At the request of a friend, I'm resurrecting this story. I still get asked about this periodically.
Date: 4/27/06
This is actually the story that sort of secured my spot in the annals of Internet lore.
(if there is such a thing)
Since this incident, I actually have met a lovely lady and she and I have been dating for two months at the time of this post.
Still, I like to look back on my recount of that fateful night and laugh.
Enjoy. This one has a spew alert attached if you've never read it before.
Tales From the (Internet) Crypt
There are some scary things in this world. There are things that we weren’t meant to know about and things that we weren’t meant to explore. I’m not talking about ghosts and the supernatural. I’m not talking about UFO’s and unexplained astral events. The subject that I speak of is much, much worse. I’m talking about Internet dating.
Now I was recently thrust back into the singles’ scene thanks to a now ex-girlfriend that decided we were better off as friends about 6 months ago. Reluctantly, and to satisfy my sometimes morbid curiosity, I started perusing the singles’ ads connected to a popular Internet search engine. At age 33, I think I’m a little old to be hanging out in bars looking to pick up women. I figured the whole personals thing would be a relatively safe route…since I can kinda pick someone that I think matches my personality and outlook on life. So, just for kicks and giggles, I paid my $20 and joined the ad service.
After a couple of weeks, I actually found one that seemed relatively interesting. Well, interesting enough for me to respond to her ad, that is. Not the prettiest by far, but with a very promising sounding personality (famous last words, I know). Now before I proceed with the remainder of the story, let me explain a little bit about the whole Internet dating process. On this particular service you can choose to formally respond to an ad via e-mail, or, if the correct icon is present on that person’s profile, you can bypass that whole thing and strike up a real time conversation via Instant Messaging.
I chose the latter of the two…. impatient as I am. Now you will notice from here on out that the remainder of this story will be filled with things that I should not have done or things I should have done differently. Of course, hindsight is 20/20, but my misfortune equals your laughter. Anyway, I decided to IM her (that’s computer jargon for “Instant Message”, for all you Internet neophytes). Sure she was talkative…actually a little too talkative……okay she talked way too much. As a matter of fact, about 6 minutes into the conversation I was presented with her home and cell phone numbers. Now I am a very trusting person, but I don’t give my cell phone number to just some potential freak that I meet online. That’s just dangerous. But, if you want to stroke a guy’s ego, volunteer your phone number. Needless to say, my common sense went out the window.
Two days of calling this mystery woman and engaging in small talk landed me a brief “meet and greet” in her hometown of Hammond. Now Hammond is about a 40 minute drive east of Baton Rouge, and I decided to go at the end of my day on a Tuesday. Tuesdays are normally long days for me, so I found myself driving east at 8:45 that night to see what I was getting myself into. Once again….common sense was absent. Anyway, there are certain things that I should’ve taken as “signs” on that fateful night. The first of these signs was the fact that her cell phone was getting horrible reception, and I was unable to reach her while I was making the journey. Now I ask you…who gets bad cell phone reception IN THEIR HOME TOWN? Not me, but I’m not with Bubba’s Cell Phone and Taxidermy. Maybe she was. Anyway, this was just a sign of things to come.
So that I don’t ramble on and make this an excruciatingly long story, I’ll fast forward to the fact that I finally got in touch with her, and arranged to meet at a gas station in Hammond, and possibly go out for a drink from there. I described my vehicle to her and waited. My second warning came when I saw her vehicle pull into the parking lot. While negotiating a turn she actually got hung up on the curb. I’m not a perfect driver either, hell I can only see out of one eye. Occasionally I will hit the curb. It just happens. Getting a tire hung up on a curb takes effort…but she managed it. I should’ve left right then and there…. but my common sense had yet to kick in.
Now she did not notice me when she finally got off the curb and pulled into the parking lot. I drive a Mitsubishi Montero, but I drive the old folks’ model, not the hip and chic “Montero Sport”. This was my last opportunity and I failed to take it. Damn. I started the truck up and pulled over so she could see me. Her face lit up…..like a black light. Her picture on the Internet did her no justice whatsoever. By that I mean that I felt like the victim of false advertisement. Now I feel I should clarify something because I don’t want to sound like a hypocrite. I have a very easy time finding beauty in anyone. To me, personality can do wonders for making a person very attractive in my eyes. Ugly is a strong word for me.
This woman was ugly.
After the excruciatingly long hug was over she took a step back and proceeded to pirouette in front of me, asking if I liked what I saw. I was speechless. I’m rarely speechless, but no words came out. She repeated the question twice. I still could find no words, so she proceeds to dance around, I’m guessing to “entice” me. At this point, I’m expecting either a pimp to round the block in a pink Cadillac and give me his prices for the use of his services, or Alan Funt to come back from the dead and tell me I’m on Candid Camera. I get no such relief.
