Guest post today!

I can’t remember exactly how A and I met, but I’m really glad that we did. It’s eerie how much she and I have in common — we’re both graphic designers that get off on typography, we’re both terribly sarcastic, we both seem to be horrible at choosing men, and we’re both super interesting and totally hot. I adore her, natch. Here’s the link to her blog — go check it out.

If you’ve got a horrible online dating story, email it to me — datewrecks@gmail.com! I’d love to start featuring some of the really terrible stories…

Introducing: The Zookeeper

Yo, Indiana Jones called. He said, "Stop making my shit look gay! That's not what the whip is for!"

Seriously. SERIOUSLY.

For those of ya’ll that don’t know me, let me give you a little background…

I’m A and it’s a pretty well known fact that I hate everyone. I mean, that was my nickname in high school. “Oh look, there’s so and so and that girl who hates everyone.” True. Story. I try very hard to be open minded and meet new people, but the truth is, I’m shit at it. I am not good around new people, my own mother will tell you that. I like the friends I have. Kind of. (I kid, I kid…mostly) I don’t need new friends, right? And don’t get me started on men. Apparently I have some invisible tattoo that says “Give me your creepsters, your codependents, your huddled masses in the unemployment line yearning to score some dope. The wretched refuse of your dating pool. Send these losers my way, I lift my pen and post on the internet.” I”m not kidding, ya’ll. I attract the strangest men on the planet.

First, a little history: About, oh I don’t know…two or three months ago, I got this brilliant idea to write a dating blog after calling it off with my then casual fling (ie – booty call). The only catch was, that meant the girl that doesn’t date…had to. So I did what any sane woman in my position would do. I jumped in the internet dating waters had first. The non-chlorinated end. I wasn’t about to pay for this bullshit research.

First up was Plenty of Fish. I lasted all of three weeks. It was terrifying. The grammar alone gave me the vapors. So I headed over to OkCupid where I met The Zookeeper. I love animals. I love the zoo. He seemed pleasant enough. We start chatting. He asks me out. I keep declining. He’s off during the week, I’m not. He wants to go out when he doesn’t have to work the next day and I don’t go out on school nights. I finally cave when he agrees to a Friday night. Friday rolls around and I have had a long week at work. I’m in no mood to be nice to anyone. I cancel. We reschedule for Monday. Monday I end up working late. How about Tuesday? At this point I kind of want out. Already. Bad sign. ALWAYS LISTEN TO YOUR GUT.

Tuesday night. We meet at a casual wings and beer joint. I’m a casual girl. I love wings. I love beer. I’m down. He’s late. I give a five minute grace period. Not everyone is as anal about punctuality as I am. Five…seven…ten. He’s ten minutes late. I let it go with just a passing comment. Progress! We sit down and order a beer and some wings. This is where it begins.

The dude will. not. stop. staring. at. me. He makes some comment about my uh, ample assets that I do not appreciate. Yeah dude, I’ve got boobs. Thanks for noticing. I try to engage him in conversation. He is intense. How intense you ask? This is the face he makes. ALL NIGHT LONG.

The bird looks more inviting, no?

I try and lighten things up and joke about him sneaking me home something from the zoo. He doesn’t find that funny. I counter with “can’t you get a fruit bat to fake its death?” MISTAKE. He then details how the zoo performs autopsies on every single animal after it dies. Man, those chicken wings are looking mighty tasty now!

I turn my attention to my dinner. And my beer, oh sweet jesus my beer. He then proceeds to chart new territory in creepsterville. “I really wish they made a product that would turn girl’s lips the same color they get when girls eat hot wings.” I wish I was making this up, ya’ll. Truly. For the record, they do.

It’s about this time I start praying. But, as most things in life, it must get worse before it gets better. Our lovely waitress comes back. “So um, are you guys like…dating or just friends…” WHO DOES THAT?! I look at him and he’s just sitting there. Now making this face:

Look deep into my eyes...

She starts to look uncomfortable, I am VERY uncomfortable and he’s sitting there totally unaware that there might be anything going on outside of his creepy little reality. She then says, “Oh God, you’re not related are you!?” “No, it’s sort of a first date thing.” “OH! Well you guys make a cute -um…nice couple!” I am praying furiously in my head now. Come on, Jesus!

We continue to talk and he starts telling me abut how the zoo has a farm out near my house. No one uses it and there is an empty barn there. Maybe we could go sometime. That’s it. This is the guy you hear about in the news. He is going to take me there and I’m going to end up Lion Chow. I have got to escape before he throws me in his trunk.

Dinner is over, beers are finished. My eyes are anywhere but his face. I have given up talking to him at this point. The waitress has dropped off the bill, with a note that reads” “Thanks adorable couple!” GAG.

“So do you want to go and grab a beer somewhere that has a better selection?” GAH! “Uhhh…” RING RING RING! Silent thanks and praise and promises to go to mass on Sunday fill my head. “Oh, it’s my little brother, I have to take this, excuse me.” My sweet, blessed baby brother always comes to my rescue. He needs me. I have to go.

The Zookeeper is disappointed. Sorry! Family first! He walks me to my car. I have one hand on the handle and the other is holding my keys. Tuck this thought in the back of your brain right quick. Over the several weeks we’ve been talking, I mention many times I don’t like people I don’t know touching me. ESPECIALLY my face or hair. That’s some intimate shit. We have to be on a whole different level for me to sign off on that. Ok, continuing…

So I’m standing there, ready to go and before I can even comprehend what’s going on, dude GRABS ME BY THE BACK OF THE HEAD and pulls me in for the kiss! I imagine it looked something like this:

OH DEAR GOD!

I AM STUNNED! I can’t even react. For a good three seconds I just stand there before pulling back and blurting out “I have to go!” and hopping in my car and fleeing. A few minutes later I get this text: I purposefully took a wet napkin to wipe off the lip gloss

I think I vommed a little in my mouth. I heard from him twice this week, and I have totally chickened out and just not replied. It takes a lot to shake me up, but this guy just creeped me out. So, the moral of the story? The dating pool clearly needs a healthy dose of chlorine. Especially at the end I seem to be wading in.