Happy Hump Day, guys and gals. Don’t worry, I’m not going to bring up thatGeico camel, tempting though it may be, but I would like to discuss another controversial animal: the common house cat.
Unlike my co-blogger L, whose hatred for felines has been well covered, I happen to like cats. I grew up with them and I never understood why they get such a bad rap, especially from smug, superior dog owners (you know who you are, guys.) Cats are clean, adorable, quiet, and soft. I enjoy them.
So I’ve established that I like cats. And that I’m single. I’m sure now (logically) you’re probably assuming that a typical night in my apartment looks a little something like this:
For your information, I actually don’t currently own any cats, Nor do I own a recliner. But show me someone who doesn’t enjoy vanilla frosting and Goldie Hawn portraying a deranged shut in with a death wish for Meryl Streep, and I’ll show you a liar.
Now, why am I going on this cat tangent before 10 am on a Wednesday morning? GREAT question. Last weekend I was lying in bed after a night out, waiting to get sleepy, and passing the time (naturally) by cruising Okcupid on my phone. I’ve recently discovered the app’s semi-new location feature, which is basicallyTinder.In other words, Okc finds your location and shows you the profile pics of other dudes who are close by. Pics only. And you either say nope, not interested, and trash their pic, or say yes, I’m into that. When you pick someone, Okc will then let you know if that person, while scrolling through their local matches, picks you as well. This is a pretty senseless concept as I’m pretty sure most people on Okc aren’t even using the feature, and mama needs more than a pic to decide if I want to go out with someone.
Having said that, scrolling through these pics and tossing them into the yay or nay column has become one of my favorite ‘bored and playing with my phone’ pastimes. Take this night in question, for instance, when literally in the span of four minutes I happened upon three amazing/terrifying/creepy profile pics featuring men and CATS. Please note the time on each screen cap; when I say one right after the other I’m not joking. And please. Enjoy.
Creepy Cat Profile Pic #1:
Well that is… a face that not even a cat lover, and dare I say not even a mother could love. Terrifying. Also made me immediately think of this wildly racist, infinitely creepy little jaunt from a seminal Disney classic that yes, I’ve already referenced on the blog:
I was going to get all high and mighty about the cats being the villains in every movie but actually, looking at that creature perched on Beardsy McHipster, I totally believe that it’s an evil killing machine. Like, I’m assuming our man friend took it into the bathroom because he’s afraid if he leaves it alone it will figure out a way to kill him? And you know how I feel about bathroom selfies… a bathroom selfie with a terrifying animal perched on one’s shoulders is some next level shit.
Creepy Cat Profile Pic #2:
Ha. This one actually cracks me up. That kitty is adorable and I’m pretttyyyy sure this gentleman is driving. So wait, actually I’m a little alarmed… and come to think of it, he’s smiling for the camera, not looking at the road. That can’t be safe. Also, who’s taking the picture? Why is the cat out of a carrier and just like, straight chillin’ in the car? Where are you guys going? You’re not one of those creepy people who walks his cat on a leash, are you? Because even I’m scared of that.
Creepy Cat Pic #3:
If this find doesn’t call for a mic drop, I don’t know what does.
A few weeks ago I was home on a Friday night doing some hardcore crafting (who has two thumbs and is doing her part to fulfill every stereotype about single women out there? This gal! Just give it another month or so before I splurge on a subscription to Cat Fancy.) I was watching Comcast On Demand (The Newsroom is back, bitches. McKenzie McHale 4 life) when I realized all three of the movies they were promo-ing the hell out of were movies I had seen on dates. And uh, hello, I have a dating blog, so I think it’s high time I dished to you guys about them. Shall we?
Movie Date #1: Moonrise Kingdom
This date was over a year ago, last June to be exact. It was a third date with J, who I’ve mentioned on the blog before (more on him later). We had dinner beforehand and had a really nice time… good conversation, playful banter, flirting etc. It bore more of a resemblance to those dreaded Match.com commercials than any date I’d had before. It was so fun that we totally lost track of time and basically had to run down the street to the theater to make the movie. The tiny theater was full so I grabbed us two seats in the back while J ran to the bathroom.
The previews had started and I was just catching my breath and getting settled when J appeared and asked me to switch sweats. Judging him immediately for being a seating prima donna, I thought, ‘Uggghhhh can this dude just sit down, Jesus’ and audibly sighed, gathering my popcorn, diet coke and purse dramatically. J looked really sheepish as he explained, in the quiet theater, ‘Yeahhh, sorry to be a pain, but I’m actually deaf in my left ear so… I won’t be able to hear you if we sit this way. That’s why I wanted to switch. ‘
Face palm. FACE. PALM.
So let’s review. I threw my date some serious shade for making a simple request, and it turns out he was making that request to accommodate an actual disability. Liz, if I may call upon your wisdom once again:
After that special little exchange, the date was (mercifully) uneventful. Fun, but uneventful. We switched seats, got settled, and enjoyed the movie. BONUS, J was able to hear me.It was actually a good date flick… fun, ridiculous, and sweetly romantic. J drove my home afterwards and we kissed in his car.
