Scary Wacko Guy

There are some pretty scary guys out there in Single Land.

I have a sort of philosophy statement on my online dating profile that states my aversion to getting or giving thanks-but-no-thanks rejection messages on the site, as I explored in some detail in an earlier post, "Get a Pair." I mean, if you get an email from someone you've never met and you're not interested, it should be perfectly acceptable to just not respond. To reply to everyone, or to expect it, is pretty unrealistic, and if you're that sensitive you probably need at least a few more months of therapy before participating in online dating.

Apparently, Scary Wacko Guy doesn't think so. Scary Wacko Guy believes that sending a message on a dating site to someone you don't know is similar to (I'm paraphrasing) making a meal that has been "lovingly prepared," and that "expressions of love should be acknowledged."

Excuse me, expressions of love? We've never met. Definite stalker potential there. And as far as emailing a stranger being similar to "making a meal that has been lovingly prepared," I'd say that a more accurate food-related comparison would be leaving a muffin in a Dunkin' Donuts bag sitting on a table.

I also received an email from someone who mentions in his profile that he's looking for someone who "wants to spend every minute she's not at work" with him. Apparently he actually wants a clingly, wacko stalker girl.

Good luck with that.

My Online Dating Saga - "Horny yet Intellectual"

One guy described himself in his profile as "crazily oversexed...with the highest intellectual standards."

Most of us (women) understand that one of these two things does not necessarily preclude the other. I found it amusing that Horny Intellectual Guy was compelled to add the "intellectual standards" part to maximize the possibility that the women reading it would say to themselves, "Ah, he cares about my MIND, too - he's the perfect man!!" Or perhaps, taken literally, it means discussing existentialism between thrusts.

I suppose the "crazily oversexed" part is meant to pique our curiosity. How, one wonders, would "oversexed" actually be defined? If "oversexed" implies the desire (and, we'd have to assume, the ability) to do it more than, say, three times a day, then might "crazily oversexed" refer to three times an hour? Of course, it could refer to content, rather than quantity - maybe only once a day, but involving Saran Wrap, a Barbie doll and a toy giraffe. One can only speculate....

My Online Dating Saga - "Nipple What?"

I got a message from a guy with the profile name "Nipple Bender." My curiosity got the better of me, and I peeked at his profile. Yes, he meant it literally.

I can't help but ponder the logistics of this procedure. Bending? Not tweaking? I get tweaking, but bending actually implies that said nipples have more flexible capabilities than one would normally assume. In fact, nipple contortionist would be a more accurate description. I've heard of people who can bend their pinkie finger back over their wrist. Perhaps it's a similar phenomenon.

Of course, in terms of the human body, since the elasticity of pretty much everything is adversely proportional to age, the nipples of a mature woman may in fact bend more easily. Regrettably, however, the same could not be said for their ability to spring back to their original location. Therein lies the paradox.

Would, then, the poor woman's nipples be forever askew, pointed in opposite directions? Or, even more disturbingly, in the same direction, both pointing to the left or to the right, like those flares on airport runways that lead the planes safely to the gate? Hmmm....

My Online Dating Saga - Sexually Ambiguous Guy

We were to meet in a bar. When he stood up from his barstool and walked toward me, I thought, Gay. We moved to a couch, and he casually draped his arm around the back, behind my shoulders. I thought, Not gay.

We chatted for awhile. The conversation turned to movies, and he said one of his favorites was "Kiss of the Spider Woman," and that, in one particular scene, he admired Raul Julia's shirt. I thought, Gay. He added how sensuous Sonia Braga was in the film. I thought, Not Gay.

He excused himself to visit the men's room. I watched him walk away and thought, Gay. When he came back, he sat very close to me and touched my knee. I thought, Not Gay.

This mental vacillation went on for awhile longer, and then he drove me home. By the time he kissed me, I decided that even if he wasn't confused, I wasn't attracted to a man whose sexuality was so enigmatic.

