But it’s been a month since my last fling, and I have some more free time on the horizon, so I thought it was time to reactive the ol’ profile.
And thank god I did! Three minutes after reactivating, I received this gem:
Let me begin with the positive.
1) He used “you’re” correctly, which is quite a feat on OKC– a Wild, Wild West when it comes to you’re/your usage. (Though telling the difference between you and you’re seems to be significantly less challenging for men than telling the difference between their, there, and they’re.)
2) This is better than “hi.” I mean, the dude knows how to keep it interesting.
Now, on to the negative:
1) Um, it’s a little too interesting. First of all, the first question required some deep thought for me, and, after about 5 minutes, I concluded my most prized possession was my television. I don’t think that’s the answer this guy was looking for. But, like George Washington, I cannot tell a lie:
2) How are these “security” questions? I thought security questions were things like, “What is your mother’s maiden name?” Or those horrible little unreadable boxes with meaningless letters strung together you have to fill out when signing up for something, to ensure you aren’t a criminal computer bot. Not sure how knowing my opinion on peanut butter and jelly will allow this guy to figure out if I’m a sociopath trying to steal his bank information.
3) Puh-leez. I can name more than 7 countries that have 4 letters:
Iran
Iraq
Togo
Laos
Fiji
Mali
Oman
Cuba
Point is, this guy was cute enough, but not cute enough to merit a return message that took as much energy to craft as a college midterm. I can’t even imagine going on a date with this guy without bringing an Atlas and CD-ROM Encyclopedia Britannica, just so I can keep up. Also, I have a strong suspicion he might be a distant cousin of one of S’s virtual suitors, who, in case you haven’t heard, is in MENSA.
But who knows? This may be the best message I get this week. So seriously, if you know some more four letter countries, holler at me. Clearly, I need to impress this guy.
…they started putting bacon in mac and cheese, of course. Did you think I was going to make a really offensive Holocaust joke or something? Puh-leez.
I have been waiting for the day to write about how Jdate is the worst since I joined back in May. Now that my subscription has expired (PS-Up yours autorenew! You cannot con this Jew into parting with her hard-earned dollars in return for a Red Sea of NOTHINGNESS), and I’ve stopped seeing the guys I met on there, and I’ve caught up on all the episodes of New Girl I missed before the new season started, I can finally record the long -awaited rant that has been living in my head.
I can divide my hatred of Jdate into two categories.
1) Hated the user experience
2) Hated the people
User experience
1) Hideous graphics and homepage. First of all, remember Friendster? From the early 2000s? Or, as I like to call it, Myspace’s perverted uncle? Facebook’s annoying great grandmother? It was this really JV social networking site that people used in late high school and early college, and it looked something like this:
That, my friends, is what Jdate looks like now. Its homepage is a mishmash of small fonts, and confusing directions, and tiny, low quality pictures of Jews. I mean, if Jdate gets as lucky as Friendster, and is repurchased and flipped into a gaming site for Southeast Asians, then it should consider itself blessed. Because it looks like it was designed by two blind programmers over the age of 65, who have just discovered HTML for the first time. (Yes, I made a programming joke. Engineers, holler at me!)
2. Profile Nazis. Sorry/I’m not sorry about the inappropriate historical reference. Jdate brings it on themselves, by monitoring every single word you put on your profile like it’s a police state. You can’t make any changes to your profile, not even so much as correcting a typo or adding a comma, without receiving the following message.
(Disclaimer: I made this up and promptly deleted it so as not to give away real details about myself. I will say, this is a much cooler biography than my real one, so I was tempted to leave it up and see what happened.)
For godsakes Jdate! How many people work for Customer Care that you have the bandwidth to monitor every single update? (And, PS: I think you’d be MUCH better served investing in a few new software engineers to do a full site overhaul!) And what are you guys looking for any way? Veracity? Anti semitism? Pro Palestine propaganda? Tasteless Jewish jokes (well, look no further than this blog!). Newsflash, Jdate Customer Care, the NSA is watching everything we say already. I don’t need you to do it too.
3. Features that make no sense. I’ve been a pretty big fan of OKC’s approach to creating online dating profiles. A picture, a short bio written in response to some witty prompts, and answers to some revealing questions are PLENTY for me to decide if I’d like to go out with you or not. Jdate has the picture and profile thing down, but really misses the mark on other features that are intended to help users get to know each other. My personal least favorite? Something called Kibitz Corner. What is that, you ask? Well, this is what “kibitz” means:
Oh, my. What an attractive thing to do to someone you’re trying to woo! One of the first things I do on dates is try to offer the other party some unwelcome advice. (i.e. “Is that a mole? You should really see a dermatologist!”) I mean, honestly, can you think of anything less appealing than unwelcome advice from a stranger? (To be fair, I do dole out my share of unwelcome advice, but it’s to friends and family only.) But apparently Jdate thinks it will endear people to each other if they could all start bossing one another around before meeting in person. In reality, Kibitz corner is really a poor man’s OKC questions (Given the clientele of Jdate, I find it funny they’d do a “poor man’s” anything! Ahahaha! Tastless joke # 4. I really can’t resist).
Here’s the way Kitbitz Corner works:
Jdate poses a question to its users, and then anyone from anywhere in the world can just randomly answer it.
OK, first of all, please know this answer is from some person who lives MILES away from me and who is a WOMAN, but Jdate thinks I’d be super interested in it anyway. I can also choose to send this question to a friend to answer!
