Friday, June 26, 2009
An attractive woman with a full set of teeth, Sarah had recently waded into the deepest depths of her local dating pool only to emerge with lightly splashed kneecaps.
There just wasn't that much out there for her.
So Sarah elected to join a popular national dating website instead, hoping she might find an attractive man in her area with at least a few similar interests.
She didn't find much to her liking, but apparently several guys found Sarah quite the catch. She eventually fell into casual conversation with a man named Bob.
Right away, Sarah realized Bob might have some issues.
Raised as an only child and spoiled rotten throughout his life, Bob constantly craved Sarah's undying attention, yet simultaneously spoke only of himself and always had to have the last word.
She wasn't attracted to Bob, but frankly, she didn't have any other dating prospects, and actually kind of felt bad for the guy.
"I guess it was the way he laid all his pathetic stuff out for me, like a yard sale of the sads," she says. "I think sometimes I date just because I'm bored."
In only their second online conversation, Bob admitted to Sarah he hadn't been on a date in nearly 5 years. "I'm just not that into casual sex," he explained.
For those women not in the know, that's man-speak for "I can't find anyone who will fuck me." Sarah concurs, adding "If I show up at this guy's house wearing only a thin layer of oil, he'll be all up in me like stuffing in a Thanksgiving turkey."
Agreed, Sarah. Agreed.
Anyway, Bob and Sarah end up going out on one date, which Sarah described as "painful." Rather than dumping Bob on the spot, Sarah decided to help Bob out a little by politely highlighting some personality changes he might consider in order to make himself more attractive to single women in the future.
"He did not take it well," reflects Sarah, and Bob went right back to showcasing the "sads."
Sarah and Bob conversed via text over the next week or so. While Bob slowly became infatuated with Sarah, Sarah became completely indifferent to Bob. She was trying to be nice, but Bob's texts became increasingly needy and, well, strange.
"I don't really remember, he says some things to me that are pretty wacky. I dismiss them, I mean, he's not exactly socially retarded," recalls Sarah.
Unfortunately, she was just about to find out exactly how socially retarded Bob really was.
Only a couple weeks after meeting Sarah, Bob was apparently hanging out with his best female friend when he sent Sarah the following text:
Bob: Do you want to have kids?
Sarah was a bit taken aback. She did, but certainly not his kids. She didn't know where he was going with this, so she texted back:
Sarah: I haven't decided yet.
Bob: My best friend says that since you're 30, you shouldn't have kids past the age of 35.
Now Sarah was pissed off. Why the fuck was this assclown discussing her womb with some woman she didn't even know?
Sarah: It's none of her business, and I don't want to discuss it further.
Bob: Yeah, I just told her she has too big of a heart.
Sarah: I think she needs to mind her business about the kid thing because that is something that is not her concern. Unless she gets me pregnant.
Bob: You blow things way out of proportion!
Personally, I disagree. As a guy, I certainly wouldn't want some woman I barely know having a casual conversation about my penis over coffee with some guy I didn't know at all.
So on this note, Sarah stopped responding to his texts.
And Bob got upset, because he sensed Sarah was upset.
What could he possibly do to get back in her good graces? He hadn't talked to her for over an hour!
To express his true feelings for Sarah, Bob decided to put together a nice little picture for her.
And this is what he sent Sarah one hour later:
Yes, folks, that's right.
As a token of his affection for Sarah, Bob took her online profile picture and Photo-shopped his cock onto her lips.
This blog is just fucking kittens and rainbows sometimes, isn't it?
Anyway, Sarah isn't one of those people that reacts hysterically to anything. In fact, she initially just laughed at how truly pathetic Bob had become.
You see, Bob didn't even understand that there was anything wrong with this type of behavior.
But Bob wasn't quite finished, and Sarah was genuinely offended by Bob's next work of art, which unfortunately we don't have.
Bob found a photo of himself with his dog, and proceeded to Photoshop an image of Sarah into the picture, creating a family photo of the group.
After two weeks, one date, and no physical contact.
And keep in mind, he sent the "family" photo after his Pulitzer prize-winning "Whence One Kisses a Penis" photo.
Needless to say, it was time to have "that" conversation with Bob.
