**Crazy Message**

I collect Precious Moments dolls and I love watching Disney movies and I enjoy going to DisneyWorld. I am a shy person and I enjoy being very shy. I am looking for people to talk to

I am a big fan of Alice from Alice in wonderland. I am a lot like Alice since I am a curious person and since I have interesting dreams.

**Response**
I seriously reported this profile. If you are into kinky weird stuff.. coolio.. Do it on the kinky weird sites… reading stuff like this just makes me wondering about the world.. and you pedofile habits.

And what is a public head toucher you may be wondering? Now I understand that your initial thought would be that it’s an individual that makes a point to touch you skull, like beneath hair, no light tapping, in public. But reason would lead you to believe that no one would do that because there is no way that could ever be a real choice that one makes. That’s what I thought too until my skull was grabbed in a very public location several different times after I made it quite clear that (again, shit,)I do not like to be touched. I would be easier for me to just get a HANDS OFF sign that is comprised of neon yellow letters that I can wear as some sort of a hat, which will not only protect my skull which was currently under assault, but should P feel a need to hit second base again with the back of my adorable virginal, left hand, he would have to think better of it. Surely you cant mix a message if it is in neon lights staring at you. I take it back. It is best to adhere to the, one can never be too sure policy when dealing with a hand raper and/or head toucher.

I just want to point out that neither the back of my left hand or my skull were ever targets of clearly misguided sexual energy that was a result of one’s way too inflated ego. No way freak show 1 or freak show 2 were up to my standards, and this was pre- hand/skull incidents. If those things didn’t happen to me I would cry LIAR but they did. The fact that this happened not even 4 days apart is the 8thn world wonder. But seriously, have they really run out of regular ways to annoy us that they are now just completing random acts of doucheyness (kindness is a better option fellas) that make no sense but are done because my tool of the evening wanted to up the shock factor? Well let me put this myth to bed. I am the shock factor, thus un-shockable. And just to be sure the myth is tucked in, I have one a final point. Insane, preposterous behavior from anyone doesn’t shock me. Strong influence on those two living examples of mental disease and defect. If the next delusional thinker who is playing make believe date with me touches my knee, I am packing it in, getting a cat, and some Haagen Das

This post contains many instances of the word fuck. And cock too. They’re not my words, only quotes. If this sort of language offends you, don’t read on. But I suggest you do for a laugh and a cringe.

We no longer have to audition for a reality TV show to be rejected, ridiculed and harassed. We can get the experience using an online dating site. Who knew this sort of humiliation and superficiality would come so easily?

So I reinstated my online dating profile. As a friend told me, the quickest way to get over someone is to get under someone. Or on top. Whatever you prefer. I signed up to a free site – hell, it’s well and truly justified why I won’t pay for this experience. Maybe that’s what I am doing wrong. Maybe I should pay for better members?

I’ll say this up front. I haven’t actually been on any dates. I nearly had one. We texted for two weeks. He was nice. And then nothing. With most of them, I just can’t seem to get past their ridiculous online nature.

In the online dating world, words have double meanings. Fun means sex. Looking after yourself means slim and probably hair free. Easy going means lazy. Laid back means apathetic. And accepting usually means they’re not. And people are VERY bad spellers.

I have stated that I have a disability on my profile. I have used my picture. Not photoshopped. The real me. This often results in instant rejection. I am not their type. But it’s usually when I manage to be ‘accepted’ by another member that the problems arise.

Here is my profile

Never judge a book by its cover. Or a girl by her disability. If you take the time to get to know me, you will find out I am one of the most fabulous, fun and interesting people you will ever meet. I am a stylish, kind hearted and outgoing writer and TV presenter seeking friendship, romance and love.

I am a friendly, outgoing woman living in Melbourne and enjoy good food, cooking, comedy, seeing live bands, movies and fashion. I love to write – I keep a blog where I review concerts and restaurants.

I work full time as an events planner, and am a freelance writer and community TV presenter on the side. I am passionate about making a difference in the disability community.

I am very happy in life and am seeking that special someone to share it with. I am not your average girl.

Just by the by – I saw and avoided two members who had interesting profiles. One wrote “Are you retarded because you look pretty special to me?’. And another was called ‘Gspotstimulator’. Classy.

While I have managed to filter through some nasties to chat to some quite nice men (usually the more alternative types), the majority have just been weird. The ones that initially seem ok often are socially inept, isolated or unemployed. And the confident ones…wow.

I have had two members tell me they want to marry me. They don’t want a girlfriend. Just want a wife.

