OkStoopid

Stop Making More Money Than Me! Signed, Loser

Thu, 01 Apr 2010 14:51:45 -0400

Here is a charming little gem from beebee. Nothing says “date me” like a confrontation salad with a light dressing made of guilt.

I wonder why people would want to list their income on a dating site, and my guess is one reason would be to suggest you want to date someone in that price range, but I should tell you that while I don’t mind that you make that much, I don’t make anywhere near that amount. Is that an issue for you or waS your motivation for listing your income merely to show off, lol Either way no hard feelings.

I suppose beebee might be able to see past the guilt trip, but he punctuated with “lol.”

“The Hindenburg of Third Dates”: Nada

Thu, 11 Mar 2010 14:46:04 -0500

Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down…

Wait, not quite. But it is a story, as The Amazon puts it, about the Hindenburg of Third Dates.

This date seemed promising enough. I’d met The Giant (not to be confused with The Amazon!) on OKCupid, and he was witty, flirty, and really quite attractive. A few weeks ago, we met up for our first date, and 90% of the signs were good: he got extra points for a creative first-date activity and for appreciating my shoes. 10% of the signs, however, were yellow cards. 1) He ordered a blended margarita. Yes, we were eating cheap Mexican food at the time, and yes, margaritas do go particularly well with enchiladas, but: dude, I am judging you on this drink choice. 2) There was no goodnight kiss, despite a fair amount of tactile flirting throughout the night.

Now, I am a tall lady, and I was extra-tall that night due to a particularly bad-ass pair of shoes. (Think 6’1”.) And for the first time in my life, I was on a date with someone who was so significantly taller than me that I was physically unable to instigate a goodnight kiss unless a stepladder had been involved. I got in my cab, chalked the lack of kissing up to shyness on his part, and considered it a good date.

Second date: dinner, drinks, walk through a lovely park. There is still no goodnight kiss, which is beginning to confuse me.

And now the epically bad third date approaches: The Giant has said “come to my new apartment, and I will make you dinner.” This, to me, is Proving Ground. 1) I am coming to your home, and very likely there is a couch in your home, which means that the height disparity between myself and The Giant can be negated by a seated position. 2) The Giant is cooking for me, and he knows that I am something of a badass cook myself, so he must be aware that some kitchen skill is necessary to impress.

I arrive with a rather nice bottle of wine, and realize that “I’m making you dinner” has turned into “I am ordering pizza, and oh by the way, we’re sharing it with my roommates.”

Yes.

Roommates.

Roommates, who, though I’m sure are lovely people in their own right, thought nothing of continuing to hang out with The Giant and myself for the entire night. The Giant had clearly failed to apprise them of the fact that this was a Date (I assume a simple “Nada is coming over for dinner, so can you perhaps leave us to the living room tonight?” would have been sufficient). Roommates who immediately snag the only side-by-side seating in the living room by taking over the couch, leaving The Giant and myself seated in separate chairs on opposite sides of the room.

(The pizza ordered by The Giant, by the way, was really pretty crappy.)

As the four of us: myself, The Giant, and his two roommates! sit down to watch a movie, The Giant grabs his laptop from the table. I assume he is going to shut it down and charge it, but oh no. He cozies up to the laptop and spends the next 150 minutes alternating between typing on the laptop and texting on his phone. I realize, about 20 minutes into this show of indecorous behavior, that I may as well be hanging out in a fraternity house circa sophomore year of college.

And yet, post-movie, in a strange display of chivalry, The Giant offers to walk me home. Perhaps now will be the point at which he apologizes for making zero effort whatsoever towards this date, yes? He will have a heartfelt explanation as to why he is wearing jeans and a well-worn white t-shirt (and not even a “I put this on for the date and have not worn it all day and stretched it out” t-shirt!), why he substituted subpar takeout pizza for the promised home-cooked dinner, why he has treated this evening as another night at home with his computer and his roommates?

No.

As we walk toward my apartment, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and continues texting.

This cannot go on. I call him out on it, as gently as my insulted dignity allows, and he offers a half-assed apology: “I know it’s rude, sorry.” If you know that this behavior is rude, why in god’s name do you continue to do it?

The date ends at my front gate with no effort towards a goodnight kiss, thank god. If he’d tried to kiss me after that Giant Fucking Fail of a date, I’d have laughed at him.

