Your Awful Story Olympics VIII

Posted on September 23, 2011 by B

Great work this month, gang. Your lives are really fucked up, and I appreciate that so much. Thanks for being you.

The worst thing that happened to my beloved readers this month…

The Bronze

Hey B, your site cracks me up. Listen to this shit. I took a girl out, first date. We went to Central Park, I bought us nice stuff for a picnic – strawberries, salad, chicken salad, and fancy wine. Then we walk around a bunch and I buy her an ice cream. Then I give her some cab money and tell her we can go shopping next week. So when I go for a kiss, I gotta get one, right?! No fucking way. She says she doesn’t kiss on the first date. Hahaaa. Not calling her again. –Marque W; Delaware

Thus we have our first ever Awful Story Olympic Medal for the person who went out with the emailer. That poor, poor woman.

I mean, I get where Marque is coming from. When I buy a girl some chicken salad, I expect a little action in return. And who isn’t turned on by a paternalistic, sugar daddy-esque offer to be taken shopping? Sometimes women just don’t get it. If anyone would like Marque’s email for a chance at strawberries and cab fare, I’d be happy to pass it along.

The Silver

I went on a date with this Irish guy we’ll call ‘Cormac’. We decided to meet in Soho for brunch to pretend we were fancy, but awkwardly ended up in the same subway car on the way there. We kept exchanging glances of the “is it him?”/“is it her?” variety.  No one wants to meet for the first time on the subway when you’re all sweaty and sitting next to a model. Anyway, we got off at the same stop, confirmed our identities and headed off for foodstuffs.

We had an awesome brunch which turned into a raucous afternoon of drinking and then ‘necking’ on the street—one of my biggest pet peeves but, meh, I was ‘daytime drunk’—all bets were off! I was performing with one of my old bands that Friday night, and he said he’d love to come watch it and maybe we could hang out later. I promised myself I would only have one drink so I could actually get to know him and not just his tonsils. Friday night, when my set was over, I walked up to him in the crowd to be greeted by the smell of someone who had marinated in a bathtub of whiskey, garlic and gasoline all day. “Where’ve you been, the Fresh Kills landfill?” He ignored me as he was concentrating on staying upright, and informed me it was time to drink. I was…hesitant…but brought him to the bar across the street anyway.

Just as I was introducing him to my friends, Cormac cut a heinous fart and declared, “I FARTED!” in his slurred Irish brogue, accompanied by a fist-pump. The crowd dispersed with mutterings of, “You sure did buddy” and pitying looks in my direction. He then proceeded to tell me that I had a big hook nose like a witch. He asked me if hair grew on my nipples. He said my outfit made me look like an idiot (an “eejit” was the exact term). My dancing made me look “demented”. He asked if one of my girlfriends was single. He wrapped it all up by saying, “But you look a lot better tonight than you did last time.”

Okay, so I was on a date with an insane alcoholic. Normally I’d stick around and try to wring more verbal gems out of him, but he was trying to break the record for ‘most farts in an hour in a crowded bar’, so I left. He called me several times—his messages were like, “Hey again! It’s Cormac. Had a great time the other night…your friends are great! You’re an awesome singer and dancer! The whole package! Let’s catch up soon!” These were always early morning phone calls; I assume he wanted to catch me before he started another historic day of drinking and slurring and farting and asking women about boob hair. I thought he should know how the date actually played out as apparently he had sent alterna-Cormac in his place. I left a long, detailed message filling in the plot-holes of his evening. I only heard back from him once after that–a one-line text that said, “I DID NOT!!!” You sure did Cormac, you suuure did. -Katy K; New York City, NY.

I farted on a date once. It was awful. It was completely by accident, but I knew the second it happened that the girl would not be sleeping with me. Even though there was no odor, and she didn’t hear it, still, something inside of her could sense that I had broken one of the laws. You do not fart on dates, you do not date a girl’s friends, you do not check her Mom’s rack. That is the code. So, in a way, I almost respect Cormac for having the balls and comfort to just let ‘er rip and damn the rules that bind the rest of us men. Almost.

The Gold

You may remember a story from last month’s Olympics about the guy who tried to woo a girl by telling her Christians are stupid. Well, apparently the technique works just as well for the Jews. Check it out!

I met someone on Plenty of fish.com.  (Do you notice how many of these stories start with Plenty of Fish?! Stop meeting people on Plenty of Fish!) He was very attractive and funny, and we enjoyed making fun of all the other people on Plenty that are insane.  Our date didn’t have much structure and we met at the beach to walk around for a bit and see where it went.

His profile picture should've been a tip off.

After a bit I said something about me being Jewish.  He stopped dead in his tracks, looked me right in the eye, and exclaimed “WHAT?? YOU’RE JEWISH!!!!!” He was shocked.  I asked why he was so surprised and he said I wasn’t ugly enough to be Jewish. Also, he grew up in a Christian cult somewhere and had never actually met a Jew before. I responded by saying that since he lives in San Diego there is literally no chance that he hadn’t met a Jew before, he just hadn’t known it, since we hide our horns under our hair. He defended himself, saying that his friend is a bartender and worked at an Italian wedding and got hundreds in tips and then worked at a bar mitzvah and got none.