Admittedly, I pride myself on being able to talk my way out of just about anything, and I didn’t want to hurt Shrek’s feelings, so I begin to engage in small talk, looking for an opportunity to bow out of the evening. She continues to dance…and it’s getting worse. I’m not talking about a jitterbug….waltz….hell, I would’ve even taken the Cabbage Patch. No, this woman is gyrating her hips and singing “cha cha cha” to me. That is, until she loses her balance and falls over.
I’m not kidding.
Here she is, laid out in the parking lot with me in complete shock standing over her. I look around to see if anyone is watching this fiasco (this just reeks of a set up for an assault case), and I ask her if she’s okay. She looks up and grins, but there is now a 3-inch gash in her arm from her 3-point landing, and she’s bleeding like a stuck pig. Pun intended. I look at her arm and tell her that we’ve got to get it cleaned up. At this point I completely forget that I have an entire first aid kit in my truck. I run into the convenient store to get a moment away from this crazy woman (and some paper towels). I come back and she’s still sitting there, so I help her up and assist in cleaning this wound on her arm. As soon as we’re done (and it’s still a bloody mess) she apologizes, assuring me that she’s not drunk or high.
..and then she resumes dancing for me….completely oblivious to her now gimped up arm.
Have you ever spoken to someone that’s really drunk or really high? If you haven’t, there are some surefire signs to tell that the person you’re dealing with ain’t all there thanks to some unknown substance. One of these signs is the fact that they repeat things…..a lot.
“I’m not drunk” – 5 times.
“Do you like what you see?” – 8 times.
“Cha cha cha” (accompanied by random and disturbing dance moves) – 24 times.
“If I was drunk I’d throw you in the back of this truck and **** your brains out” – ONCE…and even that was way too many times.
I endure this nightmare for about 15 minutes before my common sense finally resets itself and kicks in like a brick hitting me in the head. Quickly, I start fishing for an excuse to leave.
“I have to go home now. I’ve got a long day tomorrow and I need to get some sleep”.
“I thought we were going out for drinks”.
“While I’d love to, it’s really late; but it’s been really interesting meeting you”.
I start to back away to my truck, and she pursues. For every step I take backwards, she takes a step forward, until my truck is preventing me from any further retreat. She closes in for the “kill”. Immediately (12 years of karate training) my hands fly up. (Not to punch her in the mouth…I’m not a violent person, and she’s already lost enough blood for the night), I did this to keep her from getting too close. This somehow triggers a brief synopsis about how she really is a beautiful person and that she’s got a great heart. To illustrate, she grabs my right hand and puts it on her boob to feel her heart beat. Not her chest, mind you…I know the difference. She puts my hand on her boob. Under any other circumstances (or any other woman for that matter) this might have been fun, but I had JUST MET THIS WOMAN, and fiber of my being was screaming “screw loose!” I immediately wrenched my hand away and shoved both of my hands in my pockets. This of course gives her the opportunity to put an arm on either side of me, completely blocking my escape.
…and she continues to close in…..evidently trying to “consummate” our relationship right there in the freaking parking lot.
Finally, I’ve had enough. Somehow I manage to phase into my truck and say a very polite goodbye. Unfortunately this is not without the sacrifice of my left cheek, which is presented with the nastiest, sloppiest kiss I’ve ever experienced (including various species of dog, and one camel). It literally sends chills through me. Not the good chills. The chills you get when little Meagan pukes the green stuff on the priest in The Exorcist. This is followed by a whisper that goes something like this:
“Next time I can put that kiss anywhere you want it”.
Okay screw this. I roll my window up, almost taking the gimp arm with me. I don’t remember saying goodbye, but instead peeled the tires on my poor Montero and did somewhere between 95 and 110 miles per hour all the way home, pausing every few seconds to make sure she wasn’t following me. Trolls have a habit of latching on to the things that catch their fancy, y’know.
When I got home I actually left the door of my truck open to get into the house and scrub my face. I washed the clothes I was wearing 3 times. I’m still considering throwing them away. The next day I told one of my best friends about the experience and my worries that crazy woman still has my phone number. Calmly she requested the woman’s number and had one of her co-workers call crazy woman to explain that I already had a real girlfriend and she would not be hearing from me ever again. I bought her co-worker drinks that night….in fact, I’m buying her drinks for the rest of the year. Sadly, this has completely traumatized me from the world of Internet dating. I now stay home with my cats and never travel east, for fear of what lives out there. Maybe I’m better off single.
