They say a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush – well, after the last message I had from a man on the dating site, I can assure you – he won’t be going anywhere near mine!
The disclaimer I posted on my profile seemed to have done the trick of weeding out the perverts – however, it didn’t weed out the weeds. Think I’m being cruel? Read on my friend…
I received a message from a man yesterday – the first message, so no communication beforehand whatsoever. Let me set the scene for you…a bar in town, you’re young(ish), free, and single, and a man approaches you. It’s the way it used to happen, right? So what if I’m in my PJs when perusing the site – they’re not going to know! Staying in is the new going out, and in my head I’m in a swanky cocktail bar.
So…there you are, in your finest threads, and a man you have never seen before says this to you:
“Had a bad experience today a pigeon flew though an open window as we were driving and hit me on my arm frightened living daylights out of me regrettably pigeon was killed felt bad about it but it was just a freak accident.”
(Just like that, without taking a breath).
Ok, so I know it’s difficult to think of things to say to someone, and a bonus point to him for saying more than ‘hi’, but a pigeon story? Oh, but it gets worse…
“The sun is so important to me try to get to Europe a few times a year off to Corfu shortly”
Again, all in one breath. Does he think the lure of a holiday in the sun will erase the memory of his pigeon story?
He carried on…
“If I won the lottery I would love to buy a cottage with a large Inglenook fireplace big enough to put 2 chairs in for cold winter nights. I love the coast, not to keen on snow ( I drive for a living if I was retired yes maybe ) ”
Ok, nice idea, but as an opener? While I love open fires, my perfect image of them is lounging around on a rug in front of one, with a bottle of wine, not sitting with a blanket over my knees!
Now before you think I am being a bitch and too choosy, let me share his final comment:
“I have labels in my pants ( excuse my attempt at humour )” American readers should note that pants over here means underwear. He has labels in his underwear.
Now, call me picky, but I cannot imagine sitting down with this man and having a decent conversation, an intelligent exchange of words, can you? I have deliberately left his original punctuation and spelling in, just to give the full effect.
This whole information dump came at me in one fell swoop. These weren’t separate messages.
I’m sure the man was quite sweet in his own way but oh my God, can you imagine the conversations you would have to endure? I’m a writer, a lover of words – I like to weave rich tapestries out of them, not slaughter the entire, beautiful, language with stories of pigeons and labelled underwear. And while we’re at it, what are they labelled as? Front and back? Does he have his name on them in case they got lost? Is it to ensure he doesn’t wear someone else’s by mistake?
But then I thought things were looking up when a rather nice looking man sent me a message, complimenting me on my smile. Looking up, that is until I noticed he was in New York. In the States. Where they don’t have labels in their pants. I’ve tried the long distance thing and it didn’t work.
“Hi, thank you for your lovely message, but I’m afraid I am looking for someone local, but I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Well, love knows no boundaries, distance shouldn’t matter.”
“Well, true, but first you need to be together to fall in love?”
“I know what I want, and when I see it I go after it.”
Now, at this point, I checked his profile again. He wanted to find someone to marry. And he actually stated that he was on the site to find a wife. Straight in there, no messing.
Scared the shit out of me.
“Well, I’m afraid long distance doesn’t work for me, but good luck.” I even put a nice smiley face.
I wish I hadn’t. I wish I could take that smiley face back and shove it up his arrogant arse – the cheeky bastard sent me a torrent of abuse, saying he hoped all women weren’t like me and that I’d never be happy.
That’s it, I’ve had enough. I cancelled my membership with that site, and may just have to go back to swanky cocktail bars and cheesy chat up lines.
But at least I won’t hear stories of pigeons and labelled pants.