Still On the Apps. Still.

Well, hello, strangers! It has been for EVER! I haven’t blogged since I opened the bar. I’ve been way WAY too busy! But not too busy to waste time with dating apps. I mean, I need something to distract myself from the abject terror of being a first-time business owner!

In the last six (seven? eight?) months, I’ve been on many dates, some of which weren’t terrible. I’ve also fallen in love and gotten subsequently dumped via text. I’ll save that for another post. Nope. Today’s post is of the two most recent horror shows I’ve encountered. There is a dick pic coming (not “cumming,” just about to show up…heh) so consider yourselves warned. (Especially you, Heather!)

I’ll start with today’s hilarity. I saw this guy’s photo on Tinder and swiped right just to troll him. The BDSM get-up was enough for me to know he was a most definite NO but, well, I’m feeling pretty cranky today. And I took that out on this guy. So sue me.

Check out the first few lines of his profile. He’s a believer. Haha! It also said something about “women who make first contact go to the head of the line.” I’m just gonna post the screenshots of our back and forth because our dialogue speaks for itself. (Oy vey. Is that mixing metaphors?)

That was my cue to say “Goodbye!” and UNMATCH!

My other recent paramour was another Tinder sweetheart. His profile said “Let’s meet and see if we’re attracted to each other,” so I wrote, “Let’s meet! And see if we ARE attracted to each other!” He responded: “Aren’t we already?” Ah, men. Don’t they grasp that women need a bit more than a photo? I typed back, “I need to smell you” (or something to that effect). But before he even had a second to read that he zapped this back at me:

SWEET JEEZUS! I CANNOT UNSEE THAT! There is SO MUCH wrong with this photo. Who took it? Where was it taken? Why is he naked and erect? He’s looking a little sunburned so I’m thinking maybe Hedonism. Unless it’s someone’s back yard. Blech. Those tiny little shaved balls make me WANT. TO. PUKE! I don’t wanna see your dick unless I wanna see your dick! Men, take note: JUST. DON’T.

Tinder…But No Sparks

So in between all the bar stuff I’ve been doing, I’ve still been dating. I’m no longer using OKCupid. I’ve moved on to Tinder. I was hoping that it would offer more immediacy but, well, New Yorkers are busy people. Instead of instant gratification, which is how its gay predecessor worked (hot guy nearby, click, match, blowjob!), it seems to be the same as all the dating sites: much back-and-forth and multiple opportunities for misunderstandings and miscommunications. The most irritating aspect of this app is that people can disappear. Or in the current vernacular, “ghost.” You can be having a conversation one minute and then, moments later, the “match” can be gone, with no record of your having ever communicated. But that’s also a bonus; if someone is offensive or rude, all it takes is a quick “unmatch” and, poof, they’re gone. Even more odd, they can show up again in your match pool. You’d think the algorithm would know you’d already unmatched the person. Sigh. Technology.

Many of the men live in random suburbs, having married and moved away to raise their kids. Now they find themselves living in crappy apartments and making an unnecessary commute from nowheresville. I’ve enjoyed just about everyone I’ve met yet no one has managed to inspire my dormant libido. A few have been outright crazies, as this gentleman below. All typos and weird returns as originally communicated:

You have no idea.

I suppose I don’t.

Detest texting. 213-269-XXXX. My abmition as of this morning is to fuck a girl who might vote for Trump – that isn’t you but happy to have a drink. 213-268-XXX (213 is correct)

Does that mean I’m supposed to call you? I don’t want to disturb your Trump-voter-fucking. (He clicked on the little green heart to indicate that he “liked” that response, I suppose.)

If I can change one vote w
If I can change one vote…ready to sacrifice myself for country.
I’m ready to sacrifice myself for my country.

I’ll be in the downstairs party room of Jimmy’s BBQ tonight after 6 if you’re free.
Union Square, 16th Street.

If I can make it I will. I’ll look for you.

Are you able to make it tonight?
(Five hours later…) Guess not. Hope you found your Trumpet!

Hey Girl – bad day and Sorry. Feel flimsy no such hero ankle deep sewage of turkey life. Insurance co. refuses to reimburse -vet to supply right Cert. – landlord to leave me
In peace – asst to show up – daughter to get out of bed. And now being praised for fucking Trumpets on Weds before dark? I’m sort of embarrassed. taken for my better so ill hush and wait for Hillary say she killed Vincent foster so Bernie can save us.Ttake a rain check? Id really like that.
Joe

What does that even mean?

Which part? Though I like the “even.”
References to torpid days – and to surviving scandal. As innocent as O J? Sure. All forgotten? Of course.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. The days are not yet torpid.

My day the other day was like that – not the weather. I was looking for a stranger to console me.

I think it’s time to “unmatch” ol’ Joe here!

The best date was with the Colbert stagehand dude (waves hello) who invited me to see Iggy Pop. I think I already wrote about that, didn’t I? Anyway, we had two subsequent dates that I thought were fairly successful (though the second one involved my Manbun Meltdown). I just wish he lived closer. It’s tough to meet up after he finishes work at 8:30 when he has to take a train back to Connecticut. If he were local I think we might be seeing more of each other. I’ve invited him to join me for Brides of March. So we’ll see. I have a feeling that once the bar is up and running, I won’t have the time (or patience) for dating apps. Thank heavens. And who knows? Maybe I’ll meet someone in the real brick-and-mortar world. Er, bar!

Rant from Richmond, VA

I’ve been a bit distracted, trying to get papers signed and the bar bought. Or at least semi-owned. It’s an extremely long, stressful, expensive, red-tape-laden process. Mired as I am, I haven’t had the time or inclination to blog. Laura, one of my devoted readers (and commenters), took it upon herself to make a plea: “Surely youre not going to let unsolicited comments deter you from further writing (or your own added comments)?”

