Ode to Online Dating

As a tribute to the delightfully dreadful experiences I’ve been privy to while dating dudes I’ve met online, I decided to pen this little poem made up of memories from my many encounters from over the years, ranging from the shock of meeting the man of the moment and realizing that he is nothing like his description of himself to my responses to some of the god-awful antics, questions, and various other utterings of which I've been the target while on these meet-n-greet-n-run-away-as-fast-as-you-can outings.

 

Ode to Online Dating

“You’re about nine inches shy of 5’10”.  And two decades older than 30.”

“Would you please stop talking about your hot ex-girlfriend?” And: “No, I don’t like it dirty.”

“Please don’t fart and blame it on your dog.  In fact, please don’t fart—at all.” 

“It’s ‘ciao’ not ‘chow.’”  “Get your hand off my thigh.”  “Stop calling—I haven’t answered since fall.”

“Excuse me, I can see you staring at my boobs.”  “I’m sorry; did you just say 'my wife’?” 

“South Park and Simpsons don’t count as interests—my God, would you please get a life.”

“I don’t give a damn about your Rolex watch. I don’t care if your suit is Armani.” 

“Did you stop to take note that I’m not superficial? –And care even less about your Ferrari”.

“No, the carpet does not match the drapes; does this Cabernet match your shirt?”

“I’m not into threesomes.” “I will not have your baby.” “Getting the door for me wouldn’t really hurt.”

“You asked me to go ‘halvsies’ on our very first date, so no, there won’t be a second.”

“A bright yellow hummer does not make you cool.” And: “Pilot-slash-model is not a profession.”

Beware of (another) Douche

As a preface, I would like to acknowledge that the obnoxious email exchange that was initiated by cutesweetgent was not the worst thing in the world. He was being a dick, for sure - but that, alone, didn't warrant an autopsy of his match.com profile. When a closer look at his profile revealed that he regularly alters vital details such as his age and where he's from, however, I decided that a postmortem was definitely in order. Not only does he prove that he is a lying asswipe, but his profile, in general, is a joke. What's more is that this is also a frightening peak behind the mask of lies so brazenly worn by some of the men on these dating sites. 

For the record, I do believe that there are plenty of men on Match.com and in the rest of these online shark tanks that are, in fact, catches. I've seen a few friends reel in some bona fide winners over the years, and I'm hoping that, more recently, I've landed a keeper, myself. Regardless, there are plenty of bottom feeders just like cutesweetgent - and thus, plenty of reasons for hopeful, well-meaning singles to keep their guards up when fishing in these waters.

Now, without further ado, let the slicing, dicing, and satirizing begin...

Most Eligible Bastard

Reaching back into my most recent vault of virtual a-hole encounters, I bring you: cutesweetgent36. What a charmer! Touting himself as "100% a gentleman" and "the type of guy you can bring home to meet your family," this cad came across my match.com profile and promptly bagged his gallant guise right from the start.

...Brief backstory: if you've been reading my blog then you know that I was previously accosted by a different cretin for being "arrogant," even though my profile opens with a laundry list of faults. Later in the profile, I do seek redemption, and in an attempt to make myself sound even remotely interesting, I recall having once interviewed both Hugh Hefner and Snoop Dogg on the same night for an article I was writing at the time. It's just a random experience that people tend to find amusing -- little, naive, southern-twanged me hanging out with a porno mag monarch and a gangsta rap pioneer at the Playboy Mansion. And sure, I dropped a couple names, but having also referred to myself as whiny and klutzy (among other flaws), I figure it all evens out in the end.

Cutesweetgent36 apparently disagrees, and upon reading my profile, decides to make the following demand:

Read on for more on my dealings with cutesweetgent36...

Sweating It Out in Moving Hell

I just wanted to check in and tell everyone to bear with me for the moment. I just moved (across town, nothing special - although I am now only a few miles away from Mark3 - more on that later) so I've not had time to post much lately. 

I will definitely be revving up again once I emerge from this relocation netherworld, though, so be sure to check back soon!

Asshole Analytics

I just wanted to report that the "Beware of Douche" post featuring the biggest mistake of my life and the satirical dissection of his mythical self-portrait that is his match.com profile has gotten 5920 hits as of this morning.
 

