I finally gave in to my curiosity and signed up for a dating service called PlentyofFish. For the most part, it seems widely accepted and used by many people. I know I’m being terribly judgemental here, but my general opinion of people who use dating websites is that they’re desperate and incompetent (myself included). However, I figured I could write this off as a “social experiment” to stroke my ego and at least acquire some interesting blog stories.
So today this guy sends me a message and I check out his profile to see that he’s pretty smokin’ and his stats are impressive…an architect, fit, playful, and good grammar. I cannot stress this enough boys, grammar skills are an absolute must. He asks to add me to my MSN Messenger, and I comply.
We start chatting and all goes well for awhile, although I do notice that his grammar has slightly faltered. He immediately asks for my picture. I withheld my picture from POF because a) I didn’t want creepy men hitting on me b) people always think I’m prettier than I am (I mean seriously, of course I’m going to post my best pictures, right? Everyone does… and here is my beef with these websites, because people will automatically formulate opinions of you based on your photos before meeting you…once again, myself included).
I put up my photo in the MSN display pic, and he immediately starts gushing about how gorgeous I am. Right, cos you can tell from a square that measures 10 mm x 10 mm? Whatever, he seems friendly and interesting and has a body to die for.
Yeah, right. I made the mistake of telling him so.
i enjoyed the body shot
want the one with no undies?lol
hahahaha somehow i can see that being a problem at work
i doubt u wanna see whats underneath
no, that’s more like a third date kinda thing. lol
can i send u a pic?
if it’s not rated r
(Well first of all – duh – I should have known it’d be r-rated.)
The moron sends me a picture. I’m at fucking work you piece of shit, and you know it. I don’t accept the image but I can see the tiny display picture, and it’s his fucking erect penis. And it is MASSIVE. Like, the size of my forearm. And shaped like a hockey stick. I wouldn’t even know what to do with it, or where to begin. My experience in penistry has not prepared me for a penis of this magnitude. And I’m immediately disgusted with the arrogance of this bastard, but I’m too much of a pansy to tell him so, so I just ignore him.
First of all, what part of don’t send me an r-rated picture don’t you understand? Secondly, don’t talk to me like you actually want to get to know me, when really you just want some fucking skank who will flatter you and eventually meet up with you for sex. Okay? Where does it say in my profile that I’m looking for casual sex? Like maybe eventually I’d like to see your fucking penis, but not over the Internet, and not after I just met you five minutes ago, and not WHILE I’M AT WORK.
Yeah, for real. I’m still boiling just thinking about it.
I should dye my hair blonde. At work today, I began labelling all these internal wires for our sensors. Well there’s one part of our main computer board that has a label saying “Do Not Eat.” I was like, “who the hell is going to eat a computer board?” It took me all day to realize “Do Not Eat” referred to the package of silica tucked underneath the board. For real.
I am obsessed with Apartment Therapy. Holy hell, I want all of this. I want to have the swankiest bachelorette pad in the city. I want Chinese wallpaper and a green kettle. I want these fucking coasters:
I might buy them. I got reimbursed for my glasses today. I am actually ON TOP of my finances this week… by like, $20.
Why am I so old?