Actually, Laura, nothing could possibly deter me from further writing, most especially not the senseless rantings of an anonymous troll. As one of my faithful followers, you should know that I don’t usually blog every day. With the exception of Yes-Vember!, which was a challenge I gave myself to write once a day, I’m lucky if I get something up once or twice a week. It’s been, hmm, less than a week now since the big Man Bun Meltdown post. So have no fear, I shall blog again. It just won’t be today. Because, dear friends — and trolls — the great interwebz has provided me with something even better: someone else’s hilarious rant. My friend Corinne posted this link to my timeline and I was weeping while reading it. No, it wasn’t me on this date (the post was from the Richmond, VA Craigslist “Missed Connections”), but man, it sure could’ve been. I’m passing it along because, not only is it laugh-out-loud funny, it is true. It’s true about so many men. And here’s proof that I’m not the only one on dates with these losers! Nor am I the only woman disgusted by these pathetic men. I wish I could meet the author of this gem:

To the guy on the Tinder date Tues night.. – w4m (Boulevard Burgers and Brews) 

Hi. You were on a date. Clearly a first date. And definitely from a dating website, based on some things that were said. 

Obviously, we both know the date didn’t go well. But it could have. You could have gotten laid. She wanted to like you. Sadly, you shit the bed in seemingly every way possible. Even though you’re a helpless loser, and giant blowhard douchebag, I’m gonna try to critique your lackluster performance, to hopefully help you refrain from making the same socially retarded mistakes. Not so much to help you ( that would be futile, as you’re helpless and probably wouldn’t know a vagina from a flesh wound), but so hopefully you don’t waste another poor girl’s time and embarrass the shit out of her in a public place, like you did on this fateful eve. 

Here is a list of ways you screwed the pooch, like a monkey fucking a football, and ways to try to avoid future bedshitting:

1. First, don’t talk so goddamn loud, so assholes like me, and everyone in the restaurant, can hear every moronic thing that comes out of your mouth. That’s how you get called out on the Internet like this. 

2. If you’re gonna whine like a little bitch, try waiting at least 5 minutes into the first date. And if you ever want to see what of a vagina looks like in person, and especially if you want to feel what it’s like to be inside of one, I highly recommend not whining at all.. but especially not about the decision a girl makes in an attempt to be accomodating. It’s fucking shitty. And rude. I don’t know if you noticed, but there were no empty seats anywhere… she offered to let you take the last seat at the bar, and she would stand until something else opened up. Instead of being a man and saying “no, you sit.. I’ll stand until something becomes available.”, like someone with at least an average sized penis would say.. you had to profess your childish displeasure and say, like the whitest of white people, “well, this is the most awkward situation in human history.” But actually, no, fuckwad… the most awkward situation would be to have not done what she had said and just stand hovering around waiting for a table or seat to open up and lean over pepole for drinks.. which is the only alternative to her plan, which you so openly and obnoxiously shat upon.. 

3. The next part is hard to put into words.. Due to the futility of trying to teach you how to talk to women, because you’ll clearly never be able to do that no matter what anyone says, I’m gonna try to express this in such a way that hits home. Because your only hope of passing on your shitty, sloppy, ogre-like genetics, is to do the complete opposite of what you did. So.. if the things you said during the first ten minutes of the date were what you think you should say to impress women… then next time you try to talk to a woman, think about what you should say… and then say the complete fucking opposite shit. Or better yet, shut your dumbass mouth and let her get a word in edgewise. Ask her about her interests. Anything other than the 15 minute rant you went on, that was littered with douchey, transparent, false-confidence, thinly veiled by self-loving self-compliments and compulsive lies.. it was the most pathetic display of self-aggrandization I’ve ever witnessed. By far. So much of what you said was clearly bullshit.. the rest may not have been.. but was definitely unnecessary. And the way you incoherently strung it all together.. it was blatantly obvious you were trying to make yourself sound interesting and cool. But instead, you came across as a pompous, jackass, know-it-all, blowhard who thinks he is way cooler than he is.. the amazing part, is that through this entire diatriblical monolog, she listened. She still gave you a chance. She still wanted to like you. But before I move on to how you eventually totally fumbled your opportunity to lose your 30+ year virginity, I’d like to dig into a couple things you said that really struck a nerve. Now.. keep in mind.. I didn’t listen to all of your horseshit. I had to order drinks and food and make conversation of my own. I’m sure I missed some real doozies.. but I’m gonna just dig into a few that stood out. 

A. “I like to be on the frontier.. in the wilderness.. places mankind doesn’t usually go..” 
Yeah.. we get it.. you’re a “man of adventure”. But you sound more like you’re misquoting the beginning of a Star Trek episode. Don’t lie.. you’re a fucking Trekky. If there was a movie about Trekkies.. you’d be cast as the lead role. Because you’re the quintessential geeky white guy who has a Leonard Nemoy poster above his bed.

B. “I once led my family on a 20 mile hike through Vienna.. I was 12 years old. It just goes to show how strong of a person I am. And my thirst for adventure..”
Geezus,bro… The Vienna part is fine.. being 12… whatever..even though anyone with half a brain, excluding you, knows that your family wasn’t following a 12 year old through the mountains of Austria. Someone else knew where the fuck you were going. But yeah… I’m sure they let you walk in the front.. nice job kiddo.. but anyway… the issue is with your assertion that it shows how strong you are.. I mean.. what? Who fucking says that? What kind of socially awkward asshole says that about themself? It was unreal. I couldn’t believe you said that dumb shit. “It just goes to show how strong of a person I am”? What exactly were you trying to accomplish with that? Who were you trying to convince? Because you’re definitely not strong.. first of all.. you carry yourself like a huge, out of shape, pussy.. but also.. strong people don’t talk about how strong they are. They just prove it through actions. And by not acting like a bitch. You did neither of those, nor are you likely capable.

C. “I’m a highly intelligent person.” 
Ummm… no you’re not. Because even a half-wit could have, at minimum gotten a second date with that girl. You weren’t even intelligent enough to shut the fuck up. 

D. “I was living like a King at Virginia Tech…” 
What the fuck does that even mean? What a load of horseshit. Don’t pretend like you’ve ever meant anything to anyone. You certainly never had any meaningful friends. Not only do I know that because you’re such a self-centered blowhard that no one would ever want to spend more than 5 minutes around you, but also, if you did, they would have told you to tone down your obnoxious horsefuck and taught you how to talk to people outside of Comic-cons and Star Trek conventions. But they didn’t. Because they never existed. And if you meant “living like a king” meaning “getting laid”, which is what it seemed you were implying.. well.. that’s a fucking joke. That’s never happened. Ever. At least not by someone who consciously gave consent. 