I couldn't have asked for a more invigorating catharsis than to know that 5920 souls on this planet have been entertained by the comedy that was my former life. Thanks for reading, you guys!

The Assclown Exposé Continues

Click here to read more about nchillbilly3

I may be dating someone at the moment, but that by no means implies that I've forgotten the hell from whence I came. That being said, I have no intention of quashing what makes up much of the intended spirit of this blog. Indeed, the pejorative butthole bashing will live on. I will continue to out the dimwitted dudes who live among us, combing through the pages of online dating sites, piggishly picking the lucky ladies upon whom they will hurl their verbal vomit. 

In this afternoon’s spotlight we have none other than nchillbilly3...

When the Greener Grass is Your Own

Mark3 turned down the job. 

He actually turned down the job. The very, very good job. He said that, at one point, he was 90% sure he would accept it, but after stepping back and carefully taking stock of his life, he decided he was happy with what he has. 

There is something that is so completely enviable about that. Every time that I've ever been offered a significant opportunity in life, I've taken it. The grass was always greener, the outlook was always brighter, and the possibilities were always more substantial. I have no idea what it feels like to be in his shoes right now, but what an extraordinary position to be in – to be offered an incredible opportunity and then turn it down because, in comparison, you prefer the life that you already have.

What a revolutionary outlook. I would love more than anything to see my own world through eyes like those. Now that he is staying, perhaps I finally can.

Buttsex, Blowjobs, & Other Words to Avoid When Meeting Your New Guy's Family

Meeting the family members of the person you are going out with is always a daunting prospect. Obviously, they love him, they want the very best for him and they want to protect him. You are entering the picture as a relative unknown. They know he likes you, but that’s about the only thing you have going for you, so it’s up to you to prove to them that you are worthy of their son's/grandson's/brother's/cousin's/nephew’s romantic company.

In general, though, I’d say that I am pretty comfortable in social situations - meeting the family, included. Also, meeting his relatives is key to finding out what makes him tick – and if they really dig you, then that can be a serious relationship booster. In my experience, dads always like me, so do brothers, moms are cautious but warm up quickly, sisters are pretty similar to moms, and grandparents invariably size me up using adjectives typically reserved for puppies like “precious” and “adorable." Anyway, my point here is that family meet-and-greets are definitely a step up on the social stress-meter, but they aren’t the worst things in the world.

…is what I would have said up until this past weekend.
 

Big Feet, Big...

It sure is nice to be dating someone whose socks I can distinguish from my own. Douche had tiny feet, and his tiny man-socks would always end up in my sock drawer. It was very frustrating.

Just sayin'.

The Other Shoe

I guess that when the other shoe drops, it doesn't always manifest as emotional recoiling, after all. If you have been following this blog then you know that things with Mark3 have been going well - very well - eerily well, in fact - which is why I've been wary that it's just too good to be true. Now I'm finding out that maybe it is – but it's not so much a shoe as a big ole boot that appears to be teetering on the edge at the moment: Mark3 was offered a job. A good job. An amazing job, in fact. 

In New York City.

He wasn’t even looking for it – and he certainly wasn't looking to relocate. It turns out that an old buddy of his happened to have an opening for a position requiring someone with a very specialized skill set, and it just so happens that Mark3 is perfectly qualified. So the guy called up Mark3 last week and essentially offered it to him on the spot. And it’s not just a job. It’s a crazy cool job. A job that, no doubt, 100 other equally-qualified people would gladly take for half the pay – and here, they are offering him far more than he’s making now. 

Beware of Douche

Introducing . . . my ex-husband. On match.com. This very minute.

Priceless!

Let this be a warning to single women everywhere: THIS is why you shouldn't necessarily take online dating profiles at face value.

I’d struggled with whether to post this, but I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s essentially a public service announcement. I discovered my ex's profile on match.com...only two weeks after we declared our marriage over -- and it's still on there now.

I'm a little befuddled by the fact that he decided to join match after cheating on me with two different women. If those chicks were so awesome that he was willing to risk his marriage just to get a piece, then why the hell isn’t he dating one of them?

At any rate, the point here is this: some people on these online dating sites are BIG FAT LIARS, and here is my ex’s profile to prove it. And not only is it festering with fibs, but you'll also notice that in his profile picture, he is wearing a wife-beater. How appropriate. 

