Stupid cupid dating site

I know, I know, why am I still subscribed to their sad little e-newsletter if 1. I hate their site more than I hate opening my cable bill every month sob, Comast, sob and 2. Is this a trick? But I do have to say, if someone actually had the gall to ask me the third example in this article, which is: Because yowza, that shit is outrageously rude. Am I just naive, here? Has anyone actually been asked that question? I will say this: Who has two thumbs and is mere weeks away from turning the big ? And who is also feeling less and less technologically savvy the older she gets?

I am really feeling my age lately, especially in the world of online dating. That may be a slight exaggeration, but I do feel totally late to the party on a lot of these sites, particularly the social media based dating apps like Coffee Meets Bagel and Hinge. Never have; never will. However, after co-blogger D experienced mild success on Coffee Meets Bagel , I decided I had nothing to lose besides my privacy.

No wait, those are both long gone. And I liked the concept of the site: I signed my single self up. Seriously, the pickins were slim. First of all, most of my bagels naturally lived in NYC. Eventually I got tired of looking at a lame match from Brooklyn every day at noon, so I started to just ignore my daily bagels. This went on for weeks, until: You guys, I was kicked off of Coffee Meets Bagel.

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And honestly, I respect that. I was on their site but totally inactive, just annoyingly taking up space. Good for them for escorting me off the premises, because mama deserved it. Now, if Coffee Meets Bagel worked as aggressively on recruiting some actual eligible single dudes for their site as they did on getting rid of the dead weight like me, maybe people would be getting dates.

Just a thought, CMB. The other sosh meeds connected site I joined was Hinge, which at first appeared to be slightly less useless than CMB. There were actual matches within 20 miles of me! But when that age difference is in the other direction; yeah, no. Back to my maiden Hinge voyage. Lo and behold, I came across someone I was actually interested in. Which then made me realize that I had no idea how the app actually worked.

So I Gchatted D for help. Jesus , now I know what my mom must feel like when she calls me to help her format an Excel spreadsheet love you mom, but Microsoft Office is not your strong suit. Then it hit me: I never even filled out a profile on Hinge, nor did I choose profile pics. I clicked on my profile. The main pic was my Facebook profile pic, which was to be expected.

Even if some were my profile pics wayyyy back in the day, like any narcissistic millennial I have dozens of newer ones. Damn it, was this another tea totaler? Grouchketeer, is that you? So, they provide users with this list of jokey categories to use on our profiles and I guess help us appear cool…?. Is this something the kids are doing now?

Really though, goody two-shoes? Midnight toker cool it, Steve Miller Band? Who would self report as any of these things with a straight face? Then I realized that everyone, literally everyone, was doing just that and putting these things on their profiles. Get to the damn point. Have you actually gone out with anyone from Hinge? No dates, and almost no actual real conversations. If yes, leave a comment and tell us about your experience. Am I missing something? Am I doing it wrong?

Because I have no idea. Do I unknowingly possess secrets of the universe or something? Remember a few weeks ago readers, when I promised you some first date stories but then just openly plotted revenge against near-strangers? Worry no more Victoria Grayson, because tonight I really will tell you about my date. I spent my first couple weeks on the site making fun of it, and not doing what I was supposed to be doing, like updating my profile or answering messages, or looking for potential matches. He was in his early thirties, had a decent job at a government agency, and messaged me about benign things like my job, traveling, and my hobbies.

He suggested meeting up at one of my favorite bars that has a killer happy hour and an even better back patio. So, I begrudgingly put on lip gloss not lipstick, I am not nearly cool enough for real makeup. Ask S, she knows. Homegirl has a problem. This was going to be my first date in two months unless you count dates with fictional TV characters. Which I go on every night. Would I forget how to flirt? Could I remember all the thoughtful questions to ask? When I got to the bar I was pleasantly surprised.

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In another, Tevas and sandals. I literally went to the bar expecting someone who resembled a nervous, midwestern tourist. Instead, I was greeted by a decent looking guy with glasses, wearing normal, preppy clothes, sans fanny pack. Now, as we have discussed previously on the blog, there are two kinds of profile picture fraud. And it paid off. I spent the rest of our first date just mentally patting myself on the back for my good fortune. Because this guy DID. But this talking was extreme. During the course of our 2.

