Damnit, Cupid, So NOT OKAY: The OkCupid Trials, Date 2

Another guy that I met on OkCupid looked very promising from his online dating profile. It said that he was from Louisiana, he was a graphic designer, and he was tall and wore glasses. I was convinced that this was the guy for me. Then I met him.

In real life, he was gangly and awkward, like a male version of Olive Oyl, and his glasses were crooked. He was also, hands-down, the MOST BORING PERSON I’VE EVER MET. He was so boring that I briefly contemplated pretending to pass out/slide off of the banquette we were sitting on just so I could get taken away in an ambulance and not have to talk to him anymore.

Here’s a little anecdote from the hour-long date that really drives home how awful he was. At one point, over our ONE BEER, he asked me if I’d ever seen the movie “The Cove.” I hadn’t, simply because a movie about the systematic slaughter of adorable, innocent dolphins doesn’t appeal to me. I feel like I’ve seen it NOW, though, because when I told him I hadn’t seen it, he proceeded to give me a full recap of its plot that felt like it lasted roughly four times as long as the movie itself. I don’t know why he thought this was good date chat. I’m pretty sure that there isn’t a woman in the world who would find hearing about defenseless, majestic sea beasts being harpooned in the head to be a turn-on (okay, maybe Karla Homolka, but that’s it). Then again, he WAS on a dating website, so I don’t really know why I was so shocked by his social ineptitude.   

Towards the forty minute mark, I remember saying to him, “Well, I’m finished with my beer, so maybe we should wrap this up.” His response? “Well, I still have half of my beer to go.” I should’ve looked him dead in the eye right then and said, “You’re the most boring person I’ve ever met and speaking with you is less fun than having my toe chewed on by a wild rat,” but instead, I just weakly said, “Okay,” and sat there like a lump until he finally finished his beer.

After awkwardly waving goodbye to him the minute we set foot outside the bar, I speed-walked away and never looked back. He must have gotten the hint from my dead-eyed, forty-yard stare, because we never spoke again. Thankfully.

Damnit, Cupid, SO NOT OK: The OkCupid Trials, Date 1

I first joined OkCupid back in December of 2009. Back then, I was working full time, I had my own apartment, and I was more of a developed adult than I am now. The only thing that was missing from my grown-up life was a boyfriend – so one night, I created an online dating profile, and the hits started coming in. 

By ‘hits,’ I definitely mean ‘weird messages from dudes who were clearly single for a reason.’ Every girl on OkCupid attracts a different sort of unsavory suitor. Mine can be described only as ‘gym-rat muscle heads with disproportionately shrunken heads,’ and there were definitely a bunch of messages from them, but there were also lots of cute guys to meet, so I started booking dates. 

I went out with around 10 guys the first month I was on the site. The first one seemed like a laugh riot online, but when we met up in person, I was startled by the fact that he had an unnaturally shiny, red face and an incredibly high-pitched lady’s voice. Seeing how I have a deep voice for a woman, it was deeply unnerving to be on a date with a guy who spoke in a higher octave than me. We went to McSorley’s, where I was forced to squeeze into a seat right next to the wood-burning stove or whatever that thing is. Predictably, I managed to lean against said maybe-stove and give myself a third degree burn on my tender, fleshy bicep. Date foul, for sure. We said goodbye on the subway and I’m pretty sure he gave me a high-five to end the night, which suited me just fine, except for the fact that his hand was simultaneously clammy, cold and smaller than mine. 

In which Caroline diagnoses a nut on OkCupid by doing a textual analysis of his profile.

I just stumbled upon an OkCupid profile that consists of one photograph of a male torso, taken with an iPhone, and this self-summary:

Every rumor begins with a grain of truth.
Behind closed and guarded doors.
Young, beautiful, free.
Like a handful of new gods.
Fantasies do come true.
Discretion is the only rule.

Whaaaaat? Here’s my analysis of this profile, line by line.

Every rumor begins with a grain of truth. I am paranoid. Additionally, the rumors you’ve heard about me being a sexual deviant are true.

Behind closed and guarded doors. Again, I’m a deviant. I also think in sentence fragments and am diagnosably mentally ill.

Young, beautiful, free. I’m in my twenties, enjoy the sight of my own nude body, and – contrary to the other rumor you’ve heard about me (which, admittedly, began with a grain of truth) – I’m not a slave. I just wear a dog collar and shackles because I look great in them.

Like a handful of new gods. Haha. Hahahaha. I’m not even going to touch this line…it’s too good already.

Fantasies do come true. Except for my ultimate fantasy, in which I am capable of having sex with myself and do – a lot. Like, constantly.

Discretion is the only rule. I’m going to want to do some weird shit that will probably make you go home and scrub your skin compulsively with bleach in a desperate attempt to wash the shame away.  

What do we think, gang? Do I message him? I *have* always wanted to date someone who has Narcissistic personality disorder…

In which Caroline tries to make sense of something awesomely weird on OkCupid.

