Tag Archives: Online dating service

Date Misfire [-1]

Now, I’m not sure I should include these stories–about “dates” that never actually happened–but I posted about being anally taken advantage of yesterday, so why not? Might as well. They were learning experiences for me, so maybe the information will be of use to someone else out there (or at least good for a laugh!).

Anyway…as you know, my first online meet-up was with a 25-year-old. So when a supposedly 26-year-old guy contacted me, I figured it was no big deal. Maybe he had mommy issues, perhaps he was jonesin’ for a home-cooked meal, whatever. He was adorable, he had a college degree, and he seemed pretty well spoken from what I could see of his profile and our email communication. So, sure–I kept replying, even though he kept postponing our in-person dates, constantly coming up with excuses for rescheduling.

Along the way, however, our electronic conversation veered into racy territory. He sent me nude shots of him, and I reciprocated. We chatted online late into the nights. I learned some stuff about his family, where he’d grown up, as well as all about what turned him on. He was tons of fun, and I couldn’t wait to meet him in person.

But then, he stopped writing me. I had no idea what had happened. Was he sick? Did I say something? Well, he was sixteen years younger than me–born when I was a junior in high school–so maybe he’d found someone closer to his own age, I figured. With his good looks and promising career, that’d be the most likely scenario, I decided.

I told my sister what had happened, since I had shared the guy’s pictures with her and she agreed–he was one tasty dish–and she said, “Hold on. Let me try something.”

What she did was something I had no idea was possible (techtarded one that I am)–she dropped his picture into Google Images to search for a match. Immediately she got a bunch of hits. My guy, as it turned out, was actually a public-domain porn image, complete with the body shots he had shared with me.

Oh no, I thought. Have I been conversing with some 600-pound shut-in? I immediately reported my fake boyfriend to the dating website, but his profile had already been taken down. Sorry, they told me, but this happens all the time. Thanks for reporting it, though!

But then I got to wondering: what kind of person would do something like this, playing a newly single mom going through a boatload of heartache via her pending divorce? So I wrote  my wayward friend a message, asking him. I assured him I was past being angry, now I was just curious and amused, because I was.

To my further amusement, he replied. He, it turned out, was actually a she. The career, family, and background details she’d shared with me were true (which was what made them so believable), but she was actually only 22, not 26. She really did favor “older” women, but supposedly, they don’t give her the time of day, so it’s easier to strike up conversation as a guy.

Wow! I replied. I’m impressed. I asked if she’d ever like to meet in real life, since I really did get along with her on a lot of different levels, but she shot me down, saying she couldn’t reveal herself after being so dishonest. In parting, however, she shared a few tips with me: Don’t trust people that will not text you, or seem reluctant to meet in person. Photos, skype, video and even voice can all be faked. When it comes to meeting people or trusting them, take it as in person or nothing at all.

Anyway, good to know!


Date 2.1: Guys with Game, Part I

After the debacles with the college ex and the baby-faced 25-year-old guy (who had a solid career but no college degree), I was ripe for a real date. I needed someone more my own age. More my same educational level. More from my same socioeconomic group (sorry if that sounds snobby, but it’s true), who shared similar life experiences.

Enter Date 2: supposedly divorced, he was a high-powered, bicoastal executive for a major national company you’ve heard of. Bald but amazingly cute (and no, I did not just toss an oxymoron at you), he had sparkle and charisma. I was a little taken aback that, in heels, I was as tall as he was, but I’m 5’5″, and his online profile listed him as 5’8″ (which he told the truth about–a novelty, I’d come to find out from other Internet dates), so what had I been expecting? Suppose I should have thought ahead and worn flats, but dating is nothing if not a learning experience.

Anyway, Date 2 and I met for drinks at a restaurant local to my apartment. From the get-go, the conversation popped and the chemistry between us sizzled. Extremely confident in himself and his prowess, this guy knew exactly where he was going with the smooth talk and animated stories with which he regaled me (although I have to say–letting me in on his travel buddies’ cheeky bromance nicknames rang a little fake, tempting me to mentally relabel them as Michaelangelo, Donatello, etc.).

That said, It only took Date 2 about twenty minutes to begin touching me–casually at first, then with more intention. As the evening progressed, he laced our conversation with plenty of suggestive remarks about my needs, and how badly he sensed I’d been sexually neglected.

Side-note words of wisdom to my soul sisters out there: If you’re going to meet a new guy for drinks, be sure to eat something first. Yes, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but it’s no match for skipping lunch and dinner and then downing an oversized glass of red wine.

Anyhoo, being the Red-Ribbon-Week-aware hot mama I am, we left my car at the restaurant and I had him drive us to my place.

“You haven’t had sex with anyone since your ex-husband?” Date 2 kept asking. “No one?” he clarified.

“No one,” I told him, and it was on!

