Undateable, or, I’m Even Offending People I Don’t Meet in Person

*commentary by Stoney, as always, in italics

I have turned mhy razor tongue on many a male on this blog, even ones that I like.  Few have escaped my wrath for the slightest wrongdoing.  And for that, I wish I could apologize.  Hahahahaha.  Not really.  Recently, I discovers some harsh truths about myself.  Many, actually.  One truth that I am learning from the men of my city is that I am decidedly Undateable. 

I recently tried (again) a certain Very Popular Dating Site -- let’s say it rhymes with Snatch. I adore this word. Makes me laugh every time.  I wish, Reader (I still hate that she does this!), that I was immune to the need for scintillating male companionship from time to time. But I’m not.  I thought that by joining this particular site, I might have the opportunity to meet a gentleman caller that was employed by someone besides Domino’s, might live outside of his parents’ home, and possibly owns a working car. And really, isn't everyone armed these days with that urban myth that “one of my best friends met his/her girlfriend/boyfriend on Snatch!" For the record, Rita tried to get me to abandon my PlentyofFish ways in favor of Snatch because "If men are on there PAYING to find someone, they're obviously serious about it!" I joined for exactly one, very-painful, 7-day trial.  The only guy I talked to was someone I already knew that just wrote to call me out. Pot or Kettle, sir? Pot. OR. KETTLE! 

I set up a profile and started returning emails. Let me clarify that by saying I returned emails to those who wrote more than “Hi” to me and those that were NOT sent by desperately lonely 60-somethings (apparently my target market, according to my inbox). I forced myself to be open minded about pictures, meaning that if I got some email banter going with someone that I found interesting, I was determined to overlook the fact that they had a face like a football. Because that seemed like the right thing to do. Which is how I ended up having coffee with the Fat Guy. I call these men "Forced-to-be-funny Guys."

The Fat Guy actually had a decent picture – it was a headshot for a promo that he was doing for a local restaurant. He owns his own marketing firm and had that artsy sort of look – if you could call a 40-something former football player who has gone to seed “artsy”. He was a big guy, but tall as well, cute glasses... and funny. You know what funny does to me. So I decided to be open-minded and meet him. The long and short of it was – he WAS fat, but funny, sort of endearing, and we had a really good conversation – I didn’t have to take my “early out”. And that, reader (Ugh!), was that. Never heard from Fat Guy again. Seems like a bad way to kick off the Snatch experience, but I was undeterred.

Guy #2 that I connected via email with seemed cool. We had a lot in common so after a few emails were exchanged he asked for my number and wanted to meet for a drink or coffee. He asked what company I worked for and determined quickly that he knew some guys from my company (he works for one of our clients) and was going to get the scoop on me from one of them he knew well. He actually called me (on the phone - Alexander Graham Bell, BITCHES!) to tease me about getting the scoop on me and we chatted for over an hour, talking, laughing and asking questions, etc. And again – that was that. Nothing else. Not one little itty bitty text, nothing. 

Being a low-grade sadist, I decided to push this aside as well and charged on, determined that there had to be someone out there who would enjoy watching football with me on Sundays and want to get naked with me on a regular basis. The bar is not set high here, truly.  

The third guy that I connected with asked me on an actual date (well, it was via text, but I’m still counting it). He made plans and I met him one evening. He was very talkative - almost to the point of probably needing some kind of ADD meds. But he was fairly interesting and he was a dancer – we were listening to a friend of his play music at a bar and he made me dance with him – he was really good. So we had fun. Now, the evening was slightly marred by the fact that he did a donut in his convertible Viper (small penis) in the parking lot while driving me to my car and almost got arrested. (I wish I were lying about this, but I’m not). But we both handled it gracefully and there wasn’t a drinking and driving issue, so basically the police made him squirm for an hour, then let us go (since you still can’t arrest people for just being a dumbass). He did send me a text the next day to tell me that despite the whole “almost arrested” thing that he had fun with me. And that, as I’m sure you have figured out by this point, was that. Nothing else. It’s been over a week.

So, I have no other choice but to assume that I am Undateable. Not dateable by fat guys, not by guys with a slightly manic personality with a reckless side, not by guys who have been told by people I work with that I am fun and outgoing and attractive (that was the scoop #2 was given). My girlfriends, God love the lot of them, tell me perhaps they were intimidated. That seems like a kind way of saying “you weren’t their cup of tea”. What kind of tea am I? Darjeeling, perhaps? -- the stuff that sounds cool and exotic and interesting, but when you take a sip, you want to spit it out into the nearest planter. I’m turning off my Snatch account. My ego is bruised enough to give up for another year or so.

 - Rita

I have recently been discarded by not one, but three! guys that I had no interest in actually dating. So I am apparently highly fuckable, but not, in the least, someone you want to take into a public forum for a meal and good conversation. So with my ego equally as shattered by the shitty ass dating lap pool in our city, I'm going to go have someone tie me to some floor joists in their basement and do filthy, raunchy sexually gradifying things to me to fill that void.  More on that later...

-Stoney

 

The Hiatus

Dear Readers –

Rita and Stoney disappeared, didn’t we? Well, it wasn’t for lack of blog fodder, rest assured. Men are still out there, walking around in total cluelessness, engaging in asshattery of the highest magnitude. And as far as our extracurricular activities, there have been spreader bars and ex sex, there have been allegations of sex in bathrooms (happily unfounded), there have been run ins with exes in various states of undress and there has been masturbation. So much masturbation. So not a lot has changed at the Gee Spot, actually. We just haven’t been able to put finger to keyboard to write about it. We hope you join us again as we dispense advice – with our own heads firmly planted up our asses most of the time.

Stoney & Rita