"A conversation he's probably had many times before," adds Sarah.
Sarah informed Bob his love affair with her was officially over, and Bob needed to re-direct his romantic aspirations elsewhere.
"I won't give up on you that easily. You told me before that I was too demanding, and I changed that," Bob doth protested.
Yet Sara held firm as Bob tried to guilt her into establishing some sort of "relationship" with him, a ploy almost as effective as his sub-par Photoshop handiwork.
Eventually, Bob realized he was done.
"The fucked up part is, I feel bad for him. Because, like it or not, I know he's wondering what exactly he did," says Sarah. "He's probably even a pretty good guy, to his dog. And his mom."
Sarah remains single today, but she always carries a little memento of her brief experience with Bob.
"Now when people ask me why I'm single, I just show them Bob's photo."
Proving once again that a picture most certainly is worth a thousand words.
PLFM would seriously like to thank Sarah for being such a great sport about sharing her story with us, and sharing her photo in particular.
Unfortunately, we know this isn't an isolated incident.
If you've had a guy text you a photo of his dick or whip out his dick out way too early in the dating process, please let us know in the comments.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
She frequently organizes after-work events and parties for her co-workers to attend, and recently met a fellow employee named Nate at one of these events.
Nate seemed like a nice enough guy, so Dana took down his information and added him to her Evite list, which she regularly sends around the office to notify fellow employees of upcoming events. The list is hardly exclusive; each Evite goes out to well over 50 people in her department alone.
Nate subsequently declined every invitation to Dana's employee events, yet would mysteriously show up anyway. Although Dana found his behavior peculiar, she didn't think much of it. After all, she barely knew the guy aside from a few casual conversations.
"No big deal," she thought.
But then things began to take a strange turn.
Nate began sending private texts and emails to Dana, asking her if she'd like to go out for a round of drinks or perhaps a nice dinner. Dana politely declined Nate's requests, explaining that she had a long-term boyfriend with whom she was quite happy. She felt she made it quite clear to Nate that she wasn't interested. At all.
Or so she thought.
Halloween came around, and Dana decided to organize a huge Halloween Pub Crawl for her friends and co-workers. Nate declined the initial group invitation as usual, but sure enough halfway through the evening Nate appeared, dressed up in a Hershey's T-shirt covered in fake lipstick kisses.
A more appropriate costume would have been 60 Minutes correspondent Morley Safer however, because Nate spent the entire evening conducting ruthless interrogation sessions with Dana's non-work friends, trying desperately to find out more information about her. Dana wasn't aware of the commotion; she was too busy hosting the pub crawl and having a great time with her boyfriend.
The party ended up at Dana's apartment later that night, and everybody was having a great time. Everyone, that is, except for Nate.
Nate suddenly pulled Dana into the living room, and inexplicably began screaming at her for "ignoring him" throughout the course of the evening. He tossed a stuffed animal gift at her, followed by the impromptu delivery of a speech intended to qualify the muted symbolism of his chosen attire for the evening.
"I'm dressed as a piece of chocolate because you're allergic to chocolate. But I'm a piece of chocolate you can have!" screamed Nate.
I'm not saying the room suddenly grew silent, but a well-timed gnat fart reverberated like a close-range thunderclap.
After thoroughly embarrassing himself, Nate stormed out the door into the night.
Oddly, he didn't stick around to enjoy cake.
"Then the emails and texts started coming," says Dana, adding, "I should say hate texts and emails."
Dana attempted to smooth out any misunderstandings with Nate by explaining, once again, that she had a long-term boyfriend, and had no interest whatsoever in dating Nate.
She didn't hear from him again until late November, when Dana's uncle died. Nate once again began texting Dana repeatedly, asking her out for drinks so she could have an opportunity to "vent" her feelings about her uncle's death.
Dana completely ignored his texts, and, cautious of his bizarre behavior, quickly removed his name from the employee Evite list.
The texts slowly began to die off until December, when Dana came into work one day to find a Christmas gift on her desk.
Nate had purchased Dana a set of "Bow Biters," essentially small plastic neon Muppet heads designed to permanently fasten shoelaces. Bow Biters primarily appeal to three year-olds, as the packaging clearly warns "CHOKING HAZARD-Small Parts." (Insert your own joke here.) She initially thought of them as a gag gift, but Nate's ensuing email proves otherwise.