Date rating: 8/10. Good date, good conversation beforehand, good movie, good makeout session. Only one wildly awkward faux pas by yours truly.
What happened with J? In case you don’t recall, J happens to be the dude I mentioned a few months ago who after casually dating for most of the summer broke it off with me in a crowded bar. He literally drove into the city during rush hour, found parking, and met me in a popular place for happy hour, just to tell me he didn’t want to see me anymore. Yeesh, that was rough. So actually I don’t know why I was still feeling bad about my theater behavior because it turns out, J deserved to feel a little embarrassment.
Movie Date #2: This is 40
This was a second date back in January. The most comical thing about this outing was the fact that my date, A, was 39, by far the oldest guy I’ve ever gone out with. Naturally, our asses had barely hit our seats before I started a relentless barrage of jokes at A’s expense, featuring me pointing over at him repeating, ‘THIS is forty. This right here, people!” and LOLing obnoxiously to myself. That shtick carried us through the previews and well past the credits rolling at the end. Luckily A was a pretty good sport, all things considered. Incidentally the movie wasn’t great… mama loves me some Rudd and those Apatow nuggets couldn’t have been cuter, but it was essentially a movie about two people struggling with their long term relationship and the misery of middle age. Depressing date fodder, needless to say.
The movie ended, I continued to ham it up with the old age jokes as we walked out, and then we (drumroll please) made out in A’s car in the empty parking lot. Yup, I went out with a 40 year old and then made out with him in his parked vehicle like we were both 17. Or should I say, barely 17…
I’m sorry (I’m not sorry), but Meatloaf just makes everything better. You’re welcome.
Date rating: 8/10. Despite the meh movie, the date was fun, non-awkward and basically stress free. And a little making out in an empty Loews parking lot on a weeknight never hurt anyone, AMIRITE?
What happened with A? We casually dated on and off for months, but homeboy claimed he didn’t want a serious relationship despite legitimately being over the hill. I honestly didn’t want to seriously date him either; he was a little wild for my taste and seemed to have a serious Peter Pan thing going on. After losing touch with him for a while I did discover (thank you, Internet. Judgers of my stalking can move right along, please) that he is now (another drumroll, por favor) seriously dating someone. And although his real life Mr. Big impression turned out to be bullshit, I honestly do wish him the best. It was fun, A, and I hope you do find true love before you’re old enough to score an AARP card. Because that’s seriously right around the corner.
Movie Date # 3: Admission
This was also a second date with a guy named D who was fun but who I didn’t think I wanted to date seriously. Our shared obsession with Tina Fey prompted him to suggest this movie. It was one of the first things we discussed, probably because my Okcupid profile opens with an over the top anecdote about how my life’s dream is to become the third sidekick to Amy Poehler and Tina Fey’s dynamic duo. My girl crush on Tina knows no bounds, and the fact that she’s from Philly is just icing on the big lesbian cake I’ve baked in her honor.
To quote Elizabeth Banks in Pitch Perfect: this girl could turn me.
Now, speaking of Philly, there’s something I need to explain about my city. And I say this with all the love in my heart of a parent talking about their least successful (but secret favorite) kid: Philly is lacking some…seemingly basic amenities that any outsider would ASSUME a major city would have. Such as a normal, large movie theater centrally located anywhere downtown. There are tiny Ritz theaters showing a bevy of independent flicks, and then there’s the dreaded UA Riverview. Please, if you have a moment, enjoy these stellar yelp reviews of the Riverview (or as I’ve heard it referred to, the Riverspew).*
*Disclaimer: Any insane, bigoted rants possibly seen on that yelp page are not the opinion of this blog.
Long story short: I hate the Riverview. It’s dirty, noisy, and someone makes a scene pretty much every time I go. Naturally, it was the site of my date with D. Luckily, the movie wasn’t exactly popular, and we went pretty early on a weeknight, so when we walked into the theater there were only two other people there. Phew, I thought. At least we can watch the movie without any wild disruptions. Or maybe make out if it’s bad? In the back of an empty theater that could be fun.
My date, however, had other ideas. There’s no delicate, PC way to share this fact, so I’m just going to throw it out there as it pertains to my story. For those of you who don’t know me personally (all three of you): I’m white. Painfully white. I mean, I did open this blog post with the phrase ‘hardcore crafting’ and then proceed to embed a Meatloaf music video, so this should not come as a shock to anyone at this juncture. My date, D, is black. So anyway, about a minute into the previews, D turned to me, chuckling sheepishly, and said:
D: I have to warn you about something before the movie starts.
S: Okay?
D: You know how a stereotype can be racist, but also true?
S: …I guess?
D: Well… I kind of talk at the movies. A lot.
S: You do?
D: I know it’s the biggest cliche in the world, but when this gets going I guarantee I will end up commenting out loud and not even realize I’m doing it. Just let me know if I’m bugging the shit out of you, okay?