4. Finally, just like Match.com, Jdate charges you for everything. All you can actually do on the site is Browse members. If you want to receive a message, or a “flirt” (another terrifying, Jdate only feature through which users can send each other really corny pick up lines that are pre-crafted, presumably by the geniuses on their Customer Care team, like “With a smile like that, why are you still single?”), you have to have a paying subscription. Now, I understand that this is par for the course on most dating websites. But, the thing I HATE about Jdate, is you can’t tell who is a paying member and who isn’t. So, half the time, people are messaging people who aren’t even able to receive email. Now, these messages wait in your inbox until you get a paying subscription. I had actually snuck on Jdate in February when I first started internet dating, just to see what was out there, but never paid for it till May. This means I had an inbox of messages that were 3 months old, that I felt really weird acting on. What would I say–“Hi Abraham Cohen Goldstein. Are you still single?” This also gave me supreme anxiety about sending any messages myself, since I wasn’t sure if they were going to be successful. Of course, every time you sign on, Jdate bombards you with “specials” and tries to get you to get a subscription:
Jdate, the jig is up. While the chosen people do LOVE a good bargain, we’re also smart and we’re hip to your game. You’re always having a sale. No one would actually pay the outrageous full prices for your service.
The people
Once you figure out how to use the confusing and somewhat irrelevant site and find profiles of people of your preferred gender, I’d like to tell you things get better. But they don’t.
I will stop for a moment and say that I am speaking only in my personal opinion. I have a wonderful friend who has met tons of guys on Jdate who she’s really enjoyed. She was the one who urged me to get on Jdate in the first place. But my experience on Jdate can be summed up in one full sentence: I hate my people and they hate me.
Now, readers, especially Jewish readers. If this is upsetting you, please calm down. Obviously I love my Jewish friends and family. And I did have some real anxiety about posting this frank diatribe. I said to co-blogger S:
Lucky for you readers, S and I share an irreverant sense of humor.
So, just to be clear, don’t take me too seriously. COUGHnsaCOUGH.
Now, let me continue to criticize my people:
1) I received WAYYYY too many messages from people who did not live in the vicinity. Now, again, I recognize this is a problem on every dating site. Tacosdelish is frequently messaged by Thai bankers and Swedish millionaires who cannot resist the smell of her farts. But, the number of out of state, OUT OF COUNTRY, messages I received on Jdate was alarming. Sorry Isaac from Tel Aviv! Momma’s not available to CHAT! (And PS, lots of messages were from guys who live in Israel. Isn’t Israel one big Jdate? Hate to break it to you guys, but if you can’t find a Jewish girl there, you can’t find one anywhere).
2) Thirty percent of men’s profiles reference their moms. I would say that one in three profiles contains one or more of the following statements:
“Looking for a nice Jewish girl who I can bring home to mom”
“Looking for a girl who cooks like my mom”
“My mom made me get on this site.”
“My mom and dad have taught me a lot about relationships.”
I am totally down with guys who love and respect their mothers. But the fact that they are already referencing them on an online dating site makes me a little nervous.
I’m not trying to end up with Buster Bluth:
3) They are a little too, you know, Jewish. I know, you’re shaking your head. Or your fist. What did you expect, L? You are on a site for Jewish Singles. You’re really too much. Listen, I never said I wasn’t crazy. I’m soldiering on with my last complaint.
My very wise friend K advised me at the beginning of this experiment that I might encounter some real Jews:
*Editor’s note: K is also half Jewish. Though evidently, not a “Sabbath goer.”
Welp, K was right, as she almost always is. Every J I went out with, at one point in the night or another, wanted to talk with me about my Judaism.
“So, how often do you go to synagogue?”
“Are both your parents Jewish?”
“Are you doing anything for the high holidays?”
“MAZEL TOV!”
What I learned from this experience is I’m not nearly in touch with my Jewish side enough to field these questions with a straight face, even thouhg they are perfectly legit questions. So sue me! (Actually, Js, don’t sue me. I don’t have any money. It will be a waste of time.)
Despite all my Jhate, I am glad I tried Jdate. I had a really good time with a couple of guys on the site, which means, readers, that you have more fall blogging material coming your way. In the meanwhile, if you didn’t get your fix of “self-loathing Jew-mour,” I leave you with this gem:
You know how everybody has a celebrity “list?” The list of celebs that, if they EVER propositioned you, EVEN if you were happily married to your spouse of 25 years and had 6 kids, and were in the middle of open heart surgery (performing it or having it) you would IMMEDIATELY drop EVERYTHING to have sex with them? (If you don’t have a “list,” stop judging me and make one right now. It should have between 2-4 people on it to encourage maximum thought and specificity, and those people should be living so the fantasy can be somewhat real).
So, at the top of my list is this guy:
If you know who that is, I salute you. This is why we’re friends. If you don’t, allow me to explain. That is Mark Duplass, who is best known for being Mindy Kaling’s (our spirit animal, you remember?) f%^k buddy/rival on “The Mindy Project.” I first developed my very serious crush on him though, while watching the little known FX classic, “The League.”
Mark (we’re on a first name basis, obviously) plays Pete on “The League,” who, much to my therapist’s chagrin, epitomizes everything I am drawn to in a man:
1. He’s a scoundrel. Oh, how I adore a ne’er do well. Pete is always up to no good. He loves to trick Taco into making ridiculous trades, get Kevin in trouble with Jenny, and sleep with Baby Geoffrey’s nanny. I am total mush for his on-screen antics, and love to fantasize about what kind of off-screen trouble we’d get into.
2. He has untapped potential (aka he is lazy): We know Pete works in a cubicle, and basically spends all day wasting time, pretending to work, and actually doing nothing but fantasy football. But we also know Pete is very smart. He was the original architect of the Sacko Bowl, for gods sakes! Clearly, he needs the right woman to help him discover his passion and use his intelligence for good! I am that girl Pete!