-Nada

Missive from the Amazon: On Wasting My Time

Thu, 11 Feb 2010 12:47:11 -0500

Dear Dudes of the Interwebz:

If you’re “not a pet person,” or you “hate” cats, why do you waste my time by communicating with me when I clearly state that “my cats” are one of the things I can’t live without? Are you dense? Do you think I’ll just drop them at the pound on my way to falling madly in love with you? Do your poor addled brains just automatically read “tits” when I write “cats?”

Sorry, but that level of stupidity is a dealbreaker.

Sincerely,

I’d rather be a crazy spinster cat lady than your girlfriend

Missive from the Amazon: the height of WTF?

Wed, 13 Jan 2010 14:59:00 -0500

One night, while enjoying some Maker’s Mark (okay, a lot of Maker’s Mark) with a friend, I got the bright idea of logging into OKC. This is certainly not the best judgment I’ve ever exercised, but I had backup with me, so how bad could it get? Anyway, this guy I’d winked at (and for the record, I think just winking at someone is a cop out, but on occasion I do it anyway because I’m lazy) IM’d me. Miraculously enough, the conversation went quite well and I avoided making a total drunken ass out of myself even after my friend left. In fact, I somehow made a good enough impression to warrant talk of meeting in person.

So a few days later, I figured that since this guy - let’s call him Napoleon - was an art buff, and I haven’t been to my friendly neighborhood world renowned art museum in a while, that meeting there might be the perfect way to get that first meeting out of the way. It’s neutral territory between our respective neighborhoods, and even if it doesn’t go well, at least we would get to see magnificent works of art in the process. Napoleon agrees, and I send him my contact number so that definite plans can be made. And that’s when things got all kinds of wrong.

After deciding on a day and time, Napoleon suggests that since I am taller than he, maybe I should wear flats to meet him. His rationale is that first meetings are awkward enough, so why exacerbate that awkwardness by increasing our height differential? I balk at that, because you know what: (1) being taller than a dude doesn’t bother me, as there are far more important traits to worry about; (2) it’s 2010 (well, it was 2009 at the time) and people need to get the fuck over the whole caveman ideal of the big strong man and the little woman; (3) I wear heels to work every day because I like them and how I look in them (and they are an integral part of my ongoing efforts to improve my “look”); (4) I’m somewhat uncomfortable with any dude trying to control what I do or wear, much less someone I haven’t even met; and (5) guess what, dude, in flats I am still significantly taller than you, I’m not getting any shorter, and at your age you aren’t exactly waiting on a growth spurt, so I’m imagining that if we were to meet and date, this wouldn’t be the only “can’t you just wear flats so it’s not awkward” plea I would be hearing.

So, this awkward phone conversation is followed by this, via IM:

Napoleon: ….so you can tell i’m a blunt communicator
Me:I did pick up on that, yes.

Me:It’s good. Better direct than not, I think.

Napoleon:it pays off in the end. better to get stuff out of the way and avoid uncomfortable situations if you can

Me:Agreed.

Napoleon:so that being said, i’m guessing you found my concerns about the heels off-putting :)

Me:A little bit, yes. Mainly because either way, I will now feel awkward. Either I wear them, then wonder if you’re uncomfortable, or I don’t, and feel like I am not being 100% true to myself.

Napoleon:gotcha, glad i asked then. for what it’s worth, i only became this way after lots and lots of women rejected me for my height. including women who were SHORTER than me

Me:I can certainly understand why you would ask, then. I just don’t worry too much about it. Like I said, there are attributes that are far more important to me.

Napoleon:i should’ve raised this sooner. i was just too caught up in our mutual love of monty python :)

Me:It sounds like it could still be a problem. Am I wrong?

Napoleon:No, you’re right.

Me:Okay, then. If that’s the case, then would you prefer not to meet?

Napoleon:i guess that would be best, since we’ll both be awkward or uncomfortable about it now.

Me:Okay then. I respect your honesty and wish you well.

Napoleon:likewise :)

You know how else you can avoid awkward and uncomfortable situations? How about by not chatting up women whose OKC profile (and NAME, even) clearly indicate they are taller than you, since you are a great big baby who can’t get over a few girls who used your height as an excuse for dumping your sorry ass. But hey, thanks for wasting my time.