S: O…kay.
He said this entire thing in a jokey way, so I honestly had NO clue if he was pulling my leg. Any minute I thought he was going to turn to me and be like HAH! I got you good. Of course I don’t shout at the movies.
What actually happened was the movie started, and not 10 minutes in, D started shouting. Okay, maybe not shouting. But commenting VERY loudly, sometimes to me but sometimes just to the air/universe, about things that were happening in the movie. I was paralyzed, again not sure if I was being Punk’d, trying to figure out if I should laugh, roll my eyes, or tell him to shut the f*ck up. The theater was mostly empty, but this honestly made it even more awkward when the couple five rows in front of us turned around at the noise. Because who is it causing the disturbance? Oh hey just the ONLY OTHER PEOPLE IN THE THEATER. The other thing that made this behavior particularly ridiculous was the genre of movie… we weren’t watching like, an action or a horror movie where surprising or crazy things even happened. We were watching a dull, semi serious romantic comedy about APPLYING TO COLLEGE.
The thing is, D was actually really sweet. Case in point: he told me when we started messaging that he was trying his hand at baking for the first time, and I joked that he owed me cookies after revealing that fact. Well sure enough, he showed up to our first date with homemade cookies. And then at the movies, he smuggled a new, delicious, still warm batch into the theater for us to snack on. I mean, thoughtful, right? So I decided to laugh off this ridiculous turn of events. Actually by the end I was laughing harder at the spectacle my date was making than at the actual movie. I even made some loud commentary of my own towards the end, because ‘When in the Riverview’, right?
Date rating: 7/10. As always, Tina was a vision, but the movie itself was bad (what I could hear of it at least). And my date caused a bit of a scene. However, he also made me LOL more than once and fed me fresh homemade cookies. It was an unexpectedly fun night.
What happened with D?
Funny you should ask (I know, no one asked) but I actually saw D yesterday. We’re not exclusively dating–not even close. I hadn’t seen him in over a month before we met for happy hour last night. And I still don’t think I’ll ever seriously date him; I just don’t feel a crazy connection with him. But he’s a nice, fun, funny dude who lives in my ‘hood and we get along well. I’m dating other people, and I have no doubt that he is, too. But as a painfully single 28 year old, it’s always nice to have that one ace in the hole (that’s what she said) who you can keep around to have fun with without any complications or drama. Unless, of course, disrupting a mediocre romcom counts as drama.
Hey there, loyal readers. Just a heads up, LSD are busy ladies at the moment. Between moving, vacays, bridal showers and bdays, we may be a bit light on posts this week. Thanks for your patience 🙂 (L, I know how much you appreciated that emoticon).
Anyway, happy Message Monday! This one hits close to home for me–literally.
The part of the message that I blacked out? You guessed it: my high school.
Running into someone you know on okcupid is a very real fear of mine, much like being murdered by a date and becoming the subject of a Lifetime movie. You put your profile out there, and sure it’s “anonymous”, but your picture is still attached to it. And it’s the f-cking internet; nothing is really anonymous (except, we hope, this blog!). So yes, sometimes I worry that my boss could stumble upon my profile and read the sex questions I answered. Or a co-worker. Or a family member. Or a crush or hook up from back in the day. Basically anyone I’ve met, ever. Because of this fear, the number of questions about sex (there are hundreds) that I’ve actually answered basically amount to:
Also at the top of this list: former classmates. And don’t worry, this isn’t the first time this has happened to me, or even the second. TWICE before I’ve run into dudes I went to high school with, I guess hardly surprising given the fact that my hometown is less than 10 miles outside of Philly. L and I went to a pretty small high school, though; I believe our graduating class was 175-ish people. We literally know every single person in our class and in the classes 1-2 grades below and above. So I honestly wasn’t expecting to have to play the ‘who the eff is that?’ game until this fall at my (drumroll please) ten year reunion. (F-ck, I’m old). And I figured at least then I’d be with my friends, we’d be drunk, and possibly decide to perform an impromptu interpretive dance:
So when this dude messaged me and I didn’t recognize him at all, I figured I was just having a brain fart and that my friends would ID him immediately. I sent out the appropriate mass text with that screen cap, plus his full profile picture which it’s worth noting is a legitimate head shot/glamour shot (which you may recall is on my list of profile pic no no’s from back in the day).
Can’t say it any better than my friend did:
Anyway, no one had ANY IDEA who this terrifying 29 year old bisexual claiming to be our classmate was. So I responded to him, curious now about this mystery:
Ummm okay.
1. ‘We probably never crossed paths in school’–Creepy, slash you’re obviously right since I have NO IDEA who you are.
2, ‘You clearly appear to be the best looking’
Hey, asshole. First of all, that’s not even true. My friends are mad cute. And since you claim to have such a stellar memory, they were also adorable in high school, even though we all had slightly more questionable fashion sense back then.
