Sunday, September 30, 2012

Dating Cheat Sheet #2: Lame Things Guys Text to Gals They Met Online

"Hello, Beautiful!" - Translation: I can't remember your name.

"Sorry I was unavail. for the last 2 weeks, busy @ work" - Translation: Mr. Air-Traffic-Controller eased previous girl-plane into departure and is now ready to signal holding pattern girl-planes in for a landing. And guess what? You're the first girl-plane in the queue!

"Now I'm TOTALLY COMMITTED to you!" - Translation: "I'll act interested - until someone hotter comes along."

"Let's REALLY get to know each other!" - Translation: "Will sex be in the picture, and if so, how soon?"

Vixen replies: "Glad to hear your tray is in the upright and locked position, but you can consider my flight cancelled. Hope the next girl-plane has a safe landing. Roger and OUT."

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Lame Things Guys Say:

Lame Things Guys Say While Breaking Up With You:  "Who knows? Maybe we'll get back together someday."

Vixen says, "Nuh-uh. You have put the 'END' in 'boyfriend.'"

Sunday, September 16, 2012

"Good News: We've Found You a Match! Bad News: It's Your Stinkin' Ex!"

A dear friend of mine recently signed up for an online dating service. “Look Who We Found For You!”, the subject line proudly proclaimed. And who should it be but her lying ex-husband! Yes, none other than the doofus she'd been trying to turn into a faint memory, right there on her computer. 

Is this the Universe’s idea of a sick joke? What are the sheer astronomical odds of being thrown together with someone you’ve already been (badly) matched with? I told my friend, Lightning obviously does strike twice, so go buy a lottery ticket in case it strikes a third time as a big payout. In the meantime, try to find a way to reach into the screen and bitch slap him into next week.

Think it can’t get worse? Think again.

My friend's jaw dropped when she saw that her ex had profiled himself as the “56-year-old CEO of my own business.” 'Couple of minor problems there: first off, he's actually 67, okay? And the “business” has been defunct for ten years, having been bankrupted by his careless overspending. Let's take a look at one of his extravagant indulgences, shall we? Here it is: a trip to Thailand with the woman who broke up the marriage - all on the company dime. Lovely. Looks like they had a good time, judging from the picture he posted of the two of them smiling for the camera. Say "Cheesy!"

In fact, he posted a lot of pictures of his much slimmer, less gray self, many from as far back as 13-1/2 years ago. How do I know the precise date? Easy: he left the time stamps on them. This one could come straight out of "Deceit for Dummies": when lying about your age - or anything, really - the first thing you do is get rid of the evidence. 

But that's not all. What else do we have for her, Johnny?

The dating service provided a complete-the-sentence self-description for anyone who may need some prompting. The sentence began, “In my spare time, I like to _________”; he filled in, “Think about the universe.” When I heard that, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I have no doubt Mr. Sincerity considers himself to be a Thinker of Deep Thoughts. And, really, when I knew him, he did spend a lot of time staring at the ceiling, spacing out. Of course, spaciness can always be covered up with a classic come-on like, “Single man ISO woman who likes cuddling in front of the fire”: he doesn’t have to specify how many hours he actually spends gazing at stuff burning. Or whether he even has a fireplace.

Truth is, none of us has any way of being certain that someone is who he says he is. A bit of cropping here, a touch-up from Photo Shop there, and bada-boom-bada-bing: say hello to the New Guy, same as the Old Guy. I'm paraphrasing "Won't Get Fooled Again" by The Who, but in this case, the more appropriate song would be "Who Are You?" Because with guys like these, you really wanna know.

I won't give up, though. If the dating service can match up a divorced couple against outrageous odds, they can find a nice guy for me. 

However, I will definitely be checking the pictures for anything that looks remotely aged or airbrushed

It will give me something to do while I wait for that bitch slap through the screen technology to be invented.

Monday, September 10, 2012

“Stephanie, Jesus Thinks You're HOT!"

Scrolling through my email, I saw this subject from an online dating service: “Stephanie, Jesus Thinks You're HOT!" Really? Was the Son of Man flipping through the headshots when He came across mine and said, "O, Woman! Verily, thou art most fair." Or have I finally become so desperate that I need Divine Intervention for my social life? Then it dawned on me that “Jesus” was just some guy's name. Oops. Note to self: cancel plans to build a shrine around computer. 

Dang! Why couldn’t this email have appeared on a tortilla?

Receiving a potential "match made in Heaven" made me think about the real Jesus Christ. Not the first name you associate with dating, but what would his J-Date profile read like? 

"Itinerant rabbi ISO Woman of Faith.  Object: Marriage

on Earth as it is in the Kingdom of Heaven. Prefers someone as

comfortable at the seaside as in the wilderness. Must have

experience feeding the hungry, clothing the naked and tending

to the sick a must. Loaves and fishes provided. Ownership of 

beast of burden a plus." 

You can almost imagine this ad was written at the behest of his distressed Mom: “Nu? Enough already with the shmying up and down the Galilee, Mr. ‘I’m-Gonna-Save-the-World!’ You're 33! Time to start a family!” 

If Jesus had decided to marry, the record shows that He treated women, even fallen or leprous ones, very fairly. This was pretty daring during a time when girls were basically told, “Sit there and look pretty while Daddy marries you off for some cattle.”

As full of love as Jesus and His Mom were, I remember being frightened as a kid by Their statues as I walked past Our Lady of Peace Catholic Church. I am Jewish, and therefore somewhat leery of what we Jews perceive to be a “graven image,” which the Third Commandment says is forbidden. (One time in the desert, there was this Golden Calf and . . . actually, I'd really rather not to talk about it.) The figures I saw when I peeked into the Sanctuary were so stern-looking, and their physical conditions? Like a nightmare version of Lucky Charms: Crowns of thorns! Nailed hands! Bleeding hearts! I don’t mean to make light of anyone’s suffering - it’s just that these images stayed with me as I walked home and even when I went to bed, giving me the creepy sensation that they were still watching me. 

So I was a little surprised when I came across a travel-size glow-in-the-dark statue of the Madonna at a garage sale, and thought: Hmm, this isn't so bad. In fact, She looked very kind and understanding, Her hands clasped in prayer. Maybe She'd pray for me to find a boyfriend as nice as Her Son. I wouldn't mind that at all. Breaking more than one personal taboo, I bravely brought the Blessed Virgin home and put Her on my nightstand. 

Now it’s the two of us, just two Jewish moms watching “The Wire” together.

She’s good company, really. I just wish she’d eat something.