OkStupid: Why Didn’t You Just Tell Me You’re A Complete Maniac?


True story.

If any of you have read my initial blog post (Catharsis), then you know would know that I am in the process of a divorce. While I’m not hiding this aspect of my life, I’m certainly not making it my defining feature. That being said, I have started to wonder what the world of dating is like now. I haven’t dated anyone since 2003, and things have completely changed since then. There was no Facebook, there was no texting, people still called each other on the phone. There wasn’t even MySpace (I don’t think?). So yeah…its a lot different now.

I decided about a month ago to geeeeeeeeeeeeently ease my toe into the dating pool, just to see what was going on these days. I work 40 hours a week, and I don’t really do the bar scene. Most, if not all, of my friends are married with children, as are all of their friends. So, pickings are slim. There’s really only one other option to meet people at this point: a dating site.

I wasn’t looking for anything super serious, and I wasn’t about to pay for a membership to a site. After looking around, I saw OkCupid. It was free, seemed legit, so why not? I created my profile and began my creepy voyeuristic adventure. Much to my surprise, within minutes, I was receiving messages from people. Most were your run of the mill “Hi! How are you?” messages. I also received your not-so-run-of-the-mill pervy messages. There were a few here and there that I responded to, but that was about it (no, not the pervy ones). Anyway, after about a week, I had enough fun looking and deactivated my profile. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I was ready for all of this just yet.

However, about a week ago, out of boredom and loneliness, I decided to reactivate my account. I again creeped around the site, chatted with a few people, but nothing great. There was one guy that I had a pretty decent conversation with. After a few exchanges, he asked if I would be interested in meeting up for a drink. I was a little hesitant, but I thought, what the fuck, why not. It’s just a drink; very innocuous. Nothing crazy.

Wrong.

We decided to meet at a bar downtown. As I was parking, I saw him pull into the parking lot. He approached me and we did the perfunctory “hello/how are you/it’s freezing out” introductions. Then, while we’re walking in the parking lot, he says, “So. Why are you getting divorced?” Ummmm. ok. What? Really, dude? My answer: “Wow, not even waiting for the first drink. Ok.” I had a bad feeling already.

Sitting across from him, I was able to get a better look at him. Now, I have to say, I’m pretty good at reading people and character analysis. When I looked at him, I realized something was kind of off. I wasn’t feeling it. I pretty much already knew this wasn’t going to go anywhere, but I had a full beer and I wasn’t about to let that go to waste. So, being the polite person I am, I tried to engage him in light conversation. I asked, “What kind of music do you listen to?”  He named some hip hop artists, then told me he listens to ELECTRONICA. Like, he listens to it on purpose. I’ll admit, I’m a music snob, so this did not go over well with me. Then this happened:

Him: Do you like to read?

Me: Yes! Love it! (rattle off list of books I recently read) Do you?

Him: No. I don’t want any outside influences on me.

Me: Huh?

Him: Have you ever read Fifty Shades of Gray?

Me: (laughing) Yes, unfortunately. I will say that it was probably the worst book I have ever read in my life.

Him: People that have read the draft of my book have compared it to that.

Tres uncomfortable. Then he said, “Tell me your deepest secret.” Yes, he actually said this to me. My response was a flat-out, “No”. He asked me what I thought of him. I said, “I think you’re very direct (read: rude) and serious (read: creepy as fuck).” At this point, I wanted to finish my beer and get the fuck out of there, preferably with my life in tact. I was about eight minutes into this shit show of a date.

At this point, dear readers, he asked me if I wanted to hear his “story” that he was writing. He said it was about his life experiences, starting from 2011, when he returned home from Afghanistan. Of course I did. I decided on was now on a fact-finding mission to find out just how fucking crazy he is. Here’s what I found out:

-He was hanging out was at a WOONSOCKET strip club (blech). He met a girl there that was a former stripper one night (ha!). He fell in love with her within an hour

-He dated her for a month. She broke up with him because he was “too perfect” (read: he wasn’t giving her enough money)

-He was so upset about the breakup that he wrote her an 18 page letter and left it on her car (read: psycho)

-She never responded to him. So he moved on to another strip club, the Cadillac Lounge and became a regular.

-He would get “free” dances from the girls there because they liked him (read: setting up their mark)

-He really connected with the people there.

-One night, he was really drunk and got a dance from a girl who put her bum in his face. He licked her bum. (I almost vomited right then and there when this detail was told).

-He then moved on from the Cadillac Lounge to Fantasies. He said they had “classier” girls there.

-He met more strippers and had sex with many of them. But they really liked him.

You get the idea. This guy was a real charmer. I had enough. It was time to go. I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I got outside and he AGAIN asked me what I thought. Needless to say, I told him it wasn’t going to happen and got to my car. He told me that he really did want me to read his story and get my opinion on it. So, of COURSE, I said I would. I didn’t actually think this maniac would follow through.

But he did. I got a text from him last night asking for my email address to send me the story. I now have it in my possession and I can honestly say, it is such a pile of shit it makes 50 Shades look War and Peace.

This was what I wrote to him:

Ok, truth? Here you go.

I couldn’t get past page 5. The writing is poor, disorganized, colloquial, frenetic, and frankly, boring. You fail to use proper grammar and syntax.  I absolutely cannot believe that you have a Master’s degree in any writing capacity.
You introduce names without any explanation (Who the fuck is Lindsey? Who is Heather Padulla??). You improperly indent dialogue. You bold words. Several times, you tell the reader to perform outside actions in order to understand your point (“look it up on YouTube”, “Google it’). The entire point of writing is to describe in great detail events and characters to the extent they feel like they are in the universe you have created. You, however, created the complete opposite. It’s completely disjointed.
Now, I know what you’re going to come back with; I will use a direct quote from your page:
“Why do so many girls on this site insist that they are such grammarians? Just so you know: grammar is made up. There is no one true formula. You take an old version of French, an old version of German, mix them up, then age them 500 years, then have a bunch of different guys make up their own “rules” to sell grammar books, add another 300 years, and voila– modern English. All that matters is you understand the message someone conveys, not where the comma sits.’
I’ll tell you why girls, or anyone with a brain, insist on being grammarians: it’s a sign of intelligence and proper communication. It means that you understand language and how it is  used. Proper grammar allows a reader to follow the flow of a story (which there is no way anyone could follow what you’ve written).
Overall, your arrogance saturates this “story”, for lack of a better word. Your “story” is simply about having sex with strippers. You’re obviously proud of this feat (not sure why) and want to put it out there for the world to know. You talk about having unprotected sex with these women like it’s a badge of honor. Honestly, you should give a copy of this book to any potential date before hand so they know exactly what they’re getting into. Just as I was when I met you, I find it completely uninteresting, disgusting, and foul. It’s exceedingly obvious that you want to have an image as this intense, brooding character whom women will find irresistible (“Tell me what you think of me”, “Tell me a deep dark secret”). Instead, you come off as a complete lunatic, pig, and sociopath.  All of this, coupled with the fact you’re looking for an instant, meaningful connection with someone within five fucking seconds of meeting them is by far, the most insane thing I have ever encountered.
Calling yourself a “writer” who admittedly doesn’t read is completely laughable, as is your explanation for it. You are, simply put, an ignorant asshole.
So yeah, that’s what I think of the book.
I don’t think I’m ready for this shit.

2 thoughts on “OkStupid: Why Didn’t You Just Tell Me You’re A Complete Maniac?

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