… and then God reminded me that online dating was at least funny.

Posted on May 31, 2013 by Belle of the Library

I caved. If you don’t recall, here was the hierarchical list, in the sense that I must accomplish one task before moving onto the next:

Graduate Portfolio
Master’s Degree
Librarian Job
Boys

I passed the portfolio and I got my degree. Then I had a panicked fit that went something like this…

“I’m never going to be a Librarian! Because I’m not dating, I’m going to die alone and not even Gail will be there, because she’ll be on a fucking couples’ cruise with fucking Terry! She signs onto CRAIGSLIST to giggle over serial killers looking for love and fucks a trucker in a Buick and it turns out perfectly (even though it’s the obvious set-up for a horror movie) and I’m going to be the lady from Mona Lisa Smile crying about how life wasn’t supposed to be this way! Gail won’t even be there to console me like Julia Roberts did! She’ll be too busy playing Pictionary with The McIntyres, even though they have the personalities of plates and wear too much pastel, because they have kids the same age as hers, and she’ll have outgrown me and my rotting ovaries! Motherfucking Terry!”

1. I graduated two weeks ago.
2. I’m 25.
3. I don’t know anyone with the last name McIntyre and neither do Gail or Terry.
4. I really like Terry.
5. I’m an eensy bit high-strung.

Soooo, I talked myself down from the bell tower and decided to change the list up, taking my mind off the job search with a little online dating… which I have not legitimately engaged in since November, when I failed my graduate portfolio presentation the first time. I got an OkCupid account and then I got a PlentyOfFIsh account… and then God reminded me that online dating was at least funny. Don’t get me wrong. There have been some promising guys and I’m continuing this effort, despite the guy who told me he was looking for someone “naughty” after three hours of standard Q&A texting… or the guy who explained that he got a divorce because there was nothing good on T.V. that day, my only ever reason I cannot dignify such a decision, outside of the obvious cheating with heroine stuff.* The promising ones, however, are not funny material for blogs. So, the following are copy and paste openers from profiles and personal messages.

*He actually said that there was no chemistry or passion in his marriage, because marriage is a tingly feeling and not a lifelong committment. Okay. He didn’t say that last part.

The Profiles

-I LIVE WITH MY PARENTS!!!!!-
Okay. There are extraordinarily rare scenarios where I’m cool with this and I think it’s best to be open about the fact that your mother can’t get around by herself after her stroke, before getting involved with someone. That’s fair and quite responsible e-dating, in fact., and I can get on board with such selflessness as this.You, however, offered no explanation for this living arrangement at twenty-fucking-eight. You did state that you worked full time at a clothing store. Dude, you have a full time job. We live in the South, where you can buy a decent house for $60,000 and rent a meh apartment for about $600 a month. Stop taking advantage of your clearly too loving parents. Grow. The. Fuck. Up.

-To those that have already seen my profile I want to apologize my crazy psycho ex somehow managed to get my password and talk crap about me?!-
Oh, please, please, please tell me you have issues with your ex-girlfriend!!! You do?!?!? There is a flash flood in my pants right now.

For realz, yo, I do not know your name. If your ex did this, start creating more unique passwords and get on with life. Anyone who actually saw what she wrote, probably won’t be back. Opening with a rant about your “crazy psycho ex” tells me that you thrive on that sort of drama. In other words…. NEXT!

-I’m a genuine gentleman at heart but I can also be a NAUGHTY BAD BOY ;]-
Telling me that you’re a gentleman “at heart” sort of implies that I can’t really see it upon the first meeting, which is not particularly gentlemanly; neither is calling yourself a “naughty bad boy” in an introduction. I sure as shit do not want to shake your hand without some kind of glove.

-I went through a divorce all of 2012. finally got my divorce papers a few weeks ago. I use to have a motorcycle, but i lost it in the divorce.-
“Von. Two. Three! Three uses of the word divorce in your first two sentences! Mwa ha ha ha ha ha!!!”

Wait. You’re divorced, aren’t you? Is there a clearer way to tell me that you are sooooo not over your divorce? My general rule for online dating, regarding exes: if they’re mentioned in a profile, they’re not ex, because they are still very much a current variable in your life.

The Personal Messages

-Hi I’d like to tell you more about myself My father was a beekeeper before me, his father was a beekeeper. I want to follow in their footsteps. And their footsteps were like this. (Runs screaming) AAAAAAAH! I’m covered in beeeeees!-
Ummm…. okaaaay. I get it. I do. He’s opening with a joke… a bad one. The thing is, I’ve gotten this from him before. It was months and months ago on PlentyOfFish (this was OkCupid). It was weird then (enough so that I remember it) and it’s weird now. This is also clearly his default opener and he’s sticking with it. He thinks this is funny and encourages conversation… even though it says nothing about him and inquires nothing about me. All this tells me about the guy is that we do not share a sense of humor and that is a deal breaker.

-You seem entirely like someone I could be interested in.-
I do not think this guy could’ve sound more pretentious if he tried. For one, this was worded… awkwardly at best, as if in an attempt to sound intelligent, though it ends in a preposition. Two, it sounded like he was inviting me to impress him, though he sent the first message. It was just short of “dance, puppet, dance!”