My Online Dating Saga - Mr. Clusterf*ck

I've never been particularly good at multitask dating myself. Not that I wouldn't message more than one person at a time, or arrange to meet more than one guy a week, but two at a time is my limit (probably not in the same night). The difference between me and the guy who pretty much stood me up twice - let's call him Mr. Clusterf*ck - is that I am aware of my limitations, and would not attempt to juggle so many potential dates simultaneously as to end up dropping balls.

Mr. Clusterf*ck apparently has no such self-awareness. We had plans to meet several months ago, at a place that necessitated my waiting for a bus in the rain, and he didn't show. After I had blow-dried my socks, I sent him a message to the effect that if he had been run over by an SUV or held hostage at gunpoint by a recent Harvard grad overwhelmed by student loan payments, he had my sympathies, but if that wasn't the case then he was incredibly rude.

I didn't get a response for several days, which wasn't particularly a surprise, but then he sent me a message telling me that he had a family emergency out of town and, amazingly enough, his computer was simultaneously malfunctioning. All that was missing were a dying grandmother, a broken-down car and a rabid dog.

I thought that was that until he called me on my cell, at a time when I was unable to talk. I called him back and left a message. Never heard back. Right after that his profile, the third he'd had in the few months since I'd joined, was deleted. Hmmm.

Last week, Mr. Clusterf*ck popped up again, sending me a message that he seemed to remember he owed me a beer. Ya think? Anyway, by this time I was kind of curious as to what the hell this guy was really like in person, and thought I'd give him the benefit of the doubt. I agreed to meet him. He suggested a day he was free. I sent him a message suggesting a specific time and place, and of course, I didn't hear back.

That is, until I checked my cell and found a message from him asking him to verify a time and place we hadn't discussed, on the day BEFORE we were supposed to tentatively meet. Apparently, he had confused me with someone else.

Good luck to her.

My Online Dating Saga - More Prize-Winners

Occasionally, among the banal, I come across some genuinely funny and original stuff. Here is some more of the most notable:

"I love dogs, cats and children - they taste just like chicken."

One of the first things people notice about me: "My remarkable likeness to my picture at the post office."

"I am a practitioner of Karma Sutra II...." (otherwise known as Tantric Sex, the Sequel - I heard it was better than Rambo II)

"Let us form an orderly line, preferably three wide - blonds left, redheads center, brunettes right, and all others can simply intermingle."

"I am the meat-puppet of the God flute of the universe." Huh?

My Online Dating Saga - and the winner is...

In my online dating travels, I've come across a few answers to profile questions that deserve recognition.

The best answer to the question, "What is the Most Private Thing You're Willing to Admit Here?" is, hands-down, "I paid $2000 for a photo of Mr. Rogers beating a nun to death on a pile of dead puppies." Now that's a guy I want to meet....

First runner-up: "I was once molested by a covey of Catholic Nuns" (the nun theme seems to be a popular one).

Second runner-up: "I do it alone on a regular basis."

Winner of the Mr. Subtle Award for the answer to the question, "What are 6 Things You Couldn't Do Without?": "Sex, Sex, Sex, Sex, Sex, and a blow job."

The winner of the In-Your-Face Award is for the profile name, "Biggest Cock Ever" and the accompanying instruction to "click the pink link in my profile."

My Online Dating Saga - on the nose

There is a phrase screenwriters are familiar with called "on the nose." This does not refer to an unfortunately placed wart, but rather dialogue that states the obvious in a manner that generally makes the audience wince with its lack of subtlety. The following are excerpts from profiles that are, clearly, not written by screenwriters.

"...I am looking for a nice woman with a nice rack..." "I have an insatiable appetite..." "...in case you were wondering, I am 'well-endowed' and regularly use 'Extends' (excuse me, but isn't that statement a contradiction??)..." "If you are a woman seeking great loving and absolute discretion, I'm your man...I like single, divorced, widowed, engaged, or married, and can swing if required...." "The first thing people usually notice about me is my enormous penis or my sense of humor, whichever cums first (okay, that one is at least somewhat clever)."

