Match.com is a “fuck-tard”. Apologies (especially to Big Sara) for the f-bomb so early in my post, but I couldn’t think of another word and thesaurus.com didn’t recognize “fuck-tard”. As many know, I am 36 and single. What does that mean? It means I have been dating for 20 years. Are you kidding me? WHERE IS HE? But that’s a topic for a different blog … a different day. As a thirty-six year old singleton I’ve taken to match.com to find HIM. Through that process I discovered that match.com is a “fuck-tard”. I’ve spent the past few months serial dating… you know trying to just let go and put myself out there. That’s some bullshit thing married people tell you to do. I have oodles and oodles of ridiculous dating stories. From the “farter” to the story I am about to share. Because ladies and gentlemen, this one is a doozy. Here’s how it went down, at least from my perspective.
He winks at me. I study his profile, okay fine, I looked at his pictures. I wink back. He emails me. I actually read his profile. I email him back.
He emails me, again. Lot of questions… this is good, we are getting to know each other. I send him my phone number so he can text or call. He emails back with no mention of my number. Weird. I email him back. He emails me. And so on a few more times. Finally he calls. He laughs and says “You don’t seem crazy so I thought it was okay for you to have my number.” Ummm, I’m the chick in this story, right? We talk for a long time that night. Conversation is great, easy going, interesting…. Match.com is a winner. The next day I wonder if he’ll text or call. I hate the guys that wait to call or text. If you want to call me, jeez, just call me. At 2 pm … score! He texts and banter ensues for like 4 days. We make plans to meet. We meet. He’s kind of short and bald and I think he is adorable. Totally adorable. Everything goes great. He is even a really good kisser. I love match.com. We go out the next night. Yes, the next night. Things go really well. He’s so cute and sweet and says what he means. He is still a really good kisser. Match.com is amazing.
I tell all the girls at work about him. I text with him all day long. I haven’t been this excited since Brian Wilson grew his beard out. I explain to the girls that he’s divorced with three kids… all boys… I ask the obvious questions… would I be an okay step-mother? Could I take on the responsibility of kids? You see, he was also in a custody battle for his kids. He’s such an amazing guy that he is fighting for his boys. Where has this gem been and why hasn’t he appeared in my search results before, match.com? That weekend he has to go out of town because there is something with his kids. But he texts me the whole time and we talk a couple times.
I. Really. Like. This. Guy.
He’s gone the whole week and I actually missed him. I actually wanted to see him and spend time with him – which I don’t want to do that with anyone except the twins. We make plans for Saturday night as soon as he returns…meaning he leaves the airport and comes immediately to my house. Match.com is spectacular.
Saturday, 6:23 am I can’t talk to you anymore. I’ve been up all night and feel so guilty. Just delete me from your phone that’s what I am going to do.
What the fuck? Did he just break up with me over text message and without a reason?
6:27 am. I’m sorry I just can’t see you or talk to you. I feel terrible about what I’ve done.
I eloquently respond “Huh?”
6:33 am I’ve been up all night thinking about you and what I’ve done.
I respond, “What have you done?” while thinking…. Son of a bitch is married.
6:35 am I haven’t been truthful with you.
Truthful about what?
6:37 am Everything. I lied to you about everything.
6:39 am My name is really Justin and I’m dealing with things with my ex. She accused me of raping and trying to kill her.
Now, this is where you think I would walk away… but don’t we all have that one crazy ex that we are terrified of…. maybe she really is crazy. So I meet him later that night and let him explain. The wife is crazy, its all lies, but he doesn’t know what the judge is going to do…. Blah, blah, blah.
I go home, pensive… do I believe him? Do I trust him? I mean, he was a really good kisser. So I go to my trusty advisor, the one place that I can always find the answer: Goggle.
And there they are. Three news articles about him. When he was arrested. When he was arraigned. When he accepted a plea bargain.
Match.com is a “fuck-tard”. It set me up with someone convicted – CONVICTED – of domestic violence. Oh, and guess what, this wasn’t his first offense. He had three prior charges. I don’t care if he is a Don – Damn – Juan level of kisser. Mama, doesn’t play with wife-beaters.
10:34 pm Thank you for being so amazing about everything. I can’t wait to see you again.
MY ASS. I go back online and head direct to match.com. CANCEL. Then I joined E-Harmony.