3. His outfits. What can I say? I am a mess for a man in a hoodie and a loose, plain T-shirt. I call it “slacker chic.” My friend C calls it a “mediocrity fetish.”
4. His love of sports: Let’s explore this a bit. Because I am no Jenny MacArthur. The only sport I can claim to be a legit fan of is college basketball, and that doesn’t even have a real fantasy draft. But for some reason, men watching sports, talking about sports, etc. has always turned me on. I have done a lot of soul searching oh this topic, and I think I’ve come up with the reasons for this:
a. Genetic need: I am terrible at sports, despite over 10 combined years on field hockey and softball teams as a youth. Unfortunately, I was one of the rare cases where practice actually yielded no tangible results. It probably didn’t help that I donned protective eyewear for my entire athletic “career.”
(Please know I most closely resembled the child on the left, but with bigger glasses, and a lot more hair.)
Despite the childhood obstacles I faced to becoming the next Serena Williams, I really want my children to be good at sports. I think sports build great character in children and adults (how to be a graceful loser and gracious winner, working hard, exercises regularly collaboration, etc). So I am biologically drawn to men who will bare and nuture this quality in my children.
b. I like it when a man knows stuff I don’t know. I don’t give myself credit for many things, but I’ll take credit for this: I know a lot about a lot. I’ve always been an information sponge, spelling bee champ, history nerd, grammar policewoman, expert on 18th and 19th century lit. (I know, I’m too sexy for this blog, too sexy for this blog…) But I don’t know a ton about sports. I like it when a guy can tell me some new and interesting facts, or get me psyched about something that I previously did not know enough to be psyched about.
c. I really love sports food. My cellphone background is a picture of a hot dog with cheese whiz that I got at a baseball game. With some nachos on the side. Give me buffalo or chili covered anything, and I am a super happy lady. I figure I have a very good chance of encountering this food at Superbowl parties or at live sporting events. Which I will be attending, of course, with Pete.
(Oh dear. I just read this list and I have a very clear understanding of why I am still technically single. If any NON-SCOUNDREL, HARD WORKING, WELL-DRESSED, SPORTS FAN is reading this and thinking, “Oh, L sounds amazing! I love know-it-alls with a healthy appetite and terrible hand eye coordination! Too bad I am not her type,” please contact me anyway. I promise to abandon my bad judgement and give you a shot. My mom will be very happy! And I promise not to steal your cheese fries until Date # 2.).
So, the point of this very long and obscure digression is to set the stage for the fact that when D contacted me on OKC, I was psyched. He was a lawyer turned fantasy sports blogger who, in his initial message, claimed to have met Busta Rhymes (not on my list, but one of my heros!). Being the competitive chum that sports bloggers will be, I suppose, he challenged me to Scrabble match at one of my favorite bars.
I spent the days leading up to the date doing minimal research on football (his favorite), but then gave up because 1) I know enough to carry on a conversation and 2) I don’t want our future marriage to be built on a foundation of lies. So I wasn’t a sports expert! There can only be one in the family!
(I assure you, this is a healthy level of what we single ladies like to call “getting ahead of one’s self.”)
D looked better than his pic when I got to the bar, and he also offered me some free pizza samples, so needless to say the date was off to an excellent start.
Unfortunately, I proceeded to annihilate him in Scrabble. Like, it was 300 to 80 or something. By the end I was literally feeding this guy words. I mean, I will say that I do know my way around a Scrabble board (…TOO SEXY!), but this was an exceptionally poor showing for a high school graduate. Plus, this guy didn’t seem appropriately ashamed of himself, and I felt like he wasn’t trash talking me nearly enough. Pete would have been throwing verbal punches by Round 2. But D was still very cute. And very nice. And pretty interesting, and cheerful (something you rarely find in men and women in DC).
So we decided to switch to another game. He picked “Life”–and I am a little ashamed to say I kinda let him beat me / I lost because I was getting really drunk and focusing most of my energy on sticking the little pink and blue people into cars. Four hours into the date, I realized I was going to be late to meet my friends for dinner, so I bid D a hasty goodbye. In the cab to dinner, I called S and babbled about what a great time I had and of course offered her Super Bowl tickets, which I assumed I would definitely get if I ended up dating Mr. Sports blog.
D called me the next day and asked me out again. I really wanted to see him, but the summer had been hella busy between work and summer beach trips, friend’s parties, etc, and I truly only had 2 open weekdays in the next month (I have had the benefit of learning from S’s experience, and I don’t do weekends until we’ve passed the 3rd date mark). So, we made plans to hang out again, in two weeks.
D spent the majority of the two weeks regularly texting me pleasantries, most of which I found annoying. However, I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that I was flattered by his consistent attention. I’d also be a liar if I didn’t admit that I was enjoying starting sentences with, “This sports blogger I am sort of dating says…” or, “Oh? Fantasy football? I am going out with a guy who like invented that!”
A day before our date, I hadn’t heard from him, which was unusual, because he had been texting me inane things almost daily. So, I texted him to check if we were still on:
Wait? What? Oh hello, rejection! We are meeting more and more frequently these days!
Welp, obviously, that was the end of D. I am sorry readers, cause I really wanted to give away a few Super Bowl tickets to you. At the end of the day, I can’t fault D. He did the right thing by being honest and direct. There are no laws against him meeting someone else. We’d been on one date, after all. And, there must have been some truth to what he was saying, because the next day, he deleted his OKC profile.
I spent about two days mourning the end of D. When I reflected on the experience, I realized I wasn’t that into him after all. I could never respect a man who I could cream so overwhelmingly in Scrabble.
