You Think Your Dating Life Is Bad?

Mike: Okcupid tells me my best match, percentage-wise, lives in Tel Aviv. Thanks. Thanks, OkCupid. My best match is a Jew from Jewville. Tel Aviv is a distance farther away than Biblical Creation. Next, you'll tell me that I'm Dr. Seuss and I like green eggs with matzah ball soup and manischewitz.

George: HA! I’ve a similar problem – except they’re substantially closer. All of my best matches are (surprisingly) in San Francisco and New York.
George: Have I told you about my terrible dating experience with someone from Craigslist?

Mike: Why, no, I don’t believe you have!

George: Well, sit down and buckle up, because I’m about to take you on a joy ride of a story.

Mike: I’ll make popcorn.

George: I don't typically date because gay men annoy me.
George: Once in a while, I'll get a bug up my butt (so to speak) and give it a shot again for just long enough to remind myself why I don't date.

Mike: I have a similar problem: I don’t date because I find it difficult to find a woman who interests me or can keep up with me intellectually, and when I do, they aren’t interested.

George: On this particular attempt a couple of years ago, I posted on Craigslist, which I didn't realize at first was a virtual meat market more than anything else.
George: The title of my ad was "Get your flapjacks!" because randomness was the only way to attract attention.

Mike: THERE’S A SALE ON KAYAKS AT R.E.I.!

George: Right, like that.
George: Anyway, the body of the ad was pretty straightforward – I want a LTR, etc.
George: I got a ton of responses, picked a few, and chatted with them for a little while.
George: One of them, Max, was a nice guy, but we just didn't have that spark. We're friends; he works for a local news company, and calls my workplace regularly in order to speak with operations supervisors to get updates on what's happening with local police and fire agencies.
George: Another one of them – I don't remember his name, so we'll call him Harry Dick – and I chatted a whole lot.
George: At the time, I was dispatching police on a graveyard shift, so we communicated via instant messenger constantly for a week or so.
George: We exchanged pictures. He seemed pretty cute.
George: He told me he was Wiccan, which interested me because I know so little about the religion, so I figured it would make a good point of discussion.

Mike: “So I hear you believe in bullshit. I can fix that.”

George: Gentle nagging will fix any issue!
George: After a little while, he asked me to coffee. I said sure. We settled on 2 in the afternoon at his favorite coffee shop.
George: Two in the afternoon to me was basically two in the morning to people on a regular schedule, but that was okay. I got four hours of sleep, got up, got ready, and left.
George: So, the first date is kind of like a job interview, right? Let me ask you – you’re going to a coffee shop to meet some chick for the first time. How would you dress?

Mike: I normally wear a t-shirt and either jeans or shorts. So… maybe a polo or something.

George: Yeah – casually fabulous, right? I dressed in black jeans and a long-sleeve, button-up, black pinstriped shirt. I also shaved and did my hair.
George: I got to the coffee shop on time and got in line to order some food.
George: As I was standing there, someone walked up to me. I looked at him; he was staring at me. I looked away and looked back; he was still staring. I asked if I knew him; he asked if I was George. I responded in the affirmative, and he said he was Harry.
George: Needless to say from my reaction, he looked nothing like his picture.
George: I'm really not that shallow, so I don't find it necessary for people to lie about how they look.
George: I thought, perhaps he doesn't like how he looks now compared to how he used to, so I thought, "I can work with this."

Mike: Sounds dirty.

George: Then, I took in how he had dressed.
George: First interview kind of situation, right?
George: Yeah. He was wearing a raggedy T-shirt and gym shorts. He had also applied a baseball cap so he wouldn't have to do his hair.
George: Also, he didn't bother to shave.
George: I thought, "Maybe he doesn't know how to take care of himself. I can work with this."

Mike: So, you wanted to fix something? Gee, that sounds nothing like you. Nothing at all.

George: We took our food and sat down.
George: I asked him about Wiccanism.
George: The only thing he could tell me was basically anything one might read off of the back of The Idiot's Guide to Wiccanism, meaning he didn't know a thing about it.
George: He said, "I don't know what to explain, I need you to ask questions!" to which I replied, "I don't know anything about the religion, tell me what you believe!" yet he could still say nothing I didn't already know.
George: It leads me to believe he just says he's Wiccan because it sounds cool.

Mike: That’s generally what I see with most religious people: they claim it, but they can’t explain much of what their beliefs are supposed to be.

George: A fair point!
George: Next, Harry started complaining about cops.
George: In my experience, there are two reason one complains about cops.
George: The first is professional; at my job, a dispatcher (such as myself at the time) might complain that a cop has bad radio habits, he seems lazy and tries to slough all his work off onto other cops, etc.
George: The second type of complaint comes from when you get in trouble with the law.
George: Guess which one of those he falls under.

Mike: You forgot anti-authoritarians, but I’ll let it slide. This time. Anyway, this dude doesn’t sound anti-authoritarian, he sounds like the second group.

George: So, my response to his bitchery was, "Hmm. Have I mentioned that I dispatch police for a living?"

Mike: You’ve tolerated quite a lot from this asshat. I’d have gotten up and walked out by now.

George: I’m patient by practice, if not by nature.
George: Next, he started talking about his rape fetish.
George: In which, in dispatcher terms, he would be the suspect.
George: Hmm.

Mike: IT’S A TRAP!

George: Ha!
George: Then, he proceeded to tell me a story about when he had a roommate who was 'totally into that', so Harry borrowed a white van from a friend and waited in the parking lot of their apartment complex for his roommate to come out.
George: Harry jumped out of the van, chloroformed his roommate, threw him into the van, drove him to an alley, had his way with him, and left him there.
George: (I can't imagine why they're not roommates anymore.)

Mike: Hey, you sure do pick winners!

George: My response to this fascinating turn of events: "Interesting. So to get out of here, I just take a left out of the driveway and go as fast as I can?"
George: Mr. Dick and I haven't spoken since.

Mike: But he sounded so delightful!

George: Yeah? I’ll get you his number.

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