An Informative and Stimulating Guest Post: Cat Man Has Struck

Rejoice! I’m thrilled that one of my amazing friends has agreed to share one of her very own not-so-smitten dating stories and has allowed me to publish it here. While Beth lives across the country from me, her tale proves that crazy blind dates can occur anywhere, at any time:

The cool springtime air brushed against my face as I walked towards one of my favorite cafés in Minneapolis. He stood outside the door, looking around in anticipation of my arrival. He hadn’t seen me yet. We had connected through an online dating service and this wasn’t my first time meeting someone that way.

I typically did these first meetings during the day; and I always had plans immediately following, that would limit the amount of time we spent together straight away. Sound crazy? Trust me, it’s not.

He was tall, kind of cute and smiled big when he saw me stroll up. We said our hellos and he opened the door for me as we headed inside. So far, so good.

We tucked ourselves into a booth and made small talk as we studied the menu. He was soft spoken and seemed interested in what I had to say. As we ate, we learned we had some common ground. Cycling, photography, camping.

I wasn’t immediately attracted to him in an I-want-to-rip-your-clothes-off kind of way, but he was cute and nice. I know physical attraction can develop as you get to know someone, so I was willing to see him again.

He asked me out again a couple of days later and we met up at an art museum. Ten minutes into meandering around the galleries, things kept getting more and more uncomfortable. He didn’t get my sense of humor and I certainly didn’t get his. Conversation was forced and awkward.

As I was quietly figuring out my exit plan, we turned into another room and there was a photograph of a cat on display. He smiled and exclaimed how cute it was. I bit my tongue, hiding my irrational fear of felines. There was no point in revealing that anymore.
beth-cat-crop Proof of Beth’s comfort level with cats.

“I bought coloring books for my cats,” he continued to tell me. Did I hear him correctly? I was hesitant to ask. Coloring books for his… okay.

“Oh… they color?” was all I could think to say. For the next twenty minutes he talked about the psychology of cats and their need for creative stimulation and I had visions of what future dates with him might look like. Would he make me dress up like a cat? Would HE dress up as the cat? Then what would I be? A ball of yarn? For the love of all things, I didn’t want to find out. He had no clue that I was leading us back towards the lobby while pretending to look at art along the way.

“So, want to grab a bite?” he asked as we stood in the busy atrium. I’m either really good at hiding my disinterest or he was just that clueless. There was a large crowd gathering for an event at the museum and I was scanning the room for the door that led to the parking garage.

“Can I help you?” said a woman about my age. She smiled and the look in her eye told me she knew exactly the situation I was in.

“Parking garage?” I asked her quietly, my date totally oblivious to the exchange I was having with this woman. She winked and nodded her head in the direction of the door.

“Thank you,” I said softly, touching her arm and admiring her ink. She smiled and went on her way. I told the cat-man that I had a lot of work to do and needed to call it a night. We walked out to our cars, embraced in an awkward hug and I quickly got the hell out of there.

cat-man A portrait of Beth’s date from the museum…at least in her mind. http://www.halloweencostumes.com

I drove home, cautiously watching my tail.

Pun intended.

I hope that this dude has discovered kittywigs.com. It might be the perfect source of entertainment and comfort for him. And what’s up with the
cat-obsessed men out there? For more thoughts, stories and inspiration from Beth, you can visit her fantastic blog here: theawkwarddancer.com

Bathing Dominatrix Princess

I understand the strategy of “casting a wide net” in the online dating world and I’m sure it is successful for some. Sometimes I give the guys that send me the most asinine messages some credit for making the attempt. I suppose that is what I am doing by posting these messages.

E-mail from Dude 1 (who is 13 years younger than me, which is something that neither of us are interested in, according to our profiles):

Subject: have you ever thought about a relationship with…

Message: have you ever thought about a relationship with a guy where you are in charge and he follows what you tell him to do? I think it could be really fun and exciting. Let me know what you think :).

Well, no. No I haven’t. And I didn’t know that match.com was a guise for kinky dominatrix partnerships either.

E-mail from Dude 2:

Subject: Okay… here’s a question…

Message: Cold shower or hot bath?

What? Did I just waste 5 seconds of my day reading that?

Dominatrix Princess

Dominatrix Princess

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Lunar-Princess-Animated-Adoptable-338102504

E-mail from Dude 3 (if you read this guy’s entire e-mail, you are a better person than me):

Message:

Princess,

So basically, the way I look at it, three VERY important things will happen here that will shape the rest of our lives together:

1. You and I are going to get together for an incredibly fun, romantic and memorable weekend. That weekend will be absolutely CRUCIAL as this first meeting will show that this handsome, sexy, romantic, intelligent, athletic, sweet, kind, personable and family-oriented guy IS the right one for you (and vice versa).

