The problem with this e-dating thing is that occassionally I make the mistake of venturing out of the safety of my little bed-nest to meet strangers. In public. You know what that means, right? Stories of dates I tried to forget about.
Guy #2: A guy with one photo always makes me wary–there’s something about people who don’t have asshole friends with a desire to capture every last Kodak moment that I just don’t trust. We met up for cheeseburgers & mocked not only several tatt’d up bros, but the morbidly obese guy that ordered four double-doubles. (Don’t worry, we did it under our breaths in true Paris Hilton style!) Following that we went directly to the bar where I learned about celebrities he had worked as an assistant for and how terrible their supermodel girlfriends were. I ended the evening wishing I had been out with said celebrity, since he is probably at least the height he claims to be on the internet.
Guy #3: Older, wiser… and slightly weirder than who I thought I was going to be meeting off the internet. What is it about older guys and making out? Maybe I’m miswired but I don’t want to make out for 30 minutes. Fuck, I really don’t even want to be making out for 10 minutes, regardless of your skill level. His consistent mentioning of moving elsewhere and telling me how much I’d like it there too got old with a quickness. Eventually he became annoyed because I keep a pretty busy schedule and generally don’t have time to see someone two to three times a week, and sent me an email saying that Sasha Grey’s role in “The Girlfriend Experience” made him think of me. I don’t know if he realizes how insulting that sort of comparison is, but I didn’t care enough to reply and tell him so. Sorry dude, hope you find a girl looking to relocate and down to be compared to shady porno chicks in the near future!
Guy #4: “Oh hi, I don’t look anything like my photos. Like, at all. Are you embarrassed by how wasted I’m getting? How about uncomfortable with the consistent sexual innuendo I’m dropping? What do you mean you’re leaving our date early? Aren’t my really fucked up teeth getting you randy?” This was an all-over fail dude that I couldn’t bring myself to be a dick to. Mostly out of concern that he had a garrote in his back pocket.
I’m serious, someone just needs to cough up $7,000 for my customized mail-order boyfriend.