Dredging the Lake

Match is at it again, dredging the depths of their vast testosterone inventory to find only the most suitable suitors for me.

Here are a couple of gems.

Meet chu1010

Of all the unfortunate (and rather appropriate) places to prematurely end a sentence, this man has it nailed. Don’t worry, Meet chu1010, I am less likely to want to shoot you and more likely to want to shoot myself in wherever it is that stores my short-term memories and processes visual images.

Thanks, Match.

Winona341

Of all the shitty matches Match has deemed fit for me, this one may take the cake. This one says, “There is no actual process. This is all just as random as real world you get to live in for free – complete with advertising in all corners.”

Good news: This scam and I are a good match because “he” is “athletic and toned”.

Hot Mess: Volume 11

In general, I have pretty high self-esteem, some might even call it “cockiness.”
Semantics.

I know I’m not all that painful on the eyes. I’m pretty witty, laidback, self-sufficient, and low-maintenance. Also, I could probably kick your ass. This is, perhaps, why I’m perpetually the best friend with whom people really SHOULD be in love, but… There’s always a big “but”…

I’m also aware that many women do not carry themselves with or feel the same sense of confidence that I do. Which is why this is such a terrible first message.

It’s a fucking virtual head pat.

This message says:

  • You seem nice. Too bad your life blows.
  • I’m not quite sure why no-one wants you, but there must be a reason.
  • You seem hot, so you must be crazy.
  • I don’t understand why cupid keeps making you gargle his sweaty balls. You seem cool enough to me.

To add to the low blow, one knows it’s from someone who’s in exactly the same position, someone who thinks he’s a pretty good catch, despite the fact that he’s fictionally 92 years old and who has many interests not limited to, but including, women between the ages of 18 and 45.

Nothing says, “I’m just looking for a someone with (semi)functioning female parts” like a thirty year age range.
Don’t give me any of that, “Age is just a number” bullshit. No one says that or believes it except teenage girls who think they’re in love with guys old enough to buy them liquor, child molesters, old rich guys with trophy wives, and the gold-diggers waiting for them to die.

This message is only a confirmation for my “fuck it” inclination. Until my membership runs out, Match’s sole purpose is for providing me with entertainment while I get matched with myself and heal from their previous “matches”.

Hot Mess: Volume 10

In, perhaps, an it-seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time moment, I reactivated my account with Match. After a few messages began to pile up in the inbox I had not paid to see, I gave the site some money.
At least 75% of my justification to myself was that I would, at least, have some new blogging material.

Message #1 was from a woman who wanted to hear about my Match experience but was “Don’t worry. Not a lesbo.”  I suspect that it was some sort of scam.

Message #2 was as follows:

While I suspected that Lex may be a bit crazy, I couldn’t resist the urge to reply.

Of course, it’s a bad idea to encourage the crazy. He replied twice within the same hour…

While I do find myself inexplicably attracted to Lex’s 2D pastel blue silhouette, I’m not sure I’m ready to admit that I’d like to tie up that pastel blue silhouette and do “kinky things” to it. I think the paper cuts would get to me before long.

If I had not already been put off by his discussion of gang banging, I would have certainly thrown off by his transition from kinky sex to “actually, I was thinking about angels.” It’s a rough transition from inappropriate early messaging etiquette to a philosophical justification of his apparent Schizophrenia and his intimate “I’m sure you understand” statements.

Sorry, Lex, my fairly open mind is a little too small for the crazed yammerings of those that hear Djinn.

While this reopening saga does not bode well for my dating, it does bode well for you, dear readers. Some fish are still in the sea because they’ve been thrown back.
Get ready. It looks like we’ll be laughing a lot together.

One of us thought it was hilarious. Sorry it wasn’t you.

Initial contact summary: Hey, we should meet. Yes, we should. Silence, extended for a month or so.

Ditto for second contact summary including silence, extended.

Third contact (unabridged)
Observe the dates.

Prior to sending this message, I thought that either this dude will find this hi-larious or he’ll be pissed. Either way, I shall have some sort of conclusive decision.