Second, based on your picture I would bet that you’re probably on a registered sex offenders list somewhere, so I’m not really sure you’re in the position to judge anyone on their looks. Third, do you think that I’m actually pathetic enough to fall for this blatantly disingenuous, totally lame attempt at flattery? Oh gee, a creepy stranger on okcupid claiming to know me from 10 years ago insulted my friends, but he thinks I’m cute! BE STILL MY HEART.
Men.
I was officially grossed out by this mystery acquaintance, but now it was basically my mission in life to figure out who he was. I was this close to making my mom go into our attic, find one of my yearbooks and flip through the entire class of 2002 over the phone with me, but I figured I’d save her that trip if I could and check with some other friends from high school first (you’re welcome, mom).
I saw some of those friends on Saturday night, and the search continued. We named every kid we could think of with that first name, but nothing checked out. We texted another friend who lives in NYC and put her on the task force. She thought she had a guess, but then someone actually did consult a yearbook upon returning home and ruled it out:
So as of Monday, July 29th at 12:30 pm, the case of the creepy classmate remains open. If anyone from my high school has any leads, they can leave an anonymous tip in the comments section. We’ll see you next time on…
First of all, not sure what our friend here means by ‘waw waw waw’… why why why? Wow wow wow? Is he trying to reference a certain beloved PA/NJ convenience store? Either way, English is clearly this Italian stallion’s second language (his first being the language of loooove… yes it’s 1 am and that joke sounded like a great idea to me. As did this snazzy gif:)
Second. Believe mi [sic], sir. No one understands how much of a shame it “is a really” more than yours truly. I am a “nice and sweet girl” (except for first thing in the morning. My morning rage is legendary). And I have wasted what probably adds up to a frightening amount of time dealing with “losers here”. Preach.
Third, you said the word bella. That fact plus the whole Italian theme we’ve got going on here means I’m pretty much morally obligated to post the following, one of the most romantic movie scenes of all time:
Okay, that was truly beautiful but back to the message. I appreciate the solidarity, Italian stallion. I really do. I appreciate that you seem to understand my single gal plight. Because the fact is, that animated Disney date featuring two dogs was more lovely and romantic than anything I’ve encountered on Okc thus far. The problem is, you didn’t follow this observation up with anything constructive. Are you trying to say, in broken English, that you’re different than the average run of the mill Okc loser? Well that’s great, except your profile pictures all feature you creepily posing with various foreign cars while wearing Adidas track pants in front of a house that I’m 78% sure isn’t yours.
I promise there are two more glamour shots where this came from, I’m just too tired/lazy to add them. So anyway I’m not sure, given this evidence, how likely it is that you’ve broken the douchebag mold and are in fact the breath of online dating fresh air I’ve been waiting for.
Verdict: I think I’m going to have to waste a little more time with the losers here. Still holding out hope for my very own Bella Notte. Waw waw waw, indeed.
One of the first questions I’m asked when people learn that I co-author a dating blog is: do you tell the guys you go out with about it? The answer, to many people’s surprise, is yes. Have Iactually allowed my dates to read our blog? No, no I have not. I struggled with what to do about this in the beginning. Common sense told me that revealing to a near stranger that I have a dating blog on a first date might not be the most stellar addition to my five year “Operation: Do Not Become a Crazy Cat Lady” plan, but over time I changed my tune. Here’s why:
1. It’s something to talk about. Dear God, it’s something to talk about. I’ll talk about the Taft Hartley Act if it means we can avoid awkward silences where we both take huge gulps of our drinks and glance nervously around for the nearest fire alarm we can pull.
2. It’s something (sort of) interesting about me. Real talk: I don’t have many “hobbies”. Sure, I have interests. I do things with my friends. I read and keep up on the news and see movies and go to bars and restaurants and cook and take trips and bla bla bla, but so do most people. Things that can actually be classified as true hobbies, though…I kind of come up short.
I’m not aDJ or local acting sensation. I don’t run marathons (ha! I’d rather be killed). I’m not a classically trained pianist (incidentally my neighbor downstairs actually is, and I feel like I’m living out the plot to Anna Karenina every night when I get home and Rachmaninoff is coming through my floor).
My point is, sometimes dating feels a little like that first job interview after college when you’re basically trying to convince a potential employer that you’re totally qualified and skilled and amazing, even though you’re also not providing them with a tonnnnnn of evidence to support those claims. It’s hard to find a happy medium between selling yourself like a Billy Mays infomercial (oh man he’s dead isn’t he? Whoops.) and coming off as the girl who legitimately spends 80% of her life watching DVR (FYI, it’s really more like 30% when you factor in work and sleep). So this is something interesting about me. And I want to share it, however much it may potentially horrify or scare my date. Mind you, I don’t shout at the first possible moment: FYI I HAVE A DATING BLOG. I try to let it happen more…organically. E.g:
S: So, you’re a journalist? Very cool. I like to write, too. What do you typically write about?
Date: Blablabla small talk. So, you mentioned you like to write?
S: I do.
Date: What do you write about?