One message I received in my inbox contained a photo that, at first glance, looked like the head of a penis. When I investigated further (of course I did, what do you think??), it turned out to be, in fact, his nose.

My Online Dating Saga - Kevin, is that you???

Here's a weird one. A guy's profile came up in my matches whose photo was a dead ringer for Kevin Spacey. Not as in he just looked like Kevin Spacey. This actually appeared to be Kevin Spacey's photo on this guy's profile. Could anyone really look that much like him, I wondered? And if not, why would someone put his photo up on their profile? I mean, Kevin Spacey is attractive and a wonderful actor, but if you're going to put an actor's pic up on your profile, why not, say, Brad Pitt?

And if you were doing it as a joke, wouldn't it be funnier to use someone like Woody Allen, or Weird Al Yankovic, or maybe Howard Stern? Why Kevin Spacey?

I had to find out. I emailed the guy and asked if he could be Kevin Spacey's identical twin brother or if that was, in fact, Kevin Spacey's pic on his profile and did he just put it up there to see if anyone noticed?

Since the guy identified himself as bisexual and I wasn't comfortable with dating a bi guy (when you've had the inevitable single-woman misfortune of falling in love with a gay male friend, you get a bit gun-shy about this), I decided to be upfront about that, not wishing to give the wrong impression as to why I emailed him. Big mistake.

Pseudo-Kevin sent a scathing email back, clearly having taken offense at my query. I didn't mind the insult, the nature of which was rather absurd (he pretty much referred to me as fat, which at size 8 could possibly be true in the Bizarro World, but not anywhere else) as much as I minded the fact that he didn't answer the question. I guess Kevin Spacey's face will continue to float in the online dating dimension, forever a mystery.

My Online Dating Saga - Boy Toy Time?

In the spirit of being open to whatever romantic adventures might come my way, no matter how potentially embarrassing, I decided to actually meet in person one of those 28-year-old guys with possible Oedipal issues who often send me sweetly suggestive messages. I won't be doing that again.

The lack of mutual interest was obvious from the first three seconds, but we both had to play nice and chat for a brief period before politely escaping. On his part, he was probably paying too much attention to my boobs to really look at my face in the photos, so seeing me in person was probably a bit of a shock for the poor kid.

As for my lack of interest, it was due to the fact that the guy talked in a complete monotone, like Steven Wright without the comedy. For half an hour of conversation. No vocal inflection whatsoever. I suspect meds were involved.

I couldn't help but flash back to another half-hour date, with a guy who stared at the bartender while slinging back shots of bourbon, his nose dripping down his face the entire time. Just when I was about to offer him a Kleenex, he wiped his nose with his hand.

Maybe the next one will be better....

My Online Dating Saga - Oh Please, Let it Not Be Him

Somehow there seems to be a disconnect between what the person looks like in their photo(s) and what they look like 3-dimensionally. When there's more than one photo, the chances are greater that you won't be too surprised when you meet them in person, but there's still no guarantee that the reality won't be at best disappointing and at worst horrifying.

Several times, I entered the coffee shop where I was to meet a quasi-blind date, looked around, saw someone sitting by himself and thought, "Oh God, I hope that's not him" - and, of course, it was. One particular guy, who seemed very attractive in his photo, in person appeared mentally challenged. In fact, when I saw him, I thought to myself, "That can't possibly be him, because that guy is mentally challenged." Of course, he wasn't actually mentally challenged, nor did the illusion manifest itself in any way other than visually, but nevertheless a mentally challenged appearance is not, in a general sense, sexually appealing.

Of course, a mentally challenged appearance is better than getting a response to my message and discovering that the guy is, in fact, actually mentally challenged. Apparently he had considerable assistance in writing the profile. I mistakenly thought the goofy expression in his photo was his attempt at being amusing. I realized it wasn't when he responded with a childishly worded statement that his favorite T.V. show was "Flipper."

