I had lunch with my friend Joan last week and we got on the subject of dating. She has recently finished her most recent go round with Match.com. I always found it to be a relief when I decided enough was enough and stopped looking at, replying to, participating in Match or Plenty of Fish.
Initially, I loved those sites because there is a questionnaire and I got to write about myself. That’s all good. Then I got to go shopping and reserve the men I liked. And then there is the fun back and forth of the emails and it’s entertaining to chat with new people in the area. It’s like a game with different activities and ratings and prizes. Very exciting. I even bumped into a couple of guys I knew from high school or my kids’ school and could say Hi, what do you think of all this, etc. It was fun.
Then the dating begins and the fun is over. I found out that not everyone has the same definition of “athletic build”. Once for a lunch date, I was dwarfed by a man who was a giant…6 foot something, 300 lbs. Not football player huge; rather looming giant man with hips huge. Whoa dude! And brilliant, he should have posted some sort of IQ test for potential dates to take.
Joan’s worst, most recent date involved meeting a guy for a drink and being told that he is really picky so dating is difficult for him. What’s that you say? How is he picky? Was Joan not tall, thin, blond, buxom, smart, witty, amazing enough for him? No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he likes to go to strip clubs a couple of times a week and he’s very picky about the women who don’t want to do that with him. He offered to take Joan in his car across town
to murder her in an empty lot and make soup out of her carcass to a strip club but she declined. If any of you ladies out there are interested he also likes those public herpes hot tub places.
One of my surprisingly bad dates was with a guy who actually knew my brother, my dad had coached him in hockey as a kid, his dad was my family’s orthopedic doc…what could go wrong? We got along just fine. Knew a lot of the same people but in less than an hour, he told me he was twice divorced because both of his wives had cheated on him. He puffed his chest out and informed me that he threw both of them out, no questions asked. I have a question? Why do women want to cheat on you? Check, please.
Now this, this is my worst on-line dating experience:
It was a guy named John, I think. It was definitely a guy and I think his name was John. We chatted on-line and on the phone. I knew he was a widower. Young guy, that’s sad. Coincidentally, neither one of us is busy that evening for dinner, let’s just be spontaneous and meet for some dinner at the Rock Bottom! OK! (Aside: we had just “met” on line that day.) I went downtown to the restaurant and saw who I assumed was him waiting outside for me. He was REALLY thin. Thinner than Derwood thin. But that’s okay. He hugged me. Wow, not okay. You don’t know me. Shake hands. DON’T hug me.
We go in and sit down. It was busy but we got a small booth, thank God I didn’t have to sit next to him in the crowded, loud bar. While eating dinner, I notice that there are some very dolled up (read: whore looking) young 20-something women who keep parading by the table. Dresses that are barely covering their hoo ha’s, big hair, bigger platform shoes, loud, heavy make-up …. and they keep walking back and forth. It took me a while to figure out what was going on when Aha!!! They were smoking. The young ladies would come in, have a drink, talk, then go out for a smoke and so on and so forth.
I commented on these young ladies and John, in what I came to know as his grossly inappropriate awkward wit, said things like,
“In a few years those will be your daughters!” Um, no they won’t.
“How do you know? I bet they will look just like that!” Hey ASSHOLE, guess what, no they won’t! I have raised these girls whom you have never met and are trashing and I know better than you.
“What could you do to stop them? They’ll just change once they leave the house! I bet they will. HAHAHA” OK, there fucktard, NO they won’t and if you say one more word about MY daughters, I will nail your balls to your forehead.(Thanks AVC).
We move on to the next topic. Dead wife. I am trying to be sympathetic to this man although I really feel like punching him in the face. Dead wife discussion continues and it becomes very clear that he has not dealt with her passing at all. He still has all her clothes and shoes and wait for it…..he is offering them to me. Well, thanks for the cheeseburger but I’m gonna pass on your dead wife’s clothing. Mmm K?
He insists on walking me back to my car. I allow that he can walk me to the parking garage but I will be going to my car by myself. Walking up the street, John decides it would be a good idea to hold my hand. WHAAAA??? I yank my hand away and he grabs it again, laughing. I yank it away again. “hey c’mon! hahaha!” he said. “Do NOT touch me, I MEAN it.” I say.
And I walked happily back to my car and my empty house.
Now I will go say a prayer of thanks for Derwood.