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I lurve dating on teh interwebz

Internet dating is like running over a raccoon with your lawnmower. You didn’t want to do it, but a tiny part of you kinda wanted to know what it felt like, so you went for it. Now you’re thoroughly grossed out by the results. Every internet date you’ve had was about as appealing as that raccoon carcass splatting against your neighbor’s seldom used patio furniture.

Social slow periods happen to all of us. You’re taking some time off from relationships, having a little “me time”, and suddenly it’s been six months without a significant other, then a year. You’ve lost your rhythm, and no longer remember how to spend a Saturday night other than catching up on bland TV shows you barely care about, or reading half-baked internet articles about whether or not owls have a labia. This constant waste of a weekend is not the social life you planned for yourself. It’s the social life that happens when you’re lazy and out of practice.

You tried to get back on track. Your friends offered blind dates with every incompatible weirdo they know, wrongfully assuming two people being single is enough in common to cause a spark. You’ve gone to bars and clubs, but realized people just go there to get drunk, not to meet others. Then you heard a friend of a friend had some success with an online dating site, so you said, “Why not me?” Alas, the good person your friend found was one bag of donuts in a dumpster full of AIDS, and each of your dates quickly became a float in a failure parade held just for you.

There’s the alcoholic girl who showed up 45 minutes late, visibly trashed. She ran to the bathroom halfway through the date to dry heave, then stumbled back to the table and said, “You’re the one I was with, right?” You said no, hoping she’d buy it and you could leave, but it didn’t work.

There’s the girl who seemed sociable online, but in person just stared at you awkwardly the entire date, only speaking when spoken to, and even then just muttering one or two word answers that didn’t contribute to the conversation. After an hour, you gave up and silently stared back at her, testing how long it would take before she had a panic attack and collapsed on the floor from too much eye contact.

There’s the girl who bombarded you with dirty text messages about wanting to tear your clothes off, but acted the exact opposite in person. It took three dates to get a brief goodnight kiss, and she ended each date at 10pm for fear that things would get intimate. After being dropped off each time, she’d spend the next four hours texting you more dirty things. After the fourth date, she asked you what you were wearing, to which you replied, “The same thing I was wearing five minutes ago, when I dropped you off for the last time.”

There’s the girl who was really nice, really pretty and really smart, but then informed you five minutes into the date that she had herpes. “It’s not really a big deal, though,” she said, as you subtly covered the top of your coffee cup with your hand, just in case. An awkward hour later, you sidestepped her goodnight kiss and offered her a goodnight thumbs-up instead, causing her to angrily give you the finger as you drove away. “Thanks for being honest! I appreciate it!” you yelled out the window as you slammed the gas pedal into the floor as far as it would go.

There’s the girl who said she had two cats, but when you showed up to her place, actually had seven of them. You stared blankly at a wall as she held full conversations with them; telling them better and more interesting stories than she told you at dinner. She then told you she lets certain cats make dating decisions for her, based on the astrological sign of her date. As you fled from the building, too terrified to look back, you imagined her unfortunate future boyfriends, forced to have sex with her while all the cats watched.

Finally, there’s the girl whose bed was covered with stuffed animals. If you sat on one, she would politely, yet angrily, ask you not to do that. A few hours into the date, she admitted that she listens to country music, which is weird because you thought all the people who liked country music were humanely euthanized in 1998. The moment she reached for that 10-disc Alan Jackson CD box set, you leapt out the open window like an action hero, not caring how many bones you broke on the way to your car.

These are all examples of internet dates friends and I have experienced over the past decade. None of them were good. But perhaps someday one of yours will be, dear reader. Your bag of donuts is still out there, her brain oddly clear of phobias, her apartment strangely lacking in cats, and her brutal alcoholism only coming to the surface during special occasions like birthdays and weddings. And when the two of you start dating exclusively, you’ll still tell everyone you met through friends, because internet dating is only for humor columnists, cult members and whores.

 2 Responses to “I lurve dating on teh interwebz”

  1. Franklin Furter says:

    Sometimes you just have to phone one in, I guess.

  2. Mike says:

    Blind date rule #1… always have a friend call 30 minutes in with a "family emergency".

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