One evening my father and I were discussing Match.com and our personal horror story experiences. Yes, I had signed up for a one-month trial about four years ago after receiving a black eye from a relationship gone a little too dark. I thought I was finally ready to meet my “soul mate,” but in reality I was a 21 year old party girl with a wandering eye and an affinity for double vodka red bulls (not much has changed 4 years later except I cinched the red bull after a caffeine overdose that landed me in the ER last year – I thought these pills would make me skinnier and summer was coming up, so, not a problem… Was a problem- apparently I consumed the the equivalent of 18 cups of coffee on the day I convulsed into a scratchy bed and oxygen tank at Lennox Hill).
Anyways, the match.com thing was this little piece of hope I had, some friends were doing it, etc, so I signed up. Of all the dudes who messaged me (mainly men over 50 and dudes from jersey) I decide to meet this one Brooklyn hipster type who had this Jason Schwartzman thing going on. He seemed really witty, carried a good banter and probably would’ve gone to birthright if he wasn’t so busy writing a screenplay he’d never sell. I wasn’t worried about being kidnapped by someone off the Internet because that is a secret fantasy of mine. I think I’m too old to be kidnapped off the Internet now though
So I met this TOTAL dork at this bar in Williamsburg and he sucked. He was fat and not cute fat, the kind where all his workouts were from his hipster bicycle who pretends he lives in Williamsburg but its actually Greenpoint, but he drinks in Williamsburg every night so he has a huge gut and skinny legs. His nose was long like an uncomfortable long skinny penis which pokes you too much in the stomach. No joke he was wearing the cowboy shirt from It’s Pat and had a really strange voice that no amount of free PBR (remember we’re in Williamsburg) would’ve distracted me from. He tried to act really cool and overly funny the entire 10 minutes I spent with this Wes Andersen wannabe. Over it. I bounced and deleted my account. He continued to taunt me over AIM for weeks, which I never replied to. I ran into him weeks later while I was working on the set of a TV show and he told me I looked really cool and was impressed I did that. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was just standing in. I let him stroke my ego instead, in ways he would never be stroked by me in return.
Now it was time for my dads turn to tell me his nightmare experiences; something I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear. Then I thought about how Hellen Keller would’ve never passed up a story from her father, so c’est la vie.
One story was how he met a girl on the street who didn’t look like her picture so he said, “I’m sorry but I have to go,” and walked away from her while she screamed insults you’d only hear somewhere deep in Queens or somewhere like that I’ll never visit.
But the next girl…
He said he spoke with a girl who had a pretty face, but no body shots. RULE NIMBER ONE OF ONLINE DATING: NO BODY SHOTS = HIDING SOMETHING. Everyone knows that! She said she would pick him up from his apartment and they’d drive in her car to a restaurant. She picked him up and he didn’t seem to notice anything until she got out…when he realized she was a midget (What a slick little bitch- her elongated pedals was this witches invisibility cloak). Not sure of the politically correct term so excuse me if I’m offending anyone… “Little person” may be better. Anyways she was under 5 feet lets leave it at that. He said he felt bad leaving so they went to dinner, then said, “after a few glasses of wine she started looking pretty good.” I think we all know what happened next.
But did she whistle while she worked is the question.