is if we can make a connection. We have very similar interests. I see that you like going to concerts. I probably have gone to close to 300 concerts over the years. I think that we share some common interests is a good thing.

A few items to note here:

– My profile clearly states that I am fiercely allergic to cats. Sure, they are creatures that many people hold near and dear to their hearts. I get that. I have a few in my backyard that talk to me in the middle of the night. They’re very social. But telling me about feline kidney issues is not a quick way to spur up the romantic chemistry.

– Notice how he mentions “one of” his cats? It means there is more than one. Perhaps a gang of cats? I debated over whether I would include any one of a variety of “pussy” puns here and decided against it.

– I feel bad for this guy for having a sick pet. Of course I do. But why offer such detail to a total stranger?

– “Another think positive is if we can make a connection.” Does anyone understand what that means?? I don’t.

– Where’s the greeting, the introduction, and / or the closing?

I would like to take the opportunity right here to create a response to “RStepper” since this is my safe haven of snark and non-confrontation:

Hi RStepper,

I am so terribly sorry about your cat. You seem like a very caring person who will make someone very happy one day. That someone may be a cat, or a cat-loving human who doesn’t sneeze and develop oozing eyeballs from being around a cat for longer than 5 minutes, such as myself.

I hope your cat is alive and well. Perhaps you can buy him a wig. That will make both of you feel better:

German man marries his cat.
Photo credit from this illustrious story:

* Since I originally starting drafting this post, I have received not one, but two further e-mails from RStepper. In one, he seems to have no memory of writing to me the first time and tells me about charging is phone post-Hurricane Sandy at the Verizon store. And that’s the whole e-mail. In the follow-up, he starts catching an attitude and demands to know why I haven’t responded to him. Sorry folks, RStepper is now officially blocked.

Why are we Holding Hands?

On a beautiful summer afternoon, I was obviously sitting inside, on my couch in the air conditioning, and staring at profiles on my favorite free online dating site. Jay and I started IMing and since he typed in full sentences and didn’t ask me to come over to his house within the hour in a costume (happens all the time), I decided that he was dating material. Jay had his own apartment, a job and looked to be pretty handsome. About 6 feet tall, with wavy dark blond hair and he worked at a music label (yes, I was shocked that some still exist too!) We bantered humorously back and forth via text for the next day or so and made plans to meet at a wine bar that Saturday night.

I had left another bar earlier after watching a friend’s band to make it on time for our date and it turned out that I was early. He picked a cute place. I sat at the bar and sipped my wine waiting for him to walk in, while yet again, trying to look cute and breezy. And then Jay came through the door. I suppose he kind of looked like the person in his photos, but there was something lacking. I honestly feel like online profiles can really mess with one’s head since they are only one-dimensional. This then forces us to create the second and third dimensions in our heads and if our date doesn’t match up to that creation, there might be some severe disappointment and lack of chemistry.

So there was zero attraction to the in-person Jay. Nothing blatantly wrong with his appearance but it just wasn’t there. But hey, he was friendly enough and we were at a bar, so I had no problem getting to know someone over a glass of wine or two. The topics of conversation ranged from how Jay’s 19-year-old cousin was crashing at his apartment to how Jay liked to keep mixed nuts in his freezer and randomly snack on them. No, neither of these topics or anything else we discussed made him any more attractive, nor did the film of sweat that was easing its way across his forehead and heading down the rest of his face. He swabbed his brow with some napkins, but the sweat wasn’t stopping. The moisture was that of someone’s perspiration in the midst of a heavy work-out, but alas, he was merely sitting at a bar.

Jay at the bar.

After about an hour and approximately 4 not-so-absorbent cocktail napkins later, I made my move to leave. I was staying at a friend’s empty apartment for the night, which was a few blocks away. Jay offered to walk me there, which I thought was nice and polite, until I felt a giant clammy hand reach out and take mine as we walked down the street. I nervously glanced to my side while Jay kept the conversation going, and I kept wondering what made him think that this was an occasion for hand-holding. Yet, I didn’t pull away.

About two blocks away from my destination, while we were in the midst of discussing something very intense (most likely mothballs or the whittling industry or something) the giant cold cut-like hand pushed me over to the door of a CVS pharmacy. And suddenly, there was a tongue in my mouth for a few seconds. Astonished, and wondering how the cold cuts got from my hand to my mouth, I pulled away and said the only logical statement I could muster: “Thank you.”