-You asked for a guy who is in a career…unfortunately I left a career to go back to school to do what I’m passionate about.-
He went on to tell me that he was studying vocal music performance and I think he thought I would admire this, despite clearly stating otherwise. Then again, he said “unfortunately”, so I don’t know. I honestly do not care what other people do with their lives. If he’s paying his bills and singing for his supper, what-the-fuck-ever. He’s not going to date me while doing it, though. My profile makes it clear that I want someone who has an obvious career and knows where their life is going and it does so because my ex-husband’s “career” was stealing from his wife. I have no idea what sort of future someone sees for themselves majoring in “vocal music performance”, because that’s not how I operate. In the movie Across the Universe, the old man tells the young man “what you do is who you are” and he’s clearly stuffy and unenlightened. Yeah. So am I. I’m into practical fields and that’s what attracts me, because I feel that means someone could potentially take care of more than just themselves. I also don’t see why someone needs a degree in music performance. If they’re good, why not just go sing? Mostly, I don’t get what this guy thinks he’ll have in common with someone so corporate as a librarian. I work for the man.This job is stationary and nine to five. His clearly will not be once it’s started, whatever it is. There is zero future there and my profile was just shy of saying so verbatim. He sent me another message a few minutes later telling me he added to his profile and wanted me to check it out again. No. I stated I wanted a career guy and he is the antithesis of that. That’s cool and all, but no.

-Is that the face your pup makes when he looks into the future?- (he was referring to a photo of my dog)
“Crazy man” was taken as a photo title in the folder where I save images for this blog. That should tell me something about my life.

-Good evening miss. So I read your profile and I am very interested in getting to now you. Maybe we could be like to comets in the night sky burning brightly in the night sky showing off are passion for each other . That is if we hit it off. Which I bet we would.-
I legitimately screen capped this and texted Gail to ask if she thought he was kidding. Upon reading his profile, I realized no, he was not. I recently read a great blog post by an online dater about a guy who awkwardly petted her head and asked for permission to kiss her. I’m pretty sure this is the Southern version of that guy and dating him would’ve made for a great blog post, though that would’ve been cruel. First, there are the spelling mistakes. Shudder. Second, there’s the somewhat creepy use of “miss” and the whopping romantic clichés. Third, there’s the use of the word “passion” in an introduction. Another, completely different, shudder.

In conclusion…

There are clearly many other reasons why I will be dying alone.

Four Dating Profile Clichés I Just Can’t Use

Posted on May 16, 2013 by Belle of the Library

Profile clichés seem to be a hot button for many online daters. Personally, as long as no one uses all of them, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the occasional well-used verse, if it’s accurate. I do want someone who works hard, because my ex-husband never had a fucking job. A generalized request such as this weeds out men for whom a 401(k) will never be on the table. I include many more specific details about myself as well, so if throwing in my commonly-shared desire for a man with a career sounds generic enough to pass me up, fine. That guy can suck a bag of dicks, because he’s obviously too particular anyway.

In general, online daters just aren’t all hobby-writers. They don’t realize that everyone would call themselves loyal, because they have other hobbies that are keeping them from heavily researching the dos and don’ts of profile creation. That’s a good thing. By declaring themselves loyal, they’re expressing a desire to be with someone who will make them a priority while still enjoying their own life. It’s called subtext and expecting everyone to be a bomb writer like myself would be just plain ludicrous. That being said, there are some well-worn clichés that don’t necessarily turn me off, but which I just cannot use, because they would be damnable lies.

“I know how to have a good time, but I still know when to be serious.”
Me: “I don’t even know if I can have kids.”
Gail: “Belle, that was one time and there were extenuating circumstances.”
Me: “Psh. You don’t know. I could have a Hamilton Beach blender in there.”

That was a serious conversation about my miscarriage. I definitely know how to have a good time, but I’d rather experience a treatable venereal disease than any sort of dramatic emotional display. I cope with the most crushing parts of my life, not by delving deeply into my psyche, but by giggling about them.

Me: “What the hell is up with therapy? Everyone wants to talk about shit, like that’s gonna help. You don’t talk about it. You bury it and pile inappropriate jokes on top. So sometimes you cry after you masturbate? Big damn deal. Who doesn’t?”
Malik: “How the fuck am I the most well-adjusted person in the room right now?”

Don’t get me wrong. If someone else’s grandpa is dying, I don’t respond with a chuckle. I sort of just awkwardly pat them on the back while standing at an acceptable conversational distance and make some facepalmingly obvious statement like “I’m sorry you’re sad.” I get that other people don’t want to hear knock knock jokes about their dying family members and want to actually feel and appropriately respond to their own emotions. I respect that bizarre tendency. Is it too much to ask for more people to accept my far more reasonable coping mechanism? Maybe so, but in the meantime, I’m not going to advertise my ability to take things seriously, because it just doesn’t fucking exist and when I try to force it…

“I’m hardworking, but laid back.”
::phone rings… it’s Gail::
Me: :defeatedly: “Hello?”
Gail: “Hey… are you okay?”
Me: “No. I’ve been looking for the honey for ten freaking minutes and the guy was a jerk when I asked where the oats were, so I didn’t want to ask him anything else. I just found the honey and there are seventeen different kinds! Why are there seventeen different kinds of honey?!?! I just want normal honey! I’m gonna buy some bees, open a honey factory and call it JUST DAMN HONEY!!!”

Honey, y’all. Fucking honey. That’s what led me to tears in the peanut butter aisle (for anyone who’s still wondering where the honey is located), because I am just not laid back. In actuality, I’m not that high-strung of a person, either. I just have a definable limit. For example, when I’m driving somewhere and realize I’m lost (this happens a lot), I’ll look at the GPS on my phone and try to drive one way until I recognize a street, while listening to the radio and rolling my eyes at myself. Then I’ll hit a street that I thought was in the opposite direction or realize I just drove in a circle and go from “handing it” to “inconsolable” from one heartbeat to the next. I am, indeed, a hard worker as well. Therefore, when I find out I’ve failed at something, say teaching myself a new skill, rather than putting away the knitting for another day, I’ll burst into tears and hurl the yarn across the room. There are no degrees of upset for me, because I think adults should be able to control their emotions and I try to practice that… until I just can’t anymore and I’m weeping over condiments.

Is honey a condiment?