Nate wrapped the Bow Biters in a Cherry Pie box, and left a really creepy card on top of the ensemble.
Dana ignored Nate's overture, hoping he would simply get the hint and go away.
In January, Dana began to fire up the employee social schedule again by organizing a Roller Derby event amongst her closest friends at work. Nate somehow found out about the event, and arrived uninvited. Dana was disturbed at Nate's behavior up to this point, so she left the function early to avoid any further confrontations with Nate.
Which of course led to another barrage of texts and emails.
Sick of his unwelcome missives, Dana decided to issue one last text, again attempting the courteous route:
"It's no big deal, but you make me feel uncomfortable. I will NOT meet you for drinks."
Now, remember folks, Dana barely even knows this guy.
Yet here is Nate's email response to her text:
Uncomfortable, not sure what I can do to help you with that other than the passage of time. Without knowing more from you, I’m not even sure what aspect of Halloween has you feeling uncomfortable.
(1) You could be angry, disgusted, and offended all wrapped up into a cute little 5’5-8ish”( In heels?) just below my chin, ball of fiery wrath.
(2) You could feel uncomfortable, because you feel bad or think I resent you in some way.
- The truth is, I only think about Halloween when I begin to feel awkward after I sense you are feeling weird or I get lost in thoughts of past miss-steps on my behalf, turning my cheeks red with embarrassment within the confines of my car, nothing you did.
- It wasn’t as an enormous deal in a relationship sense. We weren’t a couple, I wasn’t getting cheated on. The only thing that upset me was what I felt was a gross disrespect toward me as a person and friend. Everyone is a loser in love throughout their life, I accept that side of the coin on face value.
- I was already broken, I had "betrayal" tattooed on my chest earlier that summer by someone I’d been seeing for over a year, who had another boyfriend that whole time as well.
(3) You could feel weird because you think I am still pursuing you romantically and have chosen the path of cold resistance to throw me off your trail,. Your patience definitely seemed to run out shortly after you received those glamorous bowbiters (A girls true best friend forever).
First let me say, any gentleman would consider himself “once in a life time lucky” to be immersed in you everything that is you. You are exceptionally beautiful, great smile (the real one that occasionally escapes unchecked, although I know you have a real knockout you’ve rehearsed since highschool for potential photo-ops), a glint in your eye, infectious laugh, just an incredible person with a real spark and enthusiasm for life in you. What more does a guy need?!?
- The answer is no, I have not been pursuing you. I have been on hiatus since Halloween. I realized I needed a break from women in general to get my shit together and rebuild my confidence in the integrity of the better half of our species. It was long overdue. I haven’t been going out of my way to pursue you or anyone else.
Dana responded with an email of her own, simply requesting that Nate no longer contact her, something she had been trying to get him to understand for months by completely ignoring him.
Would that explanation suffice?
Of course not.
Go ahead, Nate:
I appreciate all the effort you put into "trying." If you have a problem with me, I deserve to hear what it is. None of this glossing over it as just being uncomfortable. People fight all the time over dumb shit and life isn't awkward 3 months later.
It is weird situation to be the one who had to do the forgiving instead of walking away.
I can't even tell you how disheartening it is to see you are still friends with that douchebag. I will go to my grave seething over that fella, but his comments were no fault of your own. On the flip side, as far as I can tell, you never stuck up for me at all.
I was done with halloween and had moved on. I'll respect the decision if thats what you want, but I will not respect the process nor you for making it 3 months after the fact w/o saying anything. Ignoring a problem isn't trying and hoping I eventually go away isn't trying.
I'm finding the more I ramble the whinier, bizarre, and greater the bleeding heart gets. You aren't going to get over anything if you've been doing the opposite of trying though.
In most instances I am a man of my word except when it comes to unfiltered streams of panic'd thought and mixed emotions I guess. I am going to earn a cry baby title fairly soon and should probably butch up a bit ;)
Yeah, Nate, you might want to butch up just a bit. I've seen bigger balls sprinkled on the frosting of my morning cupcake.
