Dating blah, blah, blah….Episode 2

As if Myspace isn’t tragic enough, I also tried an actual dating service a few years ago. They are officially called “professional introduction” services now, but whatever, same shit, new name. 


I went in for my appointment or rather “interview” and proceeded to answer a thousand ridiculous questions, took quizzes and surveys and had Polaroids taken of myself. Fantastic. After 4 hours and a few thousand dollars for which they had convenient financing options available, I left knowing that within just a few short days  my phone would be ringing off the hook. Fo Shizzle. 

My personal matchmaker, working tirelessly I’m sure, called the next week with my first match. I can’t remember his real name. That’s how enchanting he was. But first I should tell you what my stipulations were. During the course of my “interview” I made a few things perfectly clear. These were simple things, really – all potential suitors must 1) have a job.  A real one; 2) not live with parents or relatives; and 3) have reliable transportation. Motorized. Not a bike or skateboard. Simple, right? Oh, and I may have said that I enjoyed hunting and camping. At the time I meant it. All of my friends were very outdoorsy and I would tag along. Mostly I drank. It was fun. Lots of things are fun when you are drunk. Since then I’ve realized that I don’t like to “rough it”.  I like “it” rough. Sooooo confusing when you’re drunk and the boy is hot.

So back to my first match, let’s call him Bob shall we? According to my personal Yenta Bob had a full time job in real estate, his own home and loved to hunt. I agreed to the date so Yenta gave him my number and I anxiously awaited for contestant #1 to call. The idea of the dating service is to go out on dates not chat like school girls on the phone so when he called we set up a lunch date right away for that Saturday. Bob asked where I wanted to go and I foolishly said that I would leave that up to him. Why do I do that? Do I leave it up to the boy so that if the place sucks ass it won’t be my fault? Do I do it to see if maybe, just maybe he’ll come up with a clever idea, having actually put some thought into it? Or am I just setting these dates up for failure right from the start? IF I had  shrink, and no I do not, he would say it was the latter I’m sure.

So Mr. Enchanting chose, for our first date, drum roll please….. A Chinese seafood buffet in a strip mall. That’s class. I don’t care who y’are! Why I showed up for the date I can’t say. Possibly because I can’t stand to let people down. Possibly because deep down I’m not as mean as I could be. Or sometimes should be. So yes, I showed up. Imagine my surprise when I arrived to find him already seated, and eating AND he had only paid for himself. Yes ma’am, I had to wait in line and pay for my own $7.99 Chinese-seafood-eat-at-your-own-fucking-risk buffet. All the while Bob sat there sucking on a plate of craw fish. I almost stabbed myself in the fucking head with a dirty buffet dinner knife.

Clearly I had already decided that this would not lead to a relationship, a friendship and certainly not sex so I just suffered through, eating my salmonella-laced food and asking all the canned questions that are required on a proper blind date. What a waste. But here’s what I found out about Bob – thanks for nothing Yenta, you suck ass!
1) Bob certainly was a hunter. Big game mostly. In Africa of course because his parents would take him on Safari every so often. Uh-huh….
2) Bob did have a real job in real estate: He owned several duplexes in Apache Junction (that’s AZ’s answer to Arkansas). He and a room-mate (his “financial backer”) lived in one of the units and rented out the rest. That was his full time job. Jesus.
3) Bob also had more hair than a Woolly Mammoth. I don’t mean super-sexy Josh Groban -esque chest hair. I’m talking full blown can-I-knit-you-a-fucking-floor-length-parka coverage. From the knuckles on his hands to his shoulders and up his neck. That’s. Just. Wrong.


Bye bye Bob. Invest in a trimmer.
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2 Responses to “Dating blah, blah, blah….Episode 2”

  1. I don’t even know what to say except, I’m so sorry…

  2. Just Jay Says:

    At least these tragedies give me something to write about…

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