“I have no baggage/drama.”
Ell oh ellsies. I couldn’t even manage to type this one without a hearty guffaw. One reason I like online dating is for the ability to open with ” I’m divorced” and then just stop talking about it. At 25, with a Master’s degree and no children, people just assume I’ve never been married. The last thing I want, however, is for my boyfriend of two months to ask what’s wrong and respond with “just wondering how to tell you that I was married for four years when I really should’ve brought it up ages ago.”

I suppose there are amicable divorces… but mine, sure as shit, was not one of them. I’m a happy person and my life is good, but sometimes I wake up cuddling a revolver, burst into tears in the baby aisle at Target, or hyperventilate at the smell of soot. I have six pounds of frozen meat in my fridge, along with twelve bags of vegetables and I live alone. I suck my thumb like normal adults smoke cigarettes. Soooo… while it’s undoubtedly appealing to run across someone with “no baggage”, this former 23-year-old divorcée is just gonna have to skip that claim and unsubtly avoid answering any and all questions about her relationship with her mother for awhile.

“What an interesting question! So, what’s your favorite kind of pie?”

“I’m not very good at describing myself.”
This right here is exactly why people employ clichés. They’re unsure of/uncomfortable with who they are. Maybe it doesn’t sound humble, but I have no problem talking about and/or describing myself. I can tell you my assets and flaws right here and now, because if there is one thing I’ve accomplished since my divorce, it’s self-awareness. I’m driven, successful, smart, loyal, hardworking, resilient, stubborn, socially awkward, foul-mouthed, high-strung, sexually inexperienced, obsessive, and sarcastic. I shut down the second confrontation sparks and will not apologize if I don’t mean it. If I do, it makes everything worse and goes a little something like this:

“Well, I’m sorry you chose to take it that way and upset yourself.”

My entire fucking blog is all about me and my life and the people in it. I am absolutely willing to be totally upfront with who I am as a person, because that’s the whole point of online dating. It’s such a waste of time to beat around the bush when explaining who we are and what we want, when the very purpose of online profiles is to skip the “you come here often?” bullshit we find in bars. I’m not going to claim I have any difficulty expressing myself, because the clearer everyone is, the more successful the whole venture.

“I’m sorry I asked for detailed information on your sex life before meeting. Lol.”

Posted on April 1, 2013 by Belle of the Library

Motherfucker, I am bad at this.

Not just like a little bad. Like a lot bad.

I met Teacher on OKCupid. He’s a choir teacher and that’s super gay, but I’m aware that I’m being judgemental and stereotyping with said assessment. I’m trying really hard to knock it off with having a “type.” I mean, I think it’s important to have something in common with anyone I date, but I’m a varied and complex person. I’m also not narcissistic enough to think I’m the only one out there. I like to shoot pink guns, but I also went to Batman Live alone, because no one would go with me. I have a dear affection for Disney on Ice and regularly use the words “snazzy” and “keen”. There’s also the little detail about majoring in books. Who’s to say the nerdy girl is any less significant than the country girl? So, I put aside my snobbery and responded when Teacher messaged. Overall, he seems like a pretty nice guy. I was even able to check online and see that he actually works at the middle school he named. But I was still hung up on one little detail from his profile:

The most private thing I’m willing to admit:
I have Dom tendencies.

Yes, yes, I am, indeed, going to end up in Tupperware for the fact that I would respond in the first place, but that phrase could mean a multitude of things, from “I like to be in control in bed” to “How’s that ball gag feel? What? I can’t hear you, because of the ball gag, bitch!” Now, I’m pretty inexperienced, since my ex-husband was morbidly obese, which limited the positions possible, and never wanted to have sex. I also, however, know that I like when the guy takes control, so I’m fine with the first option and that’s what I was thinking in the beginning of my correspondance with Teacher. He also hasn’t asked me a single inappropriate question or implied that he expects anything from me, so I’ve continued texting him. We were supposed to meet Friday, but I got busy talking to tech support about my Gramma’s broken T.V. (that I bought her for Christmas) while she was hilariously and uncharacteristically ungrateful.

Me: “Well, I got a new book loaded on your Nook, at least.”
Gramma: “Yeah, well I’d prefer to have my T.V. working!”
Me: “I had a date tonight, Gramma. I canceled to deal with this.”
Gramma: “Oh, bull. You did not.”
Me: laughingly “Okay.”
Gramma: “Oh, you did not.”
Me: “Okay, Gramma. I love you.”

angry old lady
I didn’t even try to convince her, because she’d be even more upset that I just murdered all of her future great grandchildren and it wouldn’t change anything. Teacher was really understanding about my flakiness, though, so I still didn’t have an excuse to stop speaking to him. Damn it. Gail and I had Easter breakfast and I told her that I was considering “pulling a Belle” and just ending all communication without an explanation, because of the Dom comment.

Me: “It freaks me out.”
Gail: “It freaks you out, even though you’re into it?”
Me: “I’m not into that.”
Gail: “You’re into that a little.”

Good point. Teacher had wished me a happy Easter far too early in the morning and I hadn’t responded. After time with family, setting up my Gramma’s new T.V. with much more gratitude (Wal-Mart did let her return it), and amounts of chocolate that would kill Willy Wonka, I went home and crashed. I woke to a text from Teacher asking how my Easter was. Ugh. This guy will not give me a legitimate reason to act like a dick! He didn’t text at all Saturday, texted once Sunday morning in a way that required no response, and still sent a text asking about my holiday when I didn’t respond, hours later. I can neither accuse him of being annoyingly clingy, nor can I claim he’s not interested either. DAMN IT!

I responded and viewed his profile again. That’s when I saw this question:

If a trusted partner asked you to submit to them sexually, would you? Assume that this would involve letting them collar you, command you, and have control over you during sex.

