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. 

Woah…you have SERIOUS hair. Like, a hairline that starts roughly 3cm above your eyebrows! “My self-summary: I don’t like putting up info about myself online (in case the terrorists use it to blackmail me and my friends) but, alas, times have changed, so… you want to know about Elias? I’ll TELL ya ‘bout Elias.” Woah. “I’m the guy in the purple suit and crazy clown makeup” – spelled MAKUEUP – “I’m the prideful lion. I’m the lone wolf.” Well, you can’t be a lion AND a wolf. You have to pick one of the two. “What do people notice about me? My hair.” No kidding…your hair is positioned wrong on your head! You should probably curse God for that, the fact that you have that situation.

This is the first in a series called “Caroline Plays Mean Quickmatch.” Mean Quickmatch  is a game in which you scroll through the ‘quickmatch’ option on Okcupid.com and make nasty and superficial comments about each of the prospective suitors that appears.

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…