Missive from the Amazon: Happy freaking new year.

Mon, 11 Jan 2010 19:59:00 -0500

Greetings, dearest readers, and happy fucking new year.

My apologies for leaving you for so long without any new tales of the stupid side of online dating. Things have been a tad wonky around these parts, what with the holidays and all they entailed this year. Rest assured, I will endeavor to share with you all the cringe inducing, ridiculously obtuse, painfully stupid and make-you-wish-we-had-forced-sterilization correspondence I get (and have gotten) from the increasingly shallow OK Cupid dating pool. It’s sure to be a hoot.

Just to whet your appetite, here’s a lovely and romantic message I received on December 23 from someone I’ll graciously call superjerkoff:

Hi

I’m not Fred Flintstone, but I can make your bedrock!

Isn’t that sweet? And totally in keeping with the season of giving. Plus, is there any more effective image to invoke when trying to hook up with strangers on the internet than a beloved childhood cartoon about a loud, obnoxious fat dude?

Missive from the Amazon: Friday Facepalm

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 15:03:12 -0500

Sorry for neglecting you, dear readers. Let’s just say that I finally met Crush and things have gone pretty well, so laughing at morons didn’t seem nearly as interesting as it once did.

But I simply couldn’t resist sharing the following panty-drying message received last night:

suffer at your won hand with the chubs……. switch( ok not for really) and go sox. Na its nice to like the cubs now is it not……. Oh your a little taller but I shoot the 3 better then you so you won’t win

Imagine that: a practically illiterate White Sox fan. Whoever would have imagined such a thing was possible?

Happy weekend!

Missive from the Amazon: I get it, you're horny. Congratulations. Now leave me alone.

Fri, 09 Oct 2009 13:52:31 -0400

For all my bitching about not getting laid since the Ice Age, I’m not really all that interested in ending the drought via cheap thrills. One-night stands have their appeal, and I pass no judments on those who partake of them, but they’re ultimately a little bit like a Spring Training game: the teamwork is lacking because you may not know each other; unless you’ve been practicing diligently since your last season, your skills are a bit rusty and you’re prone to rather embarrassing errors; everyone’s just looking out for themselves and working on their own stroke; they rarely result in more than one or two extra innings, but unsatisfying stalemates are not uncommon; and while it’s nice to win, in the end it’s entirely meaningless. So I haven’t selected “casual encounters” on my OKC profile because if I’m honest about what I want, casual sex ain’t it. I want the sex equivalent of a post-All Star Game, extended hitting-on-all-cylinders-all-the-way-to-October hot streak.

Not having it selected, however, doesn’t dissuade some dudes from trying to entice me into casual sex anyway. Like IckyDude here:

Subj: you look sexy

I am really aroused after looking at that last pic of yours. What miracles a see through blouse can do.

Mind you, the “see through blouse” he refers to is actually a dress that is sheer, but also worn over an opaque slip. None of my goodies are remotely on display, so Icky’s got an active imagination, and this is the come-on equivalent of striking out on a foul bunt: fundamentally flawed.

SelfProclaimedBadBoy took a slightly different approach at the plate:

Subj: is it really weird…
…that i want to lick my way up your thigh starting from your errant kneecap?

actually, i know thats weird.

still.

Ummmm … thanks? You were swinging for the fences, BadBoy, but you whiffed worse than Alfonso Soriano on a slider low and away.

And SlaveBoy took things in a rather unexpected direction:

Subj: I have a fetish or one kneecap ladies

Hi,

Bet that made you laugh !
I also will see most of the world in the next 20 years !

Have you ever seen Where the Buffalo Roam with Bill Murry
Bet you love that but if you havent its a scream especially
Lazlo Dr Hunter combos !

I read everything about you, looded at your pictures over and over
and all I could think about is:

What does this womans toes look like, painted, unpainted, wet, sweaty, dry, tired, relaxed, streaching, crunched, pointed, playful, angry…….

SlaveBoy was kind enough to include his e-mail address, too. Add up the painfully poor writing, the general creepiness and the unwanted personal contact information, and SlaveBoy has done what few others have: hit into a triple play.

(By the way, had I known that having only one kneecap was such a draw, I would have started trotting out that surgically mangled sucker a long time ago. NOT.)