Teacher’s response was no, with the explanation “I am a Dom.” Okay. He’s not really responsible for that question. OKCupid brought it up. I read into shit, though. I’ve written multiple blogs overanalyzing fiction. I’m also not-so-secretly looking for a reason to sabotage all possible relationships, because I am the White Witch of Narnia.

“Dom tendencies” and “I am a Dom” resonated completely differently with me, even though that could just be taken as an explanation for why he wouldn’t be interested in a submissive activity. Naturally, I texted Gail, because I have no idea what the fuck I am doing and can’t choose a brand of shampoo without her input.

Gail: Ask what that entails. And you should be nice even if it’s super weird.
Me: You’re trying to get me killed.

Gail was shocked when I told her I’d actually asked, because she really was expecting me to pull a Belle and just drop of the face of the earth. My only other female friend, Niki, told me to tell him I had cancer and was dying. Thank you! That’s more my speed and there’s a reason she’s one of two vaginas with whom I’ll associate with any regularity.

So I asked Teacher what “Dom tendencies” meant with no lead up at all. His answer basically told me that he doesn’t know what the word “Dom” means and he just likes to be in control and handcuffs could be fun. That’s cool with me. Collars, not so much. He also asked why I was asking so suddenly, which… yeah. Who asks that with no context? Sending Gail screen caps, I relayed my response to her:

Because there’s a question that asks about collars and that freaks me out. Like, the guy being in control doesn’t, but like… well collars. You seem nice, but that’s extreme.

Gail supplied me with her translation: “you seem weird, but it’d be nice if you’d prove otherwise.” I’d already sent the worst save ever.

Like, for me, I mean. More power to the rest of the world. I don’t care what they do.

His response was as normal and nice as could be in this situation, and he explained that he would never do something that made his partner uncomfortable and that that was ages away and we should probably meet first. I apologized for asking and told him that it had just made me nervous.

I’m sorry I asked for detailed information on your sex life before meeting. Lol.

Again, he was really nice and said it didn’t bother him and he asked what else was making me uncomfortable. I ignored the question and made a joke about how I needed to stop reading the sex questions. He said he hoped he hadn’t scared me off. I was feeling really awkward and started rambling via text. Oh, yeah. That’s a thing.

No, it’s okay. That’s why I asked. And your answer was super not creepy. Lol. Gail and I used to look at the Craiglist personals, because they’re funny and the people who used the word Dom generally weren’t meaning such a mild version.

they were descriptive. And terrifying. Maybe I should stop doing that.

It’s alright to pretend I never asked if you had a woman in your dungeon.

SHUT-UP, BELLE! SHUT-UP, SHUT-UP, SHUT-UP!!!!!

He asked a quick, undetailed question about my preferences and I said I was inexperienced, but not prude. Then he changed the subject, because everyone on the planet is better at this crap than I am.

I’ll continue to try and find flaws with Teacher that will justify my ditching him. If I can’t do so by Friday, I’ll meet him in person… then I’ll surely find something… because I want to die alone.

I am so going to end up in Tupperware.

Posted on March 26, 2013 by Belle of the Library

Remember the post Online Dating: Holy S#!+, I Don’t Have Time for This? Well, if you don’t, it’s pretty self-explanatory from the title. A couple of weeks ago, I swore off dating until I finish graduate school, at the very least. That lasted until one night last week, when I was up late ~~procrastinating~~ studying and decided to sign into my Plenty of Fish account. I’d like to take this moment to thank the good Lord for reminding me why I don’t have time for this… and for doing so in a humorous way.

Amen.

I had successfully avoided Plenty of Fish for about three weeks after trading a few long messages with Catholic Engineer (over the course of a couple of weeks), before realizing that I just couldn’t even fit responses into my schedule, let alone an actual date. After agreeing to the vague “I’d like to meet”, I proved my dick was biggest, like the jackass I am, by ceasing to sign in altogether without a word or explanation. I’m really bad at this. So, the other night, I expected to log in to see one or two messages, maybe a hurt “If you weren’t into it, you could have just said so” that would have made me feel even more guilty. Seriously. I am terrible at this. I should’ve remembered, though; this is the Internet and while, quite often, totally normal people sign up for online dating, it is still the place where crazy people go to hide.

I suppose this profile picture should’ve been a tipoff.

Originally, I let out a sigh of relief. I had not, in fact, received any angry or hurt messages. Then… I let out a shudder. I had received no less than five messages in three weeks, each relatively lengthy.

– The first message was in response to my lack of response, explaining that he’d put the pieces together and realized I must be working the book sale for my library system, as I’d mentioned. He was excited by the prospect of coming by to see me.
(!!!!!!)

– The second message told me that he was sorry he hadn’t made it by, his nerves got the best of him, but he couldn’t wait to meet me. He assured me he knew I was worth it.
(I debated whether this was an “aww” moment or a “get out of my tree and wipe the semen of my window” moment before. It is officially the latter.)

– The third message told me how he’d been thinking of me and hoped I was well. Gee, I must be really busy, but he knew that the best things in life are worth waiting for.
(Dude, if you weren’t so fucking crazy, you’d lose major points for ending that sentence in a preposition.)

– The fourth message told me how lonely he was and how much he missed talking with me and that each night he hoped to sign in and get a pleasant surprise in the form of a response. He was looking forward to meeting me and knew I was worth the wait.
(At least he’s not redundant.)

– The fifth apologized for sending me so many messages and assured me he was just lonely, but he knew I must be busy.

After reading through Catholic Engineer’s epic memoire, I immediately texted Gail to tell her that he was, apparently, super crazy. She told me to block him right away. I wasn’t completely sure if she was serious or not, since we were texting this conversation, so I didn’t. I am so going to end up in Tupperware one day.

That’s big enough for a human head, right?

