Sure, he dared bring up the Jewish thing, which we all know I’m not very excited about. But his messages were short and sweet, which I appreciate, and I’m partial to anybody with Philly ties. Thereal worry I had about M was that he only had one profile picture. And, I learned very early on in the world of online dating, you cannot trust a single picture to tell you what someone actually looks like. So, when M replied with his name, I used his name plus the information from his profile to find him on the internet. So, I went to his facebook profile to see if I could find public photos to get a better sense of what he looked like. Sadly, what it revealed was that he was a conservative republican, and that the picture he used for his OKC profile was taken four years ago. Before I could pat myself on the back for being such an internet sleuth, something terrible happened. Maybe it was because it was late at night and I was tired. Maybe it was because I had consumed one too many hot toddys at a party. I. ACCIDENTALLY. CLICKED: “add friend.”
OK, OK, “Don’t panic,” I told myself. “There must be a way to cancel the request. And there was. Thank god for Facebook help page. I toggled over the request and pressed cancelled. All good.
However, several hours later, M messaged me again:
What Facebook’s help page NEGLECTED to mention was that if a person still gets email notifications about friend requests, those DO NOT get cancelled. So, how did I respond to being called out?
I didn’t. I did the mature thing and blocked him on Facebook and on OKCupid.
Can’t win ’em all folks. And here’s some advice from me to you: Do not drink and Facebook.
You guys. I hope you’re prepared to have a large chuckle at my expense, because boyyyy do I have a treat for you.
This is (to our knowledge) a first here at Stupid Cupid. Up until now, no one we’ve dated, as far as we know, has found, had access to, or read our blog. UNTIL NOW. Because (drumroll please)….
Someone I’m currently dating has found this blog.
You’re probably saying something like, “That’s funny! But come on, it’s not that bad. At least you didn’t write about him.”
Except OH WAIT. I did. Yup. Go back and read that little diddy about my first date with D, in which I called him a nerd, lambasted his Okcupid profile, and basically implied that he was a creepy stalker slash potential murderer. #facepalm
Allow me to start at the beginning, because this is truly a tale you all deserve to enjoy fully and in minute detail. I have been seeing D intermittently since our first date about two months ago. I didn’t mention him again after that post because honestly, I really do try to avoid writing about guys I go out with unless/until it’s over. For this VERY F*CKING REASON. But I made an exception this time since D was the one to break the the epic dry spell I’d written so much about.
As previously mentioned on my first date post, D works in IT and is essentially a doctorate-level internet stalker, which I respect. Or at least I did, when I thought the only thing he’d found was my last name via my LinkedIn profile. I told him about the blog almost immediately, but gave him minimal info. beyond the fact that it existed. And he never let on that he’d discovered it. UNTIL…
This past Sunday night, when D casually brought up that awful scorpion email we single mutants received from Okc a few weeks ago. You remember, the one I freaked out about? I responded with something like: “I know, wasn’t that the worst? I actually just wrote a rage-filled blog post about it”.
But something about the way D had brought it up made me pause. My Spidey senses were tingling. So I broached the subject…
As you can see, D never actually answered my question. My weird hunch suddenly turned to certainty, and then to straight dread. At this point I’m going to switch FULLY over to screen caps of our conversation, so you can live out the epic fail right there with me:
Speaking of going “Fuuuuuuuuuck” at high volume, while this was going down I promptly threw up the bat signal and woke poor L’s ass up:
Good co-blogger and friend that she is, she called me immediately and calmed me down. Meanwhile, D was finishing his epic tale of Stucu discovery…
D found the blog, followed it, and promptly forgot about it, until my post ABOUT HIM showed up on his blogroll. I can’t make this stuff up, folks.
D has known about the blog for two months, and I had no clue until three days ago.
D’s friends have read our blog.
D’s mom has read our blog. (/Hi, Mrs. D?)