S: Well actually, my two friends and I started a blog earlier this year.
Date: That’s awesome! What’s it about?
Which brings me to…
3. It’s a test. If you follow this blog, you may recall that I’m a huge fan of tests. Basically I like to administer small social experiments on my subjects (I’m sorry, dates) and make conclusions based on my data. These may or may not be accurate conclusions, but let’s not ruin the fun by worrying about that! Here’s what I tell my date (in my own brand of breezy hilarity):
My two friends and I have an online dating blog
We have a lot of fun writing it
it’s totally anonymous. We don’t use our names or the names of our dates.
We do it because we’re interested in sharing our experiences and talking about all the funny, crazy things that happen to us.
Once I’ve laid out those basic facts, there’s no need to freak out. Because frankly, it’s really not that big of a deal. I’m not revealing to you that I’m Gossip Girl (also can we talk about how Gossip Girl was Dan Humphrey and not Dorota? What’s that, you say? I’m literally the only person in my age bracket who watched that awful show til the bitter end?)
After I drop the “blog bomb”, most guys are a little taken aback at first but quickly recover and then want to know every detail. A brief Q&A with my date typically follows:
Date: Can I read it?
S: No, sorry, I don’t think it’s a good idea at this point.
Date: What’s it called?
S: Again, nope.
Date: Can you tell me a funny dating story?
S: Sure.(*Insert dating story*)
Date: Wow that is pretty funny. Are you trying to turn it into a book or something?
S: Absolutely. Mindy Kaling is our spirit animal.
Date: Are you going to write about me?
This is my cue to sassily (and somewhat gleefully) say:
Only if you do something worth writing about.
To soften that blow, I follow it up by letting dudes know this policy: I try not to write about anyone in real time. In other words, if I’m going out with you, I’m not going to run home after every date and immediately spill all the dirty deets to the internet (unlesswe’re working on a post about who pays and my date asks me to split the sushi.Sorry, K). In general, though, I’ll wait until I know I’m definitely not seeing the guy again to dish to you lovely readers.
I know. Thanks, Shoshanna.
4. Calm down. We’re not exactly famous. Yet. Yet, damn it. Give us time. This is certainly not a slight against our excellent and loyal readers who for reasons beyond comprehension keep coming back three times a week to hear us complain about boys (you guys are the best!). But let’s be real. If we took away our family, friends and the people reading who are directly connected with our family and friends, oh and let’s not forget the pitchfork wielding people of Reddit, we’d have what? Four readers? Maybe? So it’s not like this shit is being published in Vanity Fair (again, yet). Although my mom, ever our biggest cheerleader, seems to think we’re mere moments away from getting our big break. A few months ago L and I were at my parents’ house and the following exchange occurred:
Mom: I think you guys should write for a magazine.
L and S: We’d love to.
Mom: You should get that going soon. Maybe Vogue (Vogue. Omg she’s my favorite).
S: How, mom?
Mom: Who do we know in publishing?
S: …No one?
Clearly my mother was having a Miranda Priestley moment (happens to the best of us):
So unless my mom is spreading wild rumors to the men of OKC that Stucu is being courted by major publishers, which let’s be honest she may actually be doing, our humble little WordPress blog should not send grown ass men into a tailspin.
5. If you’re a nice guy, I probably won’t talk about you.Well, that’s not exactly true.The guy who couldn’t find his carwas technically a nice guy, but he also lost his automobile in broad daylight and suffered from crippling social anxiety, so my hands were kind of tied with that one. What I’m trying to say is, I’ve been out with a number of nice, normal dudes who I’ve never mentioned on this blog, because there was nothing worth mentioning. But if something goes down on a date, pretty much the first thing that pops into my head is ‘Yup. This is definitely going on the blog.’
In fact, this has become a running joke with more than one guy I’ve gone out with. If something awkward or weird happens, multiple guys have been like, “Uh ohhhh, this is so going on your blog, I know it is!” One guy even called me out on our first date when the check came. He looked at me and said, “I bet you and your friends talk about who pays on your blog. I bet there’s a right and a wrong way for me to handle this….hmmm what to do, what to do.” I actually enjoy this reaction the most… it should be something we can joke about. Because come on, it’s funny! Guys who show me that they’re cool with it earn major points in my book (I told you it was a test!).
I do wonder sometimes if any of the guys I’ve told have found the blog. They’d have to care an awful lot, and be pretty good sleuths, but I guess it’s possible. In fact, I was going out with a guy recently who called me to tell me that he’d started seeing someone else (music to a single 28 year old’s ears), and after dropping that bomb on me he proceeded to smugly predict that I’d write about the whole experience (what a narcissist! although obviously yes, he was correct). Here’s what he actually said:
H: I’m sure you’ll write about this whole thing on your blog, and I’m sure it will be really funny and great. I can’t wait to read it.
Me: Except I never actually told you my blog’s name.
H: Oh, I’m really good with computers. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble finding it.
Me: It’s anonymous. So I think you will.
H: Oh. Damn it.