E. “At the time I was 6% body fat”. 
Ha! Lies. No you fucking weren’t. You’ve never ever been 6% body fat. Ever. Or even 16%. Ever. You don’t have the frame for it. And your posture says you’ve been a fat turd since you were a little Cheetoh-eating chubby kid. Between your neck fat, sausage fingers, and overall body type… I can safely say that if you’ve ever been 6% body fat, I’d suck your microdick, live on TV during the Super Bowl halftime show. That’s how confident I am that you are full of shit. But I wouldn’t have to. Because that’s a lie. And it’s the dumbest lie ever. Look, dude.. you’re clearly not 6% body fat now.. and your date has never been either… in fact.. she’s a decent sized girl, and probably doesn’t want to think about body fat. She’s probably self-conscious about her weight, and probably doesn’t want to hear some fat guy try to impress her by talking about some fairy tale about how he used to look like an Olympic swimmer. It may have been the dumbest thing you said. Oh wait… no it wasn’t. 

4. Try not to flirt with the hot-as-fuck bartender while on a date. I know… it’s tough.. she was clearly into you.. the way she half-assed answered your stupid questions.. the way she walked away mid sentence.. yeah.. you totally got it bro.. you should probably go back and tell her how fucking cool you are. You’ll have your balls on her chin in no time… but seriously… for fuck’s sake.. don’t do that. Not only because the bartender is so far out of your league, you shouldn’t even be allowed to address her directly, but because it alienates your date. That’s really where you lost her. All you did was talk about your shitty self to her.. but then you start asking the bartender questions.. and calling her pet names and shit. Gross, dude.. wtf… get a grip. Meanwhile the only vagina on earth you had a chance with is staring off into space and rapidly losing interest by the second. I could literally see it in her eyes. A similar sort of disgust as in the eyes of the bartender for having to talk to your creepy, socially inept, self.

5. This is really where the train went off the rails… again… it’s so complex, it’s hard to express in words.. but your know-it-all blowhard mentality really bit you in your 60%bodyfat ass on this one, genius.. Sports.. you started talking about sports. Your problem was.. like everything else you talked about… you talked as though you were an expert. A fucking knowledgeable beacon of information. Sports.. I mean.. any dickwad can look at you and see that you’ve never so much as picked up a ball of any variety in your entire, uncoordinated-ass life. But I’ll be damned if you didn’t talk like you did. So.. first it was football.. you obviously went to VA Tech. Well.. she mentioned some other college football team.. now.. normally a real man could have been playful with it and made.. *gasp*… conversation. But no. Being the little bitch that you are, you had to get all defensive and basically try to talk down to her about how she doesn’t know football.. “Ugh.. are you serious? They never beat VA Tech.. the only teams that beat Tech are SEC teams like Alabama.. ” First of all… that’s horseshit. VA Tech hasn’t been relevant in top 25 college football since like 2004 or some shit. But SEC teams aren’t the only teams that beat Tech. Tech didn’t even win their own conference. I knew right then you were out of your league.. but you said it with such conviction. You had her convinced you knew what you were talking about. Probably because of the way you talked down to her.

So then.. she says she likes college softball.. and for some reason, you decide to bully her about it. I still can’t figure out why. “I hate to burst your little bubble.. but no one gives a shit about softball. No one.” First of all… why does her bubble have to be little. What kind of demeaning shit is that? Second, why, for the love of god would you shit on her interests like that? It’s the first fucking thing you’ve allowed her to say about herself all night. And you shit all over it, like a pigeon on a park bench. Why? That’s really dumb. It’s as if you didn’t really want pussy. And it’s one thing if you didn’t like the girl.. you were actively trying to impress her. Mind-boggling stuff here.. 
So then it gets good.. then you show your ignorance and say that there isn’t even a world series of college baseball or softball.. and she’s like “umm.. yeah there is.” But you dig your heels in.. “no.. there isn’t.” At this point, she’s over your shit.. and frustratedly says.. “yes there is. And it comes on TV on ESPN.” Yet again you challenge her. “Do I have to Google this to prove you wrong.” Disgusted by your false hubris, she laughs.. “Go ahead..” (this is my favorite part) Now you know you’re probably wrong.. which you hate to admit.. so you get super defensive.. and say this unbelievable gem.. “Did you even read my profile? Anywhere in my profile did it say I’m a sports fan? I’m not.” 

Hahahahahahahahaha! What, dude!? “My profile”?! Wtf is that shit about? You’re gonna bring up your online dating profile as a justification for your ignorance about a subject on which you had JUST pretended to be an expert? Classic. Way to really hit it home, that you’re probably the biggest loser in the city of Richmond. You had just shit on her about Tech football… SEC teams… softball.. but now when called out about a lie you stated as fact, you’re gonna throw it in her face that she’s dumb because your online dating profile never mentioned being a sports fan? Just… wow. It was an amazing moment. She laughed at you. And rightfully so. Then she called you out for demeaning her.. and your response was “well.. you picked a great place to go. This restaurant is great.” She laughed again and grabbed her jacket.. Way to backtrack, idiot. Talk about too little, too late. You shit on this girl for a solid hour, and when she calls you out, you compliment the restaurant she chose, that employs the bartender you unsuccessfully hit on in front of her? Well played. 

I left at that point. But as I walked out, she had grabbed her jacket… before the food even came.. and was telling you how she was over your shit. I couldn’t imagine she stayed longer than 5 more minutes. I know damn well she never wants to see you again. But I hope you learn from this. Because she didn’t deserve that embarrassment. If you’re gonna somehow magically go on dates with women you fool via media messages, at least pretend to be man enough not to totally make an ass of both of you. It’s just the right thing to do. 

Good luck losing your virginity. You’re gonna fucking need it, pal.

Happy Almost End of the Year

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday, whatever you celebrated! I was in Paris with my family. Not as amazing as it sounds…since it was quite a bit of togetherness and absolutely zero time to myself. But…it was Paris! So it was beautiful. And unseasonably warm. And free!

Now that I’m back in NYC, I’m poised to sign the paperwork to buy the bar. Last night was the one-year fall-aversary that set this whole thing into motion. A few days into 2016 will be one year since he died. And the only bright spot is this bar. Because his death lit a fire under my ass that should’ve been blazing a long, long time ago.