At this point, my dear friend “J” un-friended me on the book-o’-face and subsequently blocked me. In the grand scheme of my internet dating and relationships, I’m going to credit that as a successful closure.

Re-Emergency: or fuck you, fuck you, you’re pretty cool, and fuck you

A couple months ago I had a revelation that the only reason I was even attempting to still date was because I had paid for a service, and I didn’t want that to go to waste. It took a long time for it to dawn on my that not wasting money was a very stupid reason to keep putting myself through the same bullshit – lather, rinse, repeat. So I made a deal with myself that I would take a last stab in the dark and then quit.
Stab status: Fail.

My journey toward contentment must have caused a great disturbance in the force as men from my past seemed to gather and decide it was time to reemerge into my text message inbox and psyche. I’ll spare you the whole story of who and why and wherefore I might have met them. Instead, I will share some fun-nuggets (ironically, made out of shit).

All names have been changed to arbitrary characters or blurred to protect the ignorant from friends who would consider punching them in the face.


Fuck You: Chapter 1 (Abridged)

Once upon a time (in November of last year) I traveled across the country to visit a man for a long weekend. During this long weekend, I saw this man one time for about three hours. He backed out of plans twice. I flew home and was forgotten at the airport. I took an expensive cab ride home. The end?

No, of course not.

Prince Charming: 12.11, 9:15 pm – hi… I miss u.
Me: I don’t really see how that’s possible. You hardly saw me.
Prince Charming: 12.11, 9:46 pm – i know, but…. I like u. wish u would have stayed longer.

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot?

But wait, there’s more!

He hit up the facebook inbox.

And then, the facebook wall.


Fuck You: Chapter 2

The first disappearance of Idiot A.

5.08, 2:20 am – Hi there…it’s late.
5.08, 2:30 am – …you wouldn’t happen to be up now would ya?
5.09, 2:37 am – Journey rules!
5.13, 3:32 am – Hello.
5.13, 3:33 am – I. Need. To. Get. Outta. Here.
5.13, 4:42 am – Nighnught
5.13, 3:20 pm – Sorry about the post-work celebratory texting. I think my final went swimmingly.

The second coming of Idiot A.

6.12, 2:49 am – So…I really miss hanging out with you. I realize yr probably done or need a better explanation, which I’d share if you’d like….calculas is kicking my ass.
6.12, 11:40 am – I know “busy” doesn’t really cut it (even though I was with finals and then a family trip to TN) but I really would like to! I like the cut of your jib, kid, ya got moxy.

The third disappearance of Idiot A.

8.31, 10:41 pm – Hey pretty stranger. How ya been?
After silence – 8.31, 10:58 pm – You present a valid point. Sorry to bother you. Just wondered how you were.
8.31, 11:35 pm – …at the risk of sounding redundant, I think it would be really great to study with you sometime. I just think you’re pretty cool and would rather there not be bad blood and/or weirdness…

The appearance of Idiot B: Played by myself

9.1 – Idiot B actually hung out with this dude again. Haven’t heard from him since and would be willing to make bets that I won’t for at least thirty days.

 

Fuck You: Chapter 3 (Abridged)

Conversation highlights:

Me: Might I ask why the sudden re-interest?
Dude: I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been hitting on you pretty hardcore for a while now.
Me: I don’t know if I would say “hardcore” unless by “hardcore” you mean that you talk to me when I happen to be in your general vicinity.
….
Me: No, but really why are you back now?

Wait for it…

Dude: Your hips. (He goes on to explain why he likes my hips and others like or unlike them.)

At this point I was kind of waiting for him to go on with other reasons – maybe something related to a quality that I have more control over or more pride in, but, apparently, that was it.

Unsolicited advice: If you are struggling to name some good qualities of mine, ask me. I’ve known and liked myself for most of my life.

After this evening of “bliss,” he was really interested for about a week which roughly mirrored his first period of intense interest. After that he no longer seemed to acknowledge my existence while in the same place (except once), which, apparently, is the opposite of hitting on me “pretty hardcore.”


Finalists for the “You’re Pretty Cool” Category:

Bachelor #1: Drinks too much.
Bachelor #2: Lives in another state.