Date rating: (7/10) While the ending of this story is disappointing, D was a decent date. I would have definitely gone out with him again, had he not met someone cooler than me at a bar.
Lesson learned: The big lesson I learned here is about timing and momentum. If you let a couple weeks pass between first and second dates, it’s quite possible a desirable person will find someone else. I do think that if the timing had been a bit different, D, DeSean Jackson, and I could be out for beers right now.
There is a very firm difference between “breaking up” (i.e., ending a relationship) and “breaking it off,” (telling a guy you’re dating that you don’t want to see him again..)
Breaking up is a hideous business. It involves an in-person conversation/fight/world war during which one or both of you explain your decision to no longer be together. It can, on occasion, involve crying, sobbing, name-calling, psycho-analyzing the other person, diving up your possessions, determining norms for future communication, and dividing up custody of mutual friends/favorite places to go out, etc.
The aftermath involves spending a lot of time in your car sobbing while listening an assortment of the following: Jewel’s “Pieces of You,” Mandy Moore’s “Wild Hope,” and Taylor Swift’s “Red,” and basically any Kelly Clarkson song ever written.
There may or may not be instances where you find yourself on your couch, eating alternate handfuls of Kettlecorn and PopChips, waiting for your nightly dose of Benadryl to kick in so you can fall asleep in pool of your own tears and snot and grief. (Hypothetically, of course. Personally, I wouldn’t know anything about this.)
Breaking it off is a slightly less hideous business. In fact, if a guy is breaking it off with you, it’s pretty easy to endure. One of two things happen:
Hmm..wait. That’s the only way I’ve ever personally experienced a guy breaking it off. (CLASSY, BOYS!) But, in theory, I realize they could also do option 2.
While I’ve definitely been momentarily bummed by the fade away, give me a few shots of Jameson, an episode of PLL, and a short pep talk from S, D, C, or one of my other lovely friends, and I’m over it. I mean, 1 or 2 dates is at max, 6 hours of my life and I’ll forget about that person soon enough.
If I’ve only been out with a guy three times or less, then I think it’s fair to break it off by text, especially if that’s how we have communicated previously. When they ask for a repeat date, and I’ve decided I don’t want to go on one, I just say, “No thanks.”
And, you see, they usually take it very graciously. I mean, like I said, most normal people don’t get that attached to one another after 2 interactions, during one of which they were probably drunk. Every once and awhile, though, you’ll get a bit of terrifying push back:
Anyway, so far, I’ve been able to skate by, breaking it off by text. But a few weeks ago, I started dating a really nice guy, R. R was, in theory, kind of the perfect guy. Why?
1. He was smart AND hardworking. Intelligence has always been a turn-on for me. I love it when somebody can tell me something I don’t know already, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that a concise, wittily-worded email or text from a guy doesn’t cause a stomach flip. But I’ve usually been drawn to guys who are smart slackers. You know, unmotivated guys who spent most of high school and college smoking weed and cutting class, but got by with a little bit of Adderall and a whole lot of cramming. R was different. This was a guy who was not only naturally smart, but interested in getting smarter. He was good at his job, he cared about what he did, and he was interested in reading, studying, etc. to improve himself personally and professionally.
3. He was an ideal planner and communicator.Dude, did R READ this blog? Did he eavesdrop on a brunch conversation that I had with my girlfriends? Because he did exactly what I wish every guy would do to plan and follow up on dates. He suggested a restaurant I’d been dying to try for our first date, and floated a few dates and times for me to choose from. He didn’t harass me with mindless texting, just to confirm the day before. After each subsequent date, he would follow up with a text to say what a great time he had, and then call to ask when he could see me again and suggest some some possible destinations for us. I cannot tell you how much of a draw this was for me. S and I frequently commiserate about men’s inability to plan ANYTHING. And, as a the bossy oldest child, the bossy colleague, the natural planner in my friend group, I am SO SICK of making decisions. I make decisions all day. I plan things all day. There is nothing that turns me on more than someone else making plans. I mean, if I could write, shoot, and film a porn for women, I would call it “Men Making Plans.” Srsly. And R did that. Flawlessly.
And yet, after 3 dates with R, I had no attraction to him. I tried booze, I tried different lighting, I tried giving myself a pep talk in the bathroom every time he was going to walk me home from the restaurant or bar. But I just didn’t want him to kiss me, and after openly dodging his kiss after date 3, I felt like it was only fair to break it off. So, when he, like clockwork, called the next day to ask me out again, I realized I had to call back and say no, for good.
I consulted several dating gurus before making the call. Here is the wisdom I gleaned, which I will now share with you, dear readers, should you ever have to dole out a lil rejection.
1. Keep it short. No one likes to be rejected. As soon as they hear the word no, they want to peace out, be pissed and a little bummed, and then move on.
2. Don’t tell anyone your sob story. This advice came from my friend, I, who is the Professor Emeritus of dating in DC (I, please come guest blog for us!!). I wanted to tell this guy that I’d recently gotten out of a serious relationship, and that I just didn’t think I wasn’t ready to date anyone. Shes said, “Look, that sounds fake. And even though it isn’t fake, don’t burden him with your personal baggage. All he needs to know is that you don’t want to see him anymore. Don’t waste his time making excuses just cause it’ll make you feel better.
3. Do it in a timely way. R called me to ask me out again Wednesday. I called him back Thursday and delivered the news. This way, he can move on as soon as possible to someone better.
This wisdom worked. R was super gracious (of course, cause he’s a GREAT guy). I am sure he’s out right now, with some much more emotionally balanced woman, planning fabulous dates.
Real talk: Do I feel great? No.
