Caveat Emptor: Black Widow

Lcpod

Hey Boy by The Blow

VCR by The xx
Words by Daniel Watters

I wrote this post old school, paper and pen. My phone is officially broken and that is usually where I compile all of my blog posts.  It feels nice to go back to cursive writing.  I still haven't lost my touch. My penmanship, without boasting too too much, is pretty.  They say it's a lost art you know, handwriting.  What a sad day that will be when the generations inhabiting this earth do not know how to write.  I don't want to see that day.

Yesterday's gone.  I was in a foul mood all day and held back tears for the eight plus hours that I was at work.  At first I kept saying I didn't know why, but that's such an inexcusable answer  I'm this uber complex being that has emotions and thoughts running through me incessantly.  I tap into deep and dark corners of myself on a regular basis and yet I can't pin point the reason behind wanting to cozy up in a corner and wallow in my own self pity ?!  Unacceptable.  I don't know doesn't cut it.  I look harder and delve deeper and find the source(s) of my temporary sadness.  I do share alot on this blog, however this will remain personal.

Rather than eat a tub of ice cream, I thought it would be good to watch Life As We Know It a second time since it made me cry like a maniac the night before.  What better way to purge my feelings then to cry with purpose as opposed to letting the tears flow sporadically.

So as you can see, I'm in a less than great mood. I don't want to work on my line because I'm in a creative haze.  I don't want to do chores because, well, I don't want to do chores.  

Procrastination tool #1: Facebook.  Been there, done that.  Nothing exciting to occupy my time. 

Procrastination tool #2:  online dating site.  Great way to pass the time.

Yes, that's what I will do, check my online dating account and see if there's anyone of interest.  I log on and there sits a collection of new messages.  One by one, I open and read them.  Next.  Next.  Next.  Next.  Next.  Next.  Next. Next. 

.....And this is where my rant begins.

There are plenty of fish in the sea says the father to his daughter, giving her hope that someday she will find someone half the man he is.  But the father fails to mention to her that the percentage of worthy fish out of that sea is very small.  If you haven't caught on yet, I mean men when I talk about fish.  Just a heads up before you think otherwise.

Let's say I was to put all my eggs in one basket and rely solely on Plenty of Fish as my means to find my life mate.  My future is in serious jeopardy.  If those messages are any indication of the pool of candidates out there, I give up.  I'm concerned that I'm looking at permanent residency in singlehood.   They have all squashed my dream of marriage, 2-5 kids and complete and utter happiness in falling asleep next to the same gentle soul each and every night.

What was I expecting really, from a free dating site.  That's where all the wack jobs congregate to get a piece of ass or to stare at loads of pictures of beautiful women without being the creepy guy from across the room who can't take his eyes off of you.  I have one of those by the way, a creepy guy.  Every day, without failure,  on my ride to work, he locks in his stare.  I can feel it and he refuses to remove himself  from the stare down.  He's so captivated by my morning appearance, I'm scared to think he's undressing me with his bedroom eyes.  I cringe at the thought.

If I were to take this whole "plenty of fish in the sea" analogy literally and pretend I am fishing, in a boat on a lake, all the fish I've "caught" (with the exception of one and that's my date mentioned in  my post Comfortable Stranger) I would toss back in the water.  Not even gently.  I would chuck them back, like get away from me ASAP kind of toss.  I wouldn't even care if they were this rare fish that was so beautiful to the eye or one that could feed my entire village, toss'em !  Throw them back for the next person to come along and reel them.  Let them be the poor soul that deals with their mediocrity.

Generally, I dismiss the messages for which I do not care.  But not tonight.  Something's come over me and it's best described as "bitch".  I'm tired of the non sense of this site.  So I replied with some very sarcastic comments hoping for nothing really, just more to get the point across that they need to step it up.

Hi - really, that's all you have to say?

Hey, I think we'd get along really well.  Hit me back if you feel the same cutie - You don't know me, don't call me cutie. And why would we get along?

Hey beautiful, I loved your profile. What's your name sexy? - My name is in the second line of my profile.  You're cut.

What's a chivalry - check a dictionary then maybe talk to me.

You can pass as african in that one picture of you with the shades - What in the world do you want me to say to that?

God must have taken extra time working on you because you are so perfect - That's the second time you've sent me that exact message, word for word and you also sent it to my roommate. Lame.

Hey purdy lady wanna chat dam you fine i wanna take u to restaurant fine wine -  Thank you but I decline.  I'm sorry, there's typos and poor grammar all up in that message.

From reading the description of your hometown it sounds like you grew up on an Indian reserve - Really? That's your message to me?               

Then there's this rant from a man who says he's glad for every choice he's made in life because it's brought him to this point in his life, a point in which he is writing me in hopes of falling in love. Firstly, sending such a message to someone you haven't even met is creepy.  Secondly, what a croc of shit.  Thirdly, he's sent me this a couple times before.  There's always a flock of people around me when I read my messages so we head straight for the jokes when I read that his name is Mo.  Mo Money Mo Problems !!! I called him Mo Money when I wrote him back. That was semi rude but again, something came over me and I let my annoyance with their messages really shine through.

The list goes on.  The joke in the house now is that chivalry is a shiny object last seen in the city of Atlantis before it sank, that's how much we make fun of my personal accounts.  There's no getting around them I guess, other than continuing to read and delete these absurdities. 

There very well could be some legitimate concerted efforts at reaching out to me but it's not visible in their efforts and as a woman who is serious about her search, it's all very exhausting.

Want to know what else is exhausting, whirlwind first dates that go nowhere.  They grind my gears.  Anthony, my date from the other night, has fallen off the face of the earth, well my earth anyways.  I didn't make the cut apparently and that's quite alright.  I went into that date with zero expectations and came out of it with free drinks and a bottle of Bailey's.  Score.  I'm not disappointed. I prefer to stay away from people who are that wishy washy that they go from one thing to the next, say one thing and repeat another in a matter of what seems to be nano seconds.  Inconsistency is very unattractive.

I guess dating is quite like the legal principle of Caveat Emptor, let the buyer beware. Under this doctrine, "the buyer could not recover from the seller for defects on the property that rendered the property unfit for ordinary purposes. The only exception was if the seller actively concealed latent defects or otherwise made material misrepresentations that amount to fraud".  I won't even comment on defects and misrepresentations.  I can be here for a while with my stories and psychobabble.

When you're in the dating scene, unfortunately you cannot recover the time, energy or costs that go into it. You freely put yourself out there which means you're freely putting yourself in love and harm's way. There are tell tale signs of the latter so it is up to the autonomous dater to be aware of such signs.  To our misfortune however, the world houses some people who are good at working around that. 

LCxo