[This week has ground me to a fine powder. I can’t pull together 140 characters, much less sophisticated, compelling prose, so I humbly offer you my humiliation for your entertainment. XO.]
The following, in no particular order, are the most humiliating experiences I have had with online dating so far. Because, really, how do I walk away from comedic gold? I don’t. I run TOWARD it. And pay $35 a month for the privilege.
The guy who took me out to dinner and told me that just the day before, he had finished a 30-day all-cabbage diet.
The guy whose user name was BigSalami69.
The guy who demanded a full length photo because, “Come on, you want people to see the goods, right?”
And the two most humiliating disasters of them all:
1. The guy who told me on our first (and only) date that if we were gonna have sex it would have to be at my place because he doesn’t own a bed; who texted me four times at 2 in the morning to tell me what I did wrong on our first (and only) date; and followed up with an email that began, “I didn’t have a very good time with you on Friday night.”
2. The guy who “forgot” his wallet; told me about the restraining order his ex-wife filed when he tried to visit his dog; told me about his mental breakdown, his subsequent three-week stint living in his car, and his time in a mental facility; and asked me if I wore braces because I had “mesmerizingly straight bottom teeth.”
This is why I want to punch people in the throat when they say, “You know, my best friend met her husband online.” Yes, I’m sure. And the fact that all the good ones have been snapped up by women who move faster than I do ensures that I have the opportunity to have a couple or 12 glasses of wine and surf around the electronic version of the Island of Misfit Toys.