After my initial shock/freak out, I started to process what happened, and I realized that D was actually being incredibly cool and gracious about the whole thing. Hypocritical as it sounds, I’m not sure I’d respond so kindly if I stumbled upon some blog post a first date of mine had blown up the internet with, especially if he basically reviewed me like a summer blockbuster and RATED OUR DATE on a scale of 1-10. Especially when D started referencing older posts of mine and I realized that he’d gone back and read our entire blog, from start to finish:
I’ll admit, the one thing I was annoyed with D about was the fact that he’d kept his discovery a secret. The fact that he’d known basically the entire time we’ve been going out and hadn’t said a word about it made me feel a bit like an idiot. But after he laid down his arguments:
We were dating very casually at first, with lots of time in between seeing each other. He wasn’t sure if he’d even see me again.
I’d accused him of being a stalker and (only half-jokingly) asked if he was a serial killer, and he didn’t want to come off as even creepier than I’d already accused him of being.
He was secretly hoping I’d write another blog post about him before he revealed that he’d found it.
I couldn’t really be mad. I would’ve done the same thing had I been in his shoes. All I can say is, thank God I kept my mouth shut for once in my life and stopped at one post!
Also, the bottom line is, this sort of thing comes with the territory. This is what we signed up for when we started a dating blog and put our shit on the internet. Anonymous or not, we knew this was always a possibility; I figured I’d be sharing the blog with SOMEONE eventually if we got serious enough. I just (foolishly) thought that I’d be in control of the when and the how of that reveal. Ahhh, how young and naive I was back then.
Not gonna lie,I can’t help but feel a liiiiittle bit like Bridget Jones when Mark Darcy finds her diary:
Luckily, I didn’t write that D acts like he has a “giant gherkin thrust up his backside” (don’t worry, he doesn’t),but Lord, do I feel Bridget’s horror and embarrassment in that moment. Actually, I think we all need to watch the following scene right now. Don’t ask questions. Colin Firth just makes everything better:
At least this whole thing didn’t end with me running down the street in gold zebra print knickers while a homeless man shouts after me in the snow. #smallvictories
Anyway, D continued to assure me that he was cool with the whole thing, and he was also super complimentary about the blog and our writing in general. Just when I felt my blood pressure return to a semi-human rate, another thought occurred to me: I wanted to write a post about this. I wanted to share this absurd hilarity with our readers, complete with our texts. Was D going to be cool with that? What was the protocol now that I knew he was going to presumably read every new thing I wrote? I asked him if he’d mind if I shared this story:
November goal: met. Curse: reversed. Dry spell: over. Dignity: regained (sort of). God, am I relieved. Mostly because I publicly set an (admittedly unnecessary) goal for myself and then panicked when I realized I might not actually achieve that goal. While the rest of you clowns were busy growing facial hair, I’ve been feverishly pimping myself out on the Okc. So I am thrilled to report that I made it with a week and a half to spare!
What’s that? You want to hear about my actual date and not just endure me taking victory laps for this entire post? You guys are adorable, but sure, I’ll indulge you.
My date was with D, a nice, nerdy guy who messaged me about a week ago. His first message to me was actually great, albeit a bit overly enthusiastic, but when I clicked on his profile I was met with some insane shit. First of all it was way way WAY too long. Mama has a life and a lot of prime time TV to get to, so she doesn’t have time to plow through a personal memoir while searching for a date. Second, he actually mentioned that his ex-girlfriend helped him write said profile (!!!!!!!) (boys, do I really need to tell you that mentioning an ex in your ONLINE DATING PROFILE is considered poor form? Also, D, your ex did not do you any favors, I assure you). And third, his pictures were comically outdated–I believe the oldest time stamp was from 2003. To put this in perspective, in 2003 I was obsessing over my upcoming high school senior trip to Disney World and listening to this on repeat:
Who am I kidding? I STILL listen to that on repeat. Fantastic jam. The point is, call me crazy, but it seems like a picture taken when I was probably still in high school and viewed when I was two weeks away from attending my 10 year reunion might be considered slightly outdated.