We were now pretty from our cars, so i decided to continue on with this date and see how much more he could offend me. Some time later, out of no where,  he stopped again and said, “How can you not believe the messiah came, I mean, it’s pretty clear he did.” I attempted to defend Judaism, which having studied Jewish History and Judaism my entire life, I think I did quite well.  The argument lasted a good 10 minutes and got pretty heated as I tried to pick up the pace to make it back to our cars before I got so angry I kicked him in the groin.  When we reached our cars and the date was coming to an end he said, “You know I was just playing with you, right? I’d like to see you again” and went in for a hug.  I left my arms at my side and grunted and he got the idea and walked away. –Marissa S; San Diego, CA

My favorite moment of the Holocaust was when Hitler walked up to the Jews and said, “You know I was just playing with you right? I’d like to see you again.” And that made it all OK.

Think your tales are Medal worthy? Send me your awful stories here! 

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How is This My Match? Los Angeles Edition

Posted on September 20, 2011 by B

The women of New York, when they found out I was moving...

As you may have heard, I’m moving to California. Los Angeles, to be exact. I know, I know, you’re upset. I understand, we’ve come a long way, you and I. But believe me, no one is taking this harder than the women of New York. There’s a suicide watch around town. Women collectively have been forced to hand in their belts and shoelaces. It’s touching, but I was hoping this could be a happy event. I was thinking…maybe a parade? Because truth be told, I’m a little worried about LA…

I love the women of New York. They’re a little, well, crazy. They’re smart, and often funny, and sometimes very cute, but always a touch off in the head. And I love that. It keeps life interesting, and provides all the material you need to start up a bustling little dating blog. Are LA women like that? Will they be as quirky, as delightfully complicated? Women here know what they want, and will insist upon it even while admitting that what they want is actually totally insane. Can Los Angeles promise such infuriating joy?

My concern, above all else, is that west coast women will be…how to say this tactfully…Dumb. Dumb with a capital D. It’s pure stereotype, I know, but there’s gotta be some truth to it, right? I mean, the one woman I met at a LA bar asked me what state Brooklyn was in. That’s not just recreationally dumb, that’s some serious expertise. You gotta go to the Graduate School of Stupid to be that good at being a moron. So what I decided to do, to allay my fears, was to change my Match location in advance. I’d tell the website that I was already living in Los Angeles, they’d send me some of their patented recommendations, and I could finally relax. Because every woman in LA can’t be a wanna-be-model, airhead, right? They can’t all be silly sounding pseudo-intellectuals with botox brains and sleep to the top dreams, can they? CAAAANNN THEY?

And that’s when I started to cry. How is this my match?!

25 year-old woman
Los Angeles, California

seeking men 24-50
within 50 miles of Los Angeles, California

Really, Los Angeles? REALLY? Two professional modeling photos, followed by a third shot where I can see your boobs, the guy standing next to you can see your boobs, and the women behind you is openly making the “who does this bitch think she is?!?” face? And you can just hear her husband whispering, “honey, please don’t make a scene. Let’s just get a glass a wine. Fine. Vodka, we’ll get vodka.” This is supposed to make me feel better about moving? Come on!

Ethnicity: Asian, Black / African descent, East Indian, Latino / Hispanic, Middle Eastern, Native American, Pacific Islander, White / Caucasian, Other.

I’ve never included the “ethnicity” field in How is This My Match before, because I never knew it could be annoying. Turns out, it totally can. Seriously, you’re nine ethnicities? You’re not just trying to seem exotic and complex by any chance, are you? And what ethnicities could possibly be left out that you needed to check “other”, too? Are you a Visigoth? Maybe a Hapsburg?

Who She’s Looking For: 

I have a very off-beat sense of humor.

(Yeah, I’m sure you’re a regular Mitch Hedberg.)

To get along with me, you have to at least tolerate my humor, my joie de vivre, and you’ll have to entertain/accept me when I contemplate the existence of an alien that has gaseous form.

(Well, I guess we’re not getting along then. Bummer.)

Even Nietzsche's pissed off

My curiosity is boundless, I’m incessantly seeking knowledge, I am fascinated by anything from Neitzche to a cumulus cloud. 

(Please kill me. By the way, you misspelled Neitzsche.)

I’m a good girl, from a very good family, with solid values and unwavering morals. Theoretically, if I were to meet your family, I’m the kind of girl they would fall in love with.

(Yeah, you and my family would get along great. Why don’t you bring up that business about the alien that exists in gaseous form? That’ll go over like gangbusters.)

MESSAGE ME IF: 
-You are accomplished and/or have an upward trajectory 
-You are someone I would be proud to be affiliated with 

(DING DING DING! “Upward trajectory”!!! We have achieved social climber!)

IF I WINK AT YOU, as opposed to sending a message, it’s not because I’m lazy, it’s because I believe in the traditional approach i.e. if I were to express interest in a man, it is upon the man to be a man, should he share such interest, and engage me. Likewise, if you simply wink at me without a message, consider it as though we were at a bar, for example, and you simply winked at me, yet never initiated conversation. 

