Super Freak

You'd think by now that I'd know better than to assume a date is going to be great fun. That I'd know by now that the times I assume everything is going to be peachy keen is when it's going to be a disaster. Case in point: I was supposed to meet Superman for drinks a week ago. And I was really looking forward to it.

So the day rolls around, and I get a text from him that says, “Hey love, may have to reschedule.”

Um, I beg your pardon? Love? You’re not LL Cool J, so don’t call me Love. And yes, I’d let LL Cool J call me Love, and would be totally fine with it.

Anyway, I replied with, “Love don't live here anymore.” Just kidding. But I wanted to. I said, “No worries. Keep me posted.” Not even sure what that means, but he thought it was hilarious, because he replied with, “lol. Tx will do.”

He’s a school teacher and he texts like a tween.

Anyway, I figured that was that, and went on with my day. Well, that was certainly not that. Because around 3 p.m., my phone buzzed and I had a new text from Superman (which, I’m beginning to think I was a little generous with that name, guys).

So I opened up my phone and found this little gem: “want to go to that one place?”

Well yes, I’d love to go to that one place. Who doesn’t want to go to that one place? That one place is great!

Pretty confident he was trying to make plans with someone other than myself, I replied with, “Sure.”

Ten minutes later, after assumedly pacing around his classroom trying to figure out how to politely tell me he meant to invite someone else, Superman replied with the obligatory “lol” followed by, “sorry wrong person.”

Oh, I’m aware. At no point did I think the invitation to that one place was meant for me. A minute later, he texted again. “Friend in town for the night, ie: why I canceled. How’s next week?”

There were just so many things wrong with that message, I couldn’t reply. But he wasn’t done. A little after midnight, I was interrupted from my beauty sleep by a buzzing phone, and presumably a buzzing Superman.

He must have been out at that one place, and felt the need to text me, “what’s up.”

Weeknight booty call from a stranger? Get bent, Clark Kent (oh snap!).

I deleted his number and went back to bed.

NEXT!

Pretty Man

I hopped online this morning and checked my dating inbox for the first time in a few days. I had the flu on Monday and Tuesday, and the last thing you're thinking about while you lay in bed with a two-liter of ginger ale at your side and a roll of toilet paper in your hand, is going on a hot date. Anyway, I found a handful of messages. Delete, delete, delete, ooh he's cute.

So I open an email from a tall blonde who apparently is in sales, has a cute smile, and apparently isn't afraid to wear pink. Nice. Below one of his photos he has the quote, "Don't forget I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her," from Notting Hill. So he's funny. Me likey.

I reply to his message and look forward to hearing back from Julia Roberts.

Once back in my inbox, I see I have two messages from a 26-year-old architect. I'd responded to an email from him over the weekend, but didn't really think much of it. Apparently he did, because instead of just replying once, he was on repeat mode. So email one asks how my weekend was. Fine. Email two, sent 5 hours later than email one, asks how I'm doing and if I'd like to meet him at the driving range on Thursday to hit some balls in the snow. I like the idea but not the aggressive approach.

I don't reply, delete both messages and decide that I'd like to get back into golfing.

Last but not least, there's an email from a bearded man who is tilting his head in his photo and making bug eyes and looks like a total maniac. But I click on his profile anyway and his photo caption says something about how his beard is always crazy but always clean. Gross. That's just so gross!

I delete a few other emails and sign off. A job well done.

Hopefully it pays off. In an email. From Julia Roberts.

Someone's going to read this and be so confused.

Crazy Train

And we're back! Life's been a little chaotic, so I finally got back to Daterville this week. Let me preface this story by saying that I'd hidden my profile temporarily because I needed a time out after crazy Tiny T.

So I took my profile out of hiding on Monday night, and after a few minutes I was informed that I'd been emailed on the site. So, excited to see who was behind Door Number 1, I sign on. And I see him.

Tiny T was smiling back at me in what apparently was a new photo. What is your PROBLEM?!! I blatantly told you I wasn't interested.

Of course I opened it, and inside it simply said, "Welcome back =)"

I felt like the e-walls were closing in on me and I just couldn't shrug this idiot.

User was immediately blocked.

Fade Resistant

So that little bug who we've come to know as Tiny Tim showed up on Saturday at the bar during the football game. Alone. Shocking, I know.