The next day, I signed in again, also while ~~procrastinating~~ studying. I had a few messages from underwhelming, occasionally entertaining individuals, but nothing out of the ordinary. I realized that my profile was showing up at the top of several lists, because I was signing in again. I decided to make it clear that I wasn’t looking for much and added a short notation to the top of my “About Me” section, explaining that I was off dating, as I didn’t really have the time until graduation. I clarified that I just enjoyed logging in when I was procrastinating.

The next day, working dilligently on my homework again, I signed in for a quick browse and was greeted with message six from Catholic Engineer. He wanted to take the opportunity to thank me for my update and assure me that he understood my absence. He knew I would be worth the wait and couldn’t wait to hear from me in May. May’s just around the corner, after all! He wished me good luck and hoped I might feel like procrastinating soon.

It is in here, that he will store my labia.

This guy had to be checking my profile daily to have read the update I left “him.” For reasons only partly related to this, my Plenty of Fish account has since been deleted.

I’ll give OKCupid a try.

I have got to stop reading romance novels, because they are the catalyst to the above stupid idea. I’m not afraid of dying alone, because I’ll never meet anyone, until I couple one too many romantic suspense titles with all of those Red Pill blogs telling me that without marriage, I’ll cry about cancer to no one. I don’t want to cry alone about cancer!!!! Sooooo… I signed up for OKCupid.

My creepy messages on this first day have been pretty standard, which is still pretty amusing. To quote a few:

You write well. I am a journalist. I was raised Catholic, but I left it behind. I might go back. I pray often about it. I have baggage, but I carry it well. Pun intended.

Now, a compliment to my writing is quite possibly the key to thawing my frozen heart, but I wrote a friggin’ profile, not the Great American Novel or even a kickass blog entry. That’s just a weird thing to say. Following it up by outlining his issues with God and a religion I’ve stated is important to me? Well, it’s not near as panties-dampening as telling me he has a shit ton of baggage. This was his opener!!!!!

Hence, I would be very pleased if I get the chance to have conversation with you sometime, that allows me to know more about you, and see what happens in therms of a physical or spiritual connexion between you and I, you know as the song says “let our hearts discover”

Okay… let’s just get one thing straight. You wait until the person has actually responded to you to mention any kind of “physical connection”. Also, is he trying to sound intelligent or is his grasp of the English language tenuous? I genuinely cannot tell.

In just the last few minutes I got a message from the blank profile, KeepItOnTheDL17. “What’s your e-mail and I’ll send you a pic?” Ummm… no. That’s up there with “What’s your address and I’ll send you a package?”

“What’s in the box?!?!?!”

My absolute favorite, however, has to be the guy who I’ve previously seen on Plenty of Fish with a four or five page profile talking about how awesome he is and actually using the words “if you’re lucky enough to win my friendship”. He used to have a “no fat chicks” paragraph as well, though he seems to have gotten wise about that one. I remember, because Gail and I giggled maniacly over it. Even now his profile includes:

I’m very picky and have high expectations when it comes to women.

I’m really good at pretty much anything I try.

Also, If you’re too busy to date, why are you on a dating site?

They aren’t too busy to date. They’re too busy to date you. Confidence is attractive and I have a higher tolerance for it than most, but wow. What is the purpose of tainting this excellent solo with the presence of another person? But, but… that’s still not the best part. The best is this little gem:

I don’t believe in divorce and only plan on getting married once. I want to make sure she is my best friend and my soul mate.

You don’t believe in it? It’s not a fucking one-armed fairy, you jackass. I assure you, it’s real. Furthermore, a good 70% of those people who are divorced likely said the exact same thing. They sure as shit didn’t walk down the aisle to Eminem’s I Love the Way You Lie. Way to judge 60% of the population of this state you bag of dicks. Also, at age 30, in the Midwest, a lot of your prospects are going to be divorced. Prick.

Pictured: Divorce

All that having been said, I’ll leave y’all to judge for yourselves whether I’m a glutton for punishment or just really dedicated to seeking out good material for this blog, because I gave another guy my phone number. I’m determined not to initiate, since I don’t particularly care about the results and I don’t have a penis. The boy does that.

Gail: “Just for my amusement, what does the girl do in return?”
Me: “Wears pink.”

He contacted me though, and we’ve been texting. I imagine it’s only a matter of time before I write about him asking me to lick his peg leg.

Sigh… I always wanted to be cremated anyway.

Why I may or may not be too stupid to date.

Posted on March 13, 2013 by Belle of the Library

So not only do I not have time to date right now, but you know that scene in Where the Heart Is, where Natalie Portman has decided to teach herself to read after giving birth in a Wal-Mart? She explains that it’s absolutely exhausting because she has to look up every other word in the dictionary and then look up those words in the children’s dictionary. That’s me, but with dating, because I have no idea what the fuck I am doing.

She eventually mastered both, however.

A few months ago, I went on a date with Engineer. He was cute enough in his pictures, had a big boy job, and the conversation had gone alright online, so I met him at a fast food restaurant after work one evening. I had homework to do, but figured I could fit in a little bit of a social life (wrong). As I was driving away from our first meeting, I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I just didn’t like him. Gail’s always telling me I don’t give guys enough of a chance, because she’ll go out with a guy whose shoes are made of wheat at least four times before she gets tired of hearing about how he’s going to make it big with his “art” one day, so the McJob is just temporary. So, after leaving Engineer, I thought of several reasons not to like him, but didn’t want to share any of them with Gail, because I was afraid she’d tell me I was going to die alone. I did, however, tell her when Engineer asked for a second date. I left out everything negative and she, naturally, encouraged me to continue getting to know him. A couple of days later, I sent Gail this text:

“I canceled my date with Engineer. I just really don’t like him and didn’t want you to tell me I’d die alone.”

At this point, I think Gail realized that she’d been making enough jokes about my dating habits to convince me I couldn’t confide in her and that’s how we both ended up married to lunatics that one time. So she called and was absolutely non-judgemental, but wanted to hear the whole story, because we tell each other everything.