Cha cha cha.
(if there is such a thing)
Since this incident, I actually have met a lovely lady and she and I have been dating for two months at the time of this post.
Still, I like to look back on my recount of that fateful night and laugh.
Enjoy. This one has a spew alert attached if you've never read it before.
Tales From the (Internet) Crypt
There are some scary things in this world. There are things that we weren’t meant to know about and things that we weren’t meant to explore. I’m not talking about ghosts and the supernatural. I’m not talking about UFO’s and unexplained astral events. The subject that I speak of is much, much worse. I’m talking about Internet dating.
Now I was recently thrust back into the singles’ scene thanks to a now ex-girlfriend that decided we were better off as friends about 6 months ago. Reluctantly, and to satisfy my sometimes morbid curiosity, I started perusing the singles’ ads connected to a popular Internet search engine. At age 33, I think I’m a little old to be hanging out in bars looking to pick up women. I figured the whole personals thing would be a relatively safe route…since I can kinda pick someone that I think matches my personality and outlook on life. So, just for kicks and giggles, I paid my $20 and joined the ad service.
After a couple of weeks, I actually found one that seemed relatively interesting. Well, interesting enough for me to respond to her ad, that is. Not the prettiest by far, but with a very promising sounding personality (famous last words, I know). Now before I proceed with the remainder of the story, let me explain a little bit about the whole Internet dating process. On this particular service you can choose to formally respond to an ad via e-mail, or, if the correct icon is present on that person’s profile, you can bypass that whole thing and strike up a real time conversation via Instant Messaging.
I chose the latter of the two…. impatient as I am. Now you will notice from here on out that the remainder of this story will be filled with things that I should not have done or things I should have done differently. Of course, hindsight is 20/20, but my misfortune equals your laughter. Anyway, I decided to IM her (that’s computer jargon for “Instant Message”, for all you Internet neophytes). Sure she was talkative…actually a little too talkative……okay she talked way too much. As a matter of fact, about 6 minutes into the conversation I was presented with her home and cell phone numbers. Now I am a very trusting person, but I don’t give my cell phone number to just some potential freak that I meet online. That’s just dangerous. But, if you want to stroke a guy’s ego, volunteer your phone number. Needless to say, my common sense went out the window.
Two days of calling this mystery woman and engaging in small talk landed me a brief “meet and greet” in her hometown of Hammond. Now Hammond is about a 40 minute drive east of Baton Rouge, and I decided to go at the end of my day on a Tuesday. Tuesdays are normally long days for me, so I found myself driving east at 8:45 that night to see what I was getting myself into. Once again….common sense was absent. Anyway, there are certain things that I should’ve taken as “signs” on that fateful night. The first of these signs was the fact that her cell phone was getting horrible reception, and I was unable to reach her while I was making the journey. Now I ask you…who gets bad cell phone reception IN THEIR HOME TOWN? Not me, but I’m not with Bubba’s Cell Phone and Taxidermy. Maybe she was. Anyway, this was just a sign of things to come.
So that I don’t ramble on and make this an excruciatingly long story, I’ll fast forward to the fact that I finally got in touch with her, and arranged to meet at a gas station in Hammond, and possibly go out for a drink from there. I described my vehicle to her and waited. My second warning came when I saw her vehicle pull into the parking lot. While negotiating a turn she actually got hung up on the curb. I’m not a perfect driver either, hell I can only see out of one eye. Occasionally I will hit the curb. It just happens. Getting a tire hung up on a curb takes effort…but she managed it. I should’ve left right then and there…. but my common sense had yet to kick in.
Now she did not notice me when she finally got off the curb and pulled into the parking lot. I drive a Mitsubishi Montero, but I drive the old folks’ model, not the hip and chic “Montero Sport”. This was my last opportunity and I failed to take it. Damn. I started the truck up and pulled over so she could see me. Her face lit up…..like a black light. Her picture on the Internet did her no justice whatsoever. By that I mean that I felt like the victim of false advertisement. Now I feel I should clarify something because I don’t want to sound like a hypocrite. I have a very easy time finding beauty in anyone. To me, personality can do wonders for making a person very attractive in my eyes. Ugly is a strong word for me.
This woman was ugly.
After the excruciatingly long hug was over she took a step back and proceeded to pirouette in front of me, asking if I liked what I saw. I was speechless. I’m rarely speechless, but no words came out. She repeated the question twice. I still could find no words, so she proceeds to dance around, I’m guessing to “entice” me. At this point, I’m expecting either a pimp to round the block in a pink Cadillac and give me his prices for the use of his services, or Alan Funt to come back from the dead and tell me I’m on Candid Camera. I get no such relief.