IckyDude, BadBoy and SlaveBoy, I’m sure each of you is as talented in the sack as Albert Pujols is at the dish, but I’m putting you all on waivers. Take heart, though, for I’m sure if you keep swinging away, soon enough you’ll score an invitation to someone else’s Spring Training.

Missive from the Amazon: The importance of being not so very earnest.

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 10:54:46 -0400

To say that I’m cynical about the prospect of ever finding twoo wuv would be an understatement. Yet for some reason, I keep looking for that oh so elusive dude, that Farm Boy, if you will, who’s gonna make me weak in the knees forevermore.

This is not he:

Subj: [none]

slanket01: Do you believe in love? like you, you are beautiful

Nor is this one, whom I have christened FunyMan:

Subj: “I’d like to knw more abt you.”
Wow ,

it’s nice to go through your profile soon and Am very looking up to
know more about you in getting intouch with me through email.Well,To me i’m looking for the right person to enjoy and share my life with and in hours of fun,i love to be active, work out, enjoy movies, love to travel, and just hang out…all is fun with the right person.I like coffee anytime of the day or night so lets get some somewhere !

Who know’s cos Life without Love is like a harp without strings.”

Peace out

Funy

Yes, I copied that verbatim. Yes, he did refer to himself in his profile as “Funy.” And yes, reading that made my brain melt a little. Okay, a lot. As it turns out, though, Funy and I are a 27% match, a little statistic in which I find much comfort.

A word to the unwise, guys of OKC: throwing up into a message all about how very much you just LOVE love is not actually a great strategy for approaching someone whose very first descriptor in her “I am …” line is “sarcastic.” You’re welcome.

Yesterday, I popped into OKCupid to check a message really fast...

Sun, 04 Oct 2009 21:53:08 -0400

Yesterday, I popped into OKCupid to check a message really fast and get back to what I was doing, and I received this IM:

Dude guy: hey, wanna have some fun today?

In a word, no. I don’t know you. I don’t have “casual encounters” selected as an option. Therefore, what you’re doing would make anyone uncomfortable. Unless, of course, you can cruise and swing successfully in tight slacks.

Sincerely, Her Ladyship

Missive from the Amazon: How not to internet date: IM edition, Part II.

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 20:36:35 -0400

When I said I like it when guys reference specific information from my profile in their initial messages, I didn’t really think I needed to spell out in excruciating detail that said references should express complete, coherent thoughts that invite a response. Apparently, not all truths are self-evident.

Crush’s first message was a prime example of how to do it. But there’s a good deal of shit in my profile that could give a dude an “in.” For instance, since I mention being a Cubs fan, referencing the crappy season those overpaid bums have had, or how I probably would enjoy banging my head against a brick wall more than watching their bullpen work, might get my attention in a good way. This, however, will not:

(10:43:30 am)HI_IM_CLUELESS: OH! HOLY COW

Tell me, Clueless, how exactly am I to respond to that IM? I mean, my first thought was, “Harry Caray’s been dead for over a decade, so that’s not exactly a timely reference, is it?” Also, would you walk up to me in a bar and just yell that at me? (Actually, based on how men in this town, upon seeing my Cubs tattoo, have a predilection for yelling that very thing at me with the apparent expectation that I’ll immediately run over and hump them, you just might.)

I gave Clueless the same response I give the braindead rejects who yell at me on the street: crickets. Not to be deterred, he came back around for another try later that same day:

(6:12:50 pm)HI_IM_CLUELESS: YOUR RED HAIR IS AMAZON

Attempted wordplay, or sign of brain damage? You decide.

Missive from the Amazon: young, dumb and full of shit.

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:53:00 -0400

Oy vey. This one - we’ll call him Toolbag69 - is 27 and clearly has so very much to learn:

you’re adorable actually for being 39…thought you were underage at first. Looking very innocent/shy though…I think im going to be too outgoing, sarcastic, and just plain naughty for such a fragile girl like you to handle, dont you think? ;-)

I know he thinks this is complimentary, but give me a break. Underage? Really!? Yeah, no. I don’t look underage and nobody’s sincerely mistaken me for being underage for an eon. And the whole “you’re adorable actually for being 39” thing? Holy shit, do not get me started. What, at 39 am I supposed to look like the Crypt Keeper? Shuffle down the street with a walker? Keep the thermostat at 87 at all times? Get turned on when Wilford Brimley talks about diabeetus testing supplies?