Sir Talks Alot, on the other hand, shared about things. I mean, at one point I actually wondered if perhaps I had showed up for the wrong engagement and this guy thought he was meeting with the aspiring author who has going to ghost-write his biography. A few nuggets I learned: Now there is nothing wrong with these nuggets individually, but string them together, and multiple them by other random facts and there you have my date. The thing is, when one is shellshocked by reverse profile picture fraud Type 2 fraud as described above , she is sort of in this imobolized haze where she is so confused at her own good forture that it is hard to think clearly.

Also, what he was saying was interesting his parents are also doctors! Lastly, once I started drinking wine, it seemed like too much work to stop. Yes, I realize that last sentence made me sound like a lazy alcoholic, but no I am not sorry. Anyway, by the end of the date I decided if he asked me to go out again and do something cool I would give it one more shot. He asked me to this fun food and drink festival that happens a couple times of year in DC. For those of you who have been lucky enough to avoid this fashion phenomenon for most of your lives, allow me to show you an example: See what Matt is wearing?

Those are transition lenses. The stated goal of such lenses is to be a one stop shop for people who wear glasses to see and who need to wear sunglasses to protect from the sun. Indoors, they are reading glasses. Outdoors, they are sun glasses. That digression is mostly a PSA for your benefit, dear readers, that is intended to ensure that when you buy eyewear, you buy it only for one purpose. The worst part of the second date was that Sir Talks Alot talked even more than he had on the first date.

This time, the conversation featured: I reached out to S for emergency support: Once I knew the incessant talking was likely here to stay, I just used the time we were together to make my own grocery list and fantasize about the Sunday night TV I was going to watch. And the worst part? The lesson here folks? This is a real publication?!? Let me tell you, I just fell into a really fucking weird internet wormhole researching this magazine. I lost so much that day: All these corpses, plus that movie trailer that I inexplicably watched despite the fact that every scene of that movie is seared into my brain and will haunt me for all of eternity , has really put me in a weird place today.

Back to the picture at hand. Literally, because on the cover of the issue this dude is displaying, the corpse is getting a little handsy up underneath that bathing suit. Why is the corpse feeling up this Baywatch model? Among all the other burning questions I have about this, the one that is most relevant to this blog is: What is this picture supposed to tell me about him?

Allow me to set the stage: Yes, my life is super exciting and not at all sad! After I checked my terrible message I decided to cruise for dudes. I paused momentarily, wondering how pathetic I was going to appear by messaging a guy on a Saturday night. When I send someone a message, I try to zero in on one or two profile details that can be potential conversation starters.

Well, I finally got around to seeing it just last weekend, so I figured it was a perfect conversation starter, right? I threw it into a quick message…. I was about to sign off Okc and continue on my merry way, when something possessed me to click on my sent message history. Oh it gets better, readers. How did I not remember writing this? Did I black out? Pennsyltucky , only less creative. Moral of the story: This time it was me. On a Saturday night. Some updates from Washington, D. Well, actually, not a ton more. Or, the guy who strings you along for weeks, and then lets you know he has a girlfriend.

Or the legit movie theater narc. The list goes on and on. And that, my friends, is why this is on my mind. They loved that dog so much.

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And that dog loved them right back. I barely managed to give him my trademark side-eye glare before I actually quickened my pace and headed to the turnstile, even though at that point he fully turned around and looked at me. Now, enter the solution: What if, I could enlist volunteers presumably other scorned, righteous ladies and the odd sassy gay friend or two, of course , to deliver anonymous hate telegrams to J and the other creeps that have come before and after him: But we could ask volunteers to implement a number of services, perhaps based on a sliding scale donation.

After all, at one time in my life we sported similar haircuts. AND, we both like to sit at our computers and scheme. So what do you think ladies and gents? Oh be quiet, Emily Thorne. Just ask these folks. Apparently I left you all hanging with my post from last week , because multiple readers reached out to me and my co-bloggers asking what happened with Grouchketeer. Never fear, my pretties. That was not the last I heard or saw of him, which for his personal safety was probably a good thing; no single woman should have to endure Mr.

Grouchketeer asked me out again a day or two after our fated first meeting, and I said yes. This time the itinerary was much more normal: The week leading up to our date, we did a bit of light text flirting. Grouchketeer seemed to be enthusiastically pursuing me, which was great because I liked him, but at times I thought it might be a bit TOO enthusiastic. Assuming he wanted the info.

