The Worst of Online Dating: “Wanna Bang & Have Mutual Meals?” PART DEUX

You may remember a recent post about a particularly brazen gentlemen who recently sent me a message about becoming fuck buddies…  I then sent him a super weird reply.  Well, he wrote back!

He really believed he could turn it around.  Now, that’s confidence.

Original message:

Hello,

I’m a full time student now doing masters, I work 40+ hrs at the Hosptial, and work occasionally in between that. So non-commitment sexual encounters with possible mutual meals is all I ever have time for this semester . As far as in the sheets go, I’m not turned on just by the mundane, gentle sex. I enjoy it time to time as a way to break up the rougher side. I’m definitely turned on the most by knowledge , intelligence and beauty which you seem to have all. If you have any questions you’d like to ask, I’ll answer anything.
Also I promise to keep things discreet .

Thanks,
Gary

My gross response:

Hey Gary,

While I am super-impressed that you have so much going on. I mean, I just have two jobs, two volunteers positions, classes, workshops, and self-respect, I can’t believe you’ve managed to stay awake long enough to write this charming message. I mean, my god, that’s impressive. If I had a job and some classes, I’d only be able to do that and sleep. Look at you, making time to troll the internet for women to screw.

It’s always nice when a complete stranger sends me a message that hints to their sexual proclivities. How unusual that you enjoy both slow and fast sex? I’ve never met a man who enjoyed different kinds of sex. You must be really deep. Personally, I’m only into completely silent, open-eyed, well-lit intercourse. I also enjoy wearing colonial dresses when I fornicate; it makes it more complicated, but it’s totally worth it.

It sounds like you are definitely turned on by intelligence. Sex is the best way for a person to express their intelligence. Before I put on my colonial sex dress, I usually give my potential sex partner a quiz on world history, algebra, and poetic forms. I only proceed with my straight-A students.

Here are some questions:
1. Has this ever worked?
2. How many women have you successfully banged? Please provide numbers for women you met online vs. women you met in person.
3. Why bother making a profile when you could just go to Rick’s or Necto?
4. What about my profile made you think I’d want to be your fuck buddy?
5. What’s your favorite color?
6. Can I call you Gare-Bear?
7. Can I please, please, please have your phone number? I can’t wait to come over!

All my love,
Ryan Gosling

His NEW Response:

At least it got u talking! It does have the scope to develop into something meaningful and I am pretty flexible , at the same time I am not the one to keep flooding your inbox. I can definitely predict that you would make a great writer and wish to apologize for offending you. Following are true answers to your questions:

1. Yes.
2. Met online: 30ish vs. met in person 10ish.
3. favorite color is blue.
4. I found you really pretty and wanted to try my luck, you got to try to succeed , right?
5. phone number: 313-***-****
6. you can call me whatever you want.

Best wishes,
Gary

My NEW Response:

Nope. I’m good.

His final, very annoyed response:

Hey! At you should say it in a way a writer ought to put it. You must not be as good as you think.
Simply saying no is no fun .

Creep Week: On Almost-Dating Full-Blown Jerks

Have we all been there?  The almost-relationship with someone who claims to want a relationship and then never quite gets there.  This is someone who you know through friends or school or some other connection that forces you to keep crossing paths.  Occasionally, you have an almost-relationship with someone because things just don’t work out, or neither of you is ready for it.  Perhaps, it just doesn’t happen.  Sometimes, though, that person is a gosh darn jerk.

This is the kind of jerk who mutual friends will explain as someone you’ll need to get to know before you like.  You know, they’ll be the person that their dear friends hate, but claim they just have a “hard shell.”  Here’s a tip: that person is a dick.

This person will always claim to, “like you” or perhaps, “like you too much for x, y, or z.”  This person, this almost-lover will tell you that they, “would date you… IF x, y, or z were only a little different.”  It likely took you a while, but you figured it out.  You had to eventually realize that being stood-up, or sort of lied to, or jerked around, or whatever it was… it wasn’t good enough for you.