As far as the rest of it goes, I doubt you would have used “innocent” or “shy” or “fragile” to describe me, Toolbag, had you bothered to actually read my profile. I know, I know; words are so boring! But what you don’t know, Toolbag, is that I was sharpening my claws on the dumb kids in class when you were just a gleam in your daddy’s eye. I would eat you alive, but frankly, I can’t be bothered to school any dude with “69” in his user name.

Missive from the Amazon: the return of Chode

Mon, 28 Sep 2009 14:53:25 -0400

Remember Chode, the master of IM etiquette who so thoughtfully provided me with a valuable lesson on why I should keep my IM permanently disabled? Well, as I chatted with a friend the other night, he popped back up … like herpes, or that zit on your forehead that just won’t go away, or Sarah Palin.

Chode:i still pick you

amazonredhead:What?

amazonredhead:No.

Chode:whats a girl like you doing in a palce like this?

amazonredhead:NO.

Chode:it wasn’t a yes or no question

amazonredhead:Go away.

Chode:you have cankles.

Chode:that explains a lot… i just noticed them. i actually just threw up a little in my mouth, cankle woman

amazonredhead:Thank you for confirming my initial decision to have nothing to do with you.

Sometimes I wonder how the human race hasn’t died out already.

A Missive from Her Ladyship: Publish My Book!

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 22:09:47 -0400

I knew something fishy was up. I work in publishing. Therefore, once in a while people approach me in strange ways looking for a publisher. But via OkCupid? That’s new. Lame.

Mr Dudeguy: hi, how are you tonight?

Her Ladyship: good. you?

Mr Dudeguy: good. had to run last night. My books you have not read. I am looking for a publisher for my fiction children’s books

Mr Dudeguy: how do you feel about self publishing?

Her Ladyship: it works in some cases. christopher paolini did it

[It should be noted that I HATE Christopher Paolini. His books are shit.]

Her Ladyship: what are your books about?

Mr Dudeguy: I wrote one about the adventures of a magical little car. I wrote it for my niece and nephew to read to them at night. They loved it so I wrote a series on it

Her Ladyship: where have you sent it?

Mr Dudeguy: I sent it to about 10 publishers. I had it professionally edited and copyrighted

Mr Dudeguy: but if you self publish, how is the book marketed?

Her Ladyship: you have to market it yourself most of the time. if it generates interest, sometimes a company will take it

Mr Dudeguy: I go to a lot of the book fairs

Mr Dudeguy: so I am waiting to hear back from my submissions. but I think as a first timer I may have to self publish. Do you have any advice?

Her Ladyship: honestly? as someone who worked in trade for a while (in children’s books) self-publishing isn’t a guarantee of anything. i would keep sending it out, maybe to agents and see what happens

Mr Dudeguy: I definitely want to target agents. So how was the weekend?

Her Ladyship: really good actually. yours?

Mr Dudeguy: good, mostly worked. So your co. publishes non-fiction, as in what kind of books?

Her Ladyship: [a type that isn’t picture books]

Mr Dudeguy: on topics dealing with what, like family life and friends?

Her Ladyship: sometimes.

Mr Dudeguy: that’s good. Shoot, my cell is ringing. BRB

Missive from the Amazon: I'm not being nice anymore.

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 12:35:00 -0400

I used to get excited when I saw the new message indicator envelope thingy pop up on my OKC page. “It could be someone handsome, intelligent and worldly,” I would think. But after about a week I started to think, “Please don’t let it be a complete loser who will butcher the English language while pushing me one step closer to taking a vow of celibacy.”

So when I got this message, I wasn’t thrilled, but I wasn’t repulsed:

Subj: Dinner and Drinks?

I’d like to visit every continent too. I’m getting close. The only place I haven’t been to yet is Antarctica. [Hey, he’s directly referencing something in my profile. Good start, assuming it’s not total bullshit.]

At the present time, I’m visiting Chicago on business and I’ve never been here before and am looking for someone interested in making new friends, hanging out and eating some good Chicago food.

I’m an asian male, 34, 185lbs. I’m in good shape (not a body builder or anything). I’m very easy and outgoing. I can talk about anything.

Even if you’re not interested in getting together, maybe you can recommend somewhere with really good food that I should try that says “Chicago.” I also like to Karaoke so if you know a good place, that would be awsome.