CVS / Lover’s Paradise

I was sufficiently grossed-out, if not now terrified that Jay thought we were having a romantic experience. I kept him chatting about music for the rest of the walk to my friend’s apartment, and when I announced that we were there, he seemed to lean in for another tongue lash, or even worse: an invitation upstairs. I giggled like a 5 year old school girl while he stared at me. I figured a kiss on the cheek and a “Thanks, talk to you soon!” declaration into the smoke that billowed behind me as I ran into the building would politely hint that I was not interested.

Once I got into the apartment, I took to scrubbing and sanitizing my hands and mouth as much as possible. As I started a text to my friend, asking how much white wine of hers that she would allow me to drink to kill the creepy boy germs and my memory of our experience together, an incoming message popped up:

“Now you know I’m a good kisser.”

I do?

Needless to say, Jay was another (incredibly creepy) frog in my quest to find a prince.

Persistence is Key…to Confirm That You’re a Lunatic

I received the following message through As usual, the fact that I received an e-mail got my attention, and once I clicked over to view the sender’s full profile, it all made sense. Imagine, if you will, someone who auditioned to play the part of a Street Fighter character, complete with a fitted faux-leather jacket and a barbed facial expression. It seems to be an attempt to look masculine, but it really just looks like he is about to sneeze. That’s what “ILuvToLaugh” looks like in his profile.

My suitor would be the one on the right, with the gun.

Let’s drift away together into his delightful prose, shall we?

Subject: Uh. No Way


You know, my friends say that it’s not good to show your hand too quickly (especially online), but after coming across your profile, I had to send you a message to concede that I am a sucker for feminine girls with polarity. I’m not ashamed to admit it!

I mean, don’t get me wrong — it’s NOT like I am some sort of mythical knight out on a quest to find the girliest girl of legends or some frat dude drooling over valley girls who look like they’re straight from the set of Clueless; it’s like that happy medium between a girl being really comfortable with her femininity and balancing the confidence to show it. And it seems like to me, that you fall into that happy medium! (there is a reason why it’s called a happy medium instead of a sad or mediocre medium right?)

Anyway, where are my manners? My name’s Tim, and if smart, funny, stylish, cute, and overall just frankly awesome guys are your thing, then don’t send me a message. Oh wait, I messed up. I mean DO send me a message. I get confused sometimes 🙂

I’m not going to lie. Once I saw the Street Fighter picture, I was kind of confused. The e-mail had me a bit more baffled. But, being the “feminine girl with polarity” that I am, I concluded that this is a canned e-mail and “Tim” doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. I certainly don’t. But there’s more!

One Month Later…

Subject: You were burglarized…?



So I was checking my account today in utter disbelief that I didn’t hear back from you yet, and then I just realized what must have happened to you–

You must have been burglarized, and the only thing that horrible and wretched thief must have stole was your keyboard. I feel bad now you poor, poor soul… you must have been so traumatized just sitting there staring at my profile on the screen, clicking away futilely and slamming your mouse down in frustration multiple times while cursing the heavens that this had to happen to you today and that there’s no way for you respond to me.

Like I said… luckily for you, I’m an exceptionally perceptive guy. I mean how many other guys would know that is EXACTLY what happened to you with the limited information you gave me 🙂 And since I’m also in the business of solving problems, here’s some solutions to help you get in contact with me:

1. Get some matches, grab 3 garbage cans, and arrange them in a triangle formation to set them all on fire simultaneously. This will create an accurate smoke triangulation signal so I can come over and find you. I’m like a modern-day knight in shining armor.

2. Use your trusty phone to text me at 646-943-3%*$ so we can continue the conversation

Hmmm… well his first message said he certainly wasn’t a knight, so which is it? Am I dealing with a knight-like Street Fighter character or what?!? And, if I really was burglarized, why would I ever want to commit arson right after that? Would this guy really want to date both a victim and a criminal?

My point is, if you attempt to go the creative and humorous route, you should have the intelligence to back it up. Taking the time to create not one, but two canned e-mails that are sent to anyone you deem to have a heartbeat should also include some logic. Not only am I now having visions of video game characters creating online dating profiles, but I am pretty sure that “ILuvToLaugh” (aka: “Tim”) assumes that I am MacGuyver.

Me, preparing for a date.

I just can’t deal with that sort of pressure.

Summer Venting

Warning: Angry female complaining coming up.

During the last two weeks of online dating adventures, I have had some very frustrating experiences.