Dana realized that providing Nate any sort of response simply added fuel to the fire, so she kept quiet. She only had a few more weeks to go before she transferred to a different department anyhow, and Nate would be out of her hair forever.
But of course, her lack of response brought yet another email from Nate:
A fourth grader can hold her breath in silent protest. It doesn't resolve or prove anything, nor make her any more mature.
I genuinely tried to do a nice thing and offer to sit down over drinks and discuss what ever is obviously bothering you. Up till now, I hadn't brought up Halloween once, and I literally sat down and brain stormed what the problem may be.
My circle is all about peace love and lollipops. If someone is in that circle struggling, I want to do what I can to help. This is also about me just as much as you. Your discomfort is my discomfort. So I did it for myself just as much as you. I came up with a few things, some of which you saw and others you didnt where there was no nice way to put it so I left them off.
1. maybe something has you mad, I was harsh and perhaps your feelings are still sore. it was a lot nicer than saying, get that sand out of your ass.. don't you think?
2. Maybe you thought I secretly loathe you. Not the case. I even made light of a past relationship and due to that maybe overreacted to some degree on Halloween.
3. Finally, I considered that despite everything I still have a romantic interest.
This came to mind because, I have actually been in your seat with three other people who have worked for XXXXXXX that wanted to date me and it made things weird. So I have empathy for your position, if that is where you are sitting.
It was easier to date every hot waitress I worked with when I was 20, not so much now as an adult. I genuinely tried to be nice about this point. I tried to give you a shot of confidence in the arm, tell you about some of your great qualities and go get 'em tiger there is a stud out there for you! but I'm personally not interested.
It is a lot nicer of a gesture Dana, than to say you fell so far down the list, you do not even make my top 100 anymore. Not that its any of your business, but of the people I've been seeing casually, I have one in particular who I've been growing extremely fond of, and when I'm ready, I think I'd really like to see on a more formal basis. She isn't you.
I'm done ranting endlessly. Its pointless, and your senseless actions have only flustered me to the point where everything seems childish. I'm going to leave it be for a couple weeks to let us both cool down, but I will not let this go.
You pretty much came out of the blue and are behaving.. stupid. I'm not a boyfriend you dump and forget, I am your friend and I deserve better than this.
I'm sorry if I've upset you over the last few days, but we had an opportunity to take the high road on this, and you chose to steer us in the ditch.
One final attempt made it into Dana's inbox:
If you'd like to get together over a milk shake or burrito and air your grievances before partying this evening, I'll make myself available. I still deserve an answer how we went from being the best gift giver, nettle soup, and nip/tuck banter in December to you doing a 180.
Dana finally escaped Nate's confused affections once she left his department, but it wasn't quite the last she heard of him.
A few weeks later, two co-workers pulled Dana aside and informed her Nate had been sending them emails about her.
Not only that, but Nate had also written the women emails about the newfound "friendship" he felt with them, and how it had begun to "affect him professionally."
They took notes, and promptly told him to go fuck himself sideways.
Dana hasn't heard from him since.
Now, a couple weeks ago we ran a similar story dealing with slimy customers rather than slimy co-workers, and that entry alone had racked up over 600 comments the last time I checked.
Though we probably won't beat that, feel free to put your experiences with your own fucked-up co-workers, male or female, in the comments.
And if you have incriminating letters or emails, screw the comments and send them directly to me at email@example.com.
We'll print them up for the world to see.
Because I'm an asshole like that.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Peter was a nice enough guy and all, but Angelina knew she would never marry him. As far as she knew, the feeling was mutual.
Their lives together had become a testament to the routine and boring; you go to work and come home, you talk a bit about the weather over some Kung Pao chicken, and maybe once a month he'd laboriously mount her like a trained seal, perform a little scripted mechanical fumbling, and 3 minutes later his face would resemble a donkey choking on a golf ball.
Angelina admits Peter kind of squeaked his way into her life in the first place. After a difficult divorce three years prior, Peter had earnestly auditioned for the role of "rebound." And like most rebounds, Peter won the part by lacking the qualities Angelina so detested in her ex-husband.
But the performance piece was long over, and Angelina was ready to move on. She just needed that little extra kick to finally push her out of the house, and Peter eventually provided the foot:
Angelina learned Peter had placed his profile on a local dating site.