Just now, while skimming through OkCupid profiles how I do, I happened upon a rather promising potential date: 22, male, over 6 feet tall, good taste in music/books/movies and cute AS. I was about to rate him highly in the hope that we would forge a love connection – but then I saw his gem of an answer to the standard OkCupid prompt “most private thing I’m willing to admit here”:

My ideal partner would be a woman who is into pegging.* I’ve never been attracted to guys, but I would love to be some girl’s bend-over-boyfriend.

*Pegging is a sexual practice in which a woman penetrates a man’s anus with a strap-on dildo, says Wikipedia (in a grossly clinical and graphic way).

WOAH. Seriously, WOAH. Most people respond to that prompt with a funny little anecdote about their childhood or a statement like “the fact that I’m on this website.” THIS dude decided to respond by confessing to wanting to be done in the butt by a girl with a fake dick. I mean, I’m all about being candid, but DAMN.

I have so many questions for him. Did he not look at anyone else’s profile before he made his own? Has he not realized that, for the most part, the people who discuss such things on said website also have a proclivity for carrying around a filthy duffle bag filled with chloroform and sturdy rope? Or is he simply making it clear that he exclusively wants to date a girl who enjoys beat poetry, cooking farm-to-table dinners and wearing strap-ons?

It’s not the fact that he wants to be pegged that is boggling my mind. Hey, man – you do you; I’m not going to judge. His fantasy isn’t even that weird, in the scheme of things. It’s just…what if he’s never talked about this before, and then someone he knows sees him on Quickmatch (which happens ALL THE TIME) and then every time that person looks at him all they’ll be able to see is him with a ball and gag in his mouth getting pegged??? I’m so worried!!!

Then again, who am I to talk? I used that prompt as an opportunity to brag about how I built my soundproofed, cedar-lined S&M dungeon ALL BY MYSELF in ONE WEEKEND. Isn’t that impressive, though?

UPDATE: Here is YET ANOTHER “most private thing I’m willing to admit here” that talks about PEGGING!

My New Years Resolution was to be more honest, so here goes:

I am a cross dresser. It’s not that I want to be a woman, I just
really enjoy wearing womens clothing. I am also quite bi-curious
though I’ve never actually been with a man, yet. I don’t want to
list myself as bi on here, because I’m not sure I’m ready for that
stage of my life at this moment.
As things are now, I have a strong fetish for pegging (where you,
the woman would wear a strap on and I would wear a dress
and…well, I’m sure you can imagine the rest). Again, it’s not
that I want to be a woman, but gender reversal and male anatomy
highly interest me. I feel that this is something that’s very
important for a partner to know about me right from the
start.
Whew. I feel better now!! Here’s to 2010!!!

In which Caroline teaches you how to not get murdered.

Since making my foray into the world of cyber dating a few months ago, I’ve developed a few sneaky tricks that I’m confident (read: sure as hell hope) will prevent me from becoming the next ‘decomposing body found in a ditch’ that you read about on CNN.com. The most important of these tricks is the following: always ask your potential date, point-blank, if he is a serial killer. Like this: “I also love Sno-Cones and desperately want to own a pug someday – but I can barely feed myself right now, lol! What are your favorite coffee places in the city? Are you a serial killer?”

Asking this question is crucially important because doing so changes the power dynamic of your cyber relationship. Would a serial killer actually go ahead and kill you if you’d eliminated the vital element of you being surprised about being his next victim? I’ve seen Law & Order, Law & Order: Criminal Intent AND Law & Order: SVU, and the answer to this question is: of course not. Instead, he’d 100% definitely think to himself, “Oh, she’s too clever/brazen to choke to death. I’m just going to take her to see the Tim Burton exhibit at MoMA and buy her a hot dog, instead.” Right? Right!

If you played your cards right after that, you could totally become ‘that one girl that [insert serial killer’s name] managed to have a normal relationship with while he was busy beating the shit out of prostitutes every other night.’ I’ve often wondered what it would feel like to be that girl. My guess? Pretty fucking awesome. I mean, your beau would be getting all of his bad energy out by battering runaways about the face and head. He’d probably be pretty nice to you by the time he got home from his escapades.

Personally, if I suspected that anything like that was going on with my boyfriend, I wouldn’t ask questions. I’d just be like, “Ok, Xavier, it’s totally fine that you’re going out at 2:30am and wearing a balaclava- but make sure you bring me a Caramel Frappucino when you get back home and please try not to wake me up with your hysterical sobbing again tonight.”

Ok…none of that is true. I’d be scared shitless if I suspected that my boyfriend was a killer. There are, however, women for whom this concern isn’t a deterrent – and women who actively seek out murderous sociopaths and fall in love with them. WHAT is THAT about? How the hell does Richard Ramirez, LA’s notorious “Night Stalker,” have a wife and I’m still single?