Tag Archives: online dating

Worst date ever doesn’t begin to describe it.

25 May

I do not recommend meeting people online.  You can go back and read some of my older posts about the freaks I’ve talked to, but the experience I am about to share with you now, is by far the worst.

A guy messaged me and his picture was quite impressive.  He looked like Tim Tebow, so we shall call him Tim.  I was intrigued.  We had the normal starter conversation and decided to meet at TGI Fridays parking lot because its a public place and convenient for both of us.

As I’m finishing getting dressed Tim texts me and asks if I’m actually as pretty as my pictures.  I replied “what are you going to do if I’m not?”.   He answered that he would simply say nothing and just walk away.  Wow. I’m already turned off, but at this point I am hungry and dressed to go.

I pull into the parking lot and I see him sitting on the tailgate of his blue truck.  It was nothing special but still a decent vehicle. I get out of my car. I’m pretty nervous and Tim walks up to me and introduces himself.  I guess I do look like my pictures.  He also looks like his pictures, and is well dressed and nicely groomed. We plan on going to a nice outdoor mall to do some window shopping and grab some dinner.  I ask him if he wants to drive and he says his truck isn’t running properly. He thinks he ran through a really deep puddle?  I ask him how he got he got here. He points to the apartments just behind the parking lot and says he lives there.  Whatever. I’m more comfortable being behind the wheel anyway.

We get into my car and he tells me I look innocent.

Weird.

He says “oh, I brought you something” and proceeds to pull candy out of his back pocket. Not just any candy.  Can you guess what kind of candy? No, you can’t.  Because you would probably never fucking guess that it was Fun Dip. Yes, FUN DIP, PEOPLE!

fundip

Because that’s just what I want, candy that he SAT ON.  Plus, I am a fucking adult.  I do not eat packets of sugar with a fucking stick that you suck. I don’t eat candy that turns my mouth all different colors of the rainbow.  I don’t want to suck on a sugar stick that was broken by the weight of his ass.

But, I am a polite person, so I say thank you and toss it in the backseat. We are on the road now.  Tim begins telling me how he used to sing country.  He searches his myspace page on his phone and makes me listen to multiple songs. I’m thinking, great, he is one of those.  I am not impressed and kind of annoyed.  He is no Johnny Cash. I ask him if he has facebook. He says he doesn’t because it was too much drama. That’s not strange at all.

We finally arrive and decide to go eat first.  We agreed on Buffalo Wild Wings.  We both order beers. We get on the subject of jobs.  He reveals that he is no longer employed because he crashed the company car.  He laughs about it.  So as of right now, he is a candy sitting-failed musician-broken truck having-unemployed-but good looking guy.  This is not what I had in mind.  The waitress asks me if I would like another beer.  I say “you know, I think we’re going to need a pitcher.”  Little did I know, things were going to get worse.

The subject of his living arrangements came up again.  He shares that he has a female room mate.  She is morbidly obese and in love with him. He also doesn’t have his own room.  He sleeps in the living room on the couch. Because he is couch surfing. Tim is basically homeless.  I am on a date with a homeless man.

We finish dinner and I pick up the check, because, well, I have a home.

I try to tune out his words and focus on his beauty. Despite all of his strike outs, he was very nice. But nice isn’t cutting it. Because things are still going to get worse.

We are driving home and he is talking about how psycho his “room mate” is.  Okay, dude, she isn’t your room mate. You don’t pay rent. She is letting you stay there out of crazy lust. She obviously has just as many issues as you do. Let’s call it what it is, you are having a slumber party with your stalker.

I am curious as to why he doesn’t try to stay with a family member.  He claims that his Mom doesn’t have room in her house because his sisters children live there.  They get wild and he can’t handle it.  Why isn’t his sister taking care of the children, you ask? Well, it’s because she is a crack head. And the multiple children are also crack babies. HIS WORDS. This is his flesh and blood that he is calling crack babies. I don’t know the medical term for it but I’m sure there is one, and it has to be a lot less derogatory.  I know Doctors aren’t delivering newborns saying “Congratulations! You’re a proud mother of a sick crack baby!”

