Pardon me neighbor, can I borrow....

The boundaries of online dating are constantly being rewritten. At first blush you most likely, and incorrectly, assume that I am the one pushing the envelope. But how far is too far? To keep it simple I guess something illegal would be the answer.

Too far is a relative concept though. Having watched multiple episodes of Taboo on NGC I can tell you definitively that, there is a big jacked-up world out there. Fathers building huts for their 13 year old daughters to have sex in, people throwing an elaborate party/wedding for their Shih Tzu's and poly amorous "couples." Google it, you'll see.

Let's get back on track though. I chatted with a guy we'll call Charlie and he fancied a game called 20 Questions. A 2 to 1 ratio of perfectly normal questions peppered in with questions like "What is your favorite position? How many people have you been with? What is the kinkiest thing you have ever done?" That last question is where we got into some trouble with Charlie.

After several conversations with him and establishing a fairly open dialogue C drops the biggie on me. Would I be game for letting him watch me "with" the neighbors dog.

Just plain giggly over concept of being with somebody that I'm really crazy about but not at any cost, and surely not at this one.

The case of the Double "D's"

I swore I wouldn't do it. I hated that other women did it; I thought it was so bitchy. But I broke down, I changed my online profile to include a list of do's and don'ts for men to follow before contacting me. The number one reason why I felt I had to do this - men asking for nekkid pictures of me during our first chat. I'll give away my age a bit here. I do recall dating before cell phones. For giggles I reminisce about a guy calling my home phone to set up a date.

My Thursday night encounter was very sure of himself, pushy and ready to have me drive myself over to his digs within 15 minutes of being on the phone. As it was approaching dinner time, I told Robert I was planning on having some wine to unwind and fix myself something to eat. He encouraged me to do just that and get good and relaxed, as this particular earth dweller was insistent upon me texting photos of my naughty bits.

Some women may find a desperate, obnoxious caveman asking for sex pics right out the gate hot, I don't. A few hours later I heard from Robert. If only I could post our conversation word for word. You might not believe me if I did but the conversation basically went down like this. Robert wanted a picture of my neither regions. I told him that the wine hadn't set well with me and that I had experienced an unpleasant act in the bathroom and that taking a picture at this current time was less than favorable. Didn't bother ole Robby boy one bit. Still wanted a picture of me in all my unclean glory.

Diarrhea and the desperation of a hard up online male is a terrible combination. My little story of the case of the double "D's."

The pictures they post

We've all seen the asinine mirror shots in the bathroom, the pictures of the guys draped in sleazy chicks (nothing wrong with sleazy chicks now) but I'm talking about the pictures that give you ZERO indication of what the guy really looks like. I can spot a granulated photo from the 90's that has been converted to digital. What bears true scrutiny are the pictures where you literally could not pick the guy from a lineup if you absolutely, positively had to. These are their stories.

Seriously? Leave aside the horrid quality of the picture. What is the dude trying to tell me? He likes to hang off charter boats in the lower belly of the Philippines?

Dr. House has it right.

A Line A Dozen

The oldest and most simple hook men use - the pickup line. Back in the days of bar pickups, it was innocent enough and required a certain amount of "johnny on the spot" wit to lure a female to his den. Now with the advance of online dating, it is just too easy to copy and paste the same cute line. They control C and control V on different dating sites, in their intro lines and in text messages. I've had guys call me the wrong name. Nothing says I'm really interested in you baby like calling you by somebody else's name.

My dearest homie likened it to carnival game. Online dating allows men to line up chicks and shoot them down with zero to non downtime to reload. And we are none the wiser.

What have we done to men?

I'm troubled. I'm not gonna lie. Where have "real" men gone? Guys these days do yoga, get manicures and coif heir hair with more product than women. I've heard such phrases as "I hurt my pinkey toe" and watched co-men-workers practically bathe themselves in hand sanitizer. What is going on? This is not sexy dudes. Get a grip. I think I need to tune in an episode of  "Deadliest Catch" and get a real man fix. If you don't know already, they have the most dangerous job out there and don't ask for anesthesia when they get a boo-boo.