Rejecting a good guy definitely wakes up the little voice in my head that keeps telling me to freeze my eggs or look into adoption regulations in post-Soviet states, because I very well might die alone.
But, I’d rather die alone than settle. Right now, at least.
Got any other good wisdom about breaking it off with someone you’re casually dating? Leave it in the comments readers!
Hello friends! Here’s a little message Monday action from my least favorite dating site in the world, Jdate. As the end of my 3 month trial subscription nears, my rage towards the site compounds daily. I can’t wait to write a full on diatribe about the site, but until then, I’ll just treat you to this GEM of a message I received:
First of all, holy god (Or should I say, Yahway?)this is is long. Buddy, I’m not reading this shiz on a KIndle. I’d not trying to harken back to my University days when I had 200 pages to read per night. Please edit yourself.
Now, let’s begin analyzing this text further. I appreciate you stating that I do not have to be a mirror image of you. I know I have not wanted to date a mirror image of myself. According to my uncle, my closest mirror image looks something like this:
A wise Latina, yes. Someone I am attracted to, no. Sorry Sonia.
I also appreciate you letting me know that while Delaware is not that far away, there are places that are further away, like Zimbabwe or other countries in Africa. I suppose this means I must cancel my subscription to “Date a Bushman” or “Aboriginals Finding Love.” Too far away! Indeed, Delaware is my limit.
I especially enjoyed the portion of this message where you detail not only your resume, but also the educational history of your family members. One of my criteria for a relationship is “where your mom went to college.” It’s right up there with “strong feelings on domesticated animals” and “how many staplers you have on your desk.”
Lastly, good sir, in future messages, I suggest you refrain from drawing attention to the fact that you are out of shape, or other unattractive physical features. I mean, we all have our flaws. Lord knows I have mine–I just admitted that a middle aged Supreme Court Justice is my celebrity Doppelganger. But I’m not messaging men and saying, “I do get the occasional zit on my chin, and know I should probably do something about my under eye circles. But you should have seen me in college! At least I’ve lost 20 pounds. I’ve made significant strides!!”
Put another tally in the L column for Jdate! And have good week readers!
She’ll haunt your fantasies and she’ll steal your dreams.
She’ll steal from the rich and give to the poor.
You’ll never see her coming, yet she will always be in your sight.
It’s everybody’s favorite online dating alter ego…
Tacosdelish
Now that I’ve introduced “Tacos” (as we affectionately call her) with the pomp and circumstance she deserves, I guarantee she’ll replace this little tyke as an icon of national togetherness and joy:
Lolz, Just kidding! Sorry North West (and PS, we know its not even you). I meant this guy:
Let me back up a little. Why have an online dating alter ego? I am sure ANYONE who has ever online dated can answer this question. It’s so you can stalk: your dates, potential dates, guys who message you, guys who DON’T message you, coworkers, people you know who are in relationships, yet looking; without notice and without compromising the integrity of your regular profile. Sure, you could pay extra on OKC for a feature that lets you browse anonymously, but why do that when you could just create another free profile?
Tacosdelish was actually born several years ago, and her name was a joint collaboration between me and my ex-boyfriend. We created the profile so we could stalk our friends who were on OKC. We didn’t intend to use the profile to actually get dates, so we decided to make Tacos as absurd and unattractive as possible, just to entertain ourselves. According to OKC, she looks like this:
I tried posting a picture of Gru from Despicable Me up there, but we were immediately disciplined by Chris Coyne. So the heart will have to do.
Anyway, since you can’t see Tacos, you’ll have to take her word for what she looks like. According to her profile:
But, looks aren’t everything, as many good fellows of OKC like to remind us. Perhaps Tacos Delish is rich and successful:
Not only does Tacos lack a job and income, but she also barely speaks English. Which begs one to wonder, how did she fill out a profile? Thank god she speaks Chechen and Basque though!! Such common languages.
However, several men in DC have expressed interest in having a chat with Tacos over drinks or dinner, which suggests one or more of the following:
1) They didn’t carefully read the profile.
2) They actually speak Basque or Chechen, and mysteriously ended up in DC.
3) Sharing a common spoken language is not a prerequisite for adate.
Now, in spite, of her poor command of the Queen’s vernacular, Tacos has managed to pull together quite an appealing profile. Take a look:
I have to say, I am most proud of how Tacos spends her typical Friday night. And it’s only partially true! (I’ll leave it to your imagination to figure out which parts.) Interestingly, many guys are quite turned on by the farting. Behold a sample message I received:
Gotta give this guy points for creativity. If Tacos was real, she would have gone out with him and had a farting contest.
Other men take the name quite literally:
Boy, puh-lease! Tacos is clutching her pearls right now. Why?
Because baby girl is a shallow virgin.
On the other hand, she is a virgin with a lot of sexual fantasies:
And she’s incredibly rude.
But what I find most offensive about Tacos is that she’s a Republican:
To sum up this post:
I have an online dating alter ego.
I think she’s really hilarious.
She makes absolutely no sense.
She gets a ton of messages. Some from really cute guys. TRUTH!
It’s a crazy world out there on the internet, folks. And, I promise, you haven’t seen the last of Tacos. Not any more than you’ve seen the last of Carlos Danger.
People often ask why I use internet dating, instead of trying to meet guys in bars.
The thing is, I’ve never been the kind of girl who gets hit on in bars. I’d like to HOPE this does not directly correlate to my looks, though I’m sure my big, dark, under-eye circles aren’t helping, haha. I mean, when I am at bars, I am usually with my friends, and not focused on finding guys. Also, I’m super awkward and insecure with strangers. When people do try to hit on me, I am usually so surprised/terrified that I just run away. For example, I was out with my friend J recently, and a gentleman came up to us. Here is how the conversation went:
Guy: “Hi ladies, what are your names?”