2. After this weekend is complete, shortly thereafter, you and I are going to go on a terrific week long vacation somewhere (cruise, beach, etc). As hard as you and I have been working lately, we BOTH deserve it.

3. After #1 and #2 take place, we’re going to recreate the whole “Meet The Parents” series, as I plan on popping an AMAZING Tiffany ring on your finger and making you the happiest princess ever. It’s time we give our parents the grandkids they always wanted, be terrific parents on our end, and watch them grow into strong Jewish men/women.

Anything else we each do on our end, is a waste of our time my love. Hope you’re having a great week- mazeltov! 🙂

Matt

If I think too hard about the planet that these men live on – where messages like these are possibly enticing…it makes my head spin. I’m sure there are women answering them. And that’s the scariest part of it all.

Tales of the Regular

It was somewhat of a challenge to start having regular exchanges with Jay via okcupid.com. After we had introduced ourselves, there was maybe one more message between the two of us and then I didn’t hear back from him for about two months. When I had assumed that he had simply moved on to brighter pastures, he explained that he was having some health issues and apologized for disappearing. He seemed like a good guy with a solid personality and sense of humor. I liked his attractive face and shaved head in all of his well-displayed photos. At the time, he lived very close to where my apartment was, and actually had a good job and a car, which I liked as well.

So the somewhat flirtatious banter started again, and then carried over into actual phone calls. It was during our first phone conversation that I learned that Jay was in the beginning stages of a fairly serious health condition. I won’t get into specifics, but it is an illness that chooses its own timetable, and definitely one that can mess with someone’s emotional well-being. While he attempted to play down the effects it had had on his life thus far, I could tell that he was questioning a lot of aspects of his future. But he was online looking for a date and possibly a relationship, right? I decided to be the dynamic individual I had always suspected myself to be and give it a shot with someone who seemed like a great person. Being a relentless dreamer, I looked into my future with Jay and imagined myself the noble wife of an ill but admirable man, wheeling him around and constantly trying to keep him comfortable while, showing a brave face to the rest of the world. I’m a hero, obviously.

There have been very few first dates where the guy has picked me up from my residence in an actual vehicle that they own (imagine that!), but Jay was one of them. So I got door-to-door service for the time and resources used on this date. That’s good considering how it went.

Strike 1: Rude, secret smoker. He said on his profile that he didn’t smoke cigarettes but his car reeked of smoke from the second I opened the door. I smoked regularly for a number of years and probably wouldn’t have judged him if he was open about being a smoker from the beginning. The pack that nearly flew out of his glove box didn’t help his cause too much either. He also complained about “not being able to get around the area” or “get an easy parking spot.” He grew up and had been living about 20 minutes away from where we were at the time for his entire life. Within the first 5 minutes in his car, I found him to be a rude liar who shouldn’t have volunteered to drive. So things were going well.

amazing-race-russian-taxi-guy

An image of Jay shortly before (and after) our date.
Source: http://www.tvgasm.com/home/amazing-race-recap-rushin-russians.html/2

Strike 2: HOLY CRAP this guy is unapologetically racist. After grumbling about not being able to find his way around anywhere, and the lack of parking spaces, we got to the restaurant (within minutes) and he parked across the street (easy peasy). We saw an older Latino man in chef whites limping slowly across the street, clearly trying to do it quickly. It was obvious that the man worked at the restaurant he had just walked out of and I immediately felt bad for him. Jay said a rude remark about the guy’s limp.

When we were sitting inside the restaurant a few minutes later, Jay brought up the guy’s limp again, laughing. I looked at him with disgust, and asked him why the Mexican guy who works in a kitchen is amusing.

He said “Oh, I thought he was regular.”

Come again? “What’s regular?” I asked. I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. Did this dude not have appropriate bowel movements? Was he not a repetitive part of Jay’s life?

“You know,” he says, then puts his fingers in air quotes, “Caucasian.”

What the hell the guy’s race had to do with his occupation, his ethnicity or the reason it was funny that he had a limp – I have no idea. But I was completely baffled and started to think I was on a date with possibly one of the most ignorant people on the planet.

all-things-regular-x-new-era-59fifty-fitted-baseball-cap_1

Source: http://www.strictlyfitteds.com/blog/2011/02/regularolty-x-new-era%E3%80%8Call-things-regular%E3%80%8D59fifty-fitted-cap-2

And…

Strike 3: He said this: “Any girl that goes on an online dating site is looking to get laid or get married.”