Now, I said I wasn’t going to get too graphic here–and I won’t–but the extensive nature of post-lackluster-marriage-sex must be divulged. Because Date 2 and I did it every way I could think of, and then a few ways I’d never even considered. Him on top, me on top, me in front, scissor-style, backward, frontward, diagonal–you name it. All I can say is, two hours and two condoms weren’t enough. This guy was so fun, I could have gone all night if he’d had the resources and more time cleared in advance with his kids’ nanny.

Afterward, on the way back to my car, however, I might have laid my cards on the table as being the snark-nosed bitch I’m apt to being. When he sang along to an old Van Halen song on the radio and asked me if I liked that one back in high school (since we graduated the same year), I snickered and made a crack about not growing up in the Midwest. Sure, he laughed (I suspect because he’s used to girls dropping their pants when he flashes his wallet, rather than purely based on mutual attraction and a healthy respect for his flagrant brand of executive bravado), but when he cut someone off in an intersection and I called him on it, we exchanged seething looks that said, Don’t act like my ex!

As he dropped me off at my car with no promises of calling, citing a preference for dating-website email communication, I can’t lie: a few warning bells went off in my mind. Because, was the “nanny” he spoke about actually his wife? And how many girls like me was he casually dating? Not that I wanted a commitment out of anyone (I still don’t!), but after having such amazing sex, the hope that he’d bring more condoms with him in the future had occurred to me.

A month later, I finally heard from Date 2 again. He said he was in town, had a work dinner near where I live, and could we go out for drinks afterward? Nope, I told him. Already had a date planned for that night. “No problem,” he assured me, promising next time.

Now, I’m not sure if there truly will be a next time, but honestly, I don’t care (told you I think like a dude). If there is, however, I plan on enjoying it.

Secret Blog Introduction

So here’s the deal: I’m a writer. A real writer. One with a mainstream book deal who can’t tell you who she is. My agent knows I’ve been thinking about starting a clandestine blog, but even she doesn’t know the particulars, because, seriously? This has to stay secret. I’m a mom, I’m in the middle of a contentious divorce, and–oh, yeah–I write *teen* fiction, and what I’m about to share with you here? It’s not teen-appropriate.

That said, I don’t plan on getting particularly graphic, just telling the truth. In truth, however, is humor and a big fat dose of inappropriate subject matter. As in, my kids can never know about this blog. Even if it somehow goes viral (please, God!), I get an anonymous book deal out of the gig, and it winds up paying for my children’s college educations, they cannot know what an unrepentant slut their mother is. Now that that’s all out in the open, however, I’ll begin my story…

So anyway, I was married for twenty years. Were those twenty years full of wedded bliss and fabulous sex? Uh, no. Being the committed Christian women I am, however, I hung in there for way too long. Call me stubborn, but even his cheating on me, his financial irresponsibility, and his (no joke) tendency toward hoarding weren’t enough to shake my devotion. No–things had to get into batshit-crazy (i.e., frontal-lobe head injury) territory before I finally contacted an attorney and planned my escape.

Due to a couple of choice ex-boyfriends crawling out of the woodwork via facebook the moment I changed my marital status to “separated,” I waited six months to start dating in earnest. When I did, though, oh, man!

Now, before I get started dishing the dirt, I know what it’s likely a few of you out there might be apt to get to thinking–as in, How can she call herself a Christian a behave like such a ho??? To that, all I can say is what my mother’s always told me about keeping the faith: Church is for the sinner, not the saint.

Some people lie. Some people gossip. Some people cheat and steal. And they’re still Christians. Like them, I realize why I need Jesus. In my case, it just happens to be about an unquenchable sex drive and perhaps a little too much testosterone flowing through my female system, making my attitude toward sex more reminiscent of a dude’s than a chick’s. Because I tithe. I go to church every week. I have quiet time with God every day, reading His Word. But yet, here I am. Hopefully my journey will be a testimony that inspires someone out there to a deeper relationship with the Lord, but if not, God~please forgive me.

Names will not be used here, nor will dates or specifics. And I don’t want any legal trouble at the expense of my frankness, so if you’re a guy who happens by this site on a tour around the blogosphere and something sounds familiar? Just walk on by. Pretend you didn’t see it. Because even if you ask me in person, you’d better believe I’m going to deny knowing what you’re talking about.

Before we get started, one more thing: I’ve met most of my dates via the Internet. One particular dating site is my favorite, but to call it out specifically could be tipping my hat on potential identity leakage, so I’ll just tell you this: my favorite dating website is free, and it has a Q&A section that allows potential dates to get all Seinfeldesque on each other, culling from the mix anyone who doesn’t brush their teeth as much as you do or say thank you to waiters with consistency.

Anyway, onward! Each day, I’ll try (editorial deadlines notwithstanding) to chronicle, in order, the dates I’ve been on. Please keep in mind, I do this in the spirit of love, humor, and transparency. Because, my sisters–even if you’re not as slutty as I am (and I pray you’re not!!!), I’d venture a guess that you’ve wondered what would happen if you gave in and went there.