This just is not normal.

And I want to remind you, that this is the same guy who said he would walk away from me if I was not up to his physical standards.

The worst is yet to come.

I’m dropping him back off in front of his apartment where he says “I’d invite you in, but my room mate gets really jealous.”  Then he asks me if I kiss on the first date. I say no and he replies “I knew you were the innocent type.”

Gross.

I go home and my mind is reeling from the craziness.  For whatever reason, I have the urge to look him up on facebook, undeterred by the fact that he said he did not have one.

Lo and behold, his face comes up.  I’m thinking, that’s a weird picture. Oh, right, because it is a fucking mugshot.  It is his mugshot as the profile picture, on a HATE PAGE on facebook. What I see blows my mind. It must be some ex that really hates him and is trying to ruin his life. Although, his life is already in shambles.

I search for his public records and to my disbelif, it is true. He was fucking arrested for a sex offense with a victim between the ages of 12 and 15. Holy shit. I messaged the facebook page asking for more information and they replied almost immediately saying multiple girls had come forward between the ages of 11 and 14.  The case is ongoing.

Even if he is somehow innocent, there was enough evidence to bring him into custody!  Innocent until proven guilty, I know. But any way you look at it, he was doing something he shouldn’t have.  I begin having mental flashbacks of the comments on how innocent I seem and the kids candy.  I am nauseous.

He messages me the following day asking when we can hang out again.  I could only think of one thing to say.

“I saw your mugshot.  I wish you were here. Just so you could watch me walk away.”

He messages me close to a year later.  He says his charges were dropped and was hoping to have a second chance with me.

No.

It looks like his charges were dropped from sex offender to felony battery.

I would rather die alone.

 

 

 

 

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Let your freak flag fly!

29 May

For any of you that have dabbled in online dating, you already know that trying to find your soul mate on the world wide web is like trying to build a hurricane shelter out of Lego’s.

Times are changing though. More and more people are using the internet to find love, sex, or whatever other kind of top secret, creepy shit they are into.  Online dating has great potential to actually become what it already claims to be.  But there are still a ton of kinks that need to be worked out.

As I said in part one, Entering the Gates of Freak City, I let my friend, Baker sign me up for one of these sites while I was under the influence of some cheap wine.

Well, the entrance fee to freak city was at the very affordable price of my dignity.  SOLD to the lowest bidder! Who needs dignity anyway? It’s like that annoying cricket bitching in my ear, slow down, stop and think, you’re embarrassing yourself.  Oh, shut the hell up Jiminy. I got this.

In order to start meeting people in this clown palace, you have to fill out your profile.  Baker uploaded my most flattering photo’s and then began to fill out the “About Me” section.  This was her opener:  “If you like to party, then you will like me!”

She obviously knows way too much of my history to be writing this section. Everyone else had written self praising novels about their lives. I tell her to add that I am a college graduate and have, like, hobbies and stuff.   The section ended up being three sentences. Whatever.  I’m too drunk to care at this point.

It wasn’t long before all kinds of crazies were messaging me.  I won’t bore you with the normal people, because though they are rare, they actually do exist.  But I always found a flaw with them. It would be nonsensical for me to date someone who might actually be good for me.  Besides, healthy relationships are dull.

This site had a spiffy feature where you can view who added you to their favorites list. And lo and behold! Someone added me as their favorite. Sweet! Lets check this sexy beast out.

Hmmm.  It’s a very thin, short, 50-year-old, black man.

And he is wearing a do-rag, taking a “selfie” picture in a broken mirror in what looks to be a shanty town.  I shit you not.

My first thought was “how does he afford the membership fees to this site?”

I click to the next picture because let’s be real, he’s got my attention. The second picture is similar to the first except this one has the added bonus of pigeons surrounding him. WTF? It looks like some sort of fucked up family photo.  The third picture is just of the pigeons, huddled around shards of glass and cardboard.  He can’t be serious. He lives in shanty town with pigeons.  PIGEONS! Ya know? Like shitty doves!  This might be normal in some parts of the world but this is Florida.  I think I’m going to keep my options open and see who else is out there.