Once things start moving, they’re gonna move quickly. At least I hope they do! I’ll be taking a bartending course. Yes, to learn how to make drinks that I will then refuse to make people. Guffaw. But also to better educate myself in general. I will continue to interview my bar owning and bar managing and bartending friends. And I will be decorating and buying and ordering and inventing. It is going to be grueling and scary and exciting and I can’t wait! It will also mean that I’ll be super busy, too busy to bother with online dating. I’ll probably keep my Tinder account because it’s silly. And can offer opportunities to invite people to the bar. But OKCupid? It’s gonna have to go. For posterity, I’m posting my current profile. It’s about as big a turn-off as it’s possible to be with an online profile. But, well, there ya have it.

So stay tuned for more news about the bar. And here is who I was on OKCupid:

NEW EDIT
Okay. I’m gonna try this one more time. As I’ve written below, chemistry is elusive. I am only interested in meeting in social situations. No dates. I’m over it. Small talk? Hate it. Dates are like job interviews. They’re boring. Do NOT mistake this as me being “fearful.” Far from it. The only thing I’m afraid of is being bored. I suppose you all think you’re riveting. Maybe you are. And IF you are, hanging out with me in a bar will only showcase your ability to intrigue. I go to a weekly happy hour where new people and out of towners are the usual. It happens in different bars (and different neighborhoods) every week. If the prospect of meeting a FEW new people, as well as me, sounds horrible to you, we probably wouldn’t be a good match. Perhaps you won’t find ME riveting. Then you’ll have a bunch of other people to meet who might be. If you have something similar to offer me, I would be super game! Anyway…now that I’ve alienated every man in America…read on if you’re the one who I haven’t offended…
END NEW EDITPlease be open to MEETING and the possibility of being FRIENDS. Finding that elusive “chemistry” is rare. But I can honestly say that every man I’ve “befriended” on this site now has a far more exciting and interesting life than he did before meeting me. If you don’t believe that, I’d be happy to connect you for an honest conversation. Who doesn’t want to expand their social circle? The chances of finding romance online aren’t the best. Meeting new people will always result in meeting MORE new people. Meaning, if you and I don’t “click” perhaps you might with a friend of mine. Or I will with a friend of yours. It’s a big world. If that sounds appealing to you, please read on!

A very close friend died this year and it has made me reevaluate. I am not desperate, just determined. If you can’t meet up within a week of us contacting each other, please don’t bother. Life is too fucking short. I’m tired of this site and I’ve never been a fan of dating.

So there you have it. Let’s meet, figure out if we want to fuck each other and take it from there, shall we? Seriously. That’s about all it boils down to.

It doesn’t matter a damn what music you like or what you read. You’ll be on your side of the bed reading what you read and I’ll be on my side of the bed reading what I read. I’ll listen to whatever the hell you want to listen to. Food? Whatever. It’s sustenance, not an art form. For me, anyway. Happy to consume your art form if that’s your thing. Happier to consume your thing. Haha!

Anyway, none of you read this shit. You look at the photo, think, “Yeah, I’d fuck that,” and you click. I wish it were as simple for women. It’s more simple when I’m less sober. So let’s see who responds to THIS version of my “profile.”

What I’m doing with my life

Apparently, online dating. Still. I do all sorts of things with my life, all of them interesting. I usually have a dozen projects in the works at any one time and make money doing a number of different things.

Oh. And three months a year I’m out in the Black Rock Desert working for
Burning Man. It’s a pretty great job!

I’m really good at

Writing. Costuming. Millinery – making hats, tiaras, crowns. Managing the Sign Shop out at that thing in the desert. Remembering all the lyrics. Event production. Graphic design. Listening. Cleaning. Brunching. Finding the bargains at the flea market. All kindsa stuff.

The first things people usually notice about me

My smile. And that I’m tall. People seem to like my hair. You tell me!

Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food

Books: Lots.
Movies: Old stuff? Clockwork Orange & It’s a Wonderful Life. New stuff? Ummmm…
Shows: like TV? I don’t have a regular TV anymore so I binge watch: Downton Abbey, Walking Dead, Breaking Bad.
Music: Shit you can sing along to. Mostly.
Food: Aw, stuff ‘n’ things…and Mexican food. And ice cream. I’ve never met a chocolate chip cookie I didn’t like…
Truly, this stuff is the kind of thing that’s fun to find out when you’re first getting to know someone. Don’t you like discovering?

The six things I could never do without

Hmmm, how to fill in this blank? Be clever? Literal? List more than six and be all, “Ooooh, I’m such a renegade!” I am often reaching for seltzer (lemon-lime) or my phone (Words with Friends…I’m an addict). My friends. My family. My health. Something to look forward to. (I’m not one to sit at home and wait for people to call me, so I’m always planning something.)

I spend a lot of time thinking about

whether or not online dating will ever work for me. I’m really a brick & mortar type person, who prefers to hear and smell and get a live, in person vibe. So if I’m insistent upon meeting in person (as opposed to volleying endless emails, talking on the phone or “chatting”) be patient with me. It’s just the way I’m wired.

On a typical Friday night I am

doing something fun! Going to a party, dinner with friends, having people over, making something. There’s nothing all that typical about my life, really. However, weekends are sort of amateur hour, especially in my ‘hood, so I tend to avoid the local bars and restaurants.

The most private thing I’m willing to admit

There’s nothing all that private. In fact, if you Googled me, you’d find just about everything.

You should message me if

You’re tired of being bored on dates, being single at your friends’ dinner parties, being alone on those nights when you don’t feel inspired to go out but would like some company…well, you get the picture. You just should! I’m an avid responder.

Back At It

In remembrance on World AIDS Day. Happy Giving Tuesday. Happy Wear a Dress Day. And Happy 60th Anniversary of Rosa Parks refusing to give up her bus seat. Oh. And RABBIT RABBIT!

Yes-Vember is over. I promise not to devolve into a downward spiral of depression. Because I am hard at work starting a bar business. Yes, that’s my next career. I should’ve done it 30 years ago; it would’ve saved me from being fired from all those jobs! But, well, those stars weren’t quite aligned. Now they are. So stay tuned. Until that happens, I will continue to regale you with my hilarious tales of online dating. I may also regale you with tales of putting together a bar business because I have a feeling that will be fairly riveting! And because it’s Giving Tuesday!