J

Okay, he doesn’t have a picture and hasn’t filled out any profile information, so the chances are uber slim I’ll agree to meet with him, but he writes in complete sentences, doesn’t use asinine text-speak abbreviations, and he spelled (almost) everything correctly, so in the name of hospitality I message him back:

Thank you for writing. Welcome to Chicago.

You didn’t specify how long you’re in town, but I am pretty much booked this weekend.

I’m not sure what type of place or food you’re looking for, so it’s hard to know what restaurants to recommend. There are so many that could be called “quintessential Chicago.” If you’re a sports fan, then try Harry Caray’s at Kinzie & Wells. Their food is very good, and not your typical sports bar food. Of course, not much is more “Chicago” than deep dish pizza. My favorites for deep dish are Pizzeria Due, Lou Malnati’s and Gino’s East.

If there’s a particular type of atmosphere or cuisine you’re looking for, I might have more useful suggestions. I’m afraid I can’t help with karaoke, as it’s been years since I did it here.

B

Nice, right? His response is fine, too.

I’m only in town tonight. I just arrived this afternoon to speak at an event tomorrow morning and I fly out in the afternoon. Just wanted to see if Chicago had any spontanious people around here.

I eat just about anything or will at least try it one to determine that I don’t like it. I’m not really a sports fan, I prefer playing sports than watching it. So is Chicago a pizza place? I also see this Gold Coast Hot Dog place all over. I’m in Des Plaines near the airport right now and will be in downtown Chicago tomorrow. I don’t mind driving for some good food. I love to cook and eat.

Interested in a drink and a deep dish pizza right now?

G

Notice the change in his initial? Odd. Also, I’m downtown, it’s already after 8:00, and since I haven’t already eaten, I’m not inclined to wait for you to drive down here. So, another gentle refusal:

Sorry, I’m still at the office just finishing a project, then I’m headed to the gym.

If you’re near the airport, then you might give Gibson’s a try for dinner. It’s a great steakhouse. I think it’s on River Road in Rosemont. Their food is phenomenal, and the bar is usually very active, as it’s by two hotels.

Gold Coast Hot Dog has delicious dogs. I’d recommend it.

Hope you enjoy your visit.

B

That should be the end of the story, right. Nope.

I’ve had a hot dog there when I flew through Chicago airport once. I thought it was one of those fake chains that tell people it’s a Chicago dog and no one from Chicago actually eats there.

Still at the office? All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl. There’s always tomorrow and there’s only one today. Live in the moment!

Last chance?

Why yes, let me just drop everything I’m doing to meet with a complete and total stranger. Certainly nothing in my life could be as important as that! Not my physical condition, and certainly not my job. Also, if you have had Gold Coast dogs, why did you ask about it? If you liked it, have it again. If you didn’t, then don’t. It’s hot dogs, for fuck’s sake. But I’m still nice (if less than 100% honest):

Sorry, I’d love to live in the moment, but at this moment I can’t. I will be unemployed tomorrow if this project isn’t done.

Now, shouldn’t that tell you something, J or G or whatever your initial is? The answer is “no.” Let it go. But of course, we couldn’t possibly do that.

What are you working on that will unemploy you?

For the love of all things holy, that’s really none of your business. You don’t get to ask personal questions of someone when you yourself have shared nothing. So what I really want to tell him is, “I’m working on getting into Crush’s pants.” But I refrain, because I’m classy like that.

I’m sorry, but it really doesn’t matter what I’m working on. I said no. That won’t change, no matter what. Expecting me to blow off what I’m doing, regardless of whether I’m working or working out or just sitting in front of the TV, on the spur of the moment to meet a complete stranger is a bit unreasonable.

Also, for future reference, expecting someone to share with you any personal information that’s not on already on their profile, when you have absolutely no personal information on yours, is a bit creepy.

I hope you enjoy your visit. Good night.

Now, that should be the end of it, right? Hahaha! Oh how naive you are to think that:

Jesus christ. You didn’t have to end that on a bitch note. I was just trying to be friendly.

I don’t have any information because I just joined the site. In fact, even if I filled my profile to the top with information, how do you trust what I have written??

Enjoy working the night away.

