I got an e-mail the other day from a man I don't even remember writing. He was that memorable. Apparently, my gorgeous photograph made an equally impressive impression, because he said that he's been too busy to even think about dating, and, really, I just didn't do it for him. He knew we wouldn't click. He wished me success. I sent him a reply- something like, "Thanks! You, too." I was impressed that he could glean all that from a photograph.
Now, seriously, I always try to weed out the ones with obvious personality disorders, and eliminate the ones that are really conceited. I can't stand people that are full of themselves, nor can I stand rudeness. Honestly, it can't be that difficult to be polite- wait, yes, for some people, it can.
It brings to mind a date I had a while ago, before I came up with the all important fifteen-minute-coffee-date screening.
Driving into the City, I managed to find legal street parking, on a Friday night. This, in and of itself, was reason to celebrate. I was optimistic about this man. We exchanged perfectly charming e-mails, no huge grammatical errors on his part, and had a nice phone conversation. He was in his late forties, dark haired, fit, clean cut. Brown eyes, a bit of a departure for me.
He was waiting for me outside the restaurant. Gave me a really long hug, hands sliding down the small of my back until I backed off. We went inside. Walking to our table, he kept touching me. I just figured he was just really tactile. I'm not. During dinner, which was pretty good, his knees kept brushing mine. Conversation was a little stilted, punctuated by long awkward silences, broken only by our chewing and the clink of our silverware. It wasn't going very well. I just couldn't wait to leave. I even skipped dessert, which is pretty unusual for me. We split the bill. He offered to walk me to my car, and did, even though I insisted that it wasn't necessary. He kept trying to put his arm around me as we walked, and I kept doing stupid things, like dropping my keys, and coughing really loudly and obnoxiously. I finally just told him to stop, and just back off my ass. He looked at me, and said, "You really aren't very friendly, are you?" "Actually, I'm very friendly to the right person," I said. "I guess you're just the wrong person. I don't like to wrestle when I'm walking." He looked at me, and said, "You f#*king women are nothing but teases. You're just a frigid bitch." Okay then. On that happy conclusion, we walked in silence back to my car, which, thankfully was close. When we got to it, I said, "Well, thanks for dinner." Suddenly he lunged at me and started kissing me, grabbing my breasts and my ass and anything he could while I tried to get away from him. I had my car keys in my hand- so I hit the panic button, and the alarm and the lights just went off, causing him to leap back and giving me the opportunity to get away and into the car. What a creep.
When I got home, I sent him an e-mail, something like,
"Thank you for dinner. We will never be a couple, because there is no chemistry between us. Good luck in your search." Adequate and polite.
Adequate, even though I was still pretty pissed off at the whole octopus routine, there at the end. I wanted to say something about how he was a jerk with no manners, but I decided that I needed to be polite.
Apparently he didn't feel the same way. The next day, I got an e-mail reply from him.
"Dear cold f*#king bitch, if i wanted to see you, i would have written you you shouldnt write me you have no reason to tell me what i can and cant do, you c%&t i hope you die you f*#king tease you are a whore like every other woman i hope your p*#&y falls out and rots."
Master of anger, the run-on sentence, and poor punctuation all at once. What a prince! What a writer! How could I let this one slip away? Hmm. Well, actually, I'd rather spend the evening with my cat, or at the gym.
Better luck next date...
Now, seriously, I always try to weed out the ones with obvious personality disorders, and eliminate the ones that are really conceited. I can't stand people that are full of themselves, nor can I stand rudeness. Honestly, it can't be that difficult to be polite- wait, yes, for some people, it can.
It brings to mind a date I had a while ago, before I came up with the all important fifteen-minute-coffee-date screening.
Driving into the City, I managed to find legal street parking, on a Friday night. This, in and of itself, was reason to celebrate. I was optimistic about this man. We exchanged perfectly charming e-mails, no huge grammatical errors on his part, and had a nice phone conversation. He was in his late forties, dark haired, fit, clean cut. Brown eyes, a bit of a departure for me.
He was waiting for me outside the restaurant. Gave me a really long hug, hands sliding down the small of my back until I backed off. We went inside. Walking to our table, he kept touching me. I just figured he was just really tactile. I'm not. During dinner, which was pretty good, his knees kept brushing mine. Conversation was a little stilted, punctuated by long awkward silences, broken only by our chewing and the clink of our silverware. It wasn't going very well. I just couldn't wait to leave. I even skipped dessert, which is pretty unusual for me. We split the bill. He offered to walk me to my car, and did, even though I insisted that it wasn't necessary. He kept trying to put his arm around me as we walked, and I kept doing stupid things, like dropping my keys, and coughing really loudly and obnoxiously. I finally just told him to stop, and just back off my ass. He looked at me, and said, "You really aren't very friendly, are you?" "Actually, I'm very friendly to the right person," I said. "I guess you're just the wrong person. I don't like to wrestle when I'm walking." He looked at me, and said, "You f#*king women are nothing but teases. You're just a frigid bitch." Okay then. On that happy conclusion, we walked in silence back to my car, which, thankfully was close. When we got to it, I said, "Well, thanks for dinner." Suddenly he lunged at me and started kissing me, grabbing my breasts and my ass and anything he could while I tried to get away from him. I had my car keys in my hand- so I hit the panic button, and the alarm and the lights just went off, causing him to leap back and giving me the opportunity to get away and into the car. What a creep.
When I got home, I sent him an e-mail, something like,
"Thank you for dinner. We will never be a couple, because there is no chemistry between us. Good luck in your search." Adequate and polite.
Adequate, even though I was still pretty pissed off at the whole octopus routine, there at the end. I wanted to say something about how he was a jerk with no manners, but I decided that I needed to be polite.
Apparently he didn't feel the same way. The next day, I got an e-mail reply from him.
"Dear cold f*#king bitch, if i wanted to see you, i would have written you you shouldnt write me you have no reason to tell me what i can and cant do, you c%&t i hope you die you f*#king tease you are a whore like every other woman i hope your p*#&y falls out and rots."
Master of anger, the run-on sentence, and poor punctuation all at once. What a prince! What a writer! How could I let this one slip away? Hmm. Well, actually, I'd rather spend the evening with my cat, or at the gym.
Better luck next date...
bahaha
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