(I don’t know, it kinda sounds like you’re just lazy.)

Last Read: The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer

UH OH, Chaucer's mad too!

If you’ve read The Canterbury Tales, I will light my hair on fire. Five hundred pages of stories written in Middle English, largely in verse, from the 14th century? You’ve read that. The twenty-five year-old girl with the boobs sticking out and the sexy shadows picture? And not only have you read it, but it wasn’t long ago in college for some crazy requirement class, it’s the last thing you read. On a beach somewhere, or perhaps while sitting on the can? That’s impressive. You must have some really intense job. Something arduous, something intellectual, something really cerebral if you’re reading The Canterbury Tales in your down time.

Occupation: Actor, Model.

I see. And for the win…

Her Income: (Left Blank)

Her Desired Date’s Income: $150,000+

Fuck you, LA.

Please tell me, How is This My Match??!!

Posted in How is This My Match? | 2 Comments

The Girl Who Did Heroin

Posted on September 16, 2011 by B

Spices up any date.

There are two ways you can handle a date after you realize you’re not a match. You can shut it down, giving this person you will never see again as little energy and effort as humanly possible, or you can have some fun. You can say, “I’ve got to be up early tomorrow,” or you can say something you’ve never said on a date and see what happens. Like, “I’m throwing out my nail clippers and going with bite-only trimming from now on.” Or, instead of asking for the check, order a Clamato Bloody Mary and see how it flies. Rather than asking about her family, ask about the last person she wanted to murder. I’ve done all of these things, and, admittedly, each one was a complete disaster, but at least I got something interesting out of the evening. I’ll take that over two forgettable drinks any day. Who knows, if you pledge to do the unexpected you might just find out you’re sitting across from a heroine user – and isn’t that what Internet dating is all about?

The moment I arrived to meet Courtney, I knew something was up. She lived in a neighborhood I’d never been to, so I let her pick the bar – something my chivalry, or at the very least, my desire to fake chivalry, would never normally permit. When I got to the bar, it was dark. Like porn movie theater dark. I understand the value of ambiance, but the mood said less “romantic rendezvous” and more “hide my horrific cold sores.” It was an odd location to meet someone you were hoping to recognize from a two-inch picture, but I tried to keep an open mind. I sat down under the brightest available lightbulb and waited for Courtney to arrive.

A few minutes, the door opened, and while I couldn’t see the lady’s face, I had a strong feeling it was her. Why? Because I could see these…

We weren’t going to the ballet later. We weren’t at some hip little cocktail bar where the bartenders wear visors and every drink is named after a dead abolitionist. Hell, we weren’t even in Manhattan. But for some reason, Courtney was wearing a sequins top, knee-high black boots, and a long pair of white opera gloves. It’s the sort of thing Catwoman would wear on a date. Which is fine if you think I’m gonna propose, or if, say, you know my last name, but we were in a dingy little dive bar in Crown Heights, Brooklyn which she selected. The first half-hour of Syriana made more sense than this. All of a sudden, I was feeling the urge for some clam-flavored tomato juice.

We talked for a while, and it was clear that Courtney and I were not a match. Through the darkness I could see that my attraction wasn’t strong, and clearly we had different tastes. She liked going all out: fancy clothes, fancy parties, fancy tastes. Meanwhile, my idea of a perfect evening includes an expertly TiVo’d episode of The Good Wife, and perhaps some low-level intoxication. There would be no second date, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still make our first date as interesting as possible.

To find out just how interesting it got, buy my new book Not a Match: My True Tales of Online Dating Disasters. Contains the Girl Who Took Heroine, The Sex Crier, and all the It’s Not a Match classics. And yes, I use the term “classic” loosely.

Available for your ereader on Amazon and iTunes.

Posted in Horror Stories | 5 Comments

It’s Not a Match Travels…

Posted on September 4, 2011 by B

We’ll be dark for a little while, kids, as It’s Not a Match moves to…Los Angeles! Crazy but true. More to come, but it may take a week or so.

Until then, enjoy one of my old favorites, The Sex Crier. Or one of my new favorites, The Girl Who Brought Her Boyfriend. And hey, It’s Not a Match was recently featured on Nerve.com. Co-ol!

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

How is This My Match? Vol 5

Posted on August 26, 2011 by B

Friends who have been dating on Match for an extended period of time insist that, at a certain point, you run out of new people to email. You see the same faces in each search, and have the feeling with each email you write that you’ve talked to this person before. I’ve never bought it. In fact, if there’s one thing that consistently surprises me about Match, it’s the depth of its roster. I wince when I think about how many women I’ve emailed on the site, and yet every time I look, I find countless more that I’d love to meet. Or at the very least, stalk. So the idea of me sailing to end of the Match horizon and running out of viable dating candidates seemed impossible. Until today…

And thus I ask you, How is This My Match?