  
A Few of My Profile Photos

Over the past month, while I was being positive and full of sunshine and unicorns, the online dating world didn’t change a bit. Here are a few of the more appalling interactions I’ve had. Marianne can’t understand why I respond to these guys. I do it for you, my dear readers! In the name of entertainment! All are presented as written: typos, crappy punctuation and all:

From _Tonester_:, who sounds like a totally arrogant douche:
Wow, that profile is pretty fucking exceptional. What’s your story?
Thanks for the note but I’m Upstate indefinitely both caring for my ill sister and enjoying the quiet to write a complex screenplay.
Ok, well you might want to change your location so no one else bothers you!
Maybe it’s something I say just to get rid of people. /Blocked
Huh. Wow. Okay.

From AlmostTooMuch, an overly-muscular 32-year-old:
hello there
Hi.
how are you doing?
shy?
Shy? Hardly. Just not really interested in anyone so much younger.
is that a defense mechanism?
nervous about what you will tangle with?
Oh please. Spare me. I’ve tangled with far wilder than you. And younger. Just not into it right now.
Sorry.
younger isn’t a particular virtue. neither is wilder. ever tangled with bigger?
I’ve had sex with well over 100 people. I’m sure I’ve had far bigger than you, too.
oh? are you? we can bet 🙂
Dude. Bigger isn’t a particular virtue either. I’m not interested.
you know that you would rather have bigger than smaller and you would rather be stretched than sheltered
Sheltered? Seriously? Sheltered from what? Some guy who thinks his cock is god’s gift to women? No thanks.
i never said that. sheltered isn’t a good thing, and my cock can cause discomfort..
I don’t know about your cock but your personality is causing me discomfort.
my personality? it’s benign. i ease into things…. 😉
Well you won’t be easing into THIS thing! But thanks for providing me with a couple laughs. Blocking you. Bye!

BEHOLD this HUNK OF MAN!

From, apparently, Michael Chabon, above:
You’re obviously a bright, perhaps very bright, woman and the first photo shows that you’re attractive but you fuck it up with those other lunatic shots…and you’re mistaken, some people do read the entire commentary.
Ah…one more point. You’ve said you’re an “avid responded.” [stet…what I say is “avid responder.”] Not necessary; I have a suspicion that you could bite the nuts off a brass monkey.
Uh. Okay. Well if you don’t like my photos, you needn’t have email me at all. Bad day? Needed to criticize a stranger? Have a great week!
You missed the point, or I didn’t express it clearly. What I tried to convey is that your commentary is very cool, beguiling…and the first photo shows an attractive woman but the others show a clown.

Here’s the shot he thought was “so weird.”

I remember seeing one of them (you had it as the first shot) every time I signed on to look at messages. It was so weird that I never bothered to even click on the profile. It’s a very cool commentary, and suggests a very cool lady.
A cool lady? With photos of a clown? Does it matter that a few of the photos are of me onstage? [And one where I am, actually, a CLOWN! See above.] That I don’t look like that in my day to day life? Might you have kept that to yourself? And then to tell me not to bother responding? What’s the point of communicating if it’s only one way?
Babe, listen…no one knows they’re of you on stage and no one is going to give a rats ass. You’re a pretty woman, obviously not frightened of her own sexuality, and the commentary you produced is far more compelling then [stet] the stupid banalities that represent 99% of the garbage in here. I simply believe that the following photos act to vitiate all that precedes them.
So…I just saw that you’re 5’10″…supposing I meet you wearing elevator shoes…or stilts.
Cody
You would know if you read the captions. As for giving a rat’s ass…well, if one is interested in another, one might, actually, give that rat’s ass. What about the last photo? No makeup. Plain. Or the second one? Still too clowny?
The last one is also attractive but the 2nd one is not.
You live in Manhattan?
Yes, I do live in Manhattan.
You do drugs, think nuclear war might be exciting, and have no problem cutting some lunatic that shoots his bolt that way. Swell.
I have no doubt…none…zero…that you would be the greatest sexual partner on the planet if I could stop laughing long enough to test it.
Well, that isn’t going to happen. I’m not the least bit attracted to you. Now YOU don’t need to respond because one second after I hit Send I will be hitting Block. Because you sound like a real prick.
Bye!

Photo as shown on OKC. Apparently h e doesn’t know how to edit photos.

From r21056:
That picture makes you no justice
Which one? And how would you know if you haven’t met me in person?
Download the Bible song You Beautiful I know that
The ones with the goggles on your beautiful I know that
What the hell are you talking about?
Sorry if I offended you
Go away
Should you take me away
Bye.
you know that pretty
Look like a fool with f***** glasses
Blocking you. Bye. Again.
No let me block you stupid
Oh, I’m beautiful until I reject you? Asshole.

From SOXFOX2004:
[In response to his saying that he won’t communicate with anyone who uses emoticons.] Aw, c’mon, there are instances when an emoticon is perfect!
Not in a New York minute! ; )
How was that oyster/cashew/burnt blood orange/boysenberry stuffing anyway?
I didn’t care for it. But I liked the traditional one!
So are you really 5’5″?
No actually 6’2″ but I try to avoid intimidating Okers.
How sweet that you had to lower the bar and explain what millinery is. I could chide you about your alcoholism, but it might just be more fun to meet and fuck you.
So are you just bored and looking to take our some aggression?

Can’t you just feel the excitement? The THRILL of dating this dude?

From artimesboy [boy? really? At 59?]:
My good friend Benny made me a sizable bet that your personality is not as stunning as your looks. Of course, I strongly disagreed but he is insisting confirmation by phone or a brief meeting. 
Help me win the bet and put Benny in his place.
E***
Hi E***,
Happy to help you win that bet!
I’ll be at a bar/club called Meridian tomorrow night. Come meet me there!
Abby
PS Will Benny be coming with you or is he gonna just take your word? Heh.
I’ll surprise you. What time will you be at bar? It would be better to meet during a band break.
I’ll be there early, before the bands start, like 6.
So, um, is this a date? Or just an audition of sorts? Because I’ll be there with friends.
Sounds like we should figure another place and time where it’s just the two of us. Perhaps in Midtown on Thursday night.
I would actually prefer meeting you and Benny Wednesday. The more social an outing, the better chances of everyone having a good time!
I really really don’t like dates…
Sounds like your fearful. I’ll pass. By the way, Benny is a dog.
Oh. Hah! Benny is a VERY good friend, then. The best. As they say.
Fearful? Hardly. Just tired of spending so much time on dates. If you’d like to meet me AND a couple other interesting people too, which I think is a much better idea, let me know. You’ll never know whether my personality is any match for my photos!