And the rudeness. Wow. I am astounded. It’s like the site gives people permission to behave like complete pricks. Of course, they are thinking with their penis. And so all manners are left in the ‘real world’. If these men were saying the things they do online in the ‘real world’, they’d be up for sexual harassment, or perhaps assault. It is appalling. And sometimes laughable. Men are throwing myself at me. Not in a good way. None are my Prince charming.

Most members are just after sex. Or ‘fun’. And so this desire gives them licence to ask whether I masturbate, whether they are the hottest man I’ve ever seen, whether they can show me themselves on webcam (“you make me sad ” when I said no.), whether they can meet me between 7-9 to discuss sex or marriage, and whether my disability still means I can suck cock. Yep. All true stories. And yes, I have deleted and blocked all of those members.

The conversation that takes the cake was this one. A rather cute guy said he liked my profile. Good start, I thought.

I told him what I do. My day job. That I am a writer and a TV presenter. He said, probably ignoring what I told him, “are you interested in meeting up for some sex?”. No.

Then he said “I may want a relationship in the future, but for starters, I just wanna fuck you”.

Wow. Flattering. Forward. Gross.

He asked me what I did again. I told him again. A writer and a TV presenter.

“Now I really wanna fuck u” he said. “I have never fucked a TV presenter before. That would be fucken mad as”.

OMG.

And then he asked for my number, and said “I have seriously never fucked anyone famous”.

Charmer. Be still my beating heart.

Go ahead: call me shallow.

That’s fine. I really don’t mind. I’m comfortable enough with who I am to admit that I am, to a degree, shallow. We all are. Most people just don’t admit it. Sure, we like to believe that personality counts for everything, but let’s face the truth here: personality counts most in the long run, but for that initial, immediate attraction, physicality plays an important role.

That’s not shallow. That’s just life.

So, armed with that, I followed a friend’s lead and joined a dating website earlier this year. I had no real intention of actually following through with any dates, but I thought, at worst, it would be interesting to see how this internet dating works while allowing it to stroke my ego.

I didn’t anticipate almost immediately finding someone I was attracted to, both in terms of looks and personality. I sent a message, received a relatively prompt response, and the virtual courtship began. We soon agreed to meet for a casual meal/getting-to-know-you meeting.

Perhaps my shallowness caused me to get in over my head.

I guess the easiest way to say what happened is that the woman didn’t look like she did in the pics she has posted.

Well, that’s not entirely true. The actual easiest way to say what happened to is to say she was fat. Not curvy. Not heavy. Not a few extra pounds. No, this was just obesity at its best. Or worst, I guess, depending on your vantage point.

A friend asked me just how big she was. This is the best way I could describe it: You know that scene in Willy Wonka when Violet Beauregarde turns into a blueberry? Well, it’s like that, only if someone had turned her into a giant whiteberry with a very bad dye job. She literally had trouble getting in and out of my vehicle, finding herself hoisting her not unsubstantial self up and down the seat. The move left her out of breath. It kind of tired me, too.

I finished the date, thinking I could at least have some good food (but mostly knowing I had picked her up and taken her to the restaurant; there was no way she was walking home). At one point, no joke, I honestly considered the possibility she had on a fat suit and I was being filmed for something. I thought, “Man, I will look good on this TV special. This guy here isn’t a jerk, that’s for sure.”

Toward the end of the date, I had a Keyser Soze moment from The Usual Suspects, piecing together things she had previously said and then realizing that she had been dancing around the weight issue. During our first phone conversation, she made the following statement: “I meet a lot of guys, both in real life and online. I get asked out a lot. I don’t get a lot of second dates, though.”

At the time, she suggested it might be because of her brains, saying many guys can’t handle dating a smart woman. This could be the case. Or, and I’m just throwing out ideas here, it could be because you look like you ate the Burger King, the Dairy Queen and the rest of the whole royal fucking family of fast food. I guess it could go either way.

Look, I realize this sound awful, but it’s not my intention. I don’t care if you’re tall, short, fat, thin, whatever. You are who you are, and I say embrace yourself. What does bother me, though, is being misleading. This woman knows she has extra pounds. That’s cool. She should have posted recent pics showing her current look, though. Otherwise, she cannot be disappointed when guys turn out to be somewhat shocked by her unexpected weight gain.

By posting only the old, pre-weight gain pictures, she has acknowledged that she is not comfortable with her current self. Why would anyone want to date someone who lacks self-confidence? She’s employing a bait-and-switch tactic, hoping that guys will look past her weight and take her for her personality.