Oh, and when you’re finally a dick right back at this person, he/she will be shocked and get all indignant

Almost-Boyfriend Quotes

“I’ll call you.”

“I was just really busy this week.”

“Has it really been two weeks?  Oh, I thought I saw you on Wednesday… No, I’m sure we talked.”

“I lost my phone.”

“I was drunk.”

“When I said, ‘I love you,’ I meant it … you know… like as a friend thing.  You know.”

“I like you too much to date you.  I’d be a jerk.”

“I’ll break your heart.”

“Maybe I’m just a jerk.”

The Symptoms

  • You will get stood-up.
  • You will not receive replies.
  • You will be booty-called.
  • You will forgive and forgive and forget and forget and on and on and on and on…  You will become exhausted by forgiveness and you’ll always remember.

  • They’ll call/text out of the blue claiming to have changed.  You’ll allow them to come back into your life.
  • They haven’t changed.
  • You’ll like them.  You’ll really like them.
  • You’ll keep thinking about it.  You won’t be able to stop.  It’ll be a whole thing.

  • You’ll tell yourself that you can change them.  You’ll unbreak his/her heart, and you’ll make them a real person again.  You’ll make them want a relationship.  You’ll make them love you.  But, you can’t.  You can’t make them love you.  They’re never going to treat you well, so give up.  They suck.  They like themselves (outwardly).  You can’t change it.

  • They will drive you crazy.
  • They will never be your boyfriend.
  • You’ll be like – “I fixed you!” And they’ll be like – “BYE!”
  • They will make you cry.  Like a lot.

The Lesson

If you come across someone who is too busy to date you, or thinks they like you too much, or whatever excuse it might be, that person will never date you.  It’s the whole “He’s just not that into you” business.  Don’t waste your time on an almost-lover.

 

Bitch’s Guide to New Year’s Eve

New Year’s Eve can be bad or great, but it’s probably going to be bad.  If you are a bitch, or you like bitches, or you think bitches are funny… here are some tips.  Enjoy!

1.  Shoes.  Wear shoes that you feel comfortable in all night.  You have to spend all of the hours up to midnight and beyond in shoes.  People will be drunk and there will be broken glass.  You cannot walk around barefoot.  You cannot walk home barefoot.  You must wear your shoes.  Don’t be “that girl” who spends the whole night whining about her friggin’ feet.  Don’t be the girl who can’t walk in her shoes.  You know the one.  The one who scuttles from place to place and must perch wherever she lands.  The one cannot actually walk without tripping.  The one who topples into the bathroom to re-apply her lipgloss.  Don’t be that girl.

2.  Booze.  Remember, you will be drinking for a long time on this Eve of the New Year.  Your body will be exposed to so much.  You should invest in mid-level liquor – at least.

3.  Shots, specifically.  Keep count.  Even if it means you have to take a sharpie to your arm (a mark for each drink), you must track your drinking.  You are in for a long night, so you gotta have a plan.

4.  Food.  Bitch, you gotta eat!  If you eat nothing, you will pass out.

5.  Cleavage.  This really depends on what kind of bitch you are.  It’s New Year’s Eve, so go nuts.  Show off your boobies.  Get slutty.  Do whatever.  As a really bitchy bitch, I really don’t care what other bitches are wearing on New Year’s Eve.  It’s like Halloween… Free pass.

SO MUCH CLEAVAGE.

6.  Dates.  If you bring a date to a New Year’s Eve party, make sure he/she isn’t a dumbass, can hold his/her liquor, and that your date can dance.  There will be WOO-WOOs.  Make sure they are ready.  Don’t be the girl with a lame-ass date.  Go solo if it comes to that.

7.  Boyfriends.  If you bring your boyfriend or girlfriend, they SHALL NOT GET SHITTY.  They shall bring mints and make out with you at midnight.  They shall bring you drinks.  They shall dance appropriately.  THE BOYFRIENDS SHALL BE FUN.