There was GolfProSal who looks to be approximately 500 pounds and a lot younger than my dating age range. He has a pet that he poses with in all of his profile pictures. He claims she’s a dog but she looks like an extra hairy ferret. His e-mail:

Hi. I’m Sal. How are you? Whats your name? You are so beautiful. To describe myself in a few sentences is tough but I would say: I am a very sweet guy and a perfect gentleman. I am honest and loyal. Just as important as that is I am such a funny person and great with conversation as well. If you are at the point in your life where you are looking for something long term and looking for a guy that treats a woman like a lady then maybe we should chat and see if we are compatible. I am on this site hoping to find love again but this time for good; but if I only made a great friend in the process that would be nice too. I try to be laid back and don’t put pressure on things. I let the cards fall where they may. Hope to here from you soon. Ciao Bella. Sal

Oh, Sal. You seem kind. Take up something besides golf and change up the canned e-mails.

Luvsthemthick is about 20 years older than my dating age range, and between his screen name and his message, I can tell he definitely knows how to sweet-talk a lady:

Hi names angel. Awsome pic hun. Would love to chat let me know.


It’s not like I don’t reach out to those who interest me. I winked at FunnyLawyer, who I thought was promising. He wrote back and we entered into a wise-cracking, flirty e-mail exchange. For one day. See, what happened was that he wrote back to me within a few hours, then waited about 2 days to respond the second time, and even claimed he typically is “a lot quicker” with his responses. The next two times he wrote back to me, I was in shock that he even remembered to e-mail me back because he waited 5 days, and then 7 days to send me a few sentences. I know that’s not very eye-opening or humorous, but if you feel as though you have a decent repertoire with someone and a week goes by without communication, most people would assume that either the other person is dead or they are no longer interested. No – just really difficult for FunnyLawyer to get to that e-mail. It’s not cute to act like it takes you a week to write less than a paragraph. Done talking to me? Then don’t e-mail at all!


If that doesn’t seem like a big deal to you, well you are right. However, a few weeks prior, I wasted a little bit of my life on someone whose texting habits were even worse than that. For example, he asked what I was doing for the weekend on a Tuesday evening, and I answered a few minutes later. He then thoughtfully responded on Wednesday night (24 hours later), “that’s cool.” And that was it. Very fulfilling.
LobsterHunter sent me this detailed message:

Hey there what a smile lets talk call me LEONARD @ 212 123 4567

* Cuban2121 wrote to me yesterday, telling me in his introduction that he recently got thrown off another online dating site and that he wasn’t looking for “prudes.” He also mentions in his profile that he has “naughty pictures.”

There have been others, but the aforementioned are the ones that stick out in my mind. As I copy and paste some of these messages from the sites, a hottie noticed I was online and sent me a comprehensive introduction:



Selfishly, I just want to get this negative activity off of my chest. I truly wish I was able to meet potential suitors the “normal way” as so many acquaintances advise me to. I also appreciate the “don’t give up with online dating – my best friend’s sister’s housekeeper met her second husband that way!” and the “you need to go out and do activities!” remarks. They’re keeping me afloat. Clearly.

Yep, I just became “that girl.”

Ladies and Gentleman, I give you Roger and the Clichés!

So I have a profile on a free dating site. While you may think that placing my photos and bio into an unrestricted pool of insanity and misplaced ego is ridiculous, then… well, you are right. However, there are some relatively normal folks on this site that haven’t accosted me with a chainsaw just yet.

I got a message from Roger the other day, which inspired me to visit his online profile. Both of these wonderful pieces of writing deserve to be displayed and critically analyzed for obvious reasons. So let’s do just that:



Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and turn around sometimes, you might miss it.(1) We get one chance at this life thing and really my intention is to make the most of it. I’ve been truly blessed to have had the ability to retire from one job at young age and now have the ability to smell the roses (2) before I embark on the next career. My glass is half full (3) and I intend on taking full advantage of the gifts that I have. No one knows when that taxi cab is going to jump the curb and take us out (4). So I try to live each day like it is my last, though responsibly.

What I’m doing with my life

I just finished one career and now I’m taking my stab (5) as a building manager and aspiring writer (6).

I’m really good at

Making someone laugh (7). I have a dry wit about me. I like making someone feel like the most important person in the room.

I spend a lot of time thinking about

How full my cup is (8) and the road that I’ve traveled to get here. Life has been a journey(9) and being at the point I’m at now makes me appreciate where I’ve been.

(1) First of all, there is one and will only ever be ONLY ONE Ferris Bueller. You don’t get to quote one of the greatest movie characters of all time, and make it the first sentence about you. If you are that much of a tool, the correct way of stealing someone else’s quote is by inserting “quotation marks” around it!