La Vaginelle de Angelina promptly closed for business, and the hostess informed Peter he needed to find a new place to eat.
Luckily, Angelina lived only three hours away from her hometown of Williamsburg, and couldn't wait to move back home near her family and start life anew. The possibilities were endless; new job, new boyfriend, and a whole new direction she had sought in the years since her divorce.
Her dreams immediately came to fruition. Angelina found a new job that she loved, and found a new boyfriend named Mark that loved her. She enjoyed living near her parents, and the forecast for her life couldn't possibly have looked sunnier.
Until four months later, when Hurricane Peter suddenly re-formed on the horizon.
And he was out to prove one thing: He totally fucking blows.
Peter began contacting Angelina to recite a series of poorly-constructed haikus concerning her selfish decision to move so far away from him. He usually followed his complaints by making belittling comments about her new hometown of Williamsburg, saying it was too small and full of people he didn't like.
Damn, Williamsburg, you got fucking OOOOWWWNNED!
Angelina attempted to expedite the process by revealing her new relationship with Mark to Peter, hoping this might help Peter understand the breakup was permanent and perhaps it was time for him to move on to greener pastures. The plan backfired horribly, and Peter became so incensed that he literally began foaming at the mouth, which may or not have led to the soiling of his new collection of "I ♥ Williamsburg" T-shirts.
Peter somehow tracked down Mark's cellphone number and began texting Mark questions about his relationship with Angelina. Hoping to circumvent further problems, Mark initially denied the relationship, causing Peter to theorize that Angelina had "made up" this whole story about a boyfriend just to infuriate Peter.
Peter also signed up to Angelina's favorite internet message board for the sole purpose of tracking her communications, as Peter had absolutely zero interest in the topic of the message board. Which leads PLFM to speculate that perhaps the topic of the message board was "How To Move On From a Failed Relationship in a Mature Manner."
Then came a flurry of Jekyll and Hyde emails, choking her inbox with an assortment of angry emails intertwined with bizarre pleas to help him "move forward":
Why can you not be nice?
I know that you are not over me or you could be civil and nice if you were.
I am not stalking you by wishing you a great day and letting you know that I miss you. I hope that you will let go of the hate that you have inside and realize that you still have feelings for me.
I am not asking you to act on those feelings just be nice to me. I know that it will take time for you stop hating me and then hopefully we can move forward.
I know that you know that we had a great relationship together for three years and shared everything. If you do try and date you will realize like I did that what we had is really hard to find.
Please be nice and treat me like a person that you use to love. Look inside your heart and you know what is there. I do still love you and miss you and am trying to move on like you said but it is really hard.
I am sorry if I am bothering you but I need to say these things.
Have a good day.
Angelina completely ignored Peter's communications, which apparently threw in reverse Peter's aforementioned plans to "move forward."
Rather, Peter decided to "move backward" by threatening to drive down to Williamsburg to place a GPS tracking device on her vehicle so he could track her movements around that god-awful shithole of Williamsburg, which, if you haven't heard, really sucks balls.
When these idle threats failed to provoke a response, Peter changed tactics by sending a huge bouquet of flowers to Angelina at her place of employment.
Rather than drop to her knees in a fit of unbridled lust, Angelina just stuck to the game plan. She ignored him.
Peter then decided it was time to pull out the big motherfuckin' guns.
Go ahead and shoot your blanks, Peter.
I was not going to do this but now I am not sure.
I copied all your posts from the message board and wouldn't you know it they were almost all posted while you were at work.
I wonder if I start sending all 44 post that were done on company time to the president of your company and work my way down thru all the executives if they would be interested on just how hard of a worker you really are.
You seem to think that tearing my heart out by moving away and then trying to rub my nose in this fake boyfriend which is stabbing my heart is a lot of fun. All I wanted was to be friendly to each other and that seems to be out of the question.
I wonder if your ex-husband would be interested in knowing that his tax exempt was used for a few years after you guys were divorced.
I did not want it to come to this so I better start getting a little respect from you.
I thought that after how wonderful our relationship was "you said it on a daily basis" that you would not find another man that could make you as happy as I did.
Just food for thought......