8.  Dancing.  Please do as little grinding as possible.  Please whip your hair.  Please shake it good.  Please do some work out there.  Sweat it up.  Do yo’ thang.

9.  Tampons.  Someone will need a tampon – it might be you.  Just bring a damn tampon.  You’ll be someone’s hero and it will feel great.  Good for you.

10.  Bi-Curiousness.  You gotta kiss somebody at midnight.  I’m not here to judge that part of you.

11.  Hats.  Party hats are fucking annoying.  Do not make anyone wear one.  If you want to wear one, that’s great… It tells the rest of us that you’re a dumb ass.  Seriously, suck it.  Hats are sucky.

12.  Driving.  You will be drinking.  Just get a cab.  Your only other option is to crash where you are.  The likelihood of someone staying sober enough to be the DD later on is low.

13.  Glitter.  A little glitter goes a long way.  If you’ve got a sparkly dress, maybe cool it on the bling and the white/silver eyeshadow.  Be sparkly, but don’t try to imitate the NYE Times Square ball.  You don’t need 10,000 blinking lights to be beautiful.  Also, if you do happen to over-glitter, it will get on EVERYONE.  I don’t want to wear your damn glitter, so stay the hell away, Ke$ha!

14.  Underpants.  Just wear them.  Underpants are always, always worth a panty-line.  Don’t be the girl without underpants on.  We don’t want to see your hoo-ha.  Anyone interested in your hoo-ha will happily wait to see it.  Seriously, I don’t want to see a single baby-factory on the dance floor or getting out of a cab.  We all have underwear.  Wear yours.

15.  The Midnight Kiss.  Just go for it, bitches.

I don’t care, but now I know. Pop Culture Edition!

Here are a list of things I don’t care about, but I know now.  Now, you get to know too.

  1. Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez broke up.  She dumped him.  He is not coping well.
  2. Justin Bieber’s pants are absurd.  See AMA performance.  (Google it yourself.)
  3. David Petraeus is a man whore.  Info.
  4. Snooki has a baby.
  5. Mitt Romney’s family is huge.  See photo below.
  6. Jessica Simpson looks great.  She lost all the baby weight.  Here.  Also, photo below.
  7. That reminds me, Jessica Simpson had a baby girl and named her Maxwell.  Maxwell.
  8. Apparently, Nicki Minaj might have butt implants.  I’m pretty neutral on this.  I will not research it.  Feel free.
  9. Taylor Swift cut her hair, or wore a wig.  Here.
  10. James Bond is a sexist and probably a rapist.  “What a shock!,” said no one.  This is just so disappointing.

Romney Clan:

 

Jessica Simpson:

So, Pregnancy Is Inevitable Now?

DO NOT WANT.

I’m pretty afraid of pregnancy.  I think a majority of sexually active women in their twenties are also quite afraid of babies appearing inside their bodies.  Pregnancy is a constant threat weighing on us 75-90% of the time.  The other 10-25% of the time we have cramps, so we’re pretty sure we are not pregnant in those moments.  Those are good moments.  Those are moments that remind me of freedom, that ring of choice and birth control, and that remind that I am NOT ready to be a parent.  I’m far too creeped out by pregnancy.  I mean, my god!  Think about it.  Pregnancy is terrifying and a constant threat.  It takes you over.  It wins.  It is very, very scary.

Why is pregnancy so scary?

Oh, I don’t know… Maybe because a parasite grows inside of you?  Maybe because it makes your boobs go crazy?  Maybe because it’s the thing all women fear before some crazy switch goes off in their head?  Maybe because your body will never be the same?  Maybe because if you have a baby, you ALWAYS have it?  Pregnancy is imprisonment, and it’s a lifetime sentence.  Did I mention the stuff it can do to your body?

THERE ARE EIGHT BABIES IN THERE! EIGHT!