I never was sure what to do with that dress.

First off, this guy hated THE UNIVERSE. He was one of those people who thought that disliking things made him superior. He immediately insulted Twilight and anyone who reads “that stupid vampire crap.” I’ve read five books about vampires this month and had a private True Blood marathon this week. I like Superman, but Batman is better. I hardly watch T.V., but he didn’t even own a T.V. and was super proud of that fact, despite watching the shows he likes on his computer. That’s still screen time! He didn’t read and had never been to the local library. He was oddly against drinking at all and clearly judged anyone who wasn’t. He thought religion was stupid and that football was a waste of time. He didn’t like any movies and told me he hates all music, because it’s all the same. For fucking realz, yo. On the way home, trying to pinpoint why I didn’t like him, I just kept thinking of how little we had in common… because he’d have nothing in common with anyone living. Then, venting to my best gal, the one person who is always on my side, I remembered… the rest.

Me: “I actually hurt my back really badly when I decided to take up running the same week I tried a P90X vid…”
Engineer: “Okay, no offense, but there’s no way you can do P90X.”
Me: “I was going to say it was just the ab exercise.”

He immediately told me he had ADHD and proved he loved to talk about it. He actually stopped speaking for a moment (but only a single moment in the whole fucking date) to tap the shiny lightbulb and comment on how it was shiny and he liked shiny things. It was like his dialogue was written by a 14-year-old who thinks that’s what people with ADHD say.

Me: “So if your ADHD is so bad, how’d you get through college with such trouble focusing?”
Engineer: “I slept. The professors knew that if they woke me up, I’d just correct all of their answers and embarrass them, so they just let me sleep.”

… and….

Engineer: “So I was working as a janitor at this plant, after college, and it just sucked, because I knew I was smarter than every single person there.”

I felt like the best case scenario would be dating for a couple of weeks before I lost my shit and shouted “OH MY GOSH! You hate everything but yourself! Why am I even here?!?!”

… because finally…

Me: talking about how my dad wants bragging rights from his kids “He loves to tell people that I have a master’s degree at 25, even though I’m not finished yet.”
Engineer: “Bet he doesn’t tell them what it’s in, though.”

Oh, go suck a bag of dicks! On your way, be sure to get distracted and suck a bag of super SHINY dicks!

I seriously need to turn on the SAFE SEARCH.

So how does all of this make me stupid? It was a bad date that I tried to smooth over. Maybe I gave that unreasonable effort, but anyone can be the victim of a bad date. “Too stupid to date” is awfully harsh.

The thing is, for someone who shouted “HOLY FUCKING CUNT ROLLS!” the other day, I have it on good authority that I can be shockingly naive. I didn’t even think to tell Gail the following until the end of the story.

Me: “Well, he did say one thing that might have been kind of weird, but I think I was reading into it.”
Gail: “What did he say?”
Me: “Well… um… nevermind. It sounds worse than it is when I say it out loud.”
Gail: “What did he say?!?!”
Me: “Well, when I texted to ask what intersection we were meeting at, he responded with ‘the restaurant or my apartment?’, but I think he just misunderstood what I was asking.”
Gail: imitating my voice… poorly “Ell oh ell! You don’t know how words work!”

She thinks she’s the sweet one.

Me: “That can’t be what he meant! It was the first time we’d met! He did not want to have sex with me. He said he was looking for an actual relationship. People don’t do that.”
Gail: “Yes, Belle. They do. That is exactly what he meant. Also, he was lying.”
Me: “Oh, it is not. We’re too old for those games. If he wanted sex, he’d say so online. But… wait… maybe…”
Gail: “Maybe what?!? What else did he say?!?!”
Me: “Well, when he asked me to go on the second date, he asked what I was doing and said he was watching Arrow. I said I like that show and he asked if I wanted to watch it with him, but I’m sure he meant at some undetermined time in the future!” I spit the last part out before she could interrupt.
Gail: “Oh, he did not! He wanted you to come over right then so he could pretend his computer was broken and fuck.”
Me: “You’re making that up! He called me fat on the first date! No one does that! Ewwww.”
Gail: “Well, clearly he didn’t mind, because that’s what he meant.”
Me: “Maybe he wanted me to go over there, but that doesn’t mean he wanted to have sex. You’ve gone to men’s apartments several times when you’ve just met.”
Gail: “Yeah… and I knew what they wanted.”
Me: “Wait, then what did he mean when he said ‘if tomorrow night goes well’?”
Gail: “OH MY GOD! I am so glad you didn’t go to this man’s apartment! Do not apologize for canceling and do not talk to him again!”

It’s probably best for Gail’s nerves that I’ve put dating aside for a few months… especially since I never was completely sure of his intentions.

Online Dating: Holy S#!+, I Don’t Have Time for This

Posted on March 9, 2013 by Belle of the Library

There’s not a lot more to it than that title. I talked to this nice guy a bit. He wasn’t particularly attractive, but he was Catholic and an engineer. Then he asked if we could hang out sometime and I played the scenarios in my head.

1. He thinks things are going great and I don’t like him because he keeps using the phrase “needless to say”. There’s some legitimate reason to run that I’m not addressing. I realize it later when I tell Gail about his obnoxious quirk and she interrupts to say “Wait. He had blood and fur under his fingernails?!?!?!” I’ve wasted a night I could’ve been working on my graduate portfolio. This is the likeliest outcome.

2. I really like him and think it’s going somewhere, even though my heart is dead, and he doesn’t return the sentiment. His rejection… makes my heart deader? I’ve wasted a night I could’ve been working on my graduate portfolio. This is not super likely.