24 year-old woman
Brooklyn, New York

seeking men 24-30
within 10 miles of Brooklyn, New York

Pretty cute, I’d say. 24 is definitely a little younger than I’m used to, but not a complete deal-breaker. And – look at that – Brooklyn is actually where I live! No Pittsburgh?! No Ontario, Canada?! Match matchmaker, you are really outdoing yourself this time…

In her words…

What She’s Looking For: My perfect match would be someone who is kind and loving and who isnt afraid to show affection to me and who will treat me well. I’m 5’3, athletic, and I love to hang out and go to clubs and dance.

OK, so it’s not Shakespeare, but she seems like a down-to-earth woman who’s looking to spend some time with someone nice. I can do that. I have time! And often I am nice!

Sports and exercise: Baseball, Basketball… 

Oooh, a sports fan. I like it. A cute lady who follows baseball and basketball? All she’s missing is also liking football, and being really really rich. This might work out!

At this point, I’m getting pretty excited. It seems like The Daily 5 has actually found someone pretty good for me. I’m already crafting the email in my head, thinking how I’m gonna get a good jumping off point from her profile, which is a little light on the details. But she mentioned dancing, and I’ve got at least three good zingers about how bad a dancer I am, so I think we can make this work. Then, just as I’m about to click on the “email your match!!” button, I glance at her headline.

Sexy lesbian looking for the right person

WHAT?! She’s a lesbian? You set me up with a friggin’ lesbian, Match? Is that how hard it’s become? I’ve gone through every single straight woman in your files, so the only choice you had left was to recommend a fairly forgiving lesbian?! That hurts, Match, it really hurts. You’ve sent me old women, bald women, even women clearly in love with their dogs; but a gay woman stings. I’m used to dating people who aren’t interested, but dating someone who’s genetically, permanently disinterested is another matter. I mean, that’s literally the worst possible match. Are you even trying any more?

I mean, seriously. How is this my Match?

Posted in How is This My Match? | 5 Comments

Top 10 Topics to Avoid on a First Date

Posted on August 23, 2011 by B

"Do you come here often?" "Tell me! DO you come here often??!!"

Last week, I gave you the one topic of conversation that can turn any date awesome. And yes, it did involve having sex with dead people. This week, however, I’m giving you the opposite: ten things that will make a date not at all awesome. People say to never discuss religion or politics on a first encounter, but you’d be better off talking world peace on a date with Dick Cheney than you would be bringing up any of these bad boys. Not that you should be going out on dates with Dick Cheney. I mean, he’s married. And Dick Cheney…

So here are Ten Worst Things To Discuss on a First Date. Trust me, I’ve done ’em all.

10. Bed Bugs

I honestly think it would be easier to tell a date you have AIDS than tell them you have bed bugs. And if you even mention the words “bed bugs”, they’re gonna assume you have them. Or that you might have them. Or that you knew somebody once who went to a movie theater where they might have had them. And nowadays, that’s just as bad as actually having them. So you can say “bed”, and you can say “bugs”, but if ever say ’em back to back, expect to see a dust cloud where your date was just sitting.

9. Veganism

This weekend, a woman said the following to me: “I was gonna hook up with that guy, but then I found out he was a vegan. Fuck that.”

People hate vegans. Enough said.

"With any luck, we'll all explode."

8. The Bachelor

I once built an entire relationship around an interest in Jersey Shore. Worked great. I’ve talked The Hills, Vh1, Top Chef, Gossip Girl and even Gilmore Girls, with women to great success. But The Bachelor is a whole other level of trash. Women get weird when they talk about it. Even the darkest, most cynical female will turn into romantic goo in The Bachelor’s gaze. They start at, “That show is contrived and objectifies women!”,  move to “I think it might be real love this time!!”, and end, inevitably, at “how could he give that other bitch the rose!” They know it turns us off, and they don’t care. That’s the power of The Bachelor.

7. Football

Football used to be totally out-of-bounds as date conversation. But with the advent of fantasy football, a lot more women follow it. So that should be good, right? New territory for playful banter and gently competitive flirtation, yes? Witness this crackling little interlude I had with a young lady recently…

Young Lady: I love football! What’s your favorite team?

Me: I grew up in Boston, so I’m a big Patriots fan.

Young Lady: I want to punch you in the face.

Me: Ha, that’s fu-

Young Lady: No, I really want to punch you in the face.

It’s like a lost scene from Casablanca.

6. Ryan Gosling

In my list of Ten Movies Not To See on an Internet Date, I included anything starring Mark Ruffalo. As simple men, we are no match for his complicated smile and endless facial hair stubble. But there is another foe even greater, a being so powerful that to even mention his name is to guarantee your date’s disinterest and wandering thoughts. He is handsome, he is talented, and he is a motherfucker. That man, of course, is Ryan Gosling.

Oh, and did I mention he breaks up street fights?

But hey, if you think you can compete with a gorgeous, civic minded millionaire, by all means, discuss him on your first date. See how it goes!

5. Going Dancing

Women are put on this earth to try to get men to dance. Men are put on the earth innately knowing this one truth: “if she ever sees me dance, this is all over.” The rest of our lives is simply a playing out of those two necessities. It’s cruel, actually, when you think about it. But don’t lead her on, men, talking about dancing like it’s a thing you’ve done and one day might do again. Have a heart.