You might be wondering what prompted such a vile spew of anti-pregnancy thoughts, the answer is fear.  Pregnancy is not inevitable for me.  I believe in birth control and I know how to use.  It’s a good thing, y’all.

Lately, a lot of people (mostly my mother and my boyfriend’s friends) have been really chatting me up about babies. The message seems to be: “Pregnancy is inevitable.” I mean, I get what they’re saying. Maybe I will eventually decide to do that to myself or to let someone do that to me.  They all seem to think that for me not to know or for me to deny wanting children is blasphemous.  It’s not.  Some women don’t have children.  Some women don’t want children.  Some women don’t want to make their own.  Maybe I just don’t know.  I do know that I want to avoid this question.

Don’t ask.  Don’t wish babies on me.  That’s weird.

I know that a lot of women talk about the magic of childbirth, but I think many women have also experienced/are currently experiencing life as someone who is deeply and violently frightened of pregnancy and children. I’m tired of people telling me that I have to have kids. I don’t know what the hell I want. I’m 23. Back off.

Why is pregnancy being discussed as an inevitability?  Or at least, why is it being discussed as a fast-approaching, oncoming train?

No.

THIS IS WHAT IT DOES TO YOUR BODY. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS. OH MY GOD.

Basically, babies come from explosions in women’s bodies.  They are scary.  They shoot out of places and things go boom.  Then they cry a lot.  They cry so much.  There is so much stuff happening.  I get that babies are cute and stuff, but wowzers.  No thank you.

The babies get inside of you and then they try to get out of you.

There is just so much scary stuff about this. For example, THERE IS A HUMAN TRYING TO ESCAPE FROM THIS WOMAN’S STOMACH.

Sometimes I have dreams about babies happening, and I wake up in cold sweat.  I don’t wake up smiling and laughing and clapping my hands.  I wake up terrified.  Sometimes I have dreams about drinking and running and being awesome and single and not having babies and keeping my body the same shape.  Those are times when I wake up comforted and happy and joyous and giggly.  Good stuff.

Sometimes I think about my life in ten years.  When I think about that life including kids, it feels messy and sloppy and loud.  When I think about it without kids, it feels messy and sloppy and loud… Wait.  I guess those are the same.

Sometimes I imagine what would happen if I got preggers right now, and while it is better than a teenager getting preggers, it’s still not my favorite idea.

Also, this:

There are just so many things that can happen.  So many babies can happen.  So. Many. Babies.

Married for 40 Years! It can happen.

Though I was going to write a post about my devastation that Amy Poehler and Will Arnett are separating (because that is seriously the end of the world and it makes me want to cry and scream and I think it might mean that love is dead and I’m scared that the world will end and that this is the first sign of the apocalypse and I just can’t stop crying about it because it’s so damn sad – they’re so beautifully funny and their union was everything we were going for – and by “we” I mean EVERYONE – and this is the most devastating news and I’m so sad and I don’t want it to be true and it’s awful and I know we’re all suffering), but instead, let me talk about my parents.

They’ve been married for 40 years.  I’ll give you a moment to process.

Barb and Don are so adorable. Seriously, they’re so in love and so happy and so, so weird.

These two got married on September 9, 1972.  Barb was 20 (but a wee little baby) and Don was 23.  They were so young and so in love and such hippies (sort of).  They are adorable and so very in love.  It took 15 years for them to finally make a baby, though they tried and tried and tried.  In 1987, they welcomed my older sister.  Two years later, they welcomed me – I was even shorter back then.

They’ve had some tough times, an aneurysm and a stroke between them, but they are inspirationally, Notebook-level in love.  Even when they’d fight, they would always come and find my sister and me to explain that they were just mad about “something stupid” and that they’d surely get over it soon.

I cannot even imagine being married right now, so it makes it even more impressive that they did it and did it right at such a young age. I feel weird even talking six months in the future with my boyfriend, but Don and Barb knew that they wanted to spend their lives together.

