Online Dating Week!!!

I have been slacking lately... but figured out a way to make it up to you all. I am dedicating this entire week to Online Dating! I will post nice little exchanges and reviews from dating sites, etc. First up is my experience with Dr. F from Match.com.

A little background information:

I went on ONE date with an anesthesiologist, who I will refer to as K. Let me first say that by most girls’ standards, it wasn’t even a date. We met for a single glass of wine and appetizers. He did try to feed me some shit, which should have been the first red flag. I mean, I’m not handicapped. I have two working hands (which I should have used to give him the Bear Claw). I can feed myself.

The second red flag occurred the end of our little meeting, when he announced: “I am canceling my date tomorrow night. I don’t want to date anyone except you.” I shrugged it off thinking he was half joking and wanted a reaction from me… I mean, most guys pull that shit to show you that they are desirable. Also, there is a big difference between wanting and actually doing. I want to have a hot make out session with Brad Pitt… I want to make a living by doing absolutely nothing. These things just aren’t realistic. Neither is dating me exclusively after the first date.

The next day he sent me a message inviting me to some hospital event and warned/informed me that he was going to introduce me as his “girlfriend.” Ok, so for those of you who don’t know me, there is NO chance I’m going to assume the title of “girlfriend” after a month, let alone ONE date. I abhor only a few terms: boyfriend, girlfriend, relationship, and anything along those lines… These epidemical little words make an official breakup necessary. After you bust out one of the above terms, you can no longer pull the Fade Out or end things over the phone or AIM or email. Not cool. This = drama, tears, arguments, etc… Anyway… so in response, I sent back a little explanatory email about my feelings and thoughts on the term “girlfriend” and decided to pull the Fade Out; for unstable individuals, The Fade Out is preferable to abruptly ending things.

K called me the next day. I am not big on chatting on the phone, so we covered the basics of “I am not your girlfriend. You are not my boyfriend. We went on one date,” and I told him I had to go and would talk to him later. I had to give a debriefing to my good pal Angie, so I dialed her up and proceeded to do so. Approximately 15 minutes into our conversation K called. I hit IGNORE. 30 seconds later he called again. IGNORE. 15 seconds later he called again. IGNORE. The annoying, incessant beeping reverberated in my ear for at least 40 missed calls. Right around the 40th missed call I freaked out, hung up on Angie and answered K’s call. On the verge of tears (out of frustration) I screamed: “Quit calling my fucking phone, asshole!!!!!” and hung up. He called back another two times. One of the times he left a voicemail message: “On a scale of 1-10, how angry are you? Awww… I thought you would think it was cute that I missed you.” MKAY, you missed me? After one date? No more Fade Out, time to cut off all contact and ignore, ignore, ignore. This went fairly well for almost two weeks, until this morning, when I received the following note:


I think it's funny what people see and don't see.

When I see you with my eyes open: beneath the make-up you refuse to ever take off, or the boob job that really is too big for your body, you are pretty. However, what I find pretty isn't what you think and it's not your cranium size. I like that your right eye is slightly lower than your left, your nose is slightly off center and you have the cutest chipmunk cheeks. As it's these things that make you unique.

When I see you with my eyes closed, despite your excessive bitchiness, it's cool that: you're willing to help your brother by letting him use your car, you really aren't all that high maintenence, we've read a lot of the same books and use the same catch phrases, that you actually have a great sense of humor, and probably the main reason I'm sending this email despite your bitchiness is that I just like the sound of your voice.

ok bye.

PS. I also find it very wierd/interesting that you've read and probably memorized "The elements of style" so forgive my grammatical errors.
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You met me ONCE. God, you're so deep. You totally unearthed this side of me no other guy has every acknowledged. Most guys only like me for my stunning good looks – I mean, according to you I look like I got hit in the face with a shovel, yet you see me for more than my appearance… hummmm… I suppose I can deduce that men like shovel faces? Just a little tip: describing a girl as Quasimodo is NOT going to win her back.

Furthermore, I do take my make-up off; I take it off when I sleep... which you will NEVER experience. Ass. Thank god too, because I tried to cop a feel when you hugged me goodnight, and ummm NOTHING. That would make sense though. You have small carnie hands; small like cabbage. Lastly, here is some more "excessive bitchiness" for you: I am NOT interested in you.... and I think my Daddy really does know best, especially when he said:


"The guy brings people near death for a living. He doesn't know where you live, does he? Do not go out with him again... he's going to *injection motion into my neck* BAM, and you're dead."
-Pops
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So, just to be fair and to show you I can be a lunatic as well, I thought I would draft a little response to you. Here is my mirrored letter, to you, my sweetheart:

I too think it's funny what people see and don't see.

When I see you with my eyes open: beneath the dork squad glasses you refuse to ever take off because you’re convinced they make you look smart, or little paws of hands that are really too small for your body, you still really are rather unattractive. However, what I find unattractive isn't what you think and it's not your diminutive stature, small hands, geeky glasses, or even your poor sense of style. I hate that you’re a condescending twit who denigrates U of M because you couldn’t get in… I hate that you call my phone incessantly and leave me creepy voicemails about missing me, and I hate that you think you’re worthy enough to be referred to as my “boyfriend.” I also hate how you think you know me after spending only a few hours with me. You’re not as clever as you think you are; you said things would end well between us. I really hope you realize what a waste of space you are one day and *BAM* inject yourself with a lethal dose of tubocurarine chloride. In no way are you unique; you are just another deluded Herman Webster Mudgett wannabe (the first documented serial killer, who happened to be a doctor). Perhaps you too will be expelled for stealing cadavers?

When I see you with my eyes closed, despite your excessive pyschoness, it's cool that: I can simply unfriend you on facebook, block your calls, and respond to you in this public forum. “Skill-set” is NOT a “catch phrase.” Many people use it; you should have no trouble finding someone else to stalk.

Just so you know, the main reason I'm posting this note despite your obsessiveness is that I did not want have to speak to you via phone, because I abhor the sound of your voice.

ok fuck off.

PS. I also find it very weird/interesting that you’re supposed to be smart, but you can’t take fucking hint.