Of course since he was solo, he conveniently had to sit at our table. Luckily the only seat open was across from me. I had a nice friend fortress on either side of me. But I could have used a moat. And an invisibility cloak.

Anyway, he hung out for a bit and got to know my friends. He still had his beard. But all I could stare at was the large whitehead begging to be popped just below his bottom lip. I mean how could anyone leave the house with a pimple that size? If you have a massive puss-filled mound just chilling on your face, it is your moral and social obligation to pop that sucker. Sure, you don't have to look at it all day, but everyone else does.

He made conversation with everyone, and was polite. But he kept saying what he thought were witty lines and staring at me, smiling, like we had some amazing, deep connection and only I would get what he was saying. The only thing I got was increasingly more nauseous. My friend sitting next to him totally caught on to this creepy gesture, and my disgust, and was laughing her head off.

After an hour, he finally gets up to leave. He slowly walks around around the table, right up to my back, and I'm so terrified he's going to try and kiss me again. This time I'm on my guard so I only do a half-turn, making sure my left shoulder is blocking any advances the little bugger might make. He says, "I'm leaving," so I go, "Okay see ya!"

He laughs and says, "See ya? That's all I get?"

What do you expect? You want to make out with me in front of all of my friends in the middle of a bar? Dude even if I really liked you, I wouldn't partake in midday PDA with you. Especially with that monster on your face.

So I just laughed and said, "Yup! Bye!" Luckily he accepted my cold shoulder and walked out of the bar.

I thought that perhaps that was the end of our little escapade. You'd think I'd know by now. Because around 2 p.m. the next day he texted me to see how my Sunday was going.

When I replied with, "Fine," he followed up asking if I can cook. Oh gosh, here we go.

I knew where this was headed, and knew I'd have to just be honest with this guy. He clearly wasn't picking up on my attempts to fade him out. It was only fair to him. So after I said yes, he responded with, "I think you should make me dinner this week :-)"

Really Tiny T? That's your game? Telling a girl to make you dinner?

It was time to drop the bomb. So after writing and rewriting my little message a few times, I settled on sending him, "Haha. Hey I think you're a really nice guy, but I just want to be friends."

Even though I was across town from this guy, I felt like crawling under my bed, closing my eyes and plugging my ears. It's just so awkward blatantly telling someone who's interested in you, and trying desperately to be cute, to take a hike.

Well he replied within 10 seconds with, "Is it the beard? Lol." Enough with the LOL sir. You're an adult male. And writing that after every "joke" is like holding up an APPLAUSE card to your audience. If you have to ask for it, you don't deserve it.

In keeping with my new Honesty theme, I told him that it was not because of the beard. He finally conceded, and said there were no hard feelings. I thanked him (no idea why I did, I just felt like saying thanks. Maybe I was thanking him for finally dropping it, or for the fun average times we had) and haven't heard from him since.

Lessons I've learned from my time with this man:

1. Listen to my instincts! If I don't want to go out with a guy a second time, even if he corners me in my elevator holding flowers and a puppy, I won't accept.

2. The fade out is only applicable to certain guys. Like self-aware ones. Men who have their head up their ass need a much more direct denial.

And probably a slap in the face.

Infestation

So I didn't reply to any of Tiny Tim's texts that he sent me 2 days after our pizza outing. That was until he sent one saying he was going to my neighborhood alumni bar on Saturday. During my school's football game.

MY school. Not his. MY neighborhood. Not his. He lives like 20 minutes north. That leaves about 700 other bars in between us that he could watch the game at. So how convenient that he's going to MY alumni bar during MY football game.

Since that's where my friends and I were planning to go to watch the game, I texted him back so he didn't think I was there because of his tiny bearded self, and just said I might be there but wasn't sure what my plans were yet.

I probably should just tell him the jig is up. But I was hoping I could just ignore him until he went away.

This guy's a persistent little f*cker. Like a mosquito.

Level of annoyance: 8. Similar triggers of a level-8 annoyance: Gilbert Godfried's voice, running towards the train as the conductor looks me in the eyes and pulls away, and stubbing a cold toe.

Do they sell man swatters?