Don proposed when they got back in Barb’s car (which he was driving) after they had pancakes.  He basically just turned to her and said, “Will you?”  She obviously agreed.  Though this detail is less than cinematic, it’s sort of the perfect starting to a simple, happy life.  They never needed a big show; they have each other.  For the record, I would like a proposal with more planning (so would Kate)… At least a poem or something…  Perhaps a watermelon?

When I feel sad about celebrity, friend, and my own break-ups, I just focus on them.  They’ve given more unrealistic expectations about love than any amount of Disney or chick flicks could.  They’re amazing and wonderful.

Happy Anniversary, Don and Barb!

 

10 Ways to Test Your Relationship

Relationships are hard, weird, and hopefully great.  Every relationship will be tested naturally, but if you’re looking for ways to see just how strong, or good, or whatever your relationship is, here are some ideas.

  1. Ask about porn.  When you do this, make sure to ask about the frequency, type, subject, and any other details you can imagine.  The more you push for details, the more of a test it really will be.  Once you’ve completed asking about this wonderful subject, make  certain you share your interests and preferences just as openly.
  2. Road Trip!  Being trapped in a car for hours and hours and hours is a sure-fire way to see if you secretly hate each other.  Plus, if your partner doesn’t shoot you when you scream and startle them upon seeing a spider…  You’re golden.
  3. Fart in front of your partner while maintaining eye contact.  I haven’t tried this, but it seems like it would work.
  4. Have a really awful day.  Then, hang out.  While it’s hot.  And you’re tired.  Experiment away!
  5. Go hiking.  You will quickly learn if you or your partner are whiny, lazy, weepy, weak, annoying, or cool.
  6. Debate who is weirder.  This will get ugly fast.  You will see what your partner finds odd and possibly annoying about you.  If you can withstand this, you’ll be alright.
  7. Have weird sex.  I don’t care if it’s role play, bondage, blindfolded, exhibitionist, group, or just different – try something a little out of your comfort zone together.  When you do this, you will either build trust and see that you already have a great deal.  OR it will be an awkward mess and perhaps a sign that you should avoid each other forever.  OR maybe it’s bad, but you can both laugh.  It’s a test.  You be the judge.
  8. Meet the parents.  What could be more telling than that?  Do you hate your partner’s parents?  Do they hate yours?  Are they creepy together?  Do you feel judged?  It will be awkward, but you can do it… and if you can’t, maybe you’ve failed.
  9. Meet the friends.  You will be judged so damn hard.  Get ready.  Get set.  Get to impressing.  Friends will tell it like it is.  You have to impress each other’s friends, or you will ruin each other’s lives.
  10. Throw up on your partner’s bedroom floor.  Trust me, this will test you both. Big time.  If your partner simply begins to take care of you, cleans your barf, and then refuses to sleep to maintain surveillance of you and your illness for the night, then they are awesome, and they deserve major rewards.  If they get mad at you and tell you to clean it up, they might be a real dick.  The lover that holds your hair deserve high praise and hella love.

Thighs of Glory (Read: Beyonce’s Thighs)

(Amendment at end.)

Today, I learned that I have thighs of glory.  This does not mean my thighs are skinny, because they are not and they never will be.  Skinny thighs give me the creeps.  A “gentleman” walking about downtown Ann Arbor exclaimed upon seeing my pasty, glorious thighs, that they were, in fact, “Sweet and juicy.”  My first reaction, as always, was to get incredibly angry.  I generally get hypermasculine, start swearing, and calling people dudes when I am approached in this manner.  As you might imagine, I do not like being approached by random men who want to comment on my specific body parts and their potential “uses.”  Instead, I simply laughed at these strange and utterly creepy proclamations of my thigh’s awesomeness.

I thought to myself, “Here I am, a slightly-less-fat-than-average person with well-developed leg muscles (mostly the calves), pasty skin, a partial sunburn on my forehead, jiggly thighs, and fairly low self-esteem.  Yet, this possibly drunk man has enjoyed the show (by show, I mean that I walked by in longer-than-apparently-average shorts).  Maybe, I will just laugh at this and be thankful that someone out there still understands that thighs are meant to be thick, strong, and fleshy.  Thighs should look like thighs.”