The Lifeguard

I’m sure if you’ve been reading this blog you believe that all my dates are complete failures, that I’m incapable of finding enough common ground for an actual relationship. Or a second date. That may be mostly true. And I’m certainly guilty of only posting my most disastrous dates, wrought with angst and, ideally, hilarity.

But there are, occasionally, success stories. There was the awesome guy I made out with a few years back. Then he invited me over for dinner. Sadly that ended with Bin Laden being discovered in a bunker. CNN is definitely not an aphrodisiac! Well, almost one year ago I experienced my best OKCupid date ever. I was afraid to write about it because, well, I didn’t want to jink things, I guess. It’s been long enough. Without further ado, I give you “The Lifeguard.”

My sister booked an oceanfront condo for a family reunion, of sorts. Not the whole family, just a few select adults. I arrived at LAX before anyone else and picked up the rental car. OKCupid had just debuted their new feature, in an attempt to compete with Tinder, that lets you peruse matches “Nearby.” By the time I got to Santa Monica, 150 guys had checked out my profile. I scrolled through the faces and saw one that looked dazzling. I read his deets, which included that he was an LA County lifeguard.

“Hi! I’m staying at the beach this week,” I wrote. “Which lifeguard stand are you working? Maybe I could go out in front and flounder around.” After a few adorable emails back and forth, including one that wondered if he was, indeed, worth floundering for, we made plans to meet for a beer. He had somewhat apologizing for not being “much of a fashion statement,” in his sandals and shorts but…um…LIFEGUARD! And, uh, 6’4″?!? No need to add super good-looking. Or being the team doctor for the LA Derby Dolls! Soon I was sitting across from him on a barstool, sipping a Stella on the Santa Monica Pier.

He was smart and funny, easy to talk to and, did I say, handsome as hell? And TALL? We had a couple beers and he walked me back to my condo. A gentlemanly hug and a quick kiss goodnight left me most definitely wanting more. He followed up our first date an hour later with an email: “Mind was adrift as I thought of this feathery 5’10” woman that I just met. So much so that I did not notice the bike path taking a turn to the left…according to the two people that watched me do a face plant into the sand… That was the most fabulous, delicious way to end a day of work at the beach that I can remember in a long, long time. Thank you.”

I was in LA for seven days and saw him four times. I rode my bike down to Marina Del Rey and met him for lunch. On my last night we met for a drink. But one evening mid-week he suggested we walk through the Venice canals. I’d never seen them and thought that sounded…romantic. He picked me up in his red convertible 450SL (uh, yeah, like my favorite car EVER) and then we strolled the narrow sidewalks, over tiny bridges, holding hands. When we got back to his apartment, he closed the door and said, “Take off your clothes. ” Um, excuse me? He was unfolding his massage table. “You went for a 40 mile bike ride today. Wouldn’t you like a massage?” I left my panties on…

So. Yeah. Best seduction I’ve experienced in decades.

After my week in Santa Monica I headed up to Marin and then on to Gerlach for my summer job with Burning Man. The Lifeguard and I were texting and emailing and playing Words with Friends. Then one day…nothing. I sadly figured he’d met someone. “Maybe he got hit by lightning,” my mom said. What? No one ever gets hit by lightning in LA. My sister said the same thing. Then my friend said it too. “There was a big storm in LA.” I passed it off as an impossibility. Besides, he’d been in Maine, visiting his sister. Then, when a friend asked if I’d heard from him and I hung my head, she told me to tag a picture of a sunset or something to let him know I was thinking about him. “I hate it when people do that,” I said, but thought, hmmm, Facebook… We’d become “friends.” I went to his Facebook page and saw stuff like “Trying to get through to your hospital room” and “Saying a prayer for you!”

I texted him: “I saw on your Facebook page that you’re in the hospital. Are you okay?” In minutes I received a response: “This is his sister. He’s getting stronger every day. I’ll pass along your message.” I’d thought he was still in Maine so it didn’t surprise me that his sister responded for him. But I was worried.

A few days later he texted me. He WAS hit by lightning! A freak storm had descended upon Venice Beach and he was one of 13 people affected by the lightning strike. A 20-year-old guy had died. And, actually, so had The Lifeguard. He was out for a full 12 minutes! But it apparently wasn’t his time to go because a cardiac specialist had been on the beach, right where lifeguards had dragged his body, and that doctor didn’t give up on him. He was still in the hospital and had some recovering to do, but he was alive!

We kept in touch through the summer. I even sent him a shot of myself getting “zapped” by a big piece of art! Leave it to me to meet a really great guy and he gets hit by lightning! Stay tuned for Part Deux.

Addendum

So yeah, my OKCupid account has been “fixed,” as their email alerted me. Not like it was “broken.” They were just being OKStupid. As an addendum, I wrote to them in response to this line in their correspondence with me: “We also make sure that everybody using OkC for event stuff is actually a legitimate OkC/Match.com partner (it’s a safety/legitimacy thing) which I hope you understand.”

Well, thank you for reinstating my account.

And for the record, I applied, via your web site, TWICE to be a host for your “events.” Being a cranky old lady, it makes me even crankier that ALL the events are for young people. I probably don’t need to point out to you (since I’m assuming you are “young” and NOT anywhere near MY age) that “young” people don’t need events to meet each other. They meet each other ALL THE TIME! Those of us over 50, however, DO need “events” because most people have given up and don’t ever leave the damn house.

Anyway. Back to sorting out the scammers from the real humans on your site.
Thanks again!

And ya gotta love the “safety/legitimacy” bit. Guffaw. As though any event is more “safe” than another. Or “legitimate.” I am tempted to show up at their offices and present myself as their newest event producer. “Here I am! Ready to go to work creating exciting events for people who aren’t fucking 30!” I mean seriously…

Vindicated!

Ah, the sweet taste of victory! Coupled with the influence of righteous indignation! The power-mad millenials at OKCupid have seen the error of their ways and reinstated my account. After they accused me of soliciting, I continued the dialogue, pointing our how ridiculous that accusation was. Here’s how it unfolded after my previous post:

What am I soliciting?

“I’m producing an event on Feb. 17 that I think you might enjoy. It isn’t a singles’ party (or a couples’ party) but there are components that I think will be appealing to people who are “seeking.” Even if they aren’t sure what, exactly…
I hope you can make it!
Abby “

Etc etc.