3. We really hit it off. I give the first guy ever a second date that I don’t cancel the day before because I’ve just realized he asked me to his place the night we met, called me fat, and said my degree was stupid. I shit you not, on that one. Anyway, we start to spend time together… a lot of time. I fret over how to do the whole “relationship thing” without fucking it up. This time and energy could be spent on my portfolio, but isn’t and then I fail my last chance at grad school and blame him. My life is over. This is the least likely scenario.

Online dating. Holy shit I don’t have time for this.

A couple of weeks ago, Catholic Engineer and I were sending each other really long and interesting messages and had mentioned meeting. I was taking longer between each message, thinking about whether or not I should bother, considering responding to him at all was tough to fit into my day. He sent me a message addressing that and included the thought that he didn’t mind waiting, because I was worth it. That could’ve been an “aww” moment or a “dude, clean the semen off my window and get out of that tree” moment. It’s the internet, y’all. I was a little creeped out, but knew I might be being unreasonable. Then I pictured a future without my MLIS and stopped logging into PoF without another word or explanation… because I’m an asshole. Since then, I’ve admitted that I was only using PoF as an entertaining distraction from homework, because Facebook gets old and some profiles are funny. I’ve been able to avoid the site since then, because if I sign in and see all of these unopened messages from Catholic Engineer, I’m going to feel like a dickhole… or be terrified. I have a hierarchical checklist now:

Portfolio

Graduation

Career

Boys

I had a chart I made in Paint, with the intention of demonstrating this, but it kind of implied that “Boys” was the ultimate goal, The Holy Grail of my twenties and I value myself more than that. It’s only hierarchical in the sense that I’m not moving forward until I accomplish each individual goal, not the sense that my life isn’t complete until I suck more dick. Maybe that’s not what hierarchical technically means, but I don’t have time to look it up, because I should be finishing that paper.

All that being said, I’m off dating right now. It’s stressful and time-consuming and I’ve got more important shit going on in my life. Going to the bars takes even more time and the results are even less satisfying. Dedicating myself to not dating has actually been super freeing, in a way. I don’t feel guilty for not going out or giving Internet dates a shot. I’ve just chosen not to do this right now, because I can’t. I’m twenty-fucking-five and despite the fact that the Midwest is perpetually warning of the sand quickly running through my uterus, I’ll have time for it later.

Looking for love…

Posted on January 26, 2013 by Belle of the Library

At this point, I’m really too busy for dating of any sort and only check my Plenty of Fish account in case the perfect country Catholic boy just happens to message me… and because it’s funny and I love screencapping profiles and messages for Gail.

About Me

1) Must love God and Go to Church

2) Must live some what healthy life style

3) Good communication

4) Likes going to bed fairly early on week days (9ish)

5) Get up fairly early 4-6 ish

6) Like outdoors (camping, fishing, cycling, running)

7) Lounging watching movies, sports,

8) Sex doesn’t have to be crazy just often

First Date

on the fly

Summary:

Must love Jesus… and fucking like wild animals.

Dear PoF:

Posted on January 18, 2013 by Belle of the Library

Alright, Plenty of Fish. It’s time we had a talk. No, this isn’t about the guy who took me out and tried to sell me a diet plan. No, it’s not about the man who asked if the reason I hadn’t had any real luck was because I was Catholic… and then called me an uptight bitch when I didn’t respond. It’s not even about Abdul542 and his “Ooh very awesome to me I love to be your friend” message.* It’s about your offensive fucking ads… you bag of dicks.

*Copy and paste. Actually.

I am being whored out to whom, now? The cop who’s about to use his furry handcuffs to arrest me for “drinking while sexy” or the one who is working diligently on his 1993 MS-DOS 6.2 with a smile on his face?

Well, now, obviously the gaping wound between my legs means I’m looking for someone with money. Fortunately, these guys don’t mind claiming that online… perhaps because they’re only 22? That’s why they haven’t had time to date (or put on clothes), because they work so much! Super believable. I suppose this isn’t a surprising pitch in a post-Christian Grey world where I am to assume the man in a pooka shell neckalce is a “megabajillionaire” without asking questions… or he’ll punch me in the neck… and it will be haaaawt.

My profile lists me as average, so I can only assume this advertisement was directed at me, because I’m dating online… of course I’m fat and insecure about it. That, however, does not mean I don’t deserve a well-hung billionaire just as much as the next gal. Fortunately for all chubby ladies, there’s an apparent shortage of pushin’ cushion here in the Midwest, where we’re known for vegetarianism and marathons!

Well, we’ve already addressed the weight insecurity, so really, your question about artificial sweetener is redundant at best. Even if that works, though, it’s likely time has managed to kick my ass, because I’m desperate enough to find a partner… online!!!!!! Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if he saw me for the first time and I looked like one of The Golden Girls? But let’s get serious people. This is a free dating site. Like I can afford Botox? Fortunately there’s a cream that will stop “women from going under the knife” to battle their insecurities! You know what else might do that? Botox. It’s a fucking injection.

For starters, the headline “Wanted” kind of makes everything look like an ad for a drug trial that may give me either the power to start fires with my mind or an exotic venereal disease. Furthermore, what about this random guy signifies his religious beliefs? Am I to assume the back of his shirt reads “I’m Catholic and I Know It”? He is, however, on a beach, so he must be rich, since you know… those cost a lot?

In conclusion, Plenty of Fish, I must admit that your ads are not going to deter me from using your site, because I’m still too cheap to pay for any other. No, no. The fact remains that what might actually deter me is the last “catch” who initiated contact:

Photo: none

Profession: Job

About Me:

“It makes me laugh when people want a picture on your profile but yet they dont have one themselves lol. People on this this are shallow. And i know i look good cause i am in body building. Kgcbhgcbhfcngc fhjgc ghjh ghjh ghhbfc ghjjh vhjjh”

… but that’s a different rant.