Then there was the guy who looked like an anorexic teenaged girl, without an ounce of testosterone in sight. Not much more you can say about that. And the one who wasn't bad-looking in person, but seemed to have a creepy quality I couldn't quite put my finger on, and the entire time we were chatting I couldn't help thinking, "Serial killer." When he left, I watched him disappear into the night, possibly to find his next victim....

My Online Dating Saga - He Must be Someone's Type

I try not to categorize humans, but when you've been doing the online dating thing for awhile, men's profiles do occasionally seem to settle into distinct types.

There's Arrested-Development Guy, who's an avid comic book collector and is looking for a woman to "teach him the magic." A.D. Guy has apparently either gotten bad advice from his fellow A.D. friends or has, all by himself, decided that to elicit responses he must include as many blatant references to his anatomy as possible, such as his "large crotch bulge" and allusions to the multitude of tissues he goes through on a daily basis.

Then there's Maniacally Optimistic Guy, whose exuberance overflows the profile page. He can't contain his enthusiastic expression of how fabulous his life and the lives of everyone in the entire world is, or could be, if they only saw all the incredible and delectable morsels of bounty the universe has to offer. Is anyone really THAT happy? And if so, could any of the rest of us cynical optimists actually stand to be around them?

M.O. Guy actually has some traits in common with Cliche Guy, who uses such platitudes as "I love to laugh." Come on. How about, "I hate to laugh. Laughing makes my balls explode." Or "I'm a "glass-is-half-full kinda guy." Full of what? Does that mean you're an alcoholic?

My Online Dating Saga - and speaking of full disclosure...

...there was the guy who confessed in his profile that he was a recovering drug addict who had robbed a bank and spent 4 years in prison, and been divorced several times. I think he was going for the world record for how many red flags one guy could wave. He also appeared to be addicted to exclamation points, as he used them at the end (and occasionally the middle) of every sentence. Although you gotta give the guy credit for honesty, I'll be moving on, thanks.

I wonder how many responses he got. After all, Ted Bundy (serial killer of young women, in case you're not familiar) had women proposing to him in letters they sent to him on death row. Maybe Prison Guy has the right idea....

My Online Dating Saga - Freak Me Out

My scariest date was with a guy with whom I shared something pretty rare in my online dating experience - mutual chemistry. We met for coffee and seemed to really be connecting. As I was reluctant to suggest dinner at a restaurant because my budget was tight that week, we ended up back at my place for some leftovers.

I heard him make a phone call when I was in the kitchen, but didn't think much of it, until we were making out a bit in the living room. Apparently wanting to lay it all out there, he stopped kissing my neck to tell me that the call he made was to his parole officer. He then proceeded to tell me that he'd just spent a year and a half in prison because he'd tried to strangle his girlfriend. He didn't actually say the words, "I tried to strangle my girlfriend," but that was the inevitable interpretation of a lot of hemming and hawing about a volatile relationship, a fight, and his hands somehow ending up around her neck.

He hastened to assure me that he had had anger management training and that he understood if I wanted to think about whether or not I wanted to see him again. He was sweet about it, actually, and I didn't feel at all threatened by him, but nevertheless I politely saw him out and, I admit, locked the door a bit more hastily than usual.

My Online Dating Saga - Get a Pair

Okay, if you haven't actually met someone in person, what level of communication do you owe them? If someone isn't interested, I'd much prefer a lack of response than a rejection letter. I once received an irate email declaring me a bitch because I didn't respond to the guy's initial email. Of course, he was clearly over the edge of the sanity line, but it got me thinking about this whole response issue. If someone emails you and you aren't interested, it's my understanding that it's perfectly acceptable and expected to just not respond. No response is the response. Otherwise, you have to send a canned thanks-but-no-thanks to everyone who messages you. So either you have to lie and say you met someone, or it doesn't look like you have much in common, which may be so obviously not true that the person knows you're lying. The only other option would play like the film, "The Invention of Lying." How would that go? "Thanks for your kind email, but even though we seem to have much in common I find you physically repulsive." "Thanks for your message, but you remind me of my dead grandfather." "You seem intelligent and funny, but I can't imagine ever even thinking about wanting to having sex with you." Usually we wouldn't want to know the reason why someone isn't interested in us; it falls under the "some things are better left unsaid" category. Just chalk it up to personal preference and move on. Come on, now. Be a big boy.