Oh my God, Grouchketeer. But I told him the idea made me uncomfortable, chalked it up to my date possibly having some light Aspies, and moved on. Friday rolled around and I got ready for dinner like normal, until Grouchketeer called me at 6: The mind reels at the possible things that could follow that statement.

Here are some of the options that ran through my head: I debated with him on this point. Do I think there is some truth to his argument? So we agreed to disagree and after that first conversation. But…one day, between getting my ass kicked at Tatsumoto Vs. Capcom and and hearing him explain his fascination with zombies he tried to kiss me.

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Which is why I dodged the kiss by leaning back and moving away. Ladies, you know the move. I knew my friend was feeling lonely and sad and was not at all in his right frame of mind. Well, against my better judgement I started drinking with him. So it only took a few more attempts on his part until I gave in and let him kiss me. It was a good kiss, but more importantly for both of us, I think it was comforting. We continued drinking and of course the more we drank the more things escalated. Until he was laid out before me in his best Playgirl pose.

Needless to say, my friend was right. The day after one of our ill-advised sleepovers my friend told me he had a date lined up that night. I thought nothing of it. I mean, I was dating other people too. We were really just meant to be friends and we both were fully aware of that fact. But the next day I texted my friend. He was traveling to California, for business, and I wanted to wish him a safe trip. I mean, obviously I want my friend to be happy.

Far from it actually. I am a very confident person. I know I deserve better than I sometimes give myself credit for. A loyal and very supportive friend. I am a most-trusted confidant and to the people I love I am often their biggest cheerleader. I know I have a lot to offer. But we all have days when doubt and suspicion sneak in and wreak havoc on our egos. This was one of those days.

I allowed myself to believe…just for a second… that maybe, my friend was right. Maybe I am damaged goods. Then I remembered something. He never said those things about me. I said those things to myself a long time ago. I allowed myself to believe they were true. And there was something about the words my friend chose to use that brought back those thoughts. I wished my friend the best of luck with his new girl and left it at that. But never underestimate the power or establishing some key ground rules though. I know my friend never intended to hurt me.

I put myself in a morally compromising position and became emotionally compromised as well. Happy New Year readers and welcome back to my crazy dating life! Things have been a little quiet on the blog-front as of late and for good reason. Meeting in person took a little longer than usual. See, he lives over an hour away normally well outside my dating radius.

So I met him out in Arlington for our first date. Immediately we were attracted to each other. We chatted a bit, played some pool and darts. After my incredible come-from-behind win at darts, he went in for a kiss. It was sweet and soft, the perfect first kiss. I was cautiously optimistic…but optimistic nonetheless. We liked each other, got along well, I even met a few of his friends. All in all, things were going really well. So, I made plans for me to go over to his place for the first time on the night of the 25th. After a few wrong turns down dirt roads…I came up to his address.

I walked in, Edward was watching a movie. He greeted me and sat back down, seemingly disinterested that I was there. He was obviously a little upset about it, and rightfully so. However, he did perk up when his best friend texted him inviting us to join him at a bar.

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So, Edward got ready to go out and I entertained myself by perusing the pictures that aligned his walls. Against my better judgment, we started the night off by doing shots. If I was going to be stuck here I might as well have a good time. Edward definitely seemed more interested in hanging out with Daniel than me, which did not sit well with me at all. I quickly decided to stop playing wallflower and just go and insert myself into their conversation. Almost immediately, Daniel started flirting with me. Making increasingly inappropriate advances…even getting a little handsy at times.

We arrived back to his cozy little love shack and proceeded to do shots a terrible decision on my part, but I was obviously not in the right frame of mind. Daniel continued to flirt with me to the point that it made me upset. I went to the restroom to collect myself, which turned into tears in my inebriated state. I got upset…and cried. I hate crying, by the way Edward came in and we argued. Oh, and by the way, I failed. I mean, give me some credit…. Because of my drunken state, I actually felt guilty about the happenings of that night.

I left things alone for a few days, then texted Edward to apologize. I told him I was sorry for the way in which I handled things in my drunken state and would like the opportunity to make it up to him, but if not I wish him the best. Then promptly deleted him from my Facebook and my phone. Why was I upset? Because I was losing a guy who lives an hour and a half away? Hope that the relationship may turn into something, that it just might lead somewhere. I received a message about a week ago from Louis.