You cannot be serious. The events I produce are happy hours and live performances. I’d be happy to show you my Facebook events. “Seeking” means many things to different people. Clearly the person who reported me wishes he were receiving invitations to something a bit more exciting.

Whatever.

I waste so much time reporting fake profiles on your site it isn’t even worth it. You people should be paying more attention to actual scammers and less to idiots who don’t know what they’re talking about. My sex party days are FAR behind me. I’m 56 fucking years old, fer crissakes. FIFTY SIX YEARS OLD! Even Annie Sprinkle has moved on. Wow.

I am not saying you are a scammer, and I am not being judgey at all, but the rules we have to enforce for everybody say:

“Unique and bona fide profile
You agree to create only one unique profile. In addition, in order to maintain the integrity of the Website, by joining, you agree that your use of the Website shall be for bona fide relationship-seeking purposes (for example, you may not use the Website solely to compile a report of compatible singles in your area, or to write a school research paper). “

Really, what you were doing isn’t dating – And people (a LOT of people reported you as a scammer) – So they would complain if we didn’t ban you as well. We also make sure that everybody using OkC for event stuff is actually a legitimate OkC/Match.com partner (it’s a safety/legitimacy thing) which I hope you understand. If you want to use OkC to date, seek people for friends etc then you are welcome to – But stick with craiglist etc. for advertising events, please?

Advertising events?

I ask people I meet on OKC if they are interested in joining me for events, some I produce and/or promote, others I attend. I invited one guy to a fundraiser for the Lower East Side Girls Club. Is that against the rules? What about a fundraiser for Figment? If I’m producing it?

I’m about as far from a scammer as it’s possible to be. A real human, actually interested in meeting people, as friends — at the very least. I’ve met friends on here. Go read my emails.

There is nothing I’d like more than to meet someone and fall in love. I have three friends who I helped with their profiles on OKC and they eventually married. Three success stories. I sure wish I was one. Being 56 and single sucks more than I can describe. I’m sure you cannot begin to relate.

But if you seriously believe I have been using your site for the sole purpose of — well, whatever you think I’m using it for — then by all means, ban me. However, you could not be more wrong.

There was a time when I produced two weekly events. For seven years! Fetish parties, rock parties, sex parties. As I said, those days are far behind me. I now co-produce a few events annually: Night of a Thousand Stevies, a Stevie Nicks tribute night; Ghostlight, a Halloween Eve fundraiser for HOWL Help; and the Figment fundraiser. I get paid for two of the three, minimally. I also help organize weekly happy hours for the Burning Man community. I don’t get paid for this work. I am often hired to emcee events, most recently the third birthday bash for Batala NYC, an all female Brazilian style drum group.

Hardly Heidi Fleiss. If that reference even means anything to you.

One man I met on OKC is helping the House of Yes with their build out. We’ve been friends for a few years now. His life is more interesting now than it was before he met me…a different sort of success story. I’ve invited a lot of guys to a lot of things. It’s sad that any of them would call me a scammer for those invitations. Really sad. And I’m sure they have sad little lives. Thankfully, I don’t. So I’ll be fine without OKCupid.

And I’ll say it one more time.

You are wrong.

So, dear readers, that’s how the situation unfolded. They’ve seen fit to let me back into their cesspool of dick pix and scammers. Oh hooray! Over the seven years as a “member,” I’ve been booted off twice now. I’ve dealt with so many scammers I can’t count them. (I initially posted on here about the illiterate men on OKC but those weren’t potential suitors, they were scammers, looking to coax me out of cash. HILARIOUS!) Though I’ve met a few men whose company I enjoyed, not many were willing to cultivate an ongoing friendship. I can’t really see much benefit from the site; I’m not one to go begging for free meals…not my style. I think I’ve had about one for each year…each time insisted upon by my date. I’ve even paid for my own coffee on a number of occasions. The sole reason for remaining a “member” is to continue regaling you with my hysterical tales of dating disasters. So I guess I’ll keep on “soliciting” and see what happens! And I’ll be sure to “advertise my events” on Craiglist. Guffaw.

Booted Off Of OKCupid…Again

Apologies (again) for my absence. It’s been a busy month! Hopefully happy news soon. I felt compelled to post today, despite the craziness, because I’ve been booted off of OKCupid. Again!

The first time it happened I wasn’t given a reason. They never even responded to my emails asking why. I forged on, created a new profile, figuring perhaps posting party invites to strangers had pissed someone off. This time, however, I sent an email asking why I’d gotten the boot and received a response:

Hi Abby,
I have reviewed your profile and unfortunately you have been banned. I’m very sorry, but solicitation of any sort is a violation of our usership policy. Thank you for your continued interest in OKCupid, but the decision to ban you is irreversible.
Yours truly,
Emilia

Um. SOLICITING? For what? Sex? Isn’t that the whole point of online dating? Okay, being serious now. I was most definitely not soliciting. Anything. Because, believe me, if I were, they’d know it. I don’t do anything vaguely. Here’s my profile, as it stood at last edit:

Please be open to MEETING and the possibility of being FRIENDS. Finding that elusive “chemistry” is rare. But I can honestly say that every man I’ve “befriended” on this site now has a far more exciting and interesting life than he did before meeting me. If you don’t believe that, I’d be happy to connect you for an honest conversation. Who doesn’t want to expand their social circle? The chances of finding romance online aren’t the best. Meeting new people will always result in meeting MORE new people. Meaning, if you and I don’t “click” perhaps you might with a friend of mine. Or I will with a friend of yours. It’s a big world. If that sounds appealing to you, please read on!

A very close friend died recently and it has made me reevaluate. I am not desperate, just determined. If you can’t meet up within a week of us contacting each other, please don’t bother. Life is too fucking short. I’m tired of this site and I’ve never been a fan of dating.

So there you have it. Let’s meet, figure out of we want to fuck each other and take it from there, shall we? Seriously. That’s about all it boils down to.

It doesn’t matter a damn what music you like or what you read. You’ll be on your side of the bed reading what you read and I’ll be on my side of the bed reading what I read. I’ll listen to whatever the hell you want to listen to. Food? Whatever. It’s sustenance, not an art form. For me, anyway. Happy to consume your art form, if that’s your thing. Happier to consume your thing. Haha!