Me: “The tab is under XXXX (my last name).”
Guy: “Huh?”
Me: “I said, XXXX.”
Guy: “I’m D, how’s it going?”
Me: “Just leave the tab open, we’re not ready to cash out.”
Guy: “I don’t work here.”
Me: “Oh god, sorry. I have to go to the bathroom.”
#winning
Also, the clientele in bars is not exactly AMAZING. I was out at a bar a few nights ago, when a young intern approached me:
Intern: “That looks like a cool drink. What is it?”
Me: “Um, a Jack and Ginger ale.”
Intern: “Cool. So what’s in it?”
Me: “Jack Daniels and Ginger ale.”
Intern: “Wow! Awesome!”
Me: “Yup.”
And then I walked away to find my friends. Cuz the pickup line was lame, and because the intern was still literally in college.
So, that’s why I stick to the simple internet, guy messages girl, girl messages guy thing. But I’m relatively open to new ideas, so when my friendtee (that’s friend + mentee, which means a friend that is younger and cooler than you, and you want to create a name that you call her that isn’t “daughter”), G, suggested I accompany her on a Grouper, I was game. What’s that, Dad? What’s a grouper? Isn’t that a fish? It IS a fish. But it’s also a dating service. It works like this:
Girl signs up. Guy signs up. Grouper uses facebook to match them. It’s completely blind; neither person has ANY information about the other. Once they are matched, Grouper sets up a date and asks the girl to bring two friends and the guy to bring two friends. So it’s a 3 on 3 blind date. Each person pays $20, which covers the first round of drinks, and the fact that Grouper does all the coordinating for you. You go to the assigned location at the assigned time and, Voila! Now, go to Grouper’s website and read their much sexier description of the whole thing.
When you’re on the site, you’ll also notice instagrams of lots of attractive, happy people having a blast together. Those are called GROUPERGRAMS. You are supposed to take pics of your amazing date and send them to Grouper. Now, are these pictures accurate and indicative of the Grouper experience? Doubtful.
1. They haven’t changed the pics in the two months I’ve been trolling the site.
2. We all know instragram filters are designed to make everyone look WAYYYY better than they do in real life.
3. I bet Challen, Grouper’s very famous Director of Member Experience, handpicks the GROUPERGRAMS to feature the most attractive people, who probably live in NYC, not DC.
4. About 50% of these photos feature a Trojan horse, a warrior’s helmet, and roman statues. Does everyone end up at an after hours venue with Jordan Murphy?
I swear, Jordan! There is some straight up Tool Academy behavior up in these Groupergrams! For realz!
Before my Grouper, I did some field research of others who had been on Grouper. The first person I asked was my sister (she’s six years my junior, btw, but I can’t call her a friendtee cause we’re related). She was like, “Oh yeah, L, my friends from high school went on a Grouper recently. They said it was ok. The guys were doing Ecstasy the whole time.” WELP. THAT’S THAT I SUPPOSE.I have no words. So, I headed into the Grouper with low expectations, hoping that we wouldn’t have to call the DEA on our dates.
The day before the Grouper, I received an email from, Challen. In addition to providing the time and location details, it contained the following warning about cancellation:
What if I need to cancel?
Well, your Grouper is tomorrow, so it’s a little late for that 🙂 We know that everyone has a lot going on, but you’re committed now and 3 other people moved around their schedules for you guys. First, call around and see if you can grab a friend to take your place. If for some (epic) reason canceling is absolutely unavoidable, you’ll need to CALL the other group to explain yourself. Call us first at646.699.3466, and we’ll put you in touch with the guys to cancel. And because we’ll need to make it up to the other group, we still have to charge you for your Grouper and won’t be able to roll it over to a future reservation. We’ll even have to consider canceling your membership. Also, as you know, a Grouper is 3 guys and 3 girls, so showing up with only 2 people isn’t acceptable. So, just show up on time, the 3 of you, and we’re all good 🙂
Yikes! Challen, cool your jets. This makes a Grouper sound more difficult to get out of than a marriage. I mean, I put down 20 whopping dollars for this thing, and I am cheap as f#$^, so I am going to show up, ok? You don’t need to add an extra element of terror to an already nerve-wracking situation. And also, don’t try to lighten the mood with a smiley emoticon. You know I hate those. It’s nice to know that everyone’s going into this thing with a proverbial gun to their head.
So the day of the Grouper, me, G, and N (My other friend slash co-worker) get to work and we’re all like:
Until, N decides to share some interesting news with us.
N: “So, you guys, I was talking to my cousin last night. And he mentioned he was going on a Grouper too…”
L and G: “And…”
N: “Well it’s at the same place we’re going. Slightly different time, but still…”
So, this meant one of two things. Either, we were literally going to be on a date with N’s cousin OR N’s cousin was going to be watching us HAVE a date. We were really hoping for the latter over the former. For N’s sake, of course.
When we got to the bar after a little healthy pregaming, we were relieved. The bartender lead us to a table with three very nice, normal looking guys, who didn’t appear to be rolling or be related to any of us. WHEW. And we ended up having multiple drinks, and a pretty darn good time. Why?
1. We were very well matched. The guys were around our age bracket (younger than me, but older than G) and very nice, funny, and down to earth. From the GROUPERGRAM photos, we were pretty sure we were going to get some bros, but these guys reminded me of people I’d be friends with. We all had similar senses of humor and interests. Nice work Challen! ;), right back atcha.