He seemed like a pretty normal guy based off his profile. He was a bit on the nerdy side but, then again, so am I. His first message to me was this:. But I figured what harm was there is getting to know someone. We messaged back and forth for a few days and had a great conversation on the phone that lasted about an hour and a half.

The thought of finding someone I can have a really great conversation with, the kind where you lose track of time, is very exciting to me. Louis seemed like he may fit the bill, and he asked me out for drinks on Saturday night. I agreed and suggested we go to The Filmore Pub. Louis sent me a confirmation text earlier on Saturday firming up our plans. I arrived to The Filmore a bit early and found a table facing the door and waited, expecting to receive a text when he arrived. So I texted him back, asking if he was at the pub already and gave it a few minutes for him to respond.

Then I called him and asked where he was. So I pulled up the bar stool next to him and sat down. Assess the situation, if you will. Although my assessment was brief, here is what I could tell. This guy had zero fashion sense. He was wearing a black and beige striped shirt, a beige micro-fiber collared jacket with pleated cuffs and pleated khakis with tennis shoes. I quickly settled into conversation with Louis. I could tell that he was a very smart guy, a non-conformist with a natural curiosity that he cultivated regularly. Explaining to me his interests in spirituality, building a backyard aquaponics system, his 3yr old son, psychology, etc.

All in all the conversation went well. We paid our tabs and he offered to walk me to my car. When we arrived he made his move and went in for the kill. It was a nice first kiss. Sweet and simple, as it should be. I asked him where he parked and he was pretty far so I offered to drop him off at his car. I mean, his speech was slurred and he had those half-open eyes working. I asked him for his address to plug into my GPS so I could find his place and he merely provided me with his cross streets. Well, my GPS did not like that so I had to rely on his directions.

After making several u-turns we finally made it to his place and I was dying to use the ladies room. So he graciously let me in, but before doing so confessed to me that he lives with his parents. But, mother nature was calling and I had to answer so I took him up on his offer. He then led me to his bedroom and we sat on his bed and talked, which led to a kiss. He became very aggressive, kissing me much deeper and harder than before and grabbing my breasts with surprising force even growling several times. This kiss was slimy and a bit repulsive. So I gently pushed him over to his side of the bed suggesting he get some sleep.

It was Black Friday and I was nursing my food hangover and waking up from my tryptophan induced coma. Oh, and he plays guitar and wears glasses. So, when Josh asked me to meet him on Friday night, I was excited. Not quite sure if the excitement was due to my restlessness or meeting him. Josh wanted to meet at a bar near Uptown, which is a bit of a trek for me — but I agreed and headed out on the 45minute drive to meet Mr. I arrive at the questionable establishment that Josh had picked out called The Grapevine. Although Josh lives 10 minutes away, I managed to beat him there.

It was an strange layout and a bit crowded so I went back to the patio and found a table for us and waited for my date. He showed up about 15 minutes later. Immediately he grabbed a double vodka tonic from the bartender and we found a table to sit down and chat. I start probing Josh for information about himself, typical first date stuff. Where are you from? What do you do for fun? I found out that he was married, divorced recently. He has a daughter and he splits custody with his ex. He also told me about his travels while in the Navy. Yes, I dated another seaman. During his travels with the Navy he and his friend had some interesting adventures.

One of which was in China. His friend preferred to stay in and order hookers as entertainment whereas Josh preferred to go out. He then goes into this long story about his close encounters of the prostitute kind. But he definitely had freakishly small hands. I hope he met his drunk text girl and they live unhappily ever after. My time is far too precious to be wasted.

John sent me a pretty basic Hi message on OkCupid. Almost immediately we exchanged numbers and started texting. Friday arrived and John called around 6 to confirm dinner reservations were made for pm. John was tall, very nice build and was a complete gentleman. Upon meeting, he apologized to me. For what, you may ask?

John is currently looking for work. Seeing this as an opportunity to have a different dating experience, I was oddly okay with the information. So we joined hands and bowed our heads in prayer before diving in. Yes, it was a bit awkward…but I found it admirable that he had such strong beliefs. John was not only attractive, but well mannered and well-spoken. He told me of his experiences in the Navy, sharing with me how he broke his leg in Turkey and the hellish ordeal that ensued afterwards to get him all fixed up.