"I don't like how this date is going!"

4. The Holocaust

You might think this is obvious, but believe me, it’s not. I used to date a girl who worked at a Jewish cultural society, and she brought up the Holocaust at least once an hour. We’d be having a nice little picnic and she’d toss in a “Did you know they killed over a million Jews at Auschwitz!?” Or I’d be trying to steal a kiss in front of her apartment, and she’d remind me “Married couples weren’t allowed to kiss for years on end in the Holocaust.” It was like going on a date with Elie Weisel. And she would always discuss the Holocaust like she was the only one who knew it happened. “I went to see the death camps once, they did such awful things there.” Yeah, no shit. That’s why they called them death camps. We all saw Schindler’s List too, so just relax.

Right now, somewhere, she’s saying the word “atrocity”, I’m sure of it. And if she reads this, you know what I’m going to get? An email accusing of not caring enough about…the Holocaust.

"Is that J. Lo's new scent?"

3. Perfume

Compliments are great for first dates. But complimenting a woman on how she smells is the sort of thing that Buffalo Bill would do before he pushes her down into his lady pit. Keep it on eyes, hair, smile, or skin smoothness, eh gents? Actually, on second thought, skin compliments sound kinda serial-killery too. Just tell her she’s got a nice rack, it’s an oldie but a goodie.

2. Other Internet Dates

This one is tricky. “So, tell me about your last awful Internet date,” is usually one of my go-to first date sentences. But it can be dangerous. In my case, I have a lot of awful stories, as you may have heard. And rattle off one too many wacky nights and your date is either going to think you have a thing for wackos, or that some of these wacky nights are actually your fault. Neither of those things are good. And chances are, both of them are probably true. At least for you, anyway. I’m merely a victim of circumstance.

Of course, you could just tell them not to worry, that you only collect all these stories so you can write them up on your blog about Internet dating, except…

1. Your Blog About Internet Dating

You want a date to end in an hour, tell him you’ve got a blog. You want it to end in ten minutes, tell him the blog is about Internet dating. I’ve told two women about this website, and both of them either lost interest immediately or died. I can’t say which for certain, because I never heard from either of them again. People don’t want to think they’re gonna turn up in a story, and I can’t say I blame ’em. That’s why I play it safe and tell them my website is about one thing and one thing only: bed bugs.

Oh wait!

Posted in Advice | 1 Comment

Web Dating 101: Always Trust the Worst Picture

Posted on August 9, 2011 by B

Let’s say you’re going out on a date with Meg Ryan, but have no idea what she looks like. Maybe you’re not a big movie person, or maybe you’re not a big shitty movie person, but the point is, you couldn’t pick Meg out of a crowd. So, being the conscientious dater she no doubt is, Meg sends you a few pics…

Wow. Cute, wholesome, I’m liking the sound of this.

Damn. A little older, a little sexier. Sign me up!

Holy Christmas! That is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. I have no idea why she wants to go out with me, but I AM IN!

OH MY GOD, KILL IT WITH FIRE!

Three great pictures, all a little different, all splendid in their own right, and one hellacious photo of the Lip Monster from the Isle of Botox. So what do you do? You ignore the bad picture, figure she looks great in three-quarters of the photos and agree to get all Sleepless in Seattle with Meg on Friday night, right? WRONG.

Always Trust the Worst Picture. I can’t say this enough. Always Trust the Worst Picture. Every dating profile on the Internet has a mix of photos, some good, some bad, and we have to decide what the person actually looks like. I find that if I really like a lady’s personality, if we’ve established some quality email banter, then I’ll ignore the bad pictures, talk myself into the good, and head off optimistically for a sure-fire dating success. Then I see her in person and, realizing I that have an hour ahead with someone I’m not attracted to, mutter to myself, “Always trust the worst picture!”

Hooochi mochi...

I know this sounds pessimistic. Maybe it even sounds a little jerky. But people post their best pictures so you can see how hot they can ideally be, then they post the worst ones so you won’t be disappointed by the reality. I mean, come on, ask yourself this, “why would someone display a bad picture if it’s not what they look like?” Are they really as irresistible as the first three Meg photos, then they just added in the last one to balance shit out, so you don’t have an excitement heart attack on your way over? Or maybe they called up one of their computer buddies and said, “You know how I’m super hot? Well, I was wondering if you could take a picture of me and make it look entirely the opposite. Yeah, old, kinda crazy, with a real bird’s nest on my head. I’m thinking…one of Marge’s sisters from The Simpsons. Actually, you know what? Just make it look like I smell. Can you do that? Why? For Internet dating, you silly…”

It’s an understandable instinct to want to look as good as possible online. Some people, that’s where the instinct ends – so all their pictures are from two years ago, before they put on 15 lbs and lost their arm in a horrible tractor accident. Other daters know that it’s important to be truthful, and balance every great photo out with an average, everyday snapshot. Then there are the select few who are actually super hot and look as good as any picture every could. Those people are called “motherfuckers”, and they’re too busy at George Clooney’s Italian villa to date online.

