I really can’t say enough about last month’s Awful Story Olympics. The email it documents is so insane that I thought about retiring the segment altogether. I mean, how can I give away gold medals (OK, pictures of gold medals) to others, knowing full well that they can’t compare to the crazy that Kelly A. had to endure? But then I realized, I have a duty. A duty to the hundreds of thousands of readers who come here everyday, expecting to read the worst the Internet dating world has to offer. Did I say “hundreds of thousands”? Sorry, I meant “millions of billions”. But I had to find a twist. How could this month’s Awful Story Olympics be anything but a letdown? I mean, it’s not every month that a reader is emailed by someone who has already started job searching for her, without actually, you know, meeting her first. (Wait, you didn’t read last month’s column?! What’s wrong with you? Do it, already.) But luckily, the hook was found.
Please enjoy the most awful stories I heard from you guys this month…
I am new to on-line dating. Recently I met a girl on Match who seemed like a normal girl of average attractiveness. Things went well on the phone, so I asked her out for a date. My first mistake was having her meet me at my place. She brought over two bottles of gas station wine and started talking about how much her dog would “love my place”. Anyway, we went out for dinner at a place near the mall. She wanted to “walk around the mall a bit” with me first…and I didn’t see the problem with that. During the walk, she kept calling me ‘baby’, groping all over me, and kept pointing out what she would buy me for Christmas. Eventually, we made it to the restaurant. During the course of the meal she asked me “So are you going to be searching for any more crazy girls on Match?” I said, “Well, yeah, I’m going to get what I paid for…” She then told me that her search was over because she found what she wanted. I ate my awkward dinner and then drove with her back home. She went to her car and brought out an overnight bag and some PJs. I politely told her that “I had to get up early in the morning.” Defeated, she left, but not before promising to come back and help me buy groceries. Plus she planned on spending my days off with me.
After she left, I received no less than 20 text messages. So I did what any guy would do: I told her VIA match e-mail that it wont work out because “we both want different things”. She then proceeded to write three long back-to-back emails in response and pretty much called me the scum of the earth and emotionally immature. She told me that she was crying and that she was hurt. She also added, “Enjoy the wine I purchased.” The whole experience made me want to delete my account and never look back. -Marc, Raleigh, NC
Good rule of thumb Marc, any date that involves the phrase “gas-station wine” is probably not going to be a good date. Might’ve been smart to send her packing right there. But then we all would’ve been spared of the knowledge that somewhere out there is a woman who brings pajamas on a first date. So for that, I thank you.
You’re looking for that hook, aren’t you? Patience…
From Muffy in Winnipeg…
Here’s an email a young man on Plenty Of Fish sent to me…
“I came across your profile and was quite enamored by such an articulate and heavenly blessed beauty. I would be kicking myself if I didn’t ask, so I was wondering if you would accept an engagement of witty banter between two intellectuals? Of course this “engagement” may start off as purely platonic but my sensual desires will most likely guide our cohesive unity down more erotic, lascivious, and sexual paths that will include but are not limited to passionate make out sessions under the star lit sky, dry humping, fondling each others naughty parts inducing orgasms, and an abundance of new uncharted sexual positions where I assert my pure dominance in establishing a realm of absolute sovereignty in your nether regions.
Is this something you would be interested in pursuing?”
Wow, is that disgusting. I mean, come on, you’re really gonna go with “dry humping” and “nether regions” in a message to someone you’ve never met? I wouldn’t say dry humping to my girlfriend of three years, even if she wasn’t a fictional construct I just created for the purposes of this sentence. Just the word “humping” alone is enough to put me off sex altogether.
And are you ready for the twist? The next email, the gold-medal-winning email, is from the same guy. Yep! Apparently he had the misfortunate to send it to one of Muffy from Winnipegs good friends. Woops. Enjoy…
“So I messaged you just to chat but I’m kind of concerned. I mean, we could hit it off really well, end up having a few drinks, next thing you know you’re giving me your number because I’m too shy to ask for it, I finally get up the nerve to call and we take in a movie, have some dinner, I relax, you relax, we go out a few more times, get to know each other’s friends, spend a lot of time together, then finally get past this sexual tension and really develop this intense sex life that is truly incredible, decide our relationship is solid and stable, so we move in together for a while, then a few months later get married, I get a promotion, you get a promotion, we buy a bigger house. You really want kids, but I really want freedom, but we have a kid anyway, only to find that I am resentful, the sparks start to fade and to rekindle them we have two more lovely kids, but now I work too much to keep up with the bills, have no time for you, you’re stressed and stop taking really good care of yourself, so to get past our slow sex life and my declining self-confidence I turn to an outside affair for sexual gratification. You find out because I’m careless and a lousy liar, you throw me out (justifiably so) and we have to explain to the kids why mommy and daddy are splitting up. That’s just too sad. Think about the children. For God’s sake, if you chat with me and we hit it off, let’s just keep it sexual, because we both know where it’s going.” – Forwarded by Muffy
The only thing worse than mentioning sex in a first email to a woman is mentioning the affair you’re ultimately going to have once you grow tired of fucking her. Actually, check that. There is one thing worse than that: doing them both. I give our mystery emailer a bit of credit for trying to be creative with Muffy and Friends, but Holy Christ does he get poor marks for execution. Normally I say there’s nothing worse than being boring, but in this case, there are a bunch of things worse than boring and he hit all of them. Too bad, boring would’ve kept him off of this site.
And away, of course, from the eyes of my millions of billions of readers.
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