Am I shallow? Yeah, I guess I kind of am.

But, then again, she’s a liar.

I think that makes us about even.

I recently decided to try online dating for the first time. If you thought it was just cold in New England temperature wise, you should try meeting people here, they’re all just as cold.

I won’t name the site I used for this, but out of the few I checked it seemed the best. I assume they are all about the same. You can see who is viewing you, it’s free and you can send vague, brief messages to women similar to what I used to do when I was a teenager.

The mere thought of going on a date with a woman I chatted with online once or twice and maybe spoke on the phone for an hour with is a truly frightening thought, but I ended up diving head first into this…twice.

I put my profile up on a Thursday night. My profile is pretty generic, but to the point. I hate boring women, I love music, humor and travel. I have a few pictures up some of me smiling, some of me with a guitar. From what I understand chicks dig dudes with guitars. Since I’m kind of a creepy looking guy, the rare pictures of me smiling seemed to help.

I looked around and saw a few ads that seemed interesting and sent a brief message. Most responses I got were pretty generic and as I learned over the next couple of weeks, most women on there have no idea how to hold a conversation. At least with me, if I wasn’t interested in someone I just didn’t respond to message(s) they sent. One message I got out of the blue from “PatsFan122” read “Want to chat? You came up in mututal (sic) match” That’s all it said. As it turns out, most people on here don’t read your profile. No surprise. I read the majority of the profiles unless they were too wordy or not wordy at all. I’m not going to lie though and say I just pass right by profiles of women I don’t find any physical attraction to. Anyone who says they otherwise is lying. I think it was Bob Dylan who said “life is to short for ugly women” Or maybe it was Dylan McKay from Beverly Hills 90210.

A week or so later, on a Sunday afternoon at 2:07 PM, the day before a holiday I get a message from a 43 year old divorced mom “with kids”. We write back and forth for a good hour or so, there are a few grammatical errors in her brief replies. She then suggests we talk on the phone and just sends me her phone number.

She has a pretty thick Massachusetts accent, which is kind of a bummer, but I knew this was coming. We talked for about an hour, and then she invited me over to her place to “watch the Red Sox and drink some beers” So the minute this woman started writing me I pretty much knew there was nothing in common, she clearly did not read my profile too well and I wasn’t necessarily attracted to her but she wasn’t hideous or anything. If anything this would give me some practice hanging with a complete stranger, even if said stranger was COMPLETELY FUCKING CRAZY.

Here is a complete rundown of my three or four hours with “Donna”

I arrive at her Section 8 apartment building about twenty-five minutes after talking to her, about five hours after receiving my first message from her in my inbox. There are two ways to get into the building and I call her on the phone a little confused as to where to go. She looks pretty much like she did in her photos. She is short, thick, dyed blonde. She opens the door and immediately says “oh I told you to go to the other door” These kinds of “bossy” comments happen throughout the night. Her 11 year old son is with her dad for the evening, her 22 year old son does not live here anymore. She has obviously been smoking and drinking for most of the day. There is an ashtray full of thin white cigarettes on a messy coffee table that also is covered in bills, three or four remote controls and three Bud Light cans. For whatever reason apartments of single women always have some sort of sad quality to them. She suggests we go get some beer. I don’t really drink beer that much, and although I’m far from a beer snob I’ll drink semi above average beers when I do. She says she will drive us to the liquor store. We get in the car and drive to the liquor store that is literally about 70 yards from her building. I could probably hit a golf ball with an aluminum softball bat further away than we just drove. She asks what kind of beer we should get and I of course immediately answer “Budweiser” I get us a 12 pack of Budweiser and pay for it on my debit card. I briefly think I should have paid for this with cash so there is no paper trail and then I remember I am not married. She buys herself a pack of cigarettes, some cheap brand called “Maverick Lights”

Upon arriving back at her place she suggests we play on her son’s Playstation. She wants to play her favorite game, Jeopardy. She is “awesome at it and never loses” Before this happens though she needs to make a phone call…I mean three phone calls. She first calls her son who apparently was out playing dodge ball with some kids while his mom was home with some man she met an hour ago. She then needs to call her mom for some reason. She puts her mom on speakerphone and talks to her for forty five minutes. They are shooting the shit about “Cathy” and “that new restaurant” and whatever other boring shit women in their thirties talk to their mothers about. Thankfully the Red Sox game is on and they are winning. She then calls her best friend “John” and puts him on speakerphone and lets him know she is hanging with her “friend Chris” He sounds as bored as I am sitting there. He just returned from a day out fishing. He didn’t catch anything aside from a nap before she called.

