She’s Hiring A Spring Boyfriend

Being a relatively reclusive person sprinkled with slight social anxiety, I figured Internet dating would be a good place to hedge my bets to meet a potential long-term partner. I’m a nerd, I’m socially awkward, and I’m probably one of the few who feels like dating should be an interviewing process (I have proof – I’ll post it in the next entry).

In the last couple of years, on and off, I’ve been perusing http://www.craigslist.org – I’ve lived in various cities over the last 3 years so the types of people I attract vary upon which region I happen to be living and posting in. CL (craigslist) has been been pretty entertaining thus far. When I first started posting, I was averaging under 1,000 email responses for the duration of the posts and I would reply to maybe 2 – 3 of the responses. I’ve only met a handful of them in person since I started. You’re probably wondering why I’ve only met a small percentage out of the 1,000 per post. Besides being incredibly picky, some of these guys are just um, too much for me to handle.

To the people who have responded to my ads with nothing in return, here’s why I don’t want to meet you:

-This is a real conversation between me and a Jewish guy who swore up and down he looked like Adam Sandler. He did look like Adam Sandler, if Adam Sandler spent every day under the sun for two years shooting up Heroin. He would beg me to come over every night with promises of alcohol and free percoset (I’m not kidding), like something out of To Catch a Predator.

Jeff: You don’t think I’m worth the twenty minute drive?
Me: Uh, do you really want the answer to that question?
Jeff: You know what? I wouldn’t drive two feet to meet you.
Me: Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear with you begging me to come over all the time.
Jeff: You’re pretty fucking rude.

The fact that you won’t put in any effort to come meet me when I have more responsibilities than you do probably says a lot about you. It definitely says one thing about me: I don’t want to meet you.

-You’re 23 years old and the picture you responded with was your high school senior portrait. Complete with a letterman jacket while holding a football.

Thank you. It was touching, in a juvenile sort of way, but I don’t want to meet you.

-We exchanged about five different emails, mostly of you insulting me. You then asked me to meet you for coffee.

I’m wondering if you walk around with a Pez dispenser full of anti-depressants. Go away. I don’t want to meet you.

-You sent me numerous photographs of your cock next to a can of shaving cream.

I suddenly felt the need to never shave my legs ever again. I don’t want to meet you.

-You sent me an email saying, "I speak Tagalog, so we have a lot in common."

First of all, you didn’t list anything else that we might have in common, so I’m not sure how that constitutes as "a lot." Second of all, what the fuck does Tagalog have to do with me? I am not Filipino and I don’t speak Tagalog and nothing else in my ad indicated I might have some connection with The Philippines. I don’t want to meet you.

-You sent me an anti-Semitic email when I stated my preference for Jewish men, specifically Israeli men. You said, "Israel? We’re at war with those motherfuckers for a reason." You then asked me if I wanted to go out for a drink.

Are you writing me from Palestine? I’m certain the US spent billions of dollars aiding Israel, not bombing them. If you are writing me from Palestine, I understand. If you’re not, then you need to be. Go away. I don’t want to meet you.

-"You are one hot bitch!"

And you’re one smooth talker. Go away. I don’t want to meet you.

-"I want to cum all over your firm tits."

Yeah. I don’t want to meet you. In fact, I want you to die in an AIDS fire.

-You sent me an email degrading my intelligence and my grammatical abilities (which, I admit, does suck), while asserting yourself as an uber-academic but misspelled "definately" and numerous other words. Then you asked me if I wanted to meet you for coffee. You adamantly refused to send me a picture, claiming you were married and needed to be discreet. When I said I didn’t go for married guys, you retracted your claim saying you were a political analyst trying to reserve yourself a seat in big-league politics and needed to make sure I wasn’t a hooker (um, OK, Spitzer). I then asked for a physical description and this is what you said: "ok – I’m not ugly but this is where you’ll bail.  I am 5-11,210,white,trimmed beard, slightly chunky but dieting it off, brn,blue eyes, 6"c but it lasts longer than most, …."

1) D-e-f-i-n-i-t-e-l-y. If you’re going to be a pedantic asshole, you should do it properly.

2) I don’t care if being a blue-cheese fat ass prevents you from getting laid in real life. If you’re that worried about discretion, stay off of the fucking Internet. 

3) I’m sure your six inches lasts as long as that box of donuts sitting in your fridge, you porky fuck.

4) Speaking of porky, he was right. I bailed. I like having my groceries not eaten by someone else.

I don’t want to meet you. 

 

-Your email is written in huge, bold font in all capital letters.

I’m guessing your resume looks like shit, and as a result, you probably don’t have a job. I don’t want to meet you.

-The body of your email is blank, but you’ve attached a picture of your ripped upper torso.

Nice work, but where’s your personality? Oh, right. You don’t have one. I don’t want to meet you.

-You’ve emailed me with nothing but a link to your MySpace page.

Being too lazy to write anything makes me wonder if you even bother wiping your ass regularly. You probably smell like ten thousand assholes. I don’t want to meet you.

-You have long, dirty-looking dreadlocks.

I’m not one to discriminate upon looks, but you look like you shower as often as I get pap smears. I don’t want to meet you.

-You asked me out for dinner and then said, "Asian women are fucking INSANE."

I don’t want to meet you because I can reaffirm your generalization. Please die in a horrible sawmill accident.

-"26 in Hollywood, 6 feet, 220, shaved head, blue eyes, well built/broad shoulders, tattooed, big dick, naturally dominant, 420 friendly, and I can host…I have pics to share, I just want to make sure you’re not a gay pic collector before I send…get back…"

With 80% of CL ads being spam and Nigerian scammers, you’re worried about gay picture collectors? I’m worried you may have some prior experience here. Naturally dominant? As opposed to artificially dominant? And what is it you can host besides HIV? I don’t want to meet you.

-Email response to an ad I posted for video gamers: "LOL nice add. By your pics I can tell your cute and if your serious about the gaming thing that’s cool. I’d like to think of myself as a gamer. My roomie had a dreamcast and ps1. Anyway hit me up if your serious bout the gaming thing!

Sent from my iPhone"

1) Ad. AD. TWO goddamn letters, GET IT RIGHT.

2) "Your cute," "your serious." It’s "you’re," as in "YOU’RE A MORON." You seem like a cool person to hang out with, but I judge you when you use poor grammar and punctuation.

3) The iPhone is a piece of shit, and the one prerequisite for owning one is being a mouthy asshole. I don’t want to meet you.

-"lets hang out, Your Jew Boy Josh"

I stopped returning your calls 2 months ago. Please don’t email me anymore, I don’t want to meet you.

-"You are funny as hell and you are hot!
I am French and moved in this god forsaken land 13 years ago."

"The French, you know, they have to unhinge their jaws to show love." -Master Shake

I don’t want to meet you.

-"While you’re looking for that special someone, how about a real fun week? Lets start an email relationship. You ask for any kind of soft porn photos you would like and I take them for you. We will never, ever meet or know who each other is so WHY NOT? It will be great evening fun. It’s a 100 percent safe and sure can make an evening more exciting. You decide or just say send me a sample. Come on, you know you sort of want to. Respond."

Yeah, I sort of want to respond to tell you that your dick looks like an eraser. Thanks for the picture though.

-Your email is a 15 paragraph narcissistic autobiography that does not at all indicate you even read my ad.

I don’t want to meet you. Instead, I’ll send you a bill in the mail for the 10 minutes it took for me to read your email. Next time I read your email, I’ll — wait, there won’t be a next time. Nevermind. Fuck you.