One guy actually said he felt "abused" because I didn't respond to his email. I was tempted to subsequently respond to Mr. Sensitive by suggesting that perhaps he should consider continuing his therapy for awhile longer before attempting online dating, but I figured that, if no response at all made him feel abused, this response could put him over the edge. Of course, then it would prove my point that no response is often better than a truthful one. Still, I wouldn't want to be the one responsible for his breakdown....

DO MEN HAVE MORE PHLEGM?

I'm fascinated by the habits of men. Why is it that they're compelled to expel their phlegm in public places? Do they have an excess of fluid above the waist? Perhaps they're marking their territory. And why do men grab their genitalia in the middle of a conversation? Do they need to reassure themselves the equipment's still there? Maybe it's a power thing. I wonder what a man would think if I grabbed my crotch while chatting. Women usually acknowledge our power in more subtle ways, though a woman with her hand between her legs would indeed be a force to be reckoned with.

Men have a tendency to sprawl. You're sitting on a train next to a man, he spreads out all over the place while you're squeezed into the corner. Hence the term, "spreading his seed" (imagine explaining that one – "It wasn't sex, it was the subway!"). Maybe because men come with three attachments, they need more space.

Men have to pretend to have big egos even if they don't. They might be as self-conscious as a redneck at a Maya Angelou poetry reading, but they have to act like they think they're hot stuff. Especially in a bar. "She's looking at me. "No, she's looking at me." "She thinks I'm hot." What she's really thinking is, "I wish those two assholes over there would quit staring at me."
Colors are simpler for men. Their wife or girlfriend might say, "Honey, should we go with the mint green or the chartreuse drapes?" His response is, "Yeah, green's good." A lot of men have selective vision. They can see a tiny ball a quarter mile away under a layer of dirt, but they can't see a pile of clothes in the middle of the floor.

Men tend to be more visual, while women analyze and verbalize. Men don't seem to need closure. We need to say stuff at the end of a relationship. "Well, I guess it's better this way, since you don't like camping. I also didn't feel comfortable making a serious commitment to a perpetual adolescent who wears seersucker. I wish you the best, and I hope you have a good life. Maybe someday we can be friends." To which the man responds,"Yeah, bye." A man gives a woman a look, and she tries to figure out what it means, what he's thinking, and what's behind it, when what he's thinking is, "Wow, nice boobs."

Women say I love you by saying, "I love and adore you more than anything in the world." Men say I love you by cleaning the bathroom. Many communication issues can be resolved when a woman understands that she's rejecting a man's attempt to express his feelings when she complains, "Honey, why did you move my tampons?!"

Men and women handle the beginning and end of relationships differently. The beginning of a relationship for women is like wading in cold water. We inch our way in, and when we've reached crotch level we're committed to getting wet. Men plunge in, flop around on their bellies like spastic fish, run back to shore for awhile, decide to go for it and dive back in headfirst.

Men grieve differently than women when a relationship ends. They stagger around in a bathrobe, haggard and unshaven, with pizza stains on their beard stubble and beer cans piling up in the corner. This goes on for a couple of weeks, then they sleep with somebody, and they're over it.

Or so they think. In reality they're a blight on womankind. Believing they've tossed their emotional baggage out the window, they're oblivious to the fact that it's landed on some unsuspecting woman's head. Eventually they emerge, relieved everything still works. Women will go about our business as usual, squashing our feelings until we explode in a psycho-superwoman episode. We may build a bonfire with his discarded toiletry items. We may dye our hair blue. We may run for President. We may remain celibate for months, maybe years, afterward. We may even contemplate what life in a convent might be like. Then we say the hell with it, screw somebody's brains out, buy a douche and put it in his medicine cabinet, and we're healed.