Did you get that? I’m a bitch. Because I won’t drop everything to meet with someone about which I know NOTHING. Well, I guess I do know one thing about him: he apparently can’t see a situation from anything other than his own selfish perspective.

Missive from the Amazon: The makings of a crush.

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 11:00:00 -0400

Thanks to an entirely silly, ridiculous and sarcastic sense of humor with which I have been genetically blessed, I’m a bit of a Monty Python fan. Okay, more than “a bit.” Not only do I love laughing at those blokes, but I can quote the hell out of them, too, especially Monty Python and The Holy Grail. It’s kind of my … well … comedic holy grail. So when I say in my OKC profile that you should contact me if you can answer the 3 questions posed to King Arthur at the Bridge of Death, it’s me being silly, but it’s also a bit of a litmus test. Do you find funny the things I find funny? Because if hearing me quote MPATHG for the rest of your life doesn’t sound appealing, then we best pack it in now.

As I waste time at work checking out profiles on OKC, I sometimes see a dude I like but don’t have time to contact right away. So into my “favorites” he goes, like a bright shiny coin into a piggy bank. Usually, if I don’t write him, that’s as far as it goes. But this guy was different:

Subj: Your favorite?

Really? I feel special. Out of all the people you haven’t talked with that could be your favorite, you picked me!

By the way, Yes there are points for weird, I’m not telling yet, I seek the grail, and is that an African or European Swallow?

C

He speaks sarcasm fluently, answered me my questions three, and when he said there are points for weird, he referred back to my profile. That’s a trifecta worth betting on. So I did. And 67 hilarious, engaging, innuendo-laden messages back and forth later, I’ve got a crush. A big ol’, schoolgirl caliber crush. The urge to doodle hearts in my Trapper Keeper and write out Mrs. Amazon Crush over and over is strong with this one. I’m a bit old for that, frankly, so I may need to be kept in check if I’m to get any work done at all.

Missive from the Amazon: How not to internet date: IM edition.

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 10:00:00 -0400

I’m on the fence about using IM’s as a first means of contact on OKC. Just like conversing in a bar, if the dude starts with an engaging introduction, they’re fine. Sadly, on OKC, those guys are few and far between, and an unexpected, unsolicited IM often feels like the world’s biggest chode just got in your face while you were minding your own business and having a lovely conversation with your friend at the bar while checking out the hot bartender who’s been giving you eyes all night. In other words, they too often look something like this, received on September 18:

(5:17:09 pm) Chode:hott

(5:17:48 pm) Chode:i mean to say you are hott

Yeah. Um, thanks. But that’s very … unappealing, which you would have gathered had you spent a minute or two reading my profile. Not to be dissuaded by being ignored once, though, he came back for a second try on September 23. This time, I just couldn’t let his asshattery go unchecked:

(7:22:31 pm)Chode:i like your red hair.

(7:24:15 pm)Chode:now you are supposed to say “thanks!”

(7:26:43 pm)amazonredhead:How about “I was away from my computer, but thanks for the etiquette lesson.”?

(7:26:55 pm)Chode:you’re welcome.

(7:27:16 pm)Chode:please and thank you.

(7:27:35 pm)amazonredhead:Good luck and good bye.

(7:27:52 pm)Chode:thank you and you’re welcome

What in the bloody hell was that?

Missive from the Amazon: Seriously? No, really, you're serious with this shit?

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 23:00:00 -0400

I put a bit of time, thought and care into crafting my OKC profile, so I like it when dudes take notice of the information I put in it. I didn’t write it for myself, right? So a fairly easy way to (try to) engage me is to reference something I have in my profile. It tells me they thought enough of me to actually read it, at least.

For instance, my profile says you should contact me if you can answer me these questions three:

What is your name?

What is your quest?

What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?

If you don’t know, that’s a bit from Monty Python and the Holy Grail (I’ve only recently been disabused of my notion that MPATHG is universally known and adored). It’s taken verbatim from a scene in the film, and it’s completely ridiculous. I mention Python as a favorite in my profile. And even if you don’t recognize it, wouldn’t you think, “That’s an odd question. Is that a reference to something I don’t know? Should I perhaps look it up?” I mean, why would I really give a shit about the actual airspeed velocity of a swallow? Why would I care if you know the actual airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow? Why would you send me this?