How’s that for class?

Jay offered other gems such as his new pot-smoking strategies at the apartment he just moved into. He also stated that at the time of our date, he actually did not have a job, had no idea if he would ever work again and had no plans to figure out how to go about doing anything. Again, he had some health issues and was understandably shaken, but he had described a real job on his profile, so there was something else he had covered up. He obviously needed more time to work on his marijuana routine, but one would think a paycheck would be required for that sort of thing…

Now I don’t want you to faint from surprise, but I was thinking that this definitely wasn’t the guy for me.

After a wondrous dinner and ride back to my home, I got out of his smokestack – – um — car and quickly said thank you and goodbye. If I hurried inside, I would at least catch the second half of 20/20.

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.”

danglingfeet-bw

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):

“YOU KNOW — NOT EVERYTHING IN LIFE IS ABOUT GETTING DRUNK AND SCREWING!!”

No?

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!

thumbelina

He Sells Tile

There are some dudes out there who I am 100% convinced have other people write their online dating profiles for them. Possibly female family members or empathetic friends…or maybe both. I vaguely remember striking up a conversation with a handsome blond-haired, blue-eyed beau on J-Date.com. Yes, you read that right. Light haired, blue-eyed Jewish guys are a rarity but they do exist. He had plenty of photos on his profile of him smiling at different events, and described himself and his life in a pleasant, detailed manner. An attractive human being with a personality and interests. I was sprung.

Now that I am thinking back on this experience, there are two things I need to point out:

1. If you are a regular reader of my posts, you know that I rarely forgot names. Well, this guy is the exception to that pattern. I have zero recollection of his name because he barely left an imprint on my memory.

2. This may have been the point in my online dating existence where I decided that a phone discussion was a requirement before actually meeting my potential love interest in person.

And so we carried on our conversation via text messages for a while and I got to know whats-his-face as a cool guy who was really sarcastic and had plenty to talk about. We had decided to meet for a drink at a bar that he chose and sounded perfectly fine to me.

And the bar was fine – extremely casual, and unassuming. I arrived first and sipped my fun beverages while I waited for the latest Man o’ my Dreams to show up. While I was looking down at my phone, or at the bartender, or the floor – basically anywhere but the stool next to me, my date showed up. There was no sign that he had actually walked into the bar and arranged himself next to me. I didn’t even notice that the door to the bar had even opened. He was just there all of the sudden.

Just imagine this scene for a second. I’m kind of nervous and waiting for someone to walk in and he literally materialized next to me – AND DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING.

So here is what I remember of the dialogue we did exchange:

Me: Hey there – I guess you are [my date’s name]. Nice to meet you in person (smiling, though having no idea what’s going to happen).
Him: (low mumbled voice). Hey. You too. (looks away)

And the struggled exchange continued like that for the entire time it took him to get a beer down and for me to basically inhale the drink he offered me. Each time I brought him to a topic, it always came back to his employment, and the same thing about his employment. I had known from his exciting profile that he was a tile salesman.

So when I brought up where I was from he said, “My office is in Brooklyn, where I sell tile from.”
“Working in sales can’t be easy,” I offered at one point, trying to see if he would maybe feel more comfortable when I gave him an opener about his favorite topic, and would talk a bit more. His response: “Well, my type of sales isn’t too bad. Everyone needs tile.”

Right.

Or when I said I would love to go back to Europe soon, he offered, “I’ve been to Italy – you know they are the tile capital of the world.”

Have you fallen asleep yet? I almost did. As I made a beeline for the train station to get home (which he didn’t walk me to), I kept asking myself who the heck wrote this guy’s profile.

Cats: Not the Musical

There I was, minding my own business, when I received the following
e-mail from someone on Match.com *. 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

Message:

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: http://kittywigs.com/

German man marries his cat.
Photo credit from this illustrious story:
http://perezhilton.com/2010-05-03-german-man-marries-his-cat#.UH1jjm_A-So

* 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 Match.com. 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

Message:

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…?

Message:

Hey,

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.

(Swoon).

*
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:

Hi.

Oy.

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:

[THE PROFILE, ABRIDGED]

Self-Summary

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?

[THE E-MAIL, UNABRIDGED]

“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.
Roger

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…