My roommates think I should write a book about online dating. There’s no way that’s ever happening because I’d have to go back into the danger zone; I’d have to turn around and walk straight back into the fiery Hell that is Bokay Poopid. I’ve only tried it out for about 5 months in total—over the course of the last year and a half. I disabled it multiple times—either right after deciding to date/semi-date someone or right after receiving a disgusting “last straw” message (see Dating on an Island). To write an actual novel, I’d have to go on MANY more dates and I think I’d also have to try it out in other cities and on other websites for that matter. Ha!
Although I’ve decided that another blog is the only attention I will ever give this subject, I have to let you in on the possible book titles that were thrown around:
Online Dating: The Weird, The Ugly, and The Weird AND Ugly
My Online Dating Experience: A Story of Humor and Disgust
I have to copyright these because you never know—maybe I’ll fall back into the dark, deep pit again one day. But for now, let me just fill you in on a few memorable events that have occurred between the blog I wrote a year ago and now.
- Harmless lunch at my favorite Thai place? Yes, until my date tells me that he couldn’t decide whether to put straight or bi on his profile. “But I decided I do prefer girls. For example, I’m very attracted to you.” Oh, cool. When I said no thanks to that bedazzling gentleman caller, he offered his roommate’s online username. I passed on that as well.
- Received a message that said, “You seem like you have brains, which is great because I’m somewhat of a zombie when it comes to women. Brainssss nom nom nom!” Could’ve been cute and acceptable, especially since I dig The Walking Dead, a lot. But the thing was, he looked like a zombie. One of those rotting, half-eaten, reallllllmessedup zombies. I think he actually wanted to eat me—nonsexual; straight-up Hannibal Lecter style.
- “Dated” a guy for a bit who literally lived off of chicken fingers. He hated all vegetables, ALL ethnic foods of any kind, and he had a very serious ginger allergy. I fucking LIVE for vegetables, ethnic foods, and ginger. We could never go anywhere but Chili’s and I realized we’d never last long. Relationships are built on dinners, duh. We were food enemies. I also thought on multiple occasions that I was going to kill him. He’d told me that his ex kissed him once, after she’d just eaten ginger pork. He broke out into hives and had to epi-pen the hell out of himself. I grate ginger into a lot of meals that I cook. He’d come over, I’d forget, start kissing him, realize that I might be killing him, and start freaking out. Like I said, this was a solid failure of a fling. If you can’t take me to a sushi joint OR kiss me after I’VE been to a sushi joint, you don’t deserve to be in my life. He also once told me that we had a lot of charisma. He meant chemistry. He was real pretty. Plus, he accidentally took my roommate’s DVD and now, months later, keeps saying he’ll bring it by but never does. I did, however, get a text the other day that simply said, “Shower :)”… I replied, “Ok, cool. So about that DVD…” and then, a day later, he said his phone was “being weird”… Like I said, he was real pretty.
- One guy had real promise. He took me to a fantastic seafood restaurant on the water, he was educated, funny, AND beautiful. Something has to be wrong, right? Well, he kept dropping hints/making jokes that he was a stripper. When pressed, he said he had no job—that he’d saved enough money from bartending to now just live in the richest part of town and finish school. Right. On closer examination, he did look an awful lot like the guys in Magic Mike.
- After I’d deleted my profile, one guy googled me and found this blog, commenting on a few posts and asking me out. Hi Randy!
- Last, but certainly not least, I met up with a guy named Tidus. I knew this name sounded a little too much like The Little Mermaid’s dad. Turns out, it was his “stage name.” He was working extra hard to be discharged from the Navy so he could go make it big in L.A. First of all, do you think it’s admirable to lie to your employer about your mental state just so you can be a captain’s golf caddy for a few months before you’re quietly let go, years before your signed contract? There’s only one word for that: pathetic. Secondly, yes, he can sing (of course he brought his guitar), but there is no way he will ever “make it big” with an attitude/ridiculous name like that. Plus, he was about 5 feet tall, with shoes, on a slight incline. Even if you reach Beiber status, I will never buy your CD, ALBERT! Oh man, what if he does make it big…and sues me for this blog? Changing the real name now. Is that enough? I can’t change Tidus, because of the whole Little Mermaid joke, that was classic. This is tough.
If you’re ever bored out of your mind, desperate and lonely, live on a manless land (Iceland or Hawaii, everywhere else has men, go find them!) and even just a creepy, erotic message would make you feel better, go online.
If you ever want to take this book idea and run with it (although I’m sure there are a ton just like it…let me check Amazon real quick…yup, a ton), go online.
But if you have the slightest chance of meeting someone halfway decent—without the aid of awkward multiple choice question tests, analyzing photos, checking for grammar/spelling mistakes before you even know their middle name—just don’t go online.