2. Having more people around really does take the edge off. I think both sides were much more relaxed than if this were a regular, one on one date. I really enjoy G and N, so I was pretty confident I’d have a good time even if the guys were lame. And it seemed like the guys really enjoyed each other too. And there was so much less potential for awkward silences, because there were so many people to make conversation. It was also the first time I truly understand what being a wingwoman meant, because you could set up your friends to make jokes, tell funny stories, etc. Basically, I think it made everyone TWICE as charming as usual.
3. It was so much better than any of us expected. Yes, one on one dates are unnerving. But there is a lot more to be scared of on group dates. I.e., What if my friends hit it off with the guys and I don’t? Or, what if I hear the guys referring to me as “the ugly one?”, or What if we all hate each other? And, just the fact that we had such a decent time after such low expectations made the whole thing a lot better. I could see relief on everyone’s faces, including the guys. And I think that relief made the date more fun.
So, what’s the drawback to Grouper?
I mean, I would call it more of a “meeting new friends” thing, than a date. While it’s much more natural in terms of the way you’d meet people and make conversation, it’s very hard to tell if anyone likes anyone, and very hard to, like, “pick out,” the guy you’d most like to date. I think this was particularly hard for our group, because we were all nice, inclusive people. If I saw that no one was talking to someone, I invited them to join the conversation I was having. I kept an eye on G and N to make sure they were enjoying themselves. And they did the sme for me. There just wasn’t a ton of energy left to focus on getting to know one person in particular. And the end of the date was pretty awkward. I mean, ending solo dates is hard enough, and we were multiplying goodbyes times three. So, all of us just exchanged numbers with the person we were standing closest too, and claimed that maybe we’d all get together again for drinks. The truth is, I’d definitely get together again with them, but I am not sure how I’d set it up. And G and N feel the same way. So we’d love your advice, readers.
Dating rating: 8/10. Seriously. It was really fun. I laughed a lot, and I met cool new people. And honestly, it restored my faith that there are cute, fun, single guys out there.
So remember my fear of nuclear war, readers? (Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to–I am not THAT big of a narcissist–that’s why I back linked my post.) Want to know what scares me as much, if not more, than nuclear war?
Guns.
I hate them. I think they are mean, cruel, killing, machines. I don’t even want to spend time debating with you about the second amendment. I don’t want to hear all about your great family hunting hobby that resulted in everyone killing their own food and eating sustainably. My closest real life experience with a gun was about four years ago, when I had to confiscate a .38 special and some stray bullets from one of my fourth graders. #truestory #noIdidnotteachinBaltimore. So if you’re a gun lover, we’re going to have to agree to disagree here. Cause I also hate conflict.
Oh what’s that you say? Stop ranting about your political views? This is a dating blog, and we’re all here to hear a story along the lines of “hideous adventures on the internet and why you’re still single.” OK OK, message received. Well, one of the reasons I am still single is because this is who is reaching out to me:
1. Somewhere after line 2, this guy figured it wasn’t worth it to check his spelling and punctuation. And momma hates that, too.
2. While we’re on my list of fears/hates, let’s talk about emoticons. They probably come right after nuclear war and right before conflict. Emoticons are lazy. If there is an emotion you’d like to convey in writing, why not use these little things we call words?!?! No self respecting human who puts anything in print uses emoticons (*except for gchats and texts.). Otherwise 50 Shades of Grey could have been written like this:
: } 😉 :@ *) 8)
Instead of wasting his time on As I Lay Dying, William Faulkner could have just typed:
XP XP XP….
Do you get my point?
Plus, directly translated, the emoticons in the above message don’t make any sense. According to the internet, this guy is sticking his tongue out at me and then winking. Huh?
3. UH OH! The proposed activities: Stroll through the park or a visit to the gun range? How did this guy come up with these date ideas, one which sounds completely horrible to me? Did anyone just see what happened to Ken Cosgrove a few weeks ago on “Mad Men?” In case you didn’t:
In case you didn’t get my subtle reference, let me hit you on the head with it. He was shot in the EYE. With a GUN.
Now, to this guy’s credit, there is no way he could have known I feared guns as much as I did. Indeed, we’re an 83% match on OKC, which tells me I probably need to update my questions soon (You were right, R!). But, did he have to suggest it right off the bat? Can’t he suggest something a little more benign to do, like drinks? Or even dinner? Or SKYDIVING, for goodness sakes? But, alas, a visit to this gent’s profile reveals his passion for guns is too strong to suppress, even in an OKC message.
So let’s see. This guy loves his dog, and his phone, and then oh wait–his computer/guns. Which he felt compelled to list before family and friends. What is a computer/guns BTW? Is there a situation where these two things fall into the same category?
The gun theme permeates throughout the profile:
YIKES. First of all, the root word “kill” appears not once, but twice here under the category “I’m really good at.” Apparently, when this stunner is not making steak and pasta, he’s doing something gun related. Hopefully, when he goes to court, he’s going as a witness, and not as a defendant who accidentally killed someone with his gun.
Plus, the emoticons are back. Sigh.
I guess it’s back to my couch for a nice date night with Cheez its and streaming these gems on Netflix:
Who said romance was dead? Certainly not this guy, who messaged me last week:
Now here’s the thing. I don’t mind his frankness. In fact, I like that Romeo gets straight to the point. As I’ve said before, I absolutely HATE a lot of back and forth, and appreciate when a dude takes a little initiative and suggests a time (I believe he generously provides not ONE but TWO possible days for us to hang out) and a place (his hotel).