Anyway, the long, insane profile normally would have been a deterrent, as would the vintage photos from a bygone era, but beggars can’t be choosers and more importantly, D’s message was actually really nice and normal. So I replied, and we had a brief back and forth. Impatient to meet my deadline, I asked him out for a drinkand we made plans for the only time we were both free, which was early evening on Sunday (SO creepy). D suggested we meet at a trendy speakeasy that I had been meaning to try but hadn’t gotten around to. The place was so trendy that I had difficulty locating it (here were his directions):
If that’s not the start of an episode of SVU, I don’t know what is. When I found it, D was standing outside with a sheepish look on his face. The place was inexplicably closed. Honestly I was just so excited that D appeared to be all six feet one inches that he claimed on his profile, and was actually cuter in person than in his wildly outdated photos, that I didn’t care.
We headed down the street to another bar and it wasn’t until we sat down, ordered drinks, and had an ominous moment of awkward silence that I considered this fact: I might be REALLY rusty at this whole first date thing. I mean, It’s been five months. Maybe everything I’d learned up until then had faded and this was going to be a spectacularly awkward evening of social failure. Luckily, before I could think about this any more, D piped up to ask me a question and I didn’t have time to worry about my romantic shortcomings again.
It was a nice date. D was smart, interesting, did not take himself too seriously, talked a lot but also listened with interest about what I had to say. We had some drinks, ordered some snacks, and had a reasonably nice time. I told D about the blog which he loved and wanted to know more about (I did refrain from telling him that he was single handedly responsible for breaking my dry spell). There were a few over shares on his part, mostly about his terrible relationship with his dad (yikesaroo), which surprised me given the fact that I felt like I already knew his life story from his anthology of a profile.
At one point in the date, D asked me how to pronounce my last name. Without thinking anything of it, I told him (this is not an uncommon question) and then excused myself to go to the restroom. Walking back, it hit me: I never told this dude my last name. This is anestablished first date policy of mine. What. the. fuck?? Did I have a stalker on my hands, or just your run of the mill serial killer? Is that why he wanted to meet me in front of an unmarked metal gate? Does he know my social security number and blood type, too? Should I sneak out the bathroom window like in the movies? But wait, if he knows my last name he could probably find me anyway. GAH.
I pulled it together in the ladies room and decided I needed to confront this potential killer. Here is what transpired:
S: So, I just realized… I never told you my last name.
D: I was waiting for you to say that.
S: Oh God, you’re not going to kill me, are you?
D: Huh?
S: How did you find out my last name?
D: I mean, I work with computers for a living. You told me enough about your job and industry that when I searched those facts plus your first name, your LinkedIn profile came right up. I’m sorry, is that totally creepy?
S: Sort of, yes. But I also kind of respect it. My friends and I are semi-pro stalkers and we can usually find out some pretty incredible stuff about our dates with minimal clues to go off of. Usually this terrifies men, though. The tables have kind of turned.
D: You’ve met your stalking match. So what did you find out about me?
S: Actually, I didn’t even Google you. (I didn’t tell D that this was because there was literally no time/I had a deadline to meet.)
Not much else to report on this date, honestly. It was perfectly nice, and D was perfectly nice. Do we actually have chemistry/a ton in common? That remains to be seen. But I certainly think it’s worth another look. I am trying really hard not to compare him to H, who I had off the charts chemistry with from our very first date, because one, that’s not fair and two, obviously that off the charts chemistry didn’t really lead to anything good anyway.
D drove me home (no kiss, no attempted murder) and we agreed we’d like to go out again, but I know I don’t need to remind you all to take that agreement with a GIGANTIC grain of salt. An iceberg of salt, if you will. The probability that D fades away is incredibly high so for now, I’ll just be congratulating myself for achieving my November goal without having to literally pay an escort service.
Date rating: 7/10. D was a nice, interesting, smart, TALL dude with great manners and a lot to say. Not sure if I feel anything for him beyond that, but it’s certainly worth revisiting to find out. The stalking was a little creepy, but I can’t really judge someone for doing something that is essentially a dating best practice here at StuCu.
Stupid Cupid 