Anyway, none of you read this shit. You look at the photo, think, “Yeah, I’d fuck that,” and you click. I wish it were as simple for women. It’s more simple when I’m less sober. So let’s see who responds to THIS version of my “profile.”

The rest of the profile is pretty much the same as it’s been for ages. After six long years of receiving dick pix and “I’d fuck that”s, between the big bellies and bigger egos, selfies with dirty toilets in the background and dudes who couldn’t spell their way out of a paper bag, not to mention the hundreds — HUNDREDS — of scammers and fake profiles and total wastes of time, I’m embarrassed that I was even still on the damn site. Well, now I’m not. Because some asshat decided I was “soliciting.”

That is not only fucking hilarious, it is decidedly uninformed. Hey OKCupid! Here’s what soliciting looks like:

“Hi, my name is Abby. I’m 55 years old (almost 56). My flesh is hanging off my bones like wet laundry. My wrinkles are deep enough for you to white water raft through. I can count the number of times I’ve gotten laid in the last five years on one hand. I really don’t have much of a libido anymore and the thought of sucking some dude’s cock makes me want to retch. Ready to pay me for my sexual services? I’m having a big sale this week! Hurry, my time is running out!”*

Aside from the fact that “soliciting” is illegal, my profile’s verbiage made no mention of money. However, here are a few links to women who are offering their companionship for cash. Since you’re running a dating site and not an escort site, perhaps you need to learn the difference.
Slixa
Eros
Oymotherfuckingvey!

* Oh, and bee-tee-dubs, that paragraph up there is satire. It is NOT intended to be taken seriously as solicitation. Not that any rightminded person would…

Tall Order, Short Fuse

If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, than I am completely out of my mind. I continue to meet up with strange men from online dating sites. I haven’t fallen in love yet. What on earth makes me think that the next guy will be different? Better? Lovable? Or even fuckable? Oy vey. And I KNOW I’ve said this before!

I’m an optimist. I’ve been trying to remain positive. I’m…tenacious. But LOOK AT THIS, WILL YOU?

WHAT in this man’s WILDEST imagination makes him think this is the best photo to lead with? Granted, at least he isn’t obese. Should I be grateful? Turned on? I mean, LOOK AT THOSE FUCKING UNDERPANTS! HOLYFUCKINGSHIT!

Okay, let me get a grip on myself. And yes, I know men don’t call them “underpants.” But the way he has them hiked up — no doubt to better showcase his “package” — they look more like granny panties than “briefs.” Ack. Where is this guy’s face? He doesn’t show us his face. Just his hairy belly. It is BREAKING MY BRAIN!

Last night I met a man from OKCupid. He made initial contact, saying he was impressed by my “direct approach.” (I’d recently updated my profile to cut through all the bullshit.) He suggested meeting at a craft beer bar in Hells Kitchen. When I said it was a little far afield for me as well as a bit fancy, beer-wise, he suggested a second craft beer bar also in Hells Kitchen. Uh, thanks for picking up on my desire to drink somewhere that isn’t a craft beer bar. Or not in Hells Kitchen. But, as it happened, I was going to be in Hells Kitchen the following day. Would he like to get together sooner?

He showed up and I knew immediately it was a mistake. Khaki cargo pants, pockets and all. White sneakers. And a stupid cap. I told myself, well, just be open to meeting someone new. Roll with it. Awkward conversation ensued. He seemed to believe he was cooler than me. Which, hey, is fine. When he decided to cut through the bullshit and asked, “So, what do you think?” I knew he meant, “Are we gonna fuck?” (Because that was, more or less, what I’d put into my updated profile.) “I don’t think so,” I told him. I softened the blow by saying something along the lines of “I may never want to fuck anyone ever again.” Probably not totally accurate, even if it is how I’ve been feeling lately. “So I shouldn’t take it personally?” he asked. “No,” I told him. What was I supposed to say? I can’t stand your stupid cap? I hate cargo pants? White sneakers are unacceptable unless you’re Jax Teller? And, oh, did I forget to tell you that he’d asked me if I was into erotic asphyxiation? No? Oops. Cause, yeah. Within minutes of sitting beside me. I was, like, “Is that the kind of question you ask a half-beer into a first date?” He assured me it was. “Isn’t that, perhaps, something you might want to mention on your profile?” I asked. He said he preferred to spring it on people. “How’s that workin’ for ya?” was my next question. “I’ve had a few converts,” he confided, cockily. Uh, I highly doubt it. Most women are wary enough about meeting strange men for a drink. Jumping right into letting a guy choke the breath out of them probably isn’t next on the list after a fucking Cosmo. Anyway. After I told the guy he should be trolling on FetLife instead of luring vanilla women into Hells Kitchen craft beer bars, he paid his tab and disappeared. Asshole. And today he emailed my friend! Here’s her response:

I am very choked up you wrote me. Seems you had a FIRST meeting with a friend of mine where you wanted to know if you could do the same. NOT cool, not cool at all. Before you go asking for this deadly kink, you better know the person you are asking, or get on a website where you can find someone to indulge you safely. Wouldn’t go near you, and hope none of my friends on this site do either.

And speaking of dudes who think they’re into 50 Shades of Stupid, I met another guy Friday night whose profile noted that he has a “bad boy side.” When he emailed me, he asked if I’d read his profile. Yes, I told him. All three sentences of it. “And?” he asked. “And what?” I responded. “I don’t ‘do boring’ either.” I guess he was eager to see what I thought of his bad boy reference.  “Are you a criminal? In jail? Or just kinky? Spell it out!” He admitted to being kinky. “I don’t do boring either,” I told him, and suggested he Google me. “I’ve dabbled as a dominatrix, worked in porn, hosted sex parties. Takes a lot to shock me,” I told him. “Me too” he enthused. I assumed he meant it takes a lot to shock him, since I didn’t think he couldn’t cop to any of the other stuff. “MFM, FMF, GB, DP,” he burbled. Uh, threesomes isn’t exactly BDSM. But whatevs. Love your alphabet soup, dude.

When we met in person, I asked him what, exactly, sort of play he’d engaged in. He shyly admitted to spanking a girlfriend once or twice. Oh man. Quite the aficionado! Not that I’m looking for Mr. Grey to see me now. I couldn’t care less about kink. I’d be happy to have someone to spoon with. It doesn’t seem like such a tall order but, well, you can see what sort of men I’m dealing with here.