Do Not Disturb

So there's this guy I've been chatting with who initially seemed very witty and nice. I soon realized he's just way too over the top and is always trying really hard to be "on". EVERY text, EVERY email, EVERY call with him was like listening to a really bad comedian make the most predictable jokes. Like watching Bob Saget narrate an episode of America's Funniest Home Videos.

I decided since we'd only talked on the phone once that we weren't super involved, so I implemented the straight fade. Only some people just don't get it. When you call and text a girl multiple times, and even your phone's giving you the eyebrow raise, she's never replying to you. In fact, she's probably rolling her eyes hoping you go listen to I Saw the Sign on repeat.

Well Ray Romano's Walkman must be out of batteries, because after repeatedly down-clicking on him for a few days, I got a text today that says: "You should've had a disclaimer on your profile that said 'I'm really horrible at returning phone calls' :)"

See the sign Romano....see the sign.

The Final Countdown

I opened my inbox this morning to find this gem from a pale, chubby guy wearing a cowboy hat. I don't even know where to begin, so I just pasted the entire thing below:

33 reasons to check me out

33. I Watch U TUBE PARODYS OF info merical people

32 Supporter of Jeff DumHammmmmmm and in the world of peanut find "him funny as H."

31. 6 feet tall with brown hair and green eyes and abs of steel 

30. Great Oral Skills

29. I can cook better than those infomercial people

28. I think Vince from Sham wow is Crazy as hell.  

27. Charming Intelligent and Funny

26. Works with charity Organizations i.e. Unmet Needs and Wounded Warrior.

25. I get along well with puppies, kittens, and birds

24. I enjoy walks on the beach

23. Watch me play volleyball and Baseball

26. Employed and I love my Job

25. I can dance

24. I enjoy dive bars

23. Cubs Fan

22. Playful

21. I'm legal age for anything

20. I enjoy trying new things

19. I enjoy exploring the city of Chicago

18. I stand in front of the bean and single women it’s not really a bean loll jk.

17. I enjoying Sailing on my boat

16. At Times I wish I was 16 again

15. Nice sense of Humor

14. I enjoy cuddling

13. Kisses are given to you anytime you want

12. I enjoy having my butt grabbed in public

11. Horses and Dogs are my pets

10. I like going to the zoo and watching the animals play

09. Sitting and watching people at star bucks can be fun

08. I enjoy bubble baths

07. I'm willing to clean your house for a small fee loll

06. I enjoy Picnic Basket Lunches

05. Marine

04. Funny

03. I enjoy playing pool

02. Come see the turtle races with me

01. Willing to sit through chick flicks if you are willing to sit though horror movies.
 
And these 33 reasons, ladies and germs, sum up the one giant reason he's still single.
 
Next!

Can't Hardly Breathe

I've been slacking a little lately, because let's face it, I went on 5 first dates in less than 2 weeks, and I'm just exhausted. I'm out of breath! I can't be my pleasant, charming self every single night of the week to a new male suitor. So I'm ceasing the love binge and, moving forward, I'll only allow myself a few chips rather than the whole bag. I'm on a dating diet.

Plus I've met some real Gary Buseys, so I'm trying to be a little pickier about who I go out with. Not that I don't enjoy meeting a crazy guy every now and then. I love crazy people. They're the spice of life. And it is interesting to meet many different types of guys. I just don't want to be doing so 8 days a week.

If I'm not a little more selective I'll end up dating guys like Kojak, the 29-year-old cop I met for martinis 4 years ago. He showed up 15 minutes late and proceeded to drink five martinis, all while telling me about how he'd gotten so drunk that previous weekend at a friend's picnic that he'd driven home and completely forgotten his dog at the party. Then he offered to drive me home. Had he been cuter (and sober), I would've tilted my head to the side, clasped my hands together and said, "Why yes Officer." But of course he was creepy (and drunk) so I passed.

A week later he invited me to a cage-fighting match. I never called back. And I didn't jaywalk for a month.

Take a Bow

Well I had to give Whitesnake the ol' heave-ho. Something about the constant pushing for a private guitar lesson in my one-woman apartment just felt odd. I don't care if you're Eddie Vedder, I don't need you in my home on the second date to teach me guitar.