“Student is not a profession!!!!” and other online dating exclamations.

Posted on January 4, 2013 by Belle of the Library

“Student” is not a profession!!!! How do you pay your bills?

Just FYI, your girlfriend is in your profile picture.

Starting your profile by insulting everyone who dates online is the least effective way to get responses.

Every woman has felt fat at some point, whether she’s 94 pounds or 294 pounds. Your “no fat chicks” paragraph doesn’t even make me want to be in front of you in a parka, let alone naked.

What’s with the mustache? Are you in porn?

You’re 28? Isn’t that about 7 years over the “flat billed hat” limit?

Your = possesive, You’re = You are

“Swag”?!?! Do your parents know you’re online?

You are not athletic… not even kind of… and that’s fine… as long as you’re self-aware.

Why would you post a picture of yourself with your much more attractive friend? As Gail once said “I’m the Conan O’Brien looking one next to the Brad Pitt looking one.”

Spell out the word “you.” It is three fucking letters.

The caption “friend’s boat” totally just ruined the only redeeming quality of this picture, which was that you appear to have the level of responsibility that comes with money. You should not be shirtless… pretty much ever, in time. Also, you were a douche at the cowboy bar that one time, so I’m fine with being bitchy.

What is with the beret? I didn’t even know they actually made those.

“Isn’t seeking a relationship or any kind of committment”? OH! You just want me to know what you taste like. Gotcha.

Where is your shirt? It’s January.

Haha. Yeah, I’m not reading all of that.

I live at home. That’s what home is. You live at your parent’s home.

I hope you’re lying about your profession if you can’t even spell it.

Ugh. Even if I were looking for an “intimate encounter,” it would not be with a man who uses the word “pussy”.

You were 26 on the day I was born.

You’re 19 and I’m not Demi Moore.

Worst Flirting of 2012… Because Dating is Funny

Posted on December 19, 2012 by Belle of the Library

Could you maybe, die away from me?

When 2012 started, I hadn’t been on a date since my divorce. I didn’t date before my marriage, either, so I was 24 and didn’t know what the hell I was doing. That hasn’t changed. I’m just 25, now. I’m terrible at dating and have written several posts on it. Apparently, the men I date suck at it, too, though. Fortunately, I’m no longer racked with nerves, to the point that I think I might actually be sick on said dates, because I’ve been on enough this year to know that the worst case scenario is going to be a really funny story later. I haven’t even written these down. I’ve just remembered, because they’re just so epic that Gail and I constantly quote them.

“There’s no way your marriage was worse than mine.”
One: Why the hell would you want to compare that? That’s the worst first date conversation EVER.
Two: You know almost NOTHING about my marriage… and yes it fucking was.

“I don’t think I’ve read a book since high school.”
FANTASTIC way to hit on a girl who just told you she wants to be a librarian.

“I’m a decent guy. I’ve never cheated on a woman. I’ve never hit a woman.”
Why the FUCK are those things on your mind? Why would you even bring them up? You don’t hit women? That’s your biggest selling point?!?!

“Yeah, you see, I spent four months in military prison. I was over in Iraq and when I came back, I found out my ex-wife had been fuckin’ around on me… so… cuz of her, I had to go to military prison for a while.”
?!?! I’m pretty sure you left out an entirely relevant portion of that story.
I had to quote this one again, though I’ve devoted an entire post to that night.

“You wanna get out of here, don’t you?”
Me: “Nah. I don’t go home with guys I meet in bars.”
“This isn’t a bar. It’s a club.”
Now that you mention semantics, I totally want your venereal disease!

Me: “How’d you get through college if your ADHD was so bad?”
“I slept. They didn’t wake me up, because they knew if they did, I’d just correct all of their work and embarrass them.”
Wow. You aren’t kidding, are you? You actually think you’re more intelligent than all professors ever.

“The worst thing about working there was knowing that I was smarter than everyone.”
Why am I even here? You’re clearly so in love with yourself that my very existence is superfluous.

Me: “I’m really not a romantic person.”
“What, you don’t like foreplay?”
Please never give me a Valentine’s Day gift… like ever.

Me: “My dad just wants my sister to be an engineer because he loves to brag. I don’t even have my master’s yet and he’s constantly telling people I’m 25 with a master’s degree.”
“I bet he doesn’t tell them what it’s in, though.”
Wow. I hope you die alone.

“I ran over a cat on my bike once and I was just pissed, because it fucked up my wheel.”
You don’t care about excruciating cuddly animal death? That is HAWT. Hold my drink while I hike up my dress.

“Really? He’s been buying your drinks all night and you’re just gonna leave?”
Me: “No, it was just the one drink. If it had been more, you know…”
No. I’m lying and mocking you. Not even a chance.

“I actually have a fairly small penis. It’s about three inches.”
One: I didn’t ask. I don’t even know why you brought it up.
Two: You sir, are BAD AT THIS.

“There were 69 people in my graduating class.”
They let eleven year olds into bars?

“I work at Wal-Mart. I fucking hate it.”
Marry me. Marry me, now.

“You’re fucking stupid if you spend less than $2000 on a bicycle.”
Oh my gosh. I am so wet right now.

Belle of the Library

… the musings of an overly organized thirty-something, married, southern librarian turned stay-at-home-mom with too many opinions, too much ambition, just enough kids, and a stubborn, mouthy, redheaded country boy to accompany her through life.

Category Archives: Online Dating

Four Dating Profile Clichés I Just Can’t Use

“I’m sorry I asked for detailed information on your sex life before meeting. Lol.”

I am so going to end up in Tupperware.

Why I may or may not be too stupid to date.

Online Dating: Holy S#!+, I Don’t Have Time for This

Looking for love…

Dear PoF:

“Student is not a profession!!!!” and other online dating exclamations.

Worst Flirting of 2012… Because Dating is Funny

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