(More) Sad Stories of Online Dating

Heyo!  You probably noticed that there was no blog post posted to Facebook yesterday.  Oh, I did write an article, but I decided not to cross post to social media.  I’ve decided that I’m not going to publicize every single blog post.  Eh – it’s cluttering up my “wall.”  At some point, I may stop posting to Facebook/Twitter/Google + altogether.  If you want to keep up with me, I suggest you bookmark the link https://disrespectno.wordpress.com to your browser; or even better, subscribe to my blog… and you’ll get an email update everyday!  (There’s a button to the right of this post to sign up.)

Alright.  Back to the topic at hand.  I will continue with the theme that I (sorta) started yesterday… social awkwardness.  Some of my most popular articles delineated my painful experiences with online dating.  Well, I have a doozy for you today.  Last weekend, I received an “interest email…” from somebody that I actually know!   What an idiot – this is a guy that I’ve met once or twice (maybe more) in social situations.   In fact, we were actually “Facebook friends” for a time last year until he deleted me from his list.  (As you’ve read, I hardly care when someone I barely know acknowledges online that we are not really “friends;” but when I got this email message, I remembered that we used to be “friends,” and I found the whole situation very, very odd.)

But let’s back up the train.  How did the two of us meet, exactly?  Well, one year ago, I was invited to a large party that he threw.  It was a public event, and I was assessed a entrance fee.  It was a bait and switch situation… It was advertised as a one party, and turned out to be something quite different.  Honestly, it was one of the worst events that I’ve ever attended in DC.  First of all, it was raining hard outside, so I was already wet and miserable from the beginning.  But it got better: From the terrible food, to the company… to even the venue – everything was wrong from the start.  When a Z-list reality show celebrity, cameras in tow, came up and gave me a huge hug like she knew me… I became completely over the entire night.   Anyone that knows me recognizes that I have major issues with being touched out of turn.  It’s one part neuroses with a heaping cupful of pain.  I have very sensitive skin.  That bear hug left me bruised for days…  thanks, Stranger.

(I don’t watch television so I don’t know if the back of my head became famous… I trust someone would have told me if my visage was present at any time during that series.  And what happened to her?  As I understand it, she has moved on from reality TV to infamy, committing adultery with 80s rock stars…)

The friend that I was with left after that scene.  I stayed a bit longer by myself… why?  I felt that I needed to make the most of the evening.  After all, I paid for it.  I made Mr. Party Promoter buy me a drink – I figured that I could recoup some of my cover charge that way.  Then I left.  But the night didn’t end there: At some point during the shindig, someone had stolen my iPhone out of my purse.   I ended up paying $300 more dollars to make myself whole again.  Yeah, good times!

So fast forward to about a year and a half later, with me chucking to myself over this email… and reliving the past.   The tool either doesn’t remember that we “know” each other, or he just doesn’t care.  (Both insulting in their own right.)   After my email surprise, I immediately called my friend who attended the sorry party with me oh, so long ago, and she told me that he tried to pursue her online  as well!  Oy.  Awkward situation all around.

In the end, sadly, my vision of him is colored by my very, very bad experiences with him wayyyy  back when.  He may be a very nice guy, but life got in the way.  Even if he did ask me out in person, he would not have a chance with me.  Che peccato.


About No Disrespect

A little schmuck in a big world
This entry was posted in Blog Update, Check Please!, Complaints, DC, Oh The Humanity!, Online Dating, Stupidity and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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