Tell me more, I'm fascinated...really. Go on

You don't get to meet stereotypes all the time. Well, maybe fairly often. But when you meet a guy that is on par with every single, solitary stereotype you've ever heard about a particular "breed" of guy; take the time to smell the roses and suck in every minute you can. You're one lucky lady.

My boy Jersey was every bit of that guy. Fast talking, slick, has a clever and "hey baby, get me a beer" look and feel to him. After he describes to me his sales style, he lets me in on his dating past. Pause for sales type though, this is important. Let's say for example Jersey repairs cars. Your timing belt goes out. You take your ride to Jersey. He assess the situation and comes back with a complete diagnostic workup. Not only do you need a new timing belt out, but a new transmission, alternator, dashboard component indicator light, shock/struts and a new wiper blade. Yea, that's it, a new RainX wiper blade. He is the type of guy that is going to up sell you on everything he can. Aghast of thinking how he'd spin up selling caskets. Enough about that.

Jersey shares that he is a victim of divorce. A friend of a friend said that divorce was worse for him that combat in Afghanistan. So it's got to be pretty bad. This is unfortunate. But Jersey proceeds to launch in great detail of the financials of his divorce. He spent nearly a 1/2 hour breaking down every single, line-item expense of his divorce and what the old lady is getting. Breakdown for each of (3) kids is included. Bonus. I didn't have the heart to tell him this was boring me to tears. So, instead, I tell him to go on, that I really want to know. The near comatose look on my face was not enough apparently.

A sad fact of dating these days is that guys (and girls) really don't know how to rock a first date. Highlighting your shister-like modus operandi and moaning ad nausea about how much you have to fork out every month to your ex is not sexy.

So take note gals, when you meet a stereotype like this smile. You will know his type next time and fake extreme GI issues if he asks you out.

The Dating Puddle

This one is so easy. Do I really need to say anything at all? Girls, this is what is OUT there. If it wasn't so ridiciulous I would be brought to tears. Let's break it down. Dude on far left; normal enough I reckon, except for his choice in company. These are your wingmen? What do you expect to capture rolling with these jokers? Second the left; I like his polo shirt but I'm fairly certain they do sell it in one size a twee bit bigger. Do we really need to see those poor buttons fighting for their lives? Third from left. Oh geez. I don't even know where to start. The stache. The pecs. The eyeliner. The ripped shirt. Good heavens. Not one typically to be left speechless, I'm have no idea what I would say if I saw this specimen in person. Deer in headlights look I'm guessing. Finally, the gent on the far right. He is probably the only one of the lot that I could potentially have a normal conversation with. Maybe.

48:08 Bonsai Guy

That is the amount of time I will never get back after talking to this dolt from an online dating site. I know, I know, if you recognize this about somebody quickly (which I do because all I do is talk to people all day long and subsequently size folks up super fast) then cut bait and get out. The only reason I can figure as to why I didn't is that I'm too darn nice. Sure, you're reading along with this and thinking "Nice??? She isn't nice, she's really, really mean. She is speaking poorly of other people." I beg to differ. I'm making observations.

So let's observe with, who I will call "Bonsai guy." In nearly an hour I can't succinctly tie down exactly what it is that Bonguy does. Something to do with detailing RV's, outdoor projects, aquarium installations and selling his one-of-a-kind Bonsai trees. Apparently they fetch quite a good purse. So, I don't really know what he does exactly but I do know that he loves to talk. Talk a lot, talk over me, talk without me listening. I've never understood the point of a conversation if the other person isn't engaged. At one point I thought about putting the phone down just to see how long he would just babble on. Dang, I should have.

I'm sure Bonsai guy will find a very nice lady that will adore that she is only responsible for 3.7% of the talking in their relationship. For better or worse, I don't fit that bill.

What just happened to this lady?

a) just saw her blind date for the time
b) got stuck picking up the bar tab
c) her date just whipped out his junk
d) had profound realization that Mr. Fabulous doesn't exist

Give me one good reason

Why you would use this picture to advertise yourself to the on-line dating world???

