Fuck You, Online Dating

I tried Match.com:

1. I thought it would automatically rule out the majority of douches and weirdoes because these men were paying hard earned cash money (using their mom’s credit cards) in order to find a special someone. 

and 

2. They have a 7 day free trail, so why the fuck not?

I set up my profile and as soon as I uploaded some pics I was winked and prodded by all sorts of freaks…er, I mean gentleman callers. I ignored the winks, because really dudes, a virtual wink is the equivalent of a real life boob honk--it just feels wrong. Send me an email so I can judge you mercilessly for not being witty enough or spellin lik dis.

I ended up settling on two dudes, out of the numerous other candidates that ranged from: listing their cat, Belvidere, as their best friend; being 30-something and still getting drunk downtown “like every night with my boys”; or just incapable of carrying on a conversation past, “What’s your major? Cool, cool.”

The two candidates were exact opposites. One was still in college; a thin cute guy that enjoyed jazz and was majoring in Computer Science. The other guy was a Guido juicehead that was a bodybuilder/ Assistant P.E. teacher at a local private school.  After a week and a half of communicating through emails, the Guido wanted my phone number because: “I really enjoy talking to you. I hate that it’s limited to me only doing so when I’m around my computer.” It seemed legit enough, and I was enjoying his conversational skills, so I handed over the digits.

He called me immediately. I ignored it because I was with my family, and to be honest, I fucking suck on the phone. I suck at communicating on the phone with my best friends; how damn awkward do you think it would be with a stranger? When I didn’t pick up, he immediately sent me a text asking what was up. I explained my social retardation, he LOL’d all over the place, and we spent that night texting back and forth.

He texted me at 9 a.m., every morning, while he was slaving for “the man” at work. I would reply around 11 a.m. – Noonish because my ass was on break, and enjoying the fact that I didn’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to finish lab reports or random group projects. From then on out, it was text after text after text—needless to say, it was a bit tiring for me. I should probably explain: I’m a recluse. Now, this doesn’t describe my nature all of the time (clearly I have some shithoused social stories to share) but generally, I curl up inside myself and disappear from the world a few weeks out of the month. My friends have always known this about me, and they accept it. When I come back out of my shell, they welcome me with open arms. It’s just the way I am; I can’t explain the nature that is Batman.

So, communicating with someone non-stop for weeks at a time wears me out. He was excessive, and he started to give me red flags when he was word-vomiting things like: “You’re not like any girl I’ve ever talked to. You love football, and Archer, and have the mouth of a sailor. I’ve never felt this comfortable with a girl. I really, really, really like you. I’m not letting you get away,” and, “I need to see you? When can I see you? WHEN!? WHEN!?!?!?!”

I was 4 hours away from this motherfucker and he wanted me to hop in my car and drive to him immediately. Even when I did drive back to my college town, I let him know that I wouldn’t be able to meet right away because my dad was planning on coming to celebrate New Years with me. He was trying to plan a date while my dad was in town, and even said, "I don't mind meeting him." What the fuck?  I jokingly said, “Whoa, cowboy. Can we not wait? What do you think, that I’m going to up and disappear in a matter of days?” He replied with, “Yes, girls have done that to me. You’re special, I can tell. I don’t want to lose you.”

He eventually broke me down out of shear exhaustion. I was sick, my dad bailed, and he texted me asking me to, “Please, please meet him for a movie or something.” I told him I was sick, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer and even said, “I love to watch movies when I’m sick. You’ll be fine.” 

Yeah…

I ended up passing out an hour before I was supposed to meet him. I was doped up on so much Nyquil I really didn’t know what the fuck was going on. The only thing that woke me up was the excessive buzzing of my phone. Guido was ready for that goddamn movie.

I got my happy ass up and headed on my merry way to the theater. On the way there I’m getting texts like, “Where are you?” and, “Are you still coming?” and, “Should I go ahead and get the tickets?” I reply with, “On my way,” and throw my phone in the back of the car.

As I’m walking up to the theater I see a group of teenage boys standing outside and my first thought was, “Fucking great. One of these douches stole their mommy’s credit card and portrayed themselves as their gym teacher. It explains the neediness though.” But no, in the circle of boys stood the bodybuilder and as I walked up I laughed and said, “Are you guys talking about me?”

The teenagers whistled and said, "Way to go," to the Guido. He blushed, putting his hand on the small of my back and ushering me inside. We joked before the movie, we joked after the movie, he walked me to my car, I made comments about how shitty he should feel for making a sick woman come out in this weather (hardy-har-har) and then I hugged him goodbye.

I didn’t feel any sparks. If anything, it could have been a nice friendship. He texted me later commenting on how I looked and how he’d like to take me out the next day. I declined, because I was hacking up my lungs at that point.

Then, shit started to get real. I slept for two days straight trying to get whatever crud inside of me to die. The only time I woke up was to chug OJ or take more Nyquil. Well, in this time period, homeboy is still texting me. I’m in a comatose state, so of course I’m incapable of responding. DID.NOT.GO.OVER.WELL.

He told me I was inconsiderate. Would then ask me out. Said I was leading him on. Then wondered if I’d like to watch a game with him. When I was feeling halfway better (and going through my voicemails and texts) I finally decided to up and delete the dude from my phone and facebook.

Moral of the story: FUCK ONLINE DATING.