And let's not forget, I am a lady. I'm not so desperate and lonely that I need you to come over at 9 p.m. on  a Friday night to...make beautiful music together. So after he replied to my text asking if we could skip the jam session and go out somewhere with, "Why? You don't want me in your apt?" I decided Whitesnake had played his last song. I know it's lame, but I don't owe him anything at this point, so I texted back saying I was tired and working late (half true) and was going to stay in that night.

Plus I was spot on about him being....simple. Not a lot going on upstairs. Well, other than the need to meet girls on the Internet and use guitar playing as a metaphor for infiltrating bedrooms.

In other news, I have two new gentlemen I'm very excited about meeting. One said he loved Hot Tub Time Machine, which I don't care what you say, I've been dying to see. Maybe we're soul mates.

At Least the Martini Was Good....

Alright. So I made it through last night in one piece. And I don't even know where to begin.

Date one doesn't even get a nickname because 1. I won't be seeing him again even though he told me to call him if I was "really bored" on Saturday, and 2. he's an emotional mess.

We met at a classy little martini bar downtown after work, and from the second I sat down, Debby Downer was pouting and whining about his job and how he can't take any time off because when he's gone "everything goes wrong."

Just as my peach martini with a splash of grenadine arrives, he gets into the fact that he needs a roommate because he just can't keep up with his house payments, and wants a gay guy to move in because he'll be neat, decorate the place, design clothes for him, and be fabulous. And the guy he's "working on" has these fabulous window boxes with nylon butterflies in his apartment that he HAS to have.

Over the next hour, he starts three different stories in three different ways:

"I dated this girl who was amazing, we were soul mates, I was just too young to realize it....."

"Speaking of sociopaths, I dated this girl for 9 months, who I loved more than I'll ever love anyone..."

"The amazing thing about Ritalin is anyone who goes on it has to FORCE themselves to be hungry. It's amazing..."

Meanwhile I'm scanning the bar for cute guys enjoying their happy hour, while Danielle Steele whines about loves lost. And the best part? He tells me about a girl he dated for 9 months (as previously mentioned), and how he found out she'd lied about her entire past, where she went to school, and where she worked. So when I ask what he did when he confronted her he goes, "What do you think? I gave it to her one more time and sent her on her way."

I forced a smile and swallowed the last sip of my drink. I thanked God for the vodka and Satan for the date and walked out, hoping the next date was much better.

Do They Sell Man Muzzles?

I finally meet Electric Youth for drinks. Contrary to his plea to go bowling, I simply couldn't risk committing to more than an hour, should he be as crazy as my gut was screaming he was.

Well, hats off to my instinct. Because EY's mentally insane. Imagine taking a hyperactive person, caging them for 48 hours in a dark room, and then meeting them for drinks. And he asked me so many questions, I felt like I was on 60 Minutes. It wasn't even in a conversation-style. He'd ask, I'd answer, then he'd totally ignore my reply and ramble on about his personal view, and then ask the next question. Mind you, he'd say the last word or two of each sentence reeeeaaalllyyyy sllloooowwwllyyy.

"Do you believe Johnnn Edwaaards? No, not the senator, the psychic medium on TeeeVeee."

"What's your opinion on reeliigionn?"

"What's your favorite Depeche Mode sonnng?"

"How do you feel about dating an aaaaaaathiest?"

After my second beer, I gave him a Catholic hug (butt out so our hips don't touch) and went in search of complete and total siiilennnce.

Step Away From the Keyboard

By now it's fair to say that in the garden of online daters, you have to sift through many, many....many, many weeds before you find some roses (go with it, I can't think of a manly flower). It's in this process you'll find some of those weeds keep growing back again. No matter how many times you ignore that weed's messages, that weed just keeps sending his weedy messages on his weedy computer. It weediculous! (I'm sorry for that).

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I present to you: the Repeat Offender! Yes, the R.O. lives and dates by one motto: If at first you don't succeed, try, try again....and again, and don't worry that she's not replying to your "looking for someone special, is that u?" or "you seem like the gurl of my dreams" messages, just keep working your fresh one-liners and she'll reply eventually.

There are currently 3 R.O.'s peppering my inbox, and with every message they introduce themselves like they've never messaged me before. They're the spammers of the online dating world, and they're coming for YOU!

Daters beware.