Peter, your food for thought lacks presentation and smells like a load of shit.
But Peter finally achieved his goal.
She responded by issuing Peter a final warning: If you contact me one more fucking time, I'm going directly to the local authorities to file harassment charges against you, and you can expect a restraining order to slap you across the face like a cold, dead sea bass.
And of course in true PLFM fashion, guess what happened.
Peter wrote her back with some helpful advice:
Would you like me to give you their phone numbers?
There has been no threats against you physically. You really need to brush up on you local laws.
I will be sending out those copied posts from the message board to the head honchos.
Hopefully you will get fired but do not worry their is a lot of opportunity down there.
Maybe then you will feel like I have for the last 4 months. The broken heart pain and cannot sleep because somebody ruined you life.
Thanks, next week will be fun for you...........
As promised, Angelina proceeded to lug an immense stack of emails down to the Williamsburg courthouse, where she found a large group of individuals who were surprisingly familiar with their local laws.
Particularly the harassment laws, which Peter might to brush up on.
They gleefully slapped a restraining order on Peter's ass, ensuring he no longer had reason to visit the town for which he had such a distaste.
If Angelina sends me any updates, I'll be sure to let you guys know.
That's it for this week guys, I'm outta here. Post anything you want in the comments this weekend, I read everything you guys write.
Have a great weekend everyone.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
An anonymous submitter to PANotes apparently received the following emails in regards to a personal ad she had placed on Match.com:
Date received: January 30, 2009
Subject: you couldn't even say hi to me?
I don't know if you know but there is this link in match.com where I can see who browsed my profile. Looks like you checked out my profile but you did not send me an email. I am shocked! You couldn't even say hi to me?
A little awkward.
But when the next unsolicited email arrives, well, it just kind of gets uncomfortable.
Date received: February 3, 2009
Subject: Re: you couldn't even say hi to me?
I sent you an email earlier, but you did not reply! So are you playing hard to get already? Here is a free tip for you: You should play hard to get after we meet, not before we meet.
Now, am I the only one that smells a somewhat tainted casserole of harrowing desperation and acute neediness here?
I think not, and PLFM quickly realized the opportunity to one up passiveaggressivenotes.com in this particular subject area.
Because, seriously folks, this shit is our bread and butter.
We've received stacks of bizarre and borderline psychotic first responses to dating profiles here at PLFM, and today we're going to share some of these juicy steaks of desperation.
First up, PLFM recently received a letter from Katie, who was having a hard time keeping up with all the responses she was receiving on a popular dating site.
One assclam in particular kept sending Katie creepy messages. She checked out his profile, and found him not only unattractive, but completely devoid of any similar interests.
She ignored his ensuing messages, choosing rather to focus on the respondents she found attractive and interesting.
Undeterred by her lack of interest, the creepy assclam then sent Katie this gem of an email.
Take it away, moron.
R U FAKE?
I think you are fake, so Fuck You Guy running this profile, Or girl hired to
pose to get more traffic and interest in this site, Fuck you no backbone dirt bag.
If you're genuine and just ignoring me, sorry about that...
I am new to this online dating, but I am a quick study. And what I've realized is most of the hottest girls on here have a personality profile only a guy could dream of, and better quality pics too.
What else have I realized?...most of the girls on here that are real are girls that guys kinda don't really want to date, that's why they are on here. (yeah I know, why am I on here...um, circumstance I guess, not a lot of opportunities to meet people right now not having a job other than working for my dad part time)
If you are real and have been ignoring me just because you don't like me or my looks, then you probably think that I think you're fake because If you're real it would hurt my ego. You're not correct if that's what you think... I'm just as in demand as you are.
If you are not a phony then what I think is that I am a bit upset and saddend that you won't even message me for a chat, nothing at all expected, at all, just a chat. But, since I now strongly suspect you are fake, then if you message me you could just be some dude or a girl hired by okcupid. I don't know how I could solve this problem.
If okcupid is hiring girls to pose, i'd love to take them down over it. I'm not sure how. By the way, if u r real, you know, there actually are plenty of fake profiles of girls, with out a doubt. So, I'm not crazy for thinking you are a phony.
In conclusion...drum roll...