My intense first date with Donna finally resumes and in an attempt to set a mood for us she decides to play some music.

“Do you like Kid Rock?”

“Are you fucking kidding me, of course I do!” is my answer. Me, the guy whose profile clearly states that I love The Clash, The Rolling Stones, Bad Brains, The Specials, Wilco and The Smiths.

Of course the Kid Rock is on the loudest volume possible about four feet from my left ear. In my life I’ve heard a few Kid Rock songs. They usually show up on a radio I have no control over. On this night I got to hear a whole hour or so of his music. I guess I still don’t consider myself a fan of his music after hearing a whole record. In fact I think I would rather listen to a drunk guy (with mittens on) try to play Blackbird by the Beatles on an out of tune acoustic guitar every day for the rest of my life than listen to a minute of Kid Rock again.

We then get our Jeopardy on. To say I beat her would be an understatement. I think the final score was something like $9100 to $250. At one point in the game there is a question in the “Art” category.

“ooh I hate aht, you into aht Chris?”

“Nah, aht is gay” I tell her

I realize I might be getting a slight buzz from the three Budweisers and four or five shots we have taken up to this point. I’m still able to beat her by correctly answering “What is Impressionism?” to the clue “ “19th Century art movement in Paris….” She answered “Mona Lisa”

I think I’m in love.

Even if she’s smoked about eleven cigarettes by now and clearly has drank me under the table.

Donna now decides we should listen to more music seeing as I have beaten her at Jeopardy. She starts going through those music channels on her TV set and playing a minute of a song and then changes it. Lady Gaga. Bruno Mars. Cee-Lo. Justin Beiber (really).The volume is at a level where we can’t really have a conversation. She does this for about forty five minutes in this bizarre blur of attention deficit disorder and this weird regressive childlike manic episode. I begin to think of a way out.

“Donna, I should probably go home soon, it’s getting late”

The conversation before the music came on somehow turned to politics and she of course did not like Barack Obama because he was black and would “probably vote for Trump if he had run” There were a few pretty bad racist comments made as far back as our first phone call.

I guess the main reason I went on this “date” was out of curiosity and just because I pretty much knew how surreal it might be. Stepping into this world I normally wouldn’t ever go to; drinking Budweiser and blaring Kid Rock with my racist date. I chalked it up to a funny experience I could write about and tell people about. I always talk to anyone who approaches me, sometimes much to the dismay of people I am with.

On my way out I told Donna that she really should be careful whom she invites to her place. It’s really none of my business, but obviously there are some sick people out there, but also I guess there are men out there who would have been perfectly comfortable on a date like this.

A week later I had another date. It went relatively better than this one did, but there was no click. Actually, it didn’t really go well either. I’ll get to that one next.

A few of my online dating stories in headline form.

I’ve gained a stalker.
I’ve gone on a date with a girl CLEARLY 20 years older than her online photo.
I’ve made more than one lifelong friend.
I’ve been on a date with a girl so nervous she barely spoke, wouldn’t eat, and was sick.
oh…
And i met my wife.

Message received

ur the must beutifull girl wath humanbean has see.

Response

that once again was the whole message….  dear lord..

Message

hey wanna chat some tyme?

Response

…. If you’re going to write a short message of 5 words… please make sure you spell them all correctly… especially a word like TIME.

Message received

I have a dinner party at my place to celebrate my buddies…. ummm…. well he knocked up his girl friend so we’re celebrating his unborn baby that he doesnt  want but we are trying to make the best of it. Now he is stuck with her.  Kind of a drunk right now, this may sound weird but oh well.

Cheers

Comments

Never.. drink and date.  You might say things that will appear on someones blog or worse.. come off as a total asshole.

Profile

Im like the only person I no that doesnt have a hobbie I want one so bad but I cant think of anythign LOL THE ONLY THINK THAT I KNOW HAVING A GREAT TIME AND GREAT SEX LOL BELIEVE IT OR NOT I was gunna play an instiment but ))
body painting,underwater photography
rice sculpture,exploring extra sensorial capacities, through different methods like hypnosis,aerobics in the water,animal communication
making stunts
cooking zany food,making robots,stars watching,taming wild animals,exploring volcanoes and underwater caves,hobbies related to the religions of the world,traveling and exploring exotic countries

Response

This needs witty commentary? Really?  He doesnt have a hobbie but his exploring extra sensorial capacities and volcanoes exploring… wooo makes a girl head spin

actually it seems like he REALLY likes exploring since he used that word serveral times.. and then spelled hobbies correctly.