Me: Yeah. This exchange is also going on there, FYI. Have a nice life, dickweed*.
*I didn’t say dickweed. I should have said dickweed! Because what a jerk. As always, Mindy says it best:
Hey, guys. I know most of you come to our site generally looking for a quick laugh, and we love (attempting to) deliver that to you. But as you may have noticed, the subject matter here at Stucu has turned a biiiit serious at times. Between L’sMessage Mondayand myuppity Match.com manifesto, we’re quickly gunning for the ‘co-bloggers who are most likely to hop on the nearest soap box at a moment’s notice” award. So if LSD are coming off as weirdly morbid, super serious buzzkills these days, I apologize. In reality I promise you we are actually a LOT of fun and not as Debbie Downer in training as we’re probably coming off.
So thanks for sticking with us, even when our posts are accompanied by that magical WOMP WOMP noise. I promise you, more fun, light-hearted dating high jinx than can be found in your run of the mill Kate Hudson romcom will be posted in the near future. Having said that…
I’m sorry. Clearly I’m supposed to take this as a joke, but how about you don’t voluntarily put a picture of you wielding a knife on your online dating profile when the Craigslist Killer was an ACTUAL PERSON and expect me to be charmed by it, faceless dude? I’m sure you probably chuckled when you posted this, pleased at the irony, thinking girls would find you hilarious. And maybe some do. But here’s a fact:
Most young women I know who are online dating are legitimately afraid of being assaulted, raped, or murdered. Is this fear probably exaggerated by too many episodes of SVU and Criminal Minds? Sure. Is this guy probably a totally normal non-murderer? Yup. But does him playing on this very real fear of mine in the name of irony and humor make me want to go out with him? Not so much.
I hear all you dudes out there telling me to lighten up. Well, you don’t see me posting a profile pic that features me suggestively wielding a pair of sharpened gardening sheers over some dude’s crotch with a caption that reads “HAHA JUST BEING FUNNY TOTES WON’T GO ALL LORENA BOBBITT AND LOP OFF YOUR DICK WITH THIS SHARP WEAPON LULZZZZ”. Would the men of Okcupid find that funny, or would they think I’m a psycho? Pretttyyyy sure it would be the latter.
Okay, this is actually a fun game. Let’s think of some other things that men typically fear about dating. How about I post a picture of myself jabbing a few holes in a condom with one hand and flashing a positive pregnancy test with the other. Maybe I’ll be giving a thumbs up to the camera. Then in the caption I’ll say, “IT’S JUST A JOKE, GUYS! RELAX. AND DEFINITELY ASK ME OUT BECAUSE I TOTALLY WON’T DO THIS IN REAL LIFE 🙂 :).”
Last scenario: Hold up a fake restraining order that prevents me from being within 100 feet of a man, while simultaneously watching Fatal Attraction and taking notes.
Good morning and Happy Monday! (Ugh). Everyone had their coffee? Great. Here’s a little treat to ease you into the work week:
First of all, the worst part of this message is so not the message itself. It’s the fact that I’m allegedly a 74% match with this assclown. Second, if you’ll notice I didn’t block out his “profile pic” aka head shot for an amateur body building competition sponsored by Monster Energy Drink and/or Grindr profile pic that he recycled upon deciding to try out the ladies for a while. In fact, let’s turn this into a combined Message Monday/pic of the week post and check out his sweet bod, shall we?
Wow. Nice tribal tattoo, bro. Very 2001. Also, nice toilet.
Now, while I’m busy befuddling the men of okcupid with my unattractiveness, let’s see what this guy is up to. Take a look at some of his answers to questions:
I am shocked by this. Shocked.
Again, are you serious? I was about to ask your opinion on the NSA leak.
You’d probably have to put on a shirt, though. Radiation and all. So that would be a bummer.
That’s a shame, not because you’re an ignorant racist, but because women of color are really missing out by not having the chance to date you. What a loss.
Well, we’ve all been lucky enough to discover yours already, and may I just say it’s been an honor.
PREACH. Superficial people are the worst. I’m thrilled that we see eye to eye on this issue, headless tool with a shirtless selfie profile pic who just called a stranger ugly on an online dating site.
Well that’s… terrifying. Please stay right where you are, which I can only assume is first in line at Mike “The Situation” Sorrentino’s book signing.
This is semi NSFW, so proceed with caution if your boss could be standing behind you. The fact that I even need to say this about someone’s internet dating profile picture should clue you in that it’s going to be good…
I know. Crazy, ri–oh wait. There’s more…
So that’s who I’m being matched with on okcupid. In other news, still single!
When we last left our heroine, me, she was being wined, dined, and made to watch a fantasy TV show. Now for the dramatic (actually not at all) conclusion to this dating trilogy:
K and I continued to chat for the next few weeks, but we were both busy and hadn’t been able to schedule a date. This is one tough thing about online dating, and I guess dating in general: It’s hard to keep the momentum going when there’s a lot of time between dates. You don’t want to be texting or emailing back and forth 24-7, because who has time for that, but you don’t want there to be complete silence between the two of you either. In case you were wondering, this is what 40% of my conversations with K revolved around:
He could not have been more serious about that show. Do you like how he legitimately scolded me for watching the episodes out of order?