Seeing that John was most likely moving to Iowa soon, I chose to tell him about the blog. For obvious reasons, I typically choose NOT to bring this up on dates. He seemed genuinely intrigued and engrossed in my stories of some of my worst dating experiences and he, in turn, shared with me some of his. The conversation was effortless and we both seemed at ease with each other. We got on the topic of women messaging men and how rare it is.

Somehow in his explaining of what he looks for in a woman we got on the topic of single moms. At this point, I could no longer bite my tongue. John was understandably taken aback by my sudden outburst of laughter and my interruption. So after I gathered myself I told him that I am a single mom. I had to go so far as to pull out my phone, pull up the dating site app and verify with him that my profile left that question unanswered.

I went on to explain to John that my kids are teenagers. Most of the work has already been done. We had a good laugh about the whole situation and continued to enjoy the evening and carry on our great conversation. When the night came to an end, John walked me out to my car and we said goodbye. Other than the slight faux pas on his part, John was a perfect gentleman and I will credit him this: The ball was in his court.

I wish him the best of luck on his search…and for this girl? As you well know, I recently dated Mr. A very sweet, conservative salt-of-the-earth guy that may or may not have been a little too vanilla for my tastes. Well, after a few weeks of sporadic texting Mr. Nice Guy asked me out on date 2. Nice Guy recalled from previous conversation that I was starting a new job soon and wanted to take me out to celebrate.

The plan was to meet at his place on Saturday and go to Whiskey Cake Restaurant for dinner, then back to his place to watch World Series Game 3. I get to Mr. Nice Guy opened the door wearing a nice button up shirt, jeans and barefeet. I mention this because I was taller than Mr. Nice Guy in the heels I had on. Which is kind of a turn off for me. We get to Whiskey Cake and order a few glasses of whiskey, settling into what I hoped to be a nice conversation. It turned out to be a very awkward conversation, I felt like we were on a first date all over again.

Which is strange, because our conversation on the first date was very easy and effortless. Never one to shy away from my own advice, I had to address the awkward vibe. We laughed about it, he admitted he was a bit nervous…I mean, it had been about a month since our first date, and we carried on with our dinner.

After splitting desert, we went back to his place to watch the game. Now I, like most baseball fans, am a bit superstitious and brought my lucky baseball shirt with me. So as soon as we got back to his apartment, I slipped out of my heels and changed shirts so that I could comfortably watch the game. Nice Guy offered me a glass of wine or a beer.

Nice Guy settled in on his side of the brown leather couch to watch the game and I settled into the opposite side. If you were to look in on us watching the game intensely from polar opposite sides of that couch, you would have assumed there was no chemistry. And, to be quite frank, I felt like maybe Mr.

Nice Guy lost interest in those few weeks apart. The game started looking pretty ugly for us Texas Rangers fans so I decided to stand up and watch. Going into the kitchen to rinse out my glass, I began watching from his kitchen counter.

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Never one to be a bad host, he got up and joined me in the kitchen. We selected a nice Pinot Noir and he poured us both a glass. As I leaned forward onto the counter, he came up behind me and began massaging my back. Very lightly at first, as if he thought me too delicate.

It was really nice, and very sweet. As I stood up and turned around he greeted me with a hug…staring into me intently before his lips found mine. Nice Guy switched his game up a bit. So…guess who had a nasty case of strep this week? You guessed right kids, I do!! Nice Guy has been very thoughtful and apologetic. Is it okay to continue to see Mr. Nice Guy knowing he may be TOO nice?

Is that really a deal-breaker? Once in a while we meet someone who challenges our way of thinking. I like to think of myself as completely open-minded. But, I may be getting a bit ahead of myself. He is also a father of 2 boys and 1 girl. He plays guitar swoon! Especially just coming off a date with a guy who drove 10 miles an hour on a street to avoid the excess water of sprinklers dirtying his newly-detailed and brand spanking new white BMW coupe.

Oh, and Billy is also married and believes in Christian Polygyny. Think Big Love without all the Mormons. Now, before you get ahead of yourself, Billy was completely transparent in this particular aspect of his life even listing it on his profile. Immediately, I was curious. Fifty thousand questions began swirling inside my head. But, cut me some slack…this is totally foreign territory for me.

After texting for days and having a pretty lengthy phone conversation.