I would much rather have Beyonce’s thighs of glory (however pastier, less toned, and altogether less glorious), than skinny thighs (ahem, LeAnn Rhimes, Victoria Beckham, Kiera Knightly, almost every model, and Miley Cyrus).  I would rather look like Serena Williams than a 12-year-old.  Skinny thighs are for children.  Thick thighs are for women.

Beyonce looks amazing. Her thighs are made of glory, sunshine, dance skills, and squats.

Seriously, how great does Beyonce look?  This lady helped bring back the popularity of thicker thighs, and I am thankful.  The ladies who write this blog are fans of curves.  Curves are normal.  Beyonce is clearly above average in all ways, but I think we need to remember the glory of “sweet and juicy thighs.”

This picture is so intimidating and amazing. Serena Williams could jump over a skyscraper with those legs. She could crush anything. They are glorious.

Serena Williams could destroy us all with her thighs.  I feel pretty good about that.  She is strong and sexy; her presence in pop culture is good for women with curves.

I know that this post may seem a bit strange.  *After all, I did get inspiration from a drunken cat call.*  However, it is somewhat comforting that people are appreciating pale, fleshy thighs.  That’s all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amendment:

After reading some comments, I realize that this post needs clarification.  Thin thighs are not “unacceptable,” “horrible,” nor are they somehow inherently “bad.”  It is not bad to be a thin person.  No one is a villain simply having thin thighs.

What is bad and scary, then?

It is bad and scary to push a body to extremes.  It is bad to glorify thinness above all else.  It is bad to glorify unhealthy habits that push people into unhealthy weights.  Just as a person can be too fat, a person can be too thin.  Both are bad.  The thing, not a lot of people are striving to be fat.  A lot of people are spending their days and nights obsessing over being thin at any price.  A lot of people have blogs and tumblrs devoted to “thinspo” with all kinds of ways to get skinny.  There are too many little girls and women out there who hurt themselves to achieve a level of thin that is not healthy for them.

That said, making thin women the villain is wrong.

Thin women just so happen to be thin.  Many people want to be thin, and that’s okay.  But wanting to be thin, or wanting to have Beyonce’s thighs, at any cost… that’s scary.

Also, Beyonce is amazing.

Guest Post: Seven Things You Should Never Do on a Blind Date

I moved two hours away from my hometown last June, and it has been ridiculously hard to meet people. Scratch that, it has been ridiculously hard to meet normal people. (Not that I don’t enjoy egotistical douchebags from the club…)

Since it has been difficult to meet someone besides at the bar, I decided to join a dating website. I won’t name names, but let’s just say the commercials are false advertisement. Here is the commercial that prompted me to join:

So, because for whatever reason I thought this was a good idea, I made a profile on this dating website and then waited patiently to meet my soul mate. In the meantime, I had several friends supporting me on my decision, saying “Oh yes, my friend so-and-so met her boyfriend on <insert dating website here>!”

Let me tell you, everyone lies. They lie about these “friends” because they do not actually exist. Because I have no clue how they met a decent person among these stupid assholes.

After being basically stalked via internet a few times, I was finally messaged by a guy who seemed, well… normal. Shocking. We sent a few messages back and forth and decided to meet for drinks in a public place about 30 minutes away from me.

After this meeting, I can now say I hold the claim to the worst blind date in the world. Some of you may argue this was not blind because I saw what he looked like before meeting him, but I will go to my grave confirming it was blind because the guy that showed up and the guy in the picture were not the same person.

Which brings me to the point of this post.