I’m so embarrassed to have ever been even remotely associated with him. Worse, this makes me worry about all of the poor, unsuspecting women out there that this douchebag is currently screwing over. I can only hope that they get wise to his bullshit before they, too, end up throwing away years of their life trying to cultivate a relationship with someone who is apparently a figment of his own imagination.

Read on for your enjoyment.

And for the icing on the cake: below is the profile he used when I met him. Same F-ing profile. Somehow, he managed to date a woman for three years and get married, yet nothing about him has changed? Weird, huh?

What a complete cocksucker. 

The Birther Lives

Those of you following this blog probably know about the birther. If you don't, here ya go: birther blog post. Either way, guess what: the birther is back. A full two months after I so unceremoniously dismissed him, he apparently developed a case of amnesia. Last night, this email arrived in my inbox: 

The birther in all his douchey glory

Hi! It has been more than a few minutes since I last saw you!!!! How are you doing?!?! I hope all is well, I thought I would have seen you at work by now but no luck :-( anyway, hope you're doing okay and I hear from you before I die, muah

"muah"? Are you kidding me? What does "muah” mean, anyway? I think it might be that kissy-sound type thing that wealthy French people, heiresses, socialites, and flaming gay dudes use to greet each other. At any rate, no one should be using this unless he or she belongs to one of those aforementioned categories. And no one should be trying to use it phonetically when writing. Ever. It’s stupid.

My second gripe: why this numbskull so oblivious? I mean, let’s pretend for a second that he doesn’t recall our last date. It’s been two months. If someone I was going out with took a two month hiatus, I would take that to mean that they do not want to be with me. And if that someone could actually go two months without speaking to me, why would I want to be with them?  

Third gripe: chill with the punctuation.

Here's How It Will Go

Things with Mark3 continue to go well. I am, however, just sitting here waiting for the other shoe to drop. He appears to be a genuinely good guy, but I haven’t fully trusted my own judgment for a while now (for obvious reasons). I’ve therefore been guarded and cautious, yet thus far, he hasn’t let me down. He knows about my baggage and my skeletons and still, he sticks around – everyday a little more steadfast than the day prior. We’re complete opposites in all the right ways and similar in all the good ways, and when I’m with him, I get to live the kind of life that I want because we seem to want the same things. He’s adventurous and supportive and sexy and candid and calming and grounded and diplomatic and sensitive and open-minded, and he sometimes seems to have the emotional intelligence of a veteran therapist. He can also turn a phrase like few people can. Admittedly, I have a weakness for that skill.

So what’s his deal? And if that f-ing shoe is gonna fall, then I wish it’d do it sooner than later so that I can get on with my life – either with him in it or without.

Falling for Mark3

Ya know, for someone who is single, looking for a relationship and has an actual prospect in her life, I certainly don’t do myself any favors.

I was over at Mark3’s house again the other night and had brought an overnight bag (yes, an overnight bag – don’t worry, it’s cool – he suggested I bring it so that I wouldn't have to drive home late at night and could just get ready for work there the next morning). His walk-out basement has been converted to the master bedroom, and so I was taking my bag down there.

As I get about halfway down the stairs, Kaya, his cute and capricious, yet kitty-killing dog decides she wants to go downstairs, too. Painting a clearer picture for you: Kaya is an awesome dog, but she is half-pit bull/half-lab and 60 pounds of muscle, so when Kaya wants to go somewhere, she’s going – anyone in her way, be damned. On this particular night, it turns out that I am that anyone – and I’m walking down a flight of stairs. And wearing heels.

There is nothing good about this picture…

Obsessive Repulsive Disorder

I’m not in the mood to mince words today: this shit you'll see below irritates the hell out of me. I awoke to find three – THREE – emails from this self-proclaimed “Renaissance Man.” Wikipedia defines a Renaissance Man as a a person whose expertise spans a significant number of different subject areas. Clearly, propositioning, persuasiveness, and patience are not among these areas for “Jim,” here, whose medieval approach more than misses the mark.

Regrettably, this is not the first time I’ve been the victim of this kind of online dating haranguing by some overzealous fucktard. I don’t know what gets into these guys. Are they über-insecure, completely irrational, ravaged by OCD, or just fricken nuts? Read on to try and wrap your brain around the presumed logic behind this dude's match.com methodology…