(2) Uh, “smell the roses”? I think of an 85 year old woman and a bathroom when I hear that.

(3) Half full of what? Stolen quotations?

(4) What taxi cab? Where is it taking us? What the hell are you talking about?!?

(5) “my stab” – which would be different from “his” or “her” stab. Any of those pronouns would still make the “stab” sound just as cryptic as the taxi murder reference.

(6) I think you mean “reaching for the stars.” And you’re really good at creating written content thus far. Thumbs up!

(7) Nothing he has written is purposely amusing in any way. And by the by, when someone says they will make you laugh, that typically means they will stare at you uncomfortably each time they make a corny remark about nothing you care about.

(8) Is the “cup” a euphemism for something?


“Hey there,
I’m Roger. I’m a New York native that recently moved back and am loving re-acquainting myself to NYC. I’m in a great place in my life and am just looking for someone to share my half full glass with, though I’m not in a rush to get there. I’d love to talk to you sometime if you are game.

Grammatical errors and the obvious fact that this is a canned, generic e-mail that was most likely sent to a list of people aside, there’s nothing inherently wrong with it. However, there is absolutely no excuse for the superfluous platitude. All I really know about him is that he feels lucky and extremely positive about something – but I have no idea what that is.

You may say that I can always respond to him to find out more. And then I would tell you that in his pictures, he’s wearing a giant set of rhinestones in his ears.

Simple equation I often have to repeat:
Hideous jewelry + excessive use of clichés = all bets are off.

And we move on…

One Hour of Passion

Matt had the sarcastic charm that I typically giggle at in his J-Date profile. He had light hair, blue eyes, a smile with a child-like quality and was totally unapologetic about liking reality TV shows. He spoke my language so I gave it a whirl. After about two e-mails in one day, I handed over my digits and Matt called me later that evening:

Me: “Hello?”

Matt: “Hey, it’s Matt.”

Me: “Oh hi. How are you?”

Matt: “Good. Okay, I won’t waste either of our time by having a long phone conversation. Are you free this Thursday after work?”

Me: “Tee hee… Um, yep, I think so.”

Matt: “Okay want to meet at Flanagan’s* on 7th at like 6 – 6:30? I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

I dug Matt’s style. It really is logical. Why waste time going back and forth online or on the phone before meeting in person and knowing if there is any chemistry or not? I added “not beating around the bush” to my mental list of Matt’s attributes.

On Thursday evening, I sat at the bar sipping a drink while waiting for my charming, blue-eyed dreamboat to walk into the bar and sweep me off my feet. Every few seconds, I would glance at the door waiting for him to walk in, quickly looking down at my phone again, to make sure I kept up my breezy appearance. And then a crouched dude with a comb-over in a grass green polo shirt and khakis who looked generally annoyed at life walked in. I couldn’t help but stare at him obviously. I was once again mystified by online profile photos. Sure, the images of Matt I had checked out could have translated into a confident and good-looking guy with a good vibe. But in this case, the real-life Matt was a bitter, hollowed version of his photographs. I suppose his face was the same, but angrier-looking, and surrounded by a lot less hair. We exchanged greetings and got a table toward the front of the bar.

I am not the world’s best conversationalist by any means, but I can certainly hold my own and keep things interesting with the general population, and I have never had a problem on dates. Without even thinking of any sort of meaning behind it, I asked Matt how work was. You know, since most of us spend a large portion of our lives earning our keep, and we had both just come from our offices, that topic just came naturally.

Matt: “Oh, I’m not talking about work. I was there all day, and now I’m not.”

Amused by the angry leprechaun, I asked him what he would like to talk about.

With a deadpan look on his face and the several dozen hairs he had left glistening with gel sweeping over his head, Matt said he wanted to discuss “our passions.” So I flipped the dialogue back in his court and asked him what he is passionate about.

Matt: “Reality TV shows!”

Again, I thought he was kidding, but his diatribe about people being crazy enough to go on television with their eccentricities proved that this was a topic he was certainly zealous about. He went on for a few minutes about some of his favorite shows and though I tried to chime in a few times, I couldn’t keep up.

The ongoing serious look on his face caused me to look elsewhere, and while I didn’t even notice that I kept glancing away from Matt, he declared that I had horrible eye contact, which just made me more paranoid. About 15 minutes into this date, I assumed that I was sitting with a gay guy who had an unhealthy obsession with “Survivor.” What’s worse is that I realized that I couldn’t even be friends with him because he seemed to not have a friendly bone in his body.