I exchanged a few emails with another guy. He seemed normal at first.  Until he started asking me why I hadn’t deleted my account yet. I asked him what he meant. He said “It shows that you logged in this morning. Why are you still on that site when you are talking to me? You need to delete it.”

Excuse me? RED FLAG. A couple of conversations and he is already claiming me as his own and forbidding me from talking to any one else.  Listen pal, I happen to work as Domestic Violence counselor (shocker, right?) and you clearly have issues.  I told him I found someone better looking to talk to.  Then he swore at me a few times. Well, that guy is out of the running.

I asked one user if he had a Facebook and if I could add him.  He said yes as long as I didn’t mind being bombarded with photos of him and his fiancée.

The next dudes username is BillyBob.  I should have known I already had a winner on my hands. But his pictures were cute and he started out nice with the traditional pleasantries. Then things took a turn for the worse.  He told me he was an ass man. Uhm, okay, I didn’t ask but thanks for the heads up. Then, he asked me if I had a dirty butt.

Just one of the glories of online dating. Apparently he had some sort of swamp ass fetish. Who knows? I didn’t bother to ask.  I just wanted to get me and my clean butt out of that conversation.  And that’s probably my cue to depart from Freak City and go back to regular dating. With people who wipe.

The anonymity of the internet can work in disturbing ways.  Ugly people pretend to be pretty people.  Losers pretend to be cool.  And freaks suck you into their freakdom by pretending to be normal.

Entering the Gates of Freak City

25 Apr

Breaking up is super fucking lame but sometimes it is inevitable.  I knew the end was coming. I was just getting way too nice, floating up there in happy love land.  Earth called, they wanted their bitch back.

You might be thinking I’m going to start rambling about my shattered dreams and how terrible single life is.  Not quite. I was bummed out, sure. But bitches always land on their feet.

Plus, wine is like superglue for a broken heart.

I am not single, I am independent.  The people with the best success rate of staying together, are people who know how to be alone. Dependency isn’t just a problem for drug addicts.

But that’s enough pep talk.

My best friend thought it would be funny to sign me up for a dating site.  I finished off the bottle of wine and agreed.

Honestly, this membership was a one way ticket to freak city.  And great ranting material.

This was the first guys selling point: ”I regularly prepare gourmet meals at home, for me and my dogs.”  Does that strike anybody else as odd?

First off, ten pictures of you with your dog does not make me believe that you’re a kind, animal loving, trustworthy guy.  It makes me believe that you have no friends. And it becomes a serious disadvantage when the dog has better teeth.

Secondly, I like a man who knows how to cook. I do not need a man who knows how to cook. I don’t want your first message to me to read: “I am cooking a really nice chicken, thai, hot, curry, with onions and spices etc,,,”.  Do I look hungry? Good for you! Cook it alone, eat it alone. Enjoy your burning hot, curry diarrhea that you will ultimately face in the morning alone too.  I’m perfectly happy with my frozen pizza.

More great lines from my potential suitors:

“I enjoy long, romantic walks to the refrigerator.”  Was this supposed to be funny? It might have been if you weren’t 200 lbs overweight.  And by the way, 200 lbs does not qualify as a “Few extra pounds”.

“Things like a pepsi or a bag of pistachios really make my day.”  I, too, enjoy the simple pleasures in life but at some point you have to raise your standards.

“Hey there young lady.”  I don’t want to date anybody that calls me young lady. I don’t have daddy issues. My issues lie with you and your 60 year old audacity.   “I do have kids, but don’t worry, they are all over 18.”  Oh, well that changes everything! I feel so much better knowing that you just have a couple 4o year olds running around.

There was one guy who actually seemed like he might make the cut.  Until, I noticed he had really small, feminine hands.  I know this may sound crazy on my part, but dating a guy with small hands totally creeps me out.  It’s like being felt up by a child. eek!

I am only at the gates of freak city. My exploration into online dating is just beginning. Stay tuned, people. Things are about to get interesting.