Mr. Right Now is neither.

I think sometimes I continue to go on OKCupid simply for blog fodder. Boy, am I glad I did. Well, sort of.

There was one guy who seemed relatively normal, the key word being seemed. I will refer to him as “Mr. Smarmy McSmarmyson”. It started out innocently enough, messages back and forth and then he asked to meet me. I suggested coffee. Ya know, that innocuous first meeting where you don’t have to spend an inordinately long period of time if you don’t want to. Just in case. Of course, it’s always good to have your best friend text you with an “emergency” twenty minutes into the meet and greet. Also, just in case.

So I wrote, “I have some free time on Wednesday afternoon”.

He replied, “Sure. Feeling frisky, huh?” I found myself crinkling up my eyebrows in wonder. First of all, did he just use the word “frisky” and secondly, was he serious?

“Seriously? Frisky?” was my next message and his reply was “ You have a better word for sex?”

Again, my forehead crinkled in amazement. I found my mouth hanging open as I read it again. I hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers or last names with this moron. However, I had to respond. Just had to.

“Um, what kind of meet-and-greet did you expect this to be?” I hit send and found myself sitting there waiting. Still scrunching up my forehead.

“Dunno. You never know where it will take us. You up for it? If not today, then at least send some naughty pictures of yourself. With your hot bod, I just can’t wait.”

I sat there for a moment in quiet contemplation. But it was like a car accident where you just can’t look away. You try, but you just can’t. I had to write back. I couldn’t help it. I tried, but I just couldn’t. Part of me felt like perhaps he needed some guidance on proper dating etiquette or just some freakin manners. Perhaps this did work on some chicks, but yep, not this one. I wasn’t sure if I was offended, bemused or pissed at the sheer audacity of it. So, I began to type. I was going to be as straight forward as he was. I was about to be completely and totally honest with someone I had never met and well, let’s face it, had no intention of ever meeting like, ever. Never, ever ever. Besides, all of the crinkling of my forehead in shock and awe would require Botox if I continued the conversation much longer.

So this was my response:
“Ya know what? I think I'm going to pass on the whole meet and greet thing. I appreciate your straight-forward-ness, but you are way too forward for me and it's kind of a turn off. And just so you know, you really wouldn't see me naked for quite some time. I am not looking for a fuck buddy. Sorry to disappoint, but seriously, I think I will just go to the gym today instead. Have a nice day.”

It took him like, 10 minutes, but this was the final note: “That's fine. Was losing interest anyway.” At least I told him to have a nice day.

If you know me, you know I am no prude. I have a dirty mind and well, yep, that’s all I’m saying. My mom reads my blog. It’s just that, I mean, come on. Do total strangers exchange naked pictures of each other without money changing hands? I am not Brett Favre.

Then there was the twenty-two year old, Mr. Mammary, who kept writing about my breasts. He actually kept referring to them as “boobies”. I thought you might like an excerpt.

“You are a supper hottie mom and I think you’ll make an awesome piece of arm candy for whoever picks ya up. Rowr!! I think your boobies are fantastic and I am guessing they are real. Of course, what do I know; I assume anything bigger than my actual palm is a fake. But who cares, your boobies are great. I just totally wrote boobies!!”

Umm…yeah…I didn’t actually respond to that one. I am guessing he was either breastfed until he was like, seven or doesn’t really get to see many, um, boobies.

The next one, Mr. Paranoid-mystery-man”, refused to tell me what he did for a living, what part of town he lived in or his last name. I jokingly suggested he just tell me his middle name. He declined, stating that if I knew that, it would be too easy for me to find him and then I would know where he worked. I am guessing he worked for the CIA. Or for Disney. Total toss-up.

And finally Mr. Off-his-meds. “In a word, mercurial comes to mind…….not a bad word, certainly better than others. Now, Los Angeles is vague as are zip codes. I love children, I culled that from Holden’s sister……She just kills me was the line. My parents are recently passed…...and am at a piece with it as one can be…..mom…...fuck mom..….and I work in architecture.”

The spelling mistakes and ellipses were his, not mine. Personally, I am a triple glyph person and think adding extra dots is just superfluous. Man, that was either the most pretentious sentence I have ever written or I am way too into my job as an English teacher.

But hey, glad he has a job and hopes he gets over his mom. I have no idea who Holden or his sister was. I am guessing it is some reference to Catcher in the Rye and therefore we all know that that means serial killer. Nope, didn’t respond to that one either.

Actually under my profile it reads, “Responds selectively”. As Cher put it in Clueless, “You see how picky I am about my shoes and those just go on my feet.”

Seriously.