Today’s message is a little different than others, but I’ll get to that in a second. First, the offending message (with the boring pleasantries redacted so you can truly focus on the good part):

What a charming little anecdote! Nothing says “I’m not a weirdo, you should totally be interested in me!” like talking about a dead rat. Rodents are a great conversation starter…

Now, how is this message different, you ask? Well – I didn’t receive it.

I wrote it.

And clicked send.

I. SENT. THAT.

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What the FUCK is wrong with me? Why would I share that? Especially as my first communication with this guy? I mean, some things are funny, but should probably wait to be shared. This isn’t one of those things. It’s not a good story EVER. I even acknowledge that it’s a terrible thing to share/talk about, but instead of just using that handy little backspace key on my keyboard I just say “but there it is anyway.” I wasn’t even drunk or otherwise incapacitated. It was mid afternoon on a weekday. I was at my desk at work eating a peanut butter and honey uncrustable (marketed towards “families on the move”, purchased by lazy 28 year olds who can’t be bothered to perform the strenuous task of making a peanut butter sandwich).

The worst part is that this guy had messaged me first, so he was interested. But then he got that response and I never heard from him again. He seemed interesting and fun too. But I went and shined a glaring light on why I’m single and on dating websites in the first place. This is not the first time I have verbal diarrhead all over a guy, it’s a specialty of mine. Like that time I launched into a detailed explanation of why if I had to choose (and I don’t know why I ever would have to choose), I would be a proctologist before I was a podiatrist. I still cry on the inside thinking about that, it haunts me. An unfortunate number of other examples just flooded my memory and I had to take a moment to compose myself. Annnnnnyway… I thought maybe online dating would be different, what with the benefit of a computer between us and the ability to take a moment and edit myself. I thought I had a chance at escaping my past. Not so. NOT. SO.

L tried to make me feel better by pretending that my message was ok.

L: I mean, it’s not like you said you took the dead rat home and made out with it.

D: He hasn’t messaged me since.

L: Well he may have died.

That explanation doesn’t brand me a crazy cat rat lady, so I’m going with death…

-D