OKCupid Meet Up.
My new boss and I (we’ll call him Chad) were making small talk during coffee break and the topic of dating came up. I - somewhat abashedly - mentioned that I had a few interesting OkCupid experiences. However, the story that he told about online dating easily topped all of mine.
He signed up for an account about a year ago, but despite being fairly attractive and successful, hadn’t received any responses to his messages. He was frustrated.
He began to wonder what kind of messages girls were receiving from other guys.
Eventually this curiosity led him to create a fake account.
Me: “Well, where did you get the pictures from?”
Me: “So you Catfished.”
Chad: “Is that what it’s called?”
He made up a whole backstory for this account, even creating a unique typing style. He took on the name ‘Katie’.
At this time in the conversation, I was a bit shocked and uneasy about the whole thing.
Katie had received about two hundred (fairly douchey) messages from different guys by the end of the week. Some of them were Chad’s close friends.
Chad: “I’d only meant to get an idea of what kind of things other people were saying, but after I noticed some of my friends sending these terribly disrespectful messages, I decided to take it a step further.”
He began texting with about nineteen of the worst offenders. Most of the guys were getting really keen to meet up.
Chad: “So I said yes. To all of them. I said, ‘Well, I’m still fairly sketchy about this whole online dating thing. Would you mind if I brought a few of my friends?’ Most of the guys were totally cool with this.”
Me: “I don’t get it.”
Chad: “I called up [Restaurant Name] and made a reservation.”
Chad: “For sixteen.”
He sent them each texts saying that he - Katie - was running late, but that she had made a reservation and would be there soon.
Chad had already found a secluded booth somewhere else in the restaurant hidden from anyone who might recognize him. He watched as the sixteen guys made awkward small talk for well over an hour. Some of them developed looks of anger and disbelief as they began to put together what had happened. Others discretely removed themselves to loiter outside and send messages to Katie asking what was going on and when they could reschedule.
Sixteen creepy dudes on a Saturday night at a table together sharing stories of love and woe.
I’m not sure if this is more funny than wrong or more wrong than funny.
However, it does make me feel slightly satisfied that at least a small percentage of those OkCupiders who send vulgar, offensive, or just plain inappropriate messages were put to justice.
In any case, I thought that I would share the story.
Kelsey is watching a Jack the Ripper movie. On Valentine’s. Makes perfect sense.
Start talking to someone on OKC.
Realize he lives three doors away from you.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
He kisses me
My college theater professor once told me
that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.
We do plays that involve singing animals
and children with the ability to fly,
but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.
I daydream regularly
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.
On the mornings I do not feel pretty,
while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline,
for other girls’ phone numbers.
When we hold hands in public,
I wonder if he notices the looks —
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.
Dear Cosmo: Fuck you.
I will not take sex tips from you
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.
He tells me he loves me with the lights on.
I can cup his hip bone in my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful.
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.
The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop
assumes we are just friends
and flirts over the counter.
I spend the next two weeks
mentally replacing myself with her
in all of our photographs.
When I admit this to him
we spend the evening taking new photos together.
He will not let me delete a single one of them.
The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.
Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty.
I am not a fucking novelty.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and kisses me
If a young woman in middle school or high school hangs up a poster of Barack Obama in her room, this is seen as acceptable. It’s fine for women to admire men and want to be like them.
If a young man (the same age) hangs up a poster of Hillary Clinton in his room, this is seen as odd (maybe even troubling, is he gay? Oh no!).
Society tells us young men can’t think of women as role models, unless they’re a family member, whereas young women can admire and seek to emulate anyone, regardless of gender.
If you’re a young man, and if you have a poster on your wall with a woman, she had better be half-naked in a bikini, even if the Ronald Reagan or Gen. Patton poster next to it obviously features the man fully-clothed.
Young men are not to taught to think of women as role models. They are taught to think of them as either family members or sexual objects. There is no other category presented.