So don’t complicate things. Ask yourself this simple question, “if he/she looks as only good as their worst picture, will I want to date them?” Because let’s be honest, they’re gonna look only as good as their worst picture. Don’t obsess over their profile trying to decipher which shot looks most accurate, which lighting seems more true. Just accept the facts and see where you stand. If you always trust the worst picture, you’ll be fine.

Oh, and if you get a chance, dress up like Einstein. I hear Meg’s into that…

Posted in Advice | 8 Comments

How is This My Match? Vol 4

Posted on August 3, 2011 by B

Idiots.

This weekend, The Financial Times and Slate got together to praise Match for its fancy-shmancy compatibility algorithms. (Thanks to loyal reader Andrew who sent along the tip!) Read it if you wish, but the basic thrust of the piece is “I know matching people up online based on their preferences and browsing history must be really hard, but Match totally knocks it out of the park!” Which insults me, because here on It’s Not a Match, we have a little segment called “How Is This My Match?” that proves beyond a doubt that Match is absolutely not knocking it out of the park. And I don’t know any editors at The Financial Times or Slate, but I assumed they spent pretty much all their downtime reading my website. So this has come as quite a shock to me. (Thanks to loyal reader Andrew retracted!)

But hey, maybe I’m being too harsh. Maybe Match has been recommending some really great people and I’m just being a jerk about it. (Wouldn’t be the first time.) Obviously The Financial Times and Slate think so, and they’re soooooo smart, so…I don’t know. You tell me. Do you think this lady that I found in my Daily 5, is a good fit for me? Keep in mind, I don’t like dogs.

Or crazy people.

30 year-old woman
New York, United States

seeking men 25-35
within 25 miles of New York, United States

This woman has eleven photos in her profile. All of them are with her dog. ALL OF THEM. As you can see, some are dog candid shots, some are dog posed shots, some are borderline dog pornographic shots, but every last motherfucking one of them is a dog shot. That’s a lot. We all love our pets, but if you’re never pictured without yours I’m gonna start to worry that it’s surgically attached. Or conjoined, in some sort of freakish, inter-species Siamese twin disaster. Or that you’re a weirdo.

In her words…

What She’s Looking For: MUST LOVE ANIMALS! I love hanging at home and going to dinner with my dog. We are missing something…Do you know what that may be?

Alright, look. You can not write that you love going to dinner with your dog in a dating profile. You just can’t. Because that makes it sound like every night at 7, you and your dog choose a restaurant…”Maybe the amusing French place that just opened in the Village? Or hey – how about kabobs?! When’s the last time we did kabobs?!”… and then you put on your dress and your dog puts on his little doggy suit and you guys go out and have a nice dinner together. And when the check comes he always snatches it up before you, and then you quibble over how much to leave for tip. That’s what it sounds like when you say you love going to dinner with your dog, and that’s insane. So don’t do that.

Also, I would avoid saying “we are missing something”, when talking about the absence of a man in your life. Because that kinda makes it sound like you and your dog are already a couple and together you’re looking for a man to add that extra little something to complete the union. And that’s weird because, you know, you’re a human being, and he’s a fucking dog.

And lastly, you don’t really have to say “MUST LOVE ANIMALS.” We pieced that together by this point. And if we hadn’t, here’s a bunch more pictures…

"I'm looking for a girl who, right before she kisses me, lets her dog lick her lips."

This is clearly a posed, professionally taken picture! She paid someone to take this picture of her sitting her dog in a chair. Are you seeing this?!

Girl: "I love you so much, Doggie." Dog: "Please let me go."

Girl: "I LOVE YOU DOGGIE!!!" Dog: "I need some space."

Alllllmost got one in there without the dog.

Oh, and did I mention that I like cats? Cat person…paired up with the biggest dog person in the world. Nice work, algorithms.

So Financial Times, I have one question for you: How is this my match?

Posted in How is This My Match? | 13 Comments

Your Awful Story Olympics VII

Posted on July 26, 2011 by B

Actual photo of me reading your emails...

Honestly, I don’t know what to do. For seven months we’ve done the Awful Story Olympics, and for seven months we’ve had definitive Gold, Silver, and Bronze medal winners. And by “winners”, I mean people got to see a picture of a medal pasted next to their story of disaster and personal humiliation, so, you know, more like losers. But still, the champion was always clear. This month however, you guys have really stepped up the level of tragedy, and I’m not sure how to score things.

Your stories have really gotten bad. I mean, what’s worse, an email that probably came from a serial killer, or a totally inappropriate request for a threesome? No idea. And can either of them beat a date that devolves into that most erotic of topics: the validity of the Catholic religion? I really don’t know. So I’ve decided to break the rules/be a total wuss this month and award… Three Gold Medals! Honestly, I don’t think I had any other choice. I’m sure you’ll agree…

The Gold #1

B, 

I found this guy on a different site, Plenty of Fish to be exact, and he seemed ok online… worked in the IT industry, well-travelled, cute etc. 

So we decided to meet for dinner. Everything was going fine, I would’ve given it an 8 out of 10, when all of a sudden out of no where he starts telling me the story about how he fell in love with his ex-girlfriend IN THE THIRD PERSON! Ahem…

“Mike worked on a cruise ship.”

