In case you hadn’t heard, I live on a rock in the middle of the Pacific. It’s not exactly a large rock and most men here are either A. covered in tattoos and wear jeans and flip-flops to the gym B. are in (and obsessed with) the military or C. work with me in TFA. All three are baddd directions to go in. Trust me. Ok, so I haven’t tried option A, but some assumptions and judgments just have to be made.
Also on the plate: I have officially been swayed (by a very trustworthy source, might I add) to try out a certain online dating site. Let’s just call it Bokay Poopid. Don’t laugh. I was extremely hesitant about this endeavor, but finally took the leap after realizing that, in my current life, the only way to meet a person of the opposite sex is drunk downtown or at Foodland (no such luck in the cereal aisle). So Bokay Poopid it was. Worth it, you ask? Well, the free dinners have been nice. Some conversations have been great. But what it all comes down to is…the craziest, most ridiculous, insanely sketchy, creepy as hell messages I’ve ever read in my life. Let’s review a few experiences so you understand the magnitude of this situation, shall we?
Ex. #1: “How do you feel about guys doing you with a strap on?” This gem went on to talk about penis size (and offered to send picture proof). Thank god there’s a block button. What. The. Hell.
Ex. #2: “I buy you a horse.” That’s it—that was the entire message. I think it might’ve been in reference to me being from Texas, but then again, could’ve just been a sugar daddy with a ranch. When I read the message, in my mind he had a heavy foreign accent…because he didn’t say, “I would like to buy you a large animal to ride about” or “Would you like a thoroughbred complete with a saddle and stable?” Nope, just, “I buy you a horse.” Looking back, I really should’ve messaged. I’ve always wanted a horse.
Ex. #3: “How do you feel about egg salad sandwiches?” I did message this guy back, to ask him if it would be a deal breaker if I didn’t like them (because I don’t). To really throw him for a loop, I mentioned my love for tuna salad, preferably made with Miracle Whip.
Ex. #4: I go on a date with a guy who seems completely nice, normal, and smart. He casually mentions mid-meal that he’s shipping off to Afghanistan in a mere week. Thanks, bro.
Ex. #5: First date, the guy asks if I have any weed. WINNER.
There have been more, sadly, but let’s stop at 5. The point is, Foodland isn’t working out, the bar scene is definitely not working out (“Oh you’re a teacher? I bet you get a lot of apples, huh? Get it? ‘Cause you’re cute.” SHUT. UP!), and Bokay Poopid is obviously not working out either. Thanks Life, you’re the bomb.
Also, for the record, it’s not just me. My friends, since being on this anti-Cupid of an island have:
- Dated a guy and then been dumped via email.
- Met a guy for coffee and afterwards he basically tried to force her into his car. Near-rape is always fun. Ladies, if you live here, start carrying some pepper spray.
- Been set up with a wildly attractive man who turned into somewhat of a Clinger Stage Five. “Can I see you every second of every day for the next, say, rest of our lives?”
- Had love professed to them by coworkers or friends who have not a chance in hell and they now have to awkwardly keep seeing that person.
- Started to like or date the roommate or best friend of said awkward person.
- Dated and cheated on two people at the same time. “You will be my M-W-F. You will be my T-Th-S.”
- Have broken long distance relationships off because the fact that we’re thousands of miles away from any other civilization is hard.
- Have tried the whole friends with benefits thing (not smart).
- One night stands, nuff said.
- Have thought seriously about hooking up with their roommate. Icky.
- Have been a tourist’s personal “guide”…Poor, unsuspecting vacationers.
Do I really need to go on?
The fact is, this island is cursed. CURSED I TELL YOU. At least I’m not alone in this. Maybe this is part of “island fever” that no one told us before moving to “paradise”?
What are our options, you ask? Well, Lesbianism is out unfortunately. I wish it were that easy. Moving is out as well, I’m sticking out this two-year contract even if it crushes my body and soul! Bokay Poopid was disabled after the “I want to get you into a shower” message I got the other day, but desperation might make me enable it again I’m sure.
The only real option is to get over it, to accept the fact that for the next year and a half of my life, I’m going to be on this loveless rock, having hilarious dating experiences that make exceptional stories and pretty damn funny blogs. I can live with that. There’s also the the lesser known option D; carless, dorm-living, undergrad UH student. Don’t worry, he’s legal. I’ll let you know how it goes.
It helps that I have amazing friends going through the same crap (if not worse). Not to mention, we have wine and lots of it.