Anyway, I was still on the fence about K. He was great in a lot of ways, but I just wasn’t feeling any crazy connection with him or like we had a ton in common. I decided to give it one more shot because honestly, how many single 20 something dudes would come to your apartment to make you a gourmet dinner on your third date? I needed to be totally sure before I let this one go.
We finally found a free weekend. K surprised me by telling me we were going to see a play by a writer who I had mentioned I liked. I’ll give it to him, K was a thoughtful dude. I had actually wanted to see this play so I was excited, except two days later he texted me that it had sold out before he could get tickets. Womp womp.
Well, he tried. A for effort. I started to throw out other date ideas, but K had a plan:
K: I found another play for us to see.
Me: Awesome! What is it?
K: It’s about fishermen.
Me: O…kay?
The play was as terrible as it sounds. It’s literally about English fishermen dying at sea. For two hours. It was some depressing shit for a Friday night, let me tell you, although K claimed he loved it (wtf). The upside was there was a free wine tasting beforehand in the lobby of the theater, so mama got her buzz on before the show started. Also worth noting: we were the only people there who were ineligible for a senior discount on our tickets.
Afterwards we grabbed dinner, and the conversation was notttt flowing so easily… we had essentially run out of things to talk about in three dates. We went back to my place and yadda yadda yadda, only this time I knew I didn’t want him to sleep over. I was all “sooooo my mom’s coming into the city super early so it would be best if you didn’t stay.” Which was true, but the real reason was, “You snore like a grizzly bear and I’m kind of over you. Please leave.”
I had officially made my mind up about K.He was a nice guy, really thoughtful and sweet, but that wasn’t enough. I just didn’t feel a real connection with him and the fact that he lived so far away was an added pain that I didn’t like him enough to deal with. Also, I could definitely tell he was into me, which should have thrilled me. I’ve wanted lots of guys to like me as much as K did, but the fact that it just made me uncomfortable I think was very telling.
Now I had to end it. And I know I acted all high and mighty in a certain recent post, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider pulling a fade away for a hot second. It is tempting. But once I decided that a guy who BYO’d a broiling pan to my apartment deserved better, the next question was, how to do it? And what do I say? Full disclosure: my longest run with a guy on okcupid, a guy named J who I was seeing last summer, ended when he broke it off with me in a crowded bar. Frankly I am still getting over that trauma; beyond the fact that it was humiliating, it was so unnecessary. To me, you need to be in an exclusive relationship for a measurable period of time (which we weren’t) to warrant breaking it off with someone in person like that. A seven date run (or in this case, four) does not call for such theatrics.
So I decided to send K a good old fashioned Dear John email. Luckily I already had his email address from when he sent me a certain document that referenced cooking things to ‘tender perfection’. I crafted my email with L’s help, wanting to be brief, honest, and sensitive at the same time. I hit send thinking I would never hear from K again because honestly, would you reply to a creepy Dear John email from someone you went out with four times?
Well, he did. He sent me the nicest response ever, thanking me for my honesty and saying he’d “remember our time together fondly”. It was so nice that 5% of me regretted kicking him to the curb. Then I remembered the awkward conversation from our last date and quickly came to my senses. I will say this, though: K was a class act, especially for a self proclaimed ex-hippie who was once way into shrooms. He was a genuinely nice guy, and I wish him the best.
Also, after mocking poor K for his obsession with a certain TV show (which literally resulted in backlash from readers in our comments section), I need to get something off my chest:
You were right, K. You were right all along. And I can only assume that you were the mastermind behind this.
After our second date, I got a text from K saying that he’d like to make me dinner. What in the what? This had never happened to me before. I knew he was into cooking… he had mentioned on our first date that his dream was to open his own restaurant. Having a man prepare food to for me while I do nothing is essentially my dream, but the fact that the K lived an hour away with his brother and sister in law made the logistics… tricky. I asked if he would mind cooking at my place and he said that was fine. He also said he’d send me some ‘entree options’ soon.
What I received was a full blown menu in a Word document that was so comically serious there’s no way I can avoid sharing it with the world. Behold, K’s menu choices:
You guys. Can we talk about this document for a sec. The descriptions (tender perfection!). The recommendations. The options. The SOUP OPTIONS. Omg. I basically died. Accompanying the menu was, no joke, a checklist of kitchen items so intense it could have been for this:
and an email that made me slightly uncomfortable in its seriousness. I don’t mean to sound like a cold bitch; the whole thing, while over the top, was really sweet, thoughtful and honestly, very Lloyd Dobbler. The problem was, I could tell from his uncomfortably enthusiastic email that at this point K was more into me than I was into him, which honestly never happens to me. I had no idea what to think. I started to wonder if I was one date away from a grand gesture like this:
Or this:
(Okay sorry, that scene actually bummed me out because how great was Heath Ledger?)