At some point, Matt decided to switch topics. Rest assured, he was still focused on being passionate about nothing and indirectly insulting me.

Matt: “So, you’re alone in a room that is 12 feet by 12 feet. You have an old ladder, no light source, a horse and a small window with bars over it. How do you find a meal?”

Ah yes, the ol’ psychological study performed by those who like to find strangers online, pretend they are looking for heterosexual companionship and truly know how to get to hold eye contact throughout a romantic conversation. Whatever my answer to Matt’s hypothetical situation was, he wasn’t satisfied with it and told me that a psychologist would say I am insecure, negative and basically sucked at life.

So, no, there certainly wasn’t a love connection with Matt. The only sign of human warmth he demonstrated during that evening was that he walked me to the train station. And that was only because his train would be stopping at the same station.

I often wonder if Matt ever found the masochist who is able to look him in the eye and discuss episodes of “The Real World” for hours. That is one lucky man.

*For the life of me, I can’t think of the name of the place. It’s a dive bar – that’s all you need to know anyway. Nosey-pants!

My New Lover, Smart Goose

With the exception of his phone number and my actual screen name on, this is the exact message I received two weeks ago from “SmartGoose1974.”

Subject: Hey

Hey [my screen name],

I am Austin a 37 year old guy who is very friendly,tall,down to earth
and I am alot of fun to be with.I am well over 6 ft but I have a good heart.
I love the fact that you are Jewish and you sound cool.I am writing to you from Florida.
How is the weather in Brooklyn NY?

I like to get to know you better as a person.I like dining out,salsa dancing,movies,love dogs,
working out,bowling,cooking and traveling.The woman in Florida are very rude.
I am not into mind game,drama or texting.I love to invite you down to Florida once you are feeling comfy.

Please feel free to call me at anytime at (123) 456- 7890.
Please dont be shy because I dont bite.Hope to hear back from ya soon.

Austin Powers 🙂 Groovy Baby
w/b or call me

When do you guys want to celebrate my move?

I am Necklace

Just the other day, I received an e-mail from my account from a virtual suitor with the screen name “Nicholas2334.” (I changed the numbers in his exact name a bit so you don’t try to steal him). The e-mail read as follows:

“You are very attractive. I am Necklace.”

And that was it. I’m going to assume that his real name is “Nicholas” and either his phone or another device he was writing from had auto-corrected. That’s no excuse – even if you find me attractive.

Am I putting too much emphasis on an error made in an introductory e-mail before I even know the person? Nope. You know why? In my opinion, anyone that doesn’t read a 7 word e-mail to a stranger before they hit “send” is not all there. I might be missing out on some good date stories with “Necklace” but I suppose that is my loss.

Get Away from my Chair: Creepy Phone Conversation

A few years back, during one of my J-date subscriptions, I came upon Ryan’s profile. I don’t really remember who reached out to whom first, but I do remember that he lived in the tri-state area, was reasonably good-looking and everything was spelled correctly in his profile. This was probably at the point in my life when those three characteristics were all I needed to see a future with anyone.

One thing led to another, and Ryan called me for the first time. Being a white boy from Queens that worked in the financial industry, I didn’t expect him to speak like he had grandiose swagger. It was like his thuggish-ego grew as the conversation progressed. And then…this happened:

Ryan: So yeh…u wanna chill on Saturday afternoon?

Me: That could work, what time were you thinking?

Ryan: Well I got practice in Queens at 2…so…

Me: What kind of practice?

Ryan: Oh, I do music…kind of like a hip hop spoken word thing over these tight-ass beats…

Me: Wow, that’s cool…

Ryan: Yeah, Imma make ya listen to it and you’re gonna need to put a towel on the seat of your chair, you’ll like it so much…

Me: ….towel? Oh.

Ryan: Yeah, it’s hot, yo…So I’ll text ya after 4 on Saturday, aight?

So he texted, and I never answered. Probably because I was scrubbing down all my chairs, still nauseated by his metaphor.

Follow-up: As I was perusing J-date for more productive dates, I noticed Ryan’s photo on more than one profile. As a matter of fact, in a period of 3 minutes, I found him listed on 3 different profiles, with different ages, occupations and vague descriptions in each one. I put in a complaint to the J-date support team to stop Ryan’s abuse of the profile system. If I put a stop to just one girl from having to speak with him, I had done my job.