“Mike met a girl on the ship.

“Mike started dating the girl,” etc…

Seriously, he went on for AT LEAST 20 minutes like this. Then, he proceeded to tell me that his ex was going to visit him for 2 weeks, but not to worry because nothing was going to happen.

Me: Well nobody plans on things happening, they just kinda happen.
Him: Well, you could join us?

Annnnd date over.

Yup, I got propositioned for a threesome on my first date by a guy who speaks in the third person. Ridiculous! -Chrissy, Canada

I would’ve been out of there the second he said “Mike worked on a cruise ship.” Not because of the third person, which admittedly is creepy, but because of the CRUISE SHIP. The only people who work on cruise ships are drifters who are running low on cash and mass murders. It’s been proven. In fact, season six of Dexter will shed light on this reality when he gets a job organizing the buffets on a Carnival Cruise out of Miami Beach.

One other note: only a woman would list “works in the IT Industry” and “well-travelled” as the reasons to date someone. You ever heard a guy say “I met this girl who’s great with computers and constantly wants to go on trips. I think I’m in love!”? No, you haven’t.

And finally, don’t use Plenty of Fish. Onto to the second Gold!

The Gold #2

From loyal reader, Emily P.,

Love your site, makes me feel like I’m not the only one ending up on dates with psychos!

I got this email a few months ago, and it ranks up there with maybe the worst thing I’ve ever tried to decipher:

~!*~**HeLLLo0 M!Sz~?!?~~* 

How did the Easter hoLidAy go 4 yA~!?~ 
Discover any loSt eggs N~ the yArd~? Welll neiTher did I`… maTTer oFv faCtly ,I` went kaYaking on WiLson’s Creek on the big dAy ~&~ was surpriSed that moSt ofv my friends had REAL planz on the holidAy~! 
~!*!~*AnYyyY~*wAy*~*!~* 
I` genU!nLy hOpe ~U~ enJoyed *U’r~ EaSter,,, but aFter reAding 
aboUt cHa…. 
feLt liKe WE,., woUld hAve had an even n!Cerrrr time oVer the hoL!dAy iF only we hAd met eaCh oTher so0oner thAn later~!* 
JuSt feLt compeLed 2 wriTe yA N~ hopes ofv leArning so muCh mOre aboUt 
the LuOVeLy FlowWer thAt I` see here B~4 me~~*!*~ 
I` bet we hAve mOre N~common than either ofv us hAve yet 2 find. 
*;>) 
I`’m very oPen, HoneSt ~&~ genU!nLy lOOking 4 soMe~1 thAt is searching 4 an eXploS!ve, vibrAnt relationship thAt wiLL aCtuaLy laSt so0 much loNger thAn “oUr” previous 
onez did~! I` thiNk thAt cAme oUt riGht~? 
Either orrr 
 WiLL ~U~ shAre sOme oFv *U’r~ coLors dear ~& teLL me more 
aboUt cHa~??~ 
*U’r~ new friend 
WoLfgAng Ke!Th
*************************CHEEEERRRsZz**~*!!!~*~*!~*****!!~*** 
but ~UUu~ can 
call me 
WoLf!eee 
*~*!*!*!~*!*~!*~*~*~***~!*!!*!*!*~*~**~**~!**!!**!*!*~~**!*!*!*~**~**!*~*~***

Good God. There’s something so uncomfortable about a person who uses arbitrary cApITal LeTTerS. It’s about the craziest thing you could do. If you wrote Charlie Manson a note with random letters capitalized, he’d write you back saying, “Dude, get some therapy or something, because you’re creeping me out.”

My original thesis was going to be that if the guy had written this exact message in a normal syntax without all the strange asterisk drawings then Emily may have actually responded, but then I got to his name. Wolfgang Keith. Nobody’s going out with a guy named Wolfgang Keith.

The Gold #3

I officially experienced the most horrific match date.

I walk in the door and he looks halfway decent. BUZZ KILL he was shorter than me. I am sorry, that is a date breaker. 

Anyway, we got to talking….he wasn’t funny AT ALL. I mean I can usually crack a joke with SOMEBODY. No, he was dry as the fucking desert. Since he had no sense of humor I assumed he would like talking politics or religion. I then said ” Yea, I am Christian not like those bad “sects” such as Lutherans or Catholics. This was pure sarcasm here. Holy fuck I opened a can of worms. For 45 minutes he grilled me on why Catholicism was the “only” religion, then he said ” you obviously don’t do your research”. I have gone to religious school my whole life. I don’t know how to argue with someone as crazy as that.

So, I just got up and said ” You are weird” and walked out. I deleted his number and de friended him from facebook.

The next day he emailed me this…

Lauren,

If you reply back to this I’ll be surprised but I wanted to make a few things very clear. First, you shouldn’t be surprised that the way that things went because you are just plain RUDE! NORMAL individuals don’t meet someone for the first time and insult their beliefs and then follow it up with “I hope I offended you. Because that’s what I do.” My point about doing your research was merely this. When Christianity began, the ONLY “sect” that existed was Catholocism. You, who adhere to the inspired book, the TRUE book that was compiled by inspired writings and inspired individuals IS Catholic WITH 72 books. Do you think Jesus passed on His new church to someone and hope that within 1500 years that someone was going to change it? That doesn’t seem correct does it?