Confused, I immediately turned to L and D for their expert analysis:
They both came to the same general conclusion I had: K was reallysweet and charming, and the menu, while hilarious, was also adorable. But the level of seriousness he was displaying after two dates was slightly off-putting. I still very much was trying to get to know K and figure out how much I even liked him. At the same time, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered by this romcom-esque turn of events.
The night of our date, K arrived at my door carrying (no joke) a broiling pan, huge steaks, clams, and all sorts of other shit, including flowers. Wow, I thought. How many single gals dream of this? It’s honestly what I’d secretly hoped dating would be like all the time: men wining and dining me, bringing me flowers and presenting me with comically elaborate dinner menus. Unfortunately the cold hard reality is that most single dudes out there can barely handle scheduling a time and place to meet. Some of them can’t remember where they parked their cars. So I resolved to enjoy experiencing the opposite end of the spectrum for once, because God knows when (or even if) it would come along again.
K cooked an elaborate dinner while I glugged wine and watched him work. The food was delicious and the wine continued to flow while we ate. Afterwards, we debated what to watch or at least pretend to watch before we started making out. I’d known from the very beginning that K was a self proclaimed “huge” Game of Thrones fan. The ‘you should message me if’ section of his okc profile actually reads: If you can’t stop thinking about Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire. On our second date K gasped in horror when he discovered I had HBO but had never seen the show. He then made me promise him (seriously) that I would give it a chance. So really I shouldn’t have been surprised when the following exchange occurred:
Me: What do you want to watch? Any ideas?
K: (Excitedly) We could get you started on Game of Thrones. We could watch the first episode.
Me: * sigh* Okay.
This was K’s reaction:
Fantasy medieval warfare was not exactly my idea of sexy date fodder, but my hands were tied. This dude had just lugged large kitchen equipment up my stairs and cooked me a steak that made me see God. And the idea of me watching this show literally seemed to be turning him on (which in hindsight was slightly troubling), so how could I say no? We watched the first two episodes, which were full of more tits and beheadings than I can possibly explain. At this point we were two and a half bottles of wine deep and it was getting late. So we started making out andyada yada yada…
Then I faced a dilemma. We were both a little tipsy and I knew K was in no shape to drive. It was late and I felt bad kicking this guy who had been so sweet to me to the curb. So I invited him to stay over. Which is not a big deal… I’m 28, we’re all adults here. But it’s also not something I generally do because mama likes her space, especially when I’m sleeping. I’m a tosser, a turner, a kicker, and a flailer. Basically I sleep like this:
And if you disturb me from my slumber, God help you (L and D can attest to this). So I honestly should have foreseen there being an issue and made him sleep on the couch, but I was tired and in my red wine stupor thought, ‘It’ll be fine.’
It was not fine. K snored. Actually ‘snored’ is not an accurate description. I know snoring. This was beyond anything I’ve ever experienced… a buzz saw at full volume. It was so. Effing. Loud. I laid there, tired and frustrated, considering my options. First I tried to wake K up and make him sleep on the couch, but this dude would not. wake. the hell. up. I was shoving him full force and getting no response. If it hadn’t been for the terrifying noises coming from his body I would have pronounced him dead.
So finally I moved. I slept in my roommate’s (empty) bed. And I was not pleased. I heard him get up early the next morning and walk around my apartment, no doubt wondering where the hell I’d gone. I came out to find him in the living room, sheepishly putting his shoes on.
“Oh man, I’m sorry. Did my snoring wake you?”
My cranky, sleep deprived self had to bite my tongue to avoid a snarky response like: “Wake me? No. That would imply that I actually was able to FALL ASLEEP, which I was not.” The rational part of me knew that snoring isn’t anyone’s fault. K couldn’t help it. I’ve been told I snore before… what can you do? Switch beds, that’s what you can do.
So instead I answered: “Yeahhhh, it’s okay, no big deal.” At this point I was ready for homeboy to GTFO. Besides the fact that 12+ hours is a long time for two people who barely know each other to spend together, I had not brushed my teeth (which we’ve learned many men actually think is normal) or had my coffee. So I was desperately clinging to the single shred of faux cheerfulness I had managed to muster. At any moment, Morning S was going to rear her head, and let me tell you, Morning S is not a nice person.
Except K wanted to shoot the shit. He asked me what I was doing all day (I had plans), if I wanted to get breakfast (thanks but I’m good), and when I was free next (I’d check my calendar and let him know).Finally I scooted him and his broiler pan out the door but not before he could attempt to full on make out with me when we said goodbye (again, NO ONE had brushed their teeth at this point. Gross).
Date rating: 7/10. K had a perfect 10 before he forced me to watch Game of Thrones, snored me out of my own bed, and overstayed his welcome in the morning.
Stay tuned for the conclusion of S and K: a dating story. Our 4th (and final) date will be posted on Friday.
Stupid Cupid 