7 Things You Should Never Do on a Blind Date

1. Don’t not be the person in your photos. I don’t know why I actually have to write this (or any of these really) but for some reason, this guy thought he would swoon me by showing up as someone completely different than the person he pretended to be on the dating website. In this day and age, Facebook and Google will allow the person you are going on a date with to see your pictures. Keep the ones on your dating page recent, and don’t try to be someone you are not. Because when you show up with what little hair you have left slicked back over your balding head, and the picture of you on your dating profile has a head full of blonde hair, I will be pissed. (I was pissed.)

2. Don’t tell me about your recent run-in with the law. The splendid human being I went on a blind date with told me as soon as we sat down and ordered drinks, “I really shouldn’t be drinking these, I am on probation.” Great, now I am fearing for my life even more than before.

3. Don’t over share. This follows point #2. After letting me know about his stint in parole and then probation, the guy proceeded to tell me about his mom’s cancer and subsequently, death, his sister’s autism, his brother’s bipolar disorder, and his hatred for black and Mexican people. Within 5 minutes of meeting him. Before I ever said a word.

4. Don’t be an idiot. Because I live in Michigan, I get to do a cool thing with my hand anytime I need to tell someone where I’m from. Basically, you hold up your right hand, palm facing toward you, and stick your thumb out. That’s the lower peninsula of Michigan, and you can point on it where you’re from. See below:

Every Michigander knows this. I think they teach you when you’re still in the womb. When this guy (born and raised in Michigan) asked me where I was from, naturally, I held out my hand and pointed to the crook of the thumb (Bay City). He proceeded to tell me that the Michigan hand goes this way (flipping my hand over, and frankly touching me way too early for just having met me). After several minutes of convincing him that no, Michigan goes this way (flipping my hand back over) I pointed again to the area where I am originally from. (This is where he showed me his super smarts)

“Oh, so you’re right by Canada?”

 

Before going out into society, please look at a map and understand your state’s borders, waterways, and layout.

5. Don’t touch me in any way after just meeting me.  Again, I don’t know why I even have to put this, but apparently it needs to be said. Seriously dude, we just met, why on earth are you A. touching me B. trying to hold my hand and C. telling me you want to never let go? No means no, in all accords. Please stop touching me. Stop touching me. STOP TOUCHING ME.

6. Don’t tell me you’re going to kill me. I wish this were a joke. When I couldn’t take this date anymore, I faked getting sick in the bathroom of the restaurant so I could leave. He asked to follow me home (uh, HELL NO) and then tried to kiss me after I just told him I threw up. Then, as I started walking away, he says,

“I better see you again or I’ll kill you.”

WHAT. THE. HELL. Seriously? SERIOUSLY?! Did you just say that to me within an hour of meeting me?! You don’t say that to someone after knowing them for years. Now I am really fearing for my life. I purposely took a roundabout way home, cutting through suburban neighborhoods, checking in my rearview mirror to make sure this person wasn’t following me, and talking on the phone to my parents.

7. Don’t text/call me incessantly. I had just pulled out of the parking lot (who am I kidding, bolted out of there) when I started receiving multiple texts from Johnny Crazy Ass, saying the following,

 “Are you okay? I really should have followed you home.”

“I am so worried about you.”

“Did you like me?”

“I think you’re amazing.” 

“FML I just passed two cops!!!”

After not responding, he then started calling me. I had to block his phone number through my cellular company. He must have realized what I had done, because then he started calling me from his house phone. I had to block that number, too. Thankfully, he ran out of devices to call me from, because Verizon only allows 6 blocked numbers per account.

Needless to say, I am no longer on this dating website. I was willing to give the whole online dating thing a try. I was hoping to prove that online dating isn’t crazy and meet a good guy who could potentially be the guy I married. But it is crazy. I don’t know why people subject themselves to this type of torture. I learned my lesson, and I hope that by reading what I went through, you might save yourself from a painful experience like mine.

&&&   Kate has known Lisa since they were too young and innocent to be ranting and raising concerns, aside from their third grade teacher’s inability to spell. Lisa is a Social Media Specialist who lives, works, and now avoids online dating sites in the Detroit metro area.