Admittedly, I pride myself on being able to talk my way out of just about anything, and I didn’t want to hurt Shrek’s feelings, so I begin to engage in small talk, looking for an opportunity to bow out of the evening. She continues to dance…and it’s getting worse. I’m not talking about a jitterbug….waltz….hell, I would’ve even taken the Cabbage Patch. No, this woman is gyrating her hips and singing “cha cha cha” to me. That is, until she loses her balance and falls over.
I’m not kidding.
Here she is, laid out in the parking lot with me in complete shock standing over her. I look around to see if anyone is watching this fiasco (this just reeks of a set up for an assault case), and I ask her if she’s okay. She looks up and grins, but there is now a 3-inch gash in her arm from her 3-point landing, and she’s bleeding like a stuck pig. Pun intended. I look at her arm and tell her that we’ve got to get it cleaned up. At this point I completely forget that I have an entire first aid kit in my truck. I run into the convenient store to get a moment away from this crazy woman (and some paper towels). I come back and she’s still sitting there, so I help her up and assist in cleaning this wound on her arm. As soon as we’re done (and it’s still a bloody mess) she apologizes, assuring me that she’s not drunk or high.
..and then she resumes dancing for me….completely oblivious to her now gimped up arm.
Have you ever spoken to someone that’s really drunk or really high? If you haven’t, there are some surefire signs to tell that the person you’re dealing with ain’t all there thanks to some unknown substance. One of these signs is the fact that they repeat things…..a lot.
“I’m not drunk” – 5 times.
“Do you like what you see?” – 8 times.
“Cha cha cha” (accompanied by random and disturbing dance moves) – 24 times.
“If I was drunk I’d throw you in the back of this truck and **** your brains out” – ONCE…and even that was way too many times.
I endure this nightmare for about 15 minutes before my common sense finally resets itself and kicks in like a brick hitting me in the head. Quickly, I start fishing for an excuse to leave.
“I have to go home now. I’ve got a long day tomorrow and I need to get some sleep”.
“I thought we were going out for drinks”.
“While I’d love to, it’s really late; but it’s been really interesting meeting you”.
I start to back away to my truck, and she pursues. For every step I take backwards, she takes a step forward, until my truck is preventing me from any further retreat. She closes in for the “kill”. Immediately (12 years of karate training) my hands fly up. (Not to punch her in the mouth…I’m not a violent person, and she’s already lost enough blood for the night), I did this to keep her from getting too close. This somehow triggers a brief synopsis about how she really is a beautiful person and that she’s got a great heart. To illustrate, she grabs my right hand and puts it on her boob to feel her heart beat. Not her chest, mind you…I know the difference. She puts my hand on her boob. Under any other circumstances (or any other woman for that matter) this might have been fun, but I had JUST MET THIS WOMAN, and fiber of my being was screaming “screw loose!” I immediately wrenched my hand away and shoved both of my hands in my pockets. This of course gives her the opportunity to put an arm on either side of me, completely blocking my escape.
…and she continues to close in…..evidently trying to “consummate” our relationship right there in the freaking parking lot.
Finally, I’ve had enough. Somehow I manage to phase into my truck and say a very polite goodbye. Unfortunately this is not without the sacrifice of my left cheek, which is presented with the nastiest, sloppiest kiss I’ve ever experienced (including various species of dog, and one camel). It literally sends chills through me. Not the good chills. The chills you get when little Meagan pukes the green stuff on the priest in The Exorcist. This is followed by a whisper that goes something like this:
“Next time I can put that kiss anywhere you want it”.
Okay screw this. I roll my window up, almost taking the gimp arm with me. I don’t remember saying goodbye, but instead peeled the tires on my poor Montero and did somewhere between 95 and 110 miles per hour all the way home, pausing every few seconds to make sure she wasn’t following me. Trolls have a habit of latching on to the things that catch their fancy, y’know.
When I got home I actually left the door of my truck open to get into the house and scrub my face. I washed the clothes I was wearing 3 times. I’m still considering throwing them away. The next day I told one of my best friends about the experience and my worries that crazy woman still has my phone number. Calmly she requested the woman’s number and had one of her co-workers call crazy woman to explain that I already had a real girlfriend and she would not be hearing from me ever again. I bought her co-worker drinks that night….in fact, I’m buying her drinks for the rest of the year. Sadly, this has completely traumatized me from the world of Internet dating. I now stay home with my cats and never travel east, for fear of what lives out there. Maybe I’m better off single.
Cha cha cha.
