Friday, September 2, 2011


After about a month of vehemently sticking to my guns about not signing up for another stupid online dating site, I caved in and hesitantly punched the digits of my credit card number into my iPhone’s touchscreen.

“Subscribe.” Fuck.

Since my very two-dimensional and pathetic experience with Mr. Texas, (I’m really, REALLY trying to sound more grounded, less bitter and more introspective) I could say that I’ve learned a few things when it comes to online dating:

  1. Zero investment prior to the actual date. By “zero investment,” I mean NO expectations, NO excitement and NO whatever other inexplicable fucking feeling.
  2. “Talking” to as many guys as possible. Focusing on just ONE guy instead of e-frolicking around with many potential suitors is a no-no. Just no-FUCKING-no.
  3. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Sketchiness and shadiness paint the perfect picture of this online dating business. He could disappear and completely just vanish in thin air at any given moment in time, without a single explanation or reason, defying all laws of physics and nature and logic. Oh well.

I’m 3 days in and I can’t seem to understand how I am having a fucking deja-fucking-vu. I swear.

I’m filtering away through the masses of losers and douchebags, creepsters and just awkward-looking and sounding dudes. I mean, it’s just a MESS. Some are hot, but their profiles are super lame; some have some kick-ass profiles, but what they’re working with in the looks department just isn’t doing it for me. And the rare few that SEEM to (dear Lord, may I dare say it?) HAVE IT ALL (gasp) give off a very conceited and “my-shit-don’t-stink” vibe, which I really don’t have time for and overall, I am too proud sometimes to be the first one to initiate contact.

So, as motherfucking always, something’s gotta give. (WHY? WHY THE FUCK DOES IT HAVE TO GIVE?!)

Anyways, after what seemed to be a witty and sarcastic email exchange in the beginning with a decent-looking dude from a neighboring town (that ended abruptly due to his inability to understand my humor and sarcastic personality – really, I totally need a sarcasm font – he sounded like a total tool, whose exact words were, “I’m looking for someone with a sense of humor, who can dish it out and take it as well. I think you take things a little too seriously.”

Uhh, his moronic ways clearly failed him miserably, and I don’t have the time and patience to explain e-misunderstandings. Also, if I have to EXPLAIN myself to you, I don’t care if it’s really a misunderstanding or whatever, it’s a deal breaker for me because it SCREAMS inability to interpret witty, sarcastic banter. He later blamed them on the fact that “messages and IM’s suck.” No, buddy. I think YOU suck – the longest parenthesis ever, but whatever) my superb e-navigational skills led me to a 30-year-old, 6’1 (swoooooooooon) hunk with a simple, but funny as hell profile.

Seriously, those are the ones that get me. Just be FUCKING HONEST. Be REAL. Admit that you have flaws. Don’t sit there and type all these motherfucking great qualities about yourself. I am seriously not impressed to read ANY of that shit. It makes me want to laugh and puke and then laugh and puke some more because virtually ALL men have the same exact things to say. Stand the fuck out. Seriously.

I know that there is only so much that you can pick up from a profile; after all, it’s still composed of just words on a screen. No matter how hard one tries to interpret them, the profiles, much like the people writing them, remain two-dimensional.

So, back to the 6’1, 30-year-old hunk. I will call him The Pitbull, due to the simple fact that he is ¼ Cuban, and since I am absolutely in love with the singer, I found it highly appropriate and slightly annoyingly cute.

In my own, typical impetuous, slightly crude way, I didn’t hesitate sending him a short message – half making fun of, half complimenting his profile. He responded a few hours later, not only beautifully reciprocating my snazzy and sarcastic comment, but also “giving me a present” – DIGIIIIITS, bitches. He did it in such a sly way though, that in no way did it come across as creepy or overwhelming.

Deja-vu with this guy all over again. He’s funny and witty and gets my humor and I feel him reeling me in, but it just won’t happen.


More later. My brain hurts.