Now, clearly, I did not respond to this. First of all, this guy’s approach is the exact same MO used by the Craigslist killer. Exact same. I mean, if this guy is, in fact, a killer, he should probably change it up a bit, because there are about 50 Wikipedia and news articles linking him to Phillip Markoff.
But, secondly,and even more offensively, this guy is a union buster. A scab. A strikebreaker. Sir, I have no problem if you want to top off your business trip with a lil somethin’ somethin’. Better men than you have done the same thing:
But, be a good American, and pay for your services. A google search of “escorts DC” (Hi there, NSA!) reveals that there are several lovely websites, clubs, and phone numbers you can call to get someone to come to your hotel for “some fun.” I am not about to undercut working girls by giving out the same goods for free. So buddy, I urge you to call “Appealing Act,”* and leave the good ladies of OKC to hang out with guys who will at least buy us a drink before asking us to give it up. And readers, I leave you with this glorious nod to organized labor. Long live unions!
*Please know, that during the researching of this post, I accidently added Appealing Act’s Google Plus page to my “family” circle, and had to spend the last 30 minutes figuring out how to remove them. #winningattheinternet
Pop quiz: Why has L been so neglectful about posting on the blog?
A. I was temporarily kidnapped by a date, and held captive until yesterday. Hold on to your seats readers, this post is gonna be a doozy!
B. I am seriously dating someone I met online, and we’ve been so busy going on romantic getaways and sexy staycations that I haven’t had time to post.
C. I have been buried under a giant, fat, un-glamorous mountain of work.
I didn’t make this a real poll, because I knew most of you would pick C, which is OF COURSE, the correct answer, and it would further depress me that even strangers from the internet can tell what a sad little life I lead.
WHOMP. WHOMP. I know, I know. Who invited Debbie Downer? (Um…Tina, and Amy, and Kristin, that’s who!)
Anyway…I have carved out a little time in the past month for some dates. I decided to join JDate recently, fantasizing that it would be full of smart, nerdy-cute, doting men who were lining up to go out with me. I’ll be writing a longer review after a more legitimate time period on the site, but in case you are just dying for a preview, here it is:
IF JEWS THOUGHT THAT THE DESERT WE ALLEGEDLY WANDERED IN FOR 40 YEARS WAS THE MOST BARREN WASTELAND WE’D EVER ENCOUNTER, THEY OBVIOUSLY HAVEN’T BEEN ON JDATE FOR 3 WEEKS.
I suppose there is still time to turn it around, but in the meanwhile, I’ve only been out with one guy from the site. N, a high school teacher in his late thirties with a short stature and an adorable face. He sent me a nice, to the point message, and 1-2 messages later, asked me out for drinks. We agreed to meet at an Irish Pub known for its whiskey selection. I wasn’t really sure what to expect–his profile was pretty bare bones, and except for his job and the fact that he had nieces, I remembered very little about him by the time we met at the bar. I actually prefer not to scour people’s profiles too closely (beyond, of course, a diligent read of OKC dealbreaker questions), because I enjoy finding out about them on the date.
N did not subscribe to this philosophy. He spent a good deal of the date QUOTING MY JDATE PROFILE back to me. For example:
“Remember when you said you loved the shore, but other people call it the beach?”
There are more examples, but I fear I will literally GIVE MY IDENTITY AWAY, if I include all the details this guy remembered. Now, before you all pile on (COUGHReddit), and say, “OMG how can she be criticizing this guy for reading her profile and referencing things she’s interested in, he’s just being thoughtful, I know why she is single, what a man-eater, blah blah blah,” please remember that I was not weirded out that he remembered my profile. I was weirded out that, throughout the date, he quoted the entire thing VERBATIM. And when I mentioned I had a brother, he said, “I know. He is standing next you in picture 3 on your profile wearing a red jacket.” It was just a little too close to this:
Also, that was one of two things that went a bit wrong. The second was this exchange:
N: So, do you like pets?
L: Pets? Well I don’t have any, but I do really like dogs.
N: Do you like cats? I really want to know how you feel about cats!
L: Ohh, I’m really allergic to cats. (TRUTH: Not only am I really allergic to cats, but I also HATE THEM. With a passion that could take up 100 posts. But I refrained from sharing that, cause I figured the phrase, “hate with the fire of 1000 suns” should not come up till a second date, at least.)
N: Oh god. Oh no.
L: What? Is everything okay?
N: I just have two cats. And I’m not ready to give them up.
L: (Bewildered look on face). Oh, um, you don’t have to?
N: I mean, you can’t live with them AT ALL?
L: Umm…I haven’t really thought about it. (Desperately changes subject to something neutral). My best friend had a lot of cats growing up. They lived in her basement.
N: Oh.
L: So, how many years do you think your cats have left?
Now, to N’s credit, my last line was probably the most epic fail of the conversation. Who asks someone else about when their BELOVED pets are going to die? What were you thinking, L?
But, the bottom line was, this guy was thinking way too seriously for me. I mean, if I was in committed relationship with someone, and we were thinking about moving in together, then we should definitely have this conversation. But, I just met this guy. And even though we were having a good time (once you get past the whole “profile quoting/possible stalker” thing and the “asking about the possible death of someone important to you” thing), there was no need to consider giving up our pets.
After the date, we said polite goodbyes and N asked if I wanted to get together again. I said, “Um…maybe? You can give me a call?”
Maybe it was my tepid response, or the fact that he was not ready to get rid of the cats (or let me get rid of them for him), or just that we didn’t click. But I didn’t hear from N again. I wish him the best, and hope that he has found a cat loving woman who enjoys a man whispering sweet nothings that she originally wrote on her JDate profile into her ear.
Date rating: 7/10. 5 points alone for plying me with Jameson all night.
Stupid Cupid 