When I was still in Los Angeles, the man who was my last good boyfriend (as compared to the 8 year shit show that came later) broke up with me quite unceremoniously. I was heartbroken, but looking back now, I know we would not have made it in the long run. Post break up I decided to move to a completely new neighborhood, Downtown Los Angeles (before it was gentrified and cool), and take up online dating.
It was pretty horrific. Here’s an overview of some of my finer dating disasters:
- The technical writer who showed up to my house an hour early. I wanted to at least put on fresh lipstick before seeing him, and I had to walk my dogs. What am I supposed to do with him while I walk dogs? Leave him in my loft unattended? That didn’t sound wise, so he came dog walking with me, because I love making a great first impression while picking up poop.
Dogs walked, lipstick applied, we went to dinner. It was fine until he asked me about my best trait – um, I’m punctual? Like, not late or early? Of course, I in turn, asked him his. His answer? His “tenaciousness.” Tenaciousness??? You’re a technical writer? I think you mean ‘tenacity,’ (and please do not email the fact that tenaciousness is popping up in the English language – it’s NOT a real word, and this was back in 2005 or 2006, when it most certainly was not a word). Tenaciousness aside, we got back to my loft parking lot where he dumped me in the nicest way – I got the full, “it’s not you, it’s me speech.” Dude, it was one date – like 2 hours, I’ll be okay. Although to his credit, he broke up with me much more kindly than the last good boyfriend.
- The guy with IBS who wouldn’t order a drink. I got to the bar/restaurant first, and had ordered myself a glass of wine. He came in and sat at the table and I told him that the waitress would be right back to get him a drink. He put his hand on his Hawaiian-Shirt-tucked-into-high-waisted-khakis stomach and said, “Oh, I have IBS…” He also asked if his BMW would be okay parked where it was. Remember – this is before Downtown LA was cool. When I had given it adequate time, I asked him if he could give me a ride home – my dating headquarters was Pete’s, and it was walking distance from my loft, so I always walked — often accompanied by a kind homeless man who insisted I should not be walking those streets by myself.
This is Pete’s. It was the greatest! Unfortunately it’s no longer there.
Anyway, I knew based on how IBS Dude was parked, that we’d have to go around the block (lots of one way streets in DTLA), and I knew that would take him right down skid row with all the homeless tents:
Sure enough, his eyes became Frisbees as he white knuckled his leather steering wheel in abject fear as he drove me back to my loft, whispering, ”You’re a brave lady…”
Worked like a charm, though – he never called me again!
- The last bad date story is perhaps the worst, as I actually walked out on him and went to The Eagle to meet a friend. The Eagle is a gay leather bar in Silver Lake – far better company than the total tool I had the displeasure of spending even a few minutes with.
What caused me to walk out, you ask? First he told me his favorite food was “DDP.” That’s Diet Dr. Pepper for those of you who don’t know… yeah, I didn’t know it was a food either…
He also told me he was a devout listener of Tom Leykis. Tom Leykis was an LA ‘shock jock’ known especially for: ” ‘Leykis 101’ in which he purports to teach men ‘how to get laid’ while spending the least amount of time, money, and effort.” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Leykis).
A real class act.
Fast forward to present day… post the 8 year shit show that ended in 2015. I was feeling ready to stick a toe in the dating waters of Central Oregon, because surely dating here has GOT to be better than dating in Los Angeles, right?
There was the 2 days I survived on Plenty of Fish. I had enough when I received the following message exchange at 8am on a Wednesday:
Him: You’re in software? Like coding?
Me: No, not coding.
Him: Want me to come over?
IT’S 8AM ON A WEDESDAY!!!!
I then deleted my account.
I did Match, too – a lot of (and forgive me – I mean little offense) rednecks with not a lot teeth. Yes, judge me as harshly as you wish – but the toothless are not my type. I’m sure that I’m not a lot of people’s type – let’s not be offended, please.
Next up – eHarmony.
Lasted about week there. I was contacted by a rather awkward 30-something we’ll call “J.” J was awkward but sweet, and only 30, so I did respond with something along the lines of “Thanks for contacting me, but you’re 30! I’m almost 46 and I’m afraid I’m just too old for you, but best of luck in your search.” His response?
“Thanks for responding – most don’t”
Oh God!!!! That broke my heart! I felt like I should at least let him nestle his head in my breasts, the poor kid.
Next, was a blind guy. At first I thought, no way! But then…. wait a minute… he’s blind? That’s great! I’d never have to do my hair or wear makeup. I could wear yoga pants every day – that would be fantastic! The problem? He was really into role playing games. I wasn’t ready to devote my life to playing Dungeons and Dragons…
Shortly thereafter, I also deleted that account.
My last and most recent foray? Tinder. OMG the worst!
Let me give you a peek into my first conversation:
I sincerely hope that English is his second language, as that would make his diction understandable. That’s why I asked where he was from – I was expecting (hoping) he would say something like Romania. But, no, he’s from Astoria. If English is his first language, well, then we have problems.
I can almost overlook the bad grammar, but then he asked me “what’s your favorite color?”
Dude – really? I’m not 5. I haven’t had a favorite color in about 41 years.
There was lots of “happy until my last breath on earth” talk and quite frankly – that freaked me out! I tried to exit gracefully, but it didn’t go so well:
And that was enough of that.
My other issue with Tinder is my lack of a firm grip on being able to tell my left from my right – so god only knows how many times I unintentionally swiped left not right or right not left. That, however, isn’t the saddest part of my Tinder tale. Apparently there are no men in central Oregon that I like that like me back, or that like me and I like them back.
Do you know what happens on the Tinder app when you have gone through every single man in Central Oregon? I do!
Your picture is in the middle of the screen and red concentric circles radiate out from around your picture. Like a blast zone map and I’m ground zero.
So I’m pretty sure I’m done. Send me letters to the convent – I promise to be a great pen pal. The good news, however, is that I won’t need to go to the gym if I’m wearing a nun’s habit every day. (See No Pain, No Gain https://unbendable.blog/2017/08/04/first-blog-post )