If the picture was particularly aesthetic, maybe. Black and white with funky lighting, maybe. The cat isn't helping your cause. Get that mange near the ear sorted out. What else does this picture say about you? I can tell you appreciate country folk decorations and your barcaloungers maroon in color. What does intrigue me, who took the picture and for the love of money why???

Pantsless Wonder of Ranchero

Happy Valentine's Day everybody!!! This blog is going to be so fun and neat and packed full of all kinds of stuff girls just love!! Lots of exclamation points to really drive home the point too!!! My buddies that know me and have asked me to blog are staring at their computers with a very confused, glazed over look about them. Don't you worry furry friends, that isn't even a little bit what this rap is about.

It's Hallmark's favorite pretend holiday. So we are going to kick it off by discussing one of the most painful and tragic things that happens to women. Breast cancer, you ask? STD's? Hirsutism? All good guesses but I'm talking about DATING! It's rough out there but also, chock-full-o same darn tasty and amusing morsels. My goal is to share my pain and misfortune with you, in hopes that will be as entertained/horrified as I am with my love-life.

We'll call the last one, the "Pantsless Wonder of Ranchero." I say last one because this particular joker is the last one of many preceding train wrecks, aka dates. We met on line; he emailed me a very LONG, detailed email with way too much useless chitchat. But he was cute enough and cared enough to think through a note that was actually written just for me. So we turn up the volume and talk on the phone. I liked his intensity and intelligence. He happens to throw out that his shorts were stolen from a Burlington Coat Factory dressing room, which housed his wallet, phone and camera. Now I gotta pause to ask, what kind of jackwagon cruises around BCF, in the pants you hope to buy, long enough to let some common thief lift your shorts? Nonetheless, we plan our first date. Turns out, he just happens to be returning home from being stationed in a state that cannot be any farther from the state in which we reside. And, guess what, he has no car. Top it off with, he is shacked with the parentals in a "retirement" community. What kind of idiot agrees to pick a complete stranger up, at his parents house, with no wallet or phone? This idiot.

So I ask for the address. He gives me the name and address for a wing joint. His parents live in a restaurant? Nope, he says it's too confusing to give this old lady directions into the retirement village. So I head to the greasy spoon to pick him up. We enjoy a frosty brewed beverage and head to our final destination, a street fair of sorts. At the locale he offers me a beer and then says "I'll take you up on your offer to buy dinner." I'm a special kind of special but I never made such offer. But since I'm so laid back, I agree. We throw down some bar food, meet up with a couple of pals for smalltalk. Pantsless has made other plans for us after some vittles. We are going to a concert. Cool. I dig live music. As we arrive at the door of the club, we are asked for cover. Ranchero has my back on this one. As we walk to the bar, he says "Do you want to start a tab?" He literally meant, "Do YOU want to start a tab?" Always a fan of a good, live music and never of pulling a complete stick in the mud move, I agree. Libations ensue. There is some flirting, playful kisses, that kind of Friday night business. The night wears on and it is obvious that driving would result in a run-in with the policia. We cab it back to my place where the night ends. (This part is not kid friendly and I have kids...I don't, but imagine if I did)

Daybreak arrives. After I make Wonderboy breakfast, and suggest we head to the beach (again, IDIOT, comes to mind here) he informs me that he's "got to get going." Funny that, because you aren't going anywhere, I'm driving you knucklehead. We head north and he tells me just to drop him off at the Dunkin Donuts, very near to this elusive retirement community.

After a few more very forgettable details, I engage my trusted friend Google. This guy, the Pantsless Wonder of Ranchero, lives in a mobile home park. I'm not hating, manufactured housing is a place to hang your hat but don't go under the guise of "retirement community." Be upfront. You already told me you had a) no car 2) no wallet 3) no phone. Why not throw me a solid and admit you live with your parents in Ranchero Village??

I don't want to go too long on this first post. Turns out, I don't think he could have either. People, you can't make this shit up.