Even Jesus wants this guy to shut up

The final book in its entirety was completed in 397 A.D. Who decided what was in it? Catholic bishops and men like St. Jerome, a man who we honor as dedicating his life, although imperfect since he was human, to Christ and the church. (Note to reader: Feel free to skip ahead here. He’s going nowhere, trust me.) So if you want to completely do away with Catholic traditions and influences, reading the Bible isn’t really for you. This is what I meant by “Do your research” which clearly offended you. So, since you decided to be on the offensive and say nasty things to me, I just figured I’d be tactful and tell you why you were wrong. No one who claims to be Christian and uses the Bible as their base can really “hate” the Catholic church because if they did, had ALL their facts straight and are being just in their decisions, they’d have to abandon their own religion because Catholicism is the foundation of every Christian belief. I knew I was being reckless with the way I was talking with you but I was only talking to you so that you might actually hear me. At this point, I didn’t care if I offended you either. Furthermore, it was you that brought up religion more than once. You chose that. I’m not going to sit idle and let you tell me what I believe is “the other bad one”. Normal people who are sensitive about other people don’t do that. You are apparently not “normal” or not “sensitive” to others. Neither one can I tolerate. I would never tell you that your choice of religion was bad IF you believed that Christ is the center of it. I do NOT hold people responsible for the type of religion they were born into but when provoked, I act and speak my mind. I do not think that only Catholics go to Heaven either for God is fair in His judgment. I’m just not going to let you tell me with seemingly absolute certainty and even arrogance about things you obviously really know very little about. The truth hurts I’m sure. Your overpowering ego was way too much for me to handle as well. I’m glad that you took the initiative to delete me as your “friend”. Talking about religion and politics is only your favorite thing to do if the other person agrees with you but unfortunately we couldn’t even be civil because of your narrow-mindedness. Tell me where I’m going wrong. If you can prove anything that I said is untrue, including what you meant or how I quoted you, I’d like to hear it. Since you can’t, I don’t expect an email back

Joe

This tops all dates. 

Actually, Lauren, no it does not. It ties two others. Go with God!

Want your shot at the Gold? Send me your awful stories here! 

Posted in Your Awful Stories | 6 Comments

Top Ten Signs Your Internet Date is a Russian Prostitute

Posted on July 20, 2011 by B

A common misconception about Internet dating is that many of the women are actually prostitutes looking for customers, but that’s not true. In reality, most of the women are prostitutes looking for customers, so you better get good at picking ’em out of the crowd. I talked with a girl for a few weeks once before realizing that she was an escort, ignoring conspicuous amounts of bad grammar and borscht references for the sake of a few pretty pictures. What finally tipped me off? One day she said “So maybe you take me for champagne and dinner at Tavern on the Green?”, and I knew the gig was up. The only people who go to Tavern on the Green anymore are confused tourists, Ed Koch, and people on dates with prostitutes. You wanna go somewhere you’re not gonna be seen? Just look for a restaurant that’s still preparing Caesar salads table-side. You’ll be in the clear.

So how do you, loyal reader, identify a hooker when you see one on Match? Here’s my list of telltale signs…

10. Favorite first date activity: trading ATM passwords.

9. Every verb is inexplicably declined in the future progressive. For instance: “I will be liking very much to have cocktail now, please,” or “I will be taking your money for handjob before we do, yes?”

"Hands off merchandise!"

8. Coming along on all your dates is her “brother” Vlad, who yells “He pay first!” every time you lean in for a kiss.

7. Under Favorite Hot Spots, she lists: “Lower East Side, the West Village, Stalingrad at sunset.”

6. Word repeated most often in her profile: generous. “Most of all, I am looking for generous man who knows how to treat lady generously with generous generosity.”

5. Pictures in a bikini? Absolutely. Pictures in lingerie? Very Possibly. Pictures while seductively clutching a teddy bear? For some reason, 100% yes.

Inexplicably, every time I come across an obvious lady of the night profile, she’s hugging a stuffed animal. Often it’s in lieu of clothing, and usually she’s making a suggestive face towards the bear. As if the viewer is thinking, “Look at how into sex she is! She even wants to fuck that teddy!” Somewhere in Russia they are teaching young woman that American men love died blonde hair, acid washed jeans, and erotic teddy bear clasping. I don’t know why this is so, I only know that it is…

Prostitute.

Also prostitute.

4. When she meets your Mom and Dad, she says “If she wants to watch, it’ll cost double.”

"OK, everything on my back was twenty-five dollars..."

3. Under turn-off’s, she puts “personal checks.”

2. She keeps a price list on her bedside table.

And the number one sign your Internet date is a Russian prostitute…

1. You met her on OKCupid.

Boo-yah! Eat it, other dating site!

Posted in Internet Dating is Weird | 10 Comments