Subj: answers

here’s your answer —

The average cruising airspeed velocity of an unladen European Swallow is roughly 11 meters per second, or 24 miles an hour

My question is - How come we drive on a parkway yet park in the driveway?

Or this?

[I won’t subject you to the 2 very long paragraphs that precede this, which related stories that, while relating back to my profile, bored the crap out of me.]

My quest? Enlightenment, of course. Swallow airspeed, (I suppose I could look it up), I’m guessing, 180mph. [Yes, because the average sparrow can keep up with an Indy car.]

Do you know why snapping a damp towel makes that loud snapping noise?

This guy seems nice enough, but again, he just didn’t get it:

My name is Chuck.
My quest is to be content and enjoy life.
24 mph (I didn’t understand the math completely but the explanation seemed to make sense to me. As always, my disclaimer, I could be wrong….:-)

Based on his profile, this guy’s a fighter pilot, so he’s got the science to back him up:

Well you asked the right guy…………
European Swallows captured and released by the Avian Demography Unit of the University of Capetown finds that the average adult European swallow has a wing length of 12.2 cm and a body mass of 20.3 grams.4

Because wing beat frequency and wing amplitude both scale with body mass,5 and flight kinematic data is available for at least 22 other bird species,6 it should be possible to estimate the frequency (f ) and amplitude (A) of the European Swallow by a comparison with similar species. With those two numbers, it will be possible to estimate airspeed (U).
Anytime you wish to know a little about airspeed/ velocity you need to call me….

Other than that, Love your profile…….

It was a nice effort, guys, but sorry. Thanks for playing. I know the website you visited to find that 24 mph answer, and even it references MPATHG. You missed the joke, and not even the posing of your own pithy question can compensate for giving a sincere answer to a question that is so obviously ridiculous and insincere.

But I saved the best (and by “best” I mean the worst) for last:

Subj: OK Red

So I dug 80% of what you posted.
I am a Sox Fan and Cubs tolerate’r (-15%)
I really want to go to Cancun soon (not alone) (-5%)
So check my post - it’s a lot less to read.

Dan
Truth
Depends on what cuisine was consumed and whether or not (and when) it is a Bulimic bird, of course.

I hope you are not really an amazon, red is OK.

I … I … I can’t even … I have no words.

Missive from the Amazon: Dipping a toe back into an ever-shallower dating pool.

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 22:00:00 -0400

During the last year, I’ve made some serious progress toward getting my shit together. I’ve gotten much healthier and lost some weight, cultivated ~~good~~ astoundingly great friendships, traveled a bit, quit smoking (for good, this time) and searched (as yet unsuccessfully) for a new job. One result of all these positive changes, one that I didn’t expect, one that caught me entirely off guard, is that I’ve become sex crazed. Seriously, I’ve got a libido somewhere between “16-year-old boy” and “dog in heat.” What I don’t have is someone to ravage when the mood strikes. And it strikes all the damn time. To make matters worse, the last time I had sex, George W. Bush still had 20 months left in his second term, and the last time I had really great sex was during Slick Willy’s second term.

So what’s a painfully horny girl to do? Candlelit dates with internet porn and the bulk of the Toys in Babeland inventory? Helpful, but the Hitachi Magic Wand doesn’t take control, pick you up in its big stong hands and flip you round like a ragdoll or lick every inch of your body until you’re hotter than Mount Kilauea. Hit the bars? I have, with no success. Seduce a friend? Been there, done that, and let’s just say the amount of alcohol that it took to attempt it was not conducive to sealing the deal. Craigslist’s casual encounters? Uhhh, no. Just no. Then, the reason I haven’t had a half-dozen one-night stands in the last year struck me: I don’t want just a one-off thing. I want someone to stick around and give me the proper, frequent rogerings I so richly deserve.

Oh, yeah, and I want to spend time with a dude who’s kind and funny and employed and smart and share our life experiences and fall in love and all that crap, too. No, really, I do. I do!

Given that I’m not the greatest about getting out and meeting people, it’s back to the internet for me. Ugh. Internet dating sites: where honesty goes to die. Since I refuse to pay for the privilege e-mailing guys who lie like Rod Blagojevich on a pretrial media blitz, it’s OK Cupid for me. It’s free, so at least I won’t cringe at paying actual money to read messages from the barely literate members of the gene pool.

Something tells me this could be a bloodbath. Stay tuned for all the gory details.