If you are fake:
FUCK YOU ASS HOLE FAKE PHONY FOR SETTING UP THIS PROFILE, DON'T YOU HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO WITH YOUR TIME LOSER, IF YOU WANT TO LEARN ABOUT PEOPLE. GO OUTSIDE AND SAY HELLO, THEY DON'T BITE, FUCKER. DO NOT MESSAGE ME IF YOU ARE FAKE!! (unless to apologize and say u r deleting the account)
If you are real:
Hey, tottaly ignore that F U stuff, it's not intended for you. I hope you find success. I hope you don't dwell on how your differences. I hope you learn and grow in life. And message me if you want.
Why is the 1981 Styx song "Too Much Time On My Hands" suddenly blaring through the speakers in my brain?
Damn you, Styx. Damn you all to hell.Katie needlessly adds: "I did not write him back."
Now, if that particular letter is a case study in how not to respond to a personal ad, the following guy wrote the goddamn book.
Olivia recently posted a personal ad on another popular dating site, and says she was receiving upwards of 10 responses a day. One particular gentleman found Olivia quite to his liking, and contacted Olivia with this nauseating opener:
Hey there cutie! You need to check out my profile I think you will like what you see. Take a look at my pics and write me back with any questions you have about me. I'm sure you will have plenty :) look forward to meeting you soon. Eric
Out of morbid curiosity, Olivia checked out his profile and found the exact kind of pictures one might expect from a jackass who would author such an asinine email: One profile view of himself wearing cheap sunglasses and kissing his tattooed bicep, followed by a cellphone photo of himself standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror draped in a small hotel towel.
Oh, sorry, a small towel and his sunglasses.
Olivia writes "Not only did his ridiculous email turn me off, but he was 37 years old and wearing cheap sunglasses in a brightly lit bathroom? Please!"
Olivia ignored the ignoramous, which, of course, sparked Eric to write again.
I saw you checked out my profile :) What did you think? I'm awaiting your reply. I have many girls contacting me so you better hurry up :) Seriously, I would like to talk with you! Eric
Olivia ignored him again.
Not to be rude, but when someone shows interest in you on here you should at least be polite and make a commentary on my profile. I can have my pick of all the women on here but I am only interested in you. Please show me you are not one of the stuck up bithes on here!
I expect a response from you by this weekend or i am going to talk to other women on here. You have your opportunity now and you should take it. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Eric
Olivia caught this last message on her way out of town, and didn't have an opportunity to check back onto her dating profile for three days.
When she logged back on, she found the following emails:
Looks like your just another stuck up bitch on here like all the rest. If you think you are too good for me well let me tell you something litle girl. I have dated many girls better looking then you I just liked your profile and thougt we were a good match. I used to date XXXXXX XXXXXXX who has been in Playboy and in many other magazines.
I guess you lose out this time and I advise you to not pass up good oportunties in life when they are offered to you. Goodbye and good luck to you. Eric.
Email #5 (15 minutes later)
Also let me tell you some of the things about me that I don't put in my XXXXXXXX profile. I have two $80000 Porshe 911 and made over 5 milion dollars last year. I own real estate company you have probably heard of it but why should I tell you know?
Plus I have a 9 inch d**ck.
Yes, folks, because most Porsche owners have no idea how to spell the name of their prized vehicles.
And as far as I know, men with 9-inch penises aren't legally permitted to own a Porsche anyway. If you enjoy a man with a 9-inch penis, take a peek inside the next Ford Tempo to cross your path.
Email #6 (30 minutes later)
If you change your mind Ill maybe give you another chance. I rarly do this so you have three days to respond. Eric
Email #7 (Next day)
Please disregard the note I sent you last night. I had a fight with my ex and I was a drunk and I apologize to what I might have said. Please do not report me to XXXXXXXXX. I would aprecaite your kindness and understanding on this matter and I will not contact you again. Good luck to you. Eric.
Olivia blocked Eric immediately, and sent his lovely repertoire of delicious emails to the online dating service provider.
They were not amused.
"As far as I know, he was kicked off the site because his profile no longer exists," writes Olivia.
Lastly, Cherie writes in with a personal ad response she recently found in her inbox.
Now, we can't exactly classify this response as psychotic, but we're going to file it under "Just a Little Bit Too Much Information."
You almost just want to pick this little feller up and kiss him on his butt.
Or, perhaps, just vomit violently.
You be the judge.
The floor is yours, Mr. Pontificating Spiritual Romantic ...
Im so tired of waiting for love to knock on my door. I want true love in my life, someone taht i can talk to all night about anytthing. someone that if i was a party and there was like 100,000 people there but only one i really do she is my love.
I have thought i did find my love but she didn't loved me back. I was enaged and soo happy but after she found out she was preg, it alll went down from there. I have tired and tried to work it out but it really over. I could never love her again. she broke my heART and did me wrong so bad. all i ever wanted is to be there for my baby when it gets here but she blows me off like im nothing,, so im going to be the best father to our child.
I know this really sounds cheesey but I want the notebook love, the sleepless in seattle love, the lake house love. I knoe i might never find taht kind of love but it would be nice if i did.
Well ill tell you a little about myself, im 21 and im common guy livin a common life, i have 3 dogs, 2 cats and 2 chinchillas. I love to sit under the stars next to a campfire, loove to cuddle when its cold, taking bubble baths. I like taking walks under the moo light, I like to find someone taht just want to find the same things as me.
I am a family man and i would go through thick and thin for the people i love. I love my parents till death, but at the same time i live my own life.Parents will always be parents, they will always sheild you from dangerous paths.I believe the way to live, to be a adult, is step out from the sheild, and face the terror in your life. TO all parents, let go!!! and let your child to become there own person.Your not letting go of your parents but gaining knowledge.
Parnts are you roots but in time you in to grow and make your own leaves.
"I don't even like The Notebook."
Nor do we Cherie, nor do we.
So concludes our first peek into the bizarre personal ad responses received and sent in by PLFM readers.
If you guys enjoyed this series of ridiculous missives, please let PLFM know in the comments. If we get enough positive feedback, we'll make "How Not to Respond to a Personal Ad" a regular feature here on PLFM. And believe me, we get plenty of material.
Also, please feel free to post any outlandish or psychotic responses you've received from your own personal ads.
Or better yet, the worst date you've had so far from a dating site.
I love that shit.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Now, as we all know, people who run animal rescue programs spend an inordinate amount of time caring for and nurturing sick and injured animals, which says quite a bit about them.
They are, as a whole, an extraordinarily compassionate and nurturing set of individuals.
But who takes care of the people who run animal rescue programs? Who returns the volumes of deep love and affection they so freely dole out to injured animals?
Certainly not the animals. Believe me, I've seen animal rescue shows about ducks, and seriously, what a bunch of hoity toity fucking assholes those birds are. You try to mend a broken wing, and they act like you're trying to install a car bomb.
Kelly recently realized she deserved to feel a little of that love and affection coming in her direction, preferably from another compassionate, caring human being. She signed up on Match.com in hopes of meeting a nice man in her area, and lo and behold she found an interesting gentleman named John.
Kelly really enjoyed John's profile, and the two began regularly chatting online. Kelly found John quite attractive, and, according to his profile, he was exactly what she was looking for physically. He was "athletic and toned," and had beautiful, deep blue eyes.
Sultry, smoky blue eyes in fact, a pair of eyes in which she couldn't wait to take a dirty little skinny-dip.
"Through those eyes," Kelly thought, "I will see into John's soul."
Unfortunately, the more appropriate word would have been "sole," because once they met, Kelly found John's personality to match that of the quite unpopular, bland, bottom-feeding Ohio river fish.
Kelly had decided to meet John on her one-hour lunch break in case things didn't pan out, and right away those concerns came to fruition.
John arrived late in a wrinkled, dirty pair of jeans, which nicely complimented his soiled, slept-in T-shirt with saturated pit stains. He was athletic and toned in the way one might describe a sperm whale as "athletic and toned." His hair practically dripped with grease, and was styled in a manner that suggested a recent lightning strike.
Great, Kelly thought, I've just agreed to have lunch with a perspiring harp seal fresh from his mid-day nap in the Minit-Lube transmission pit.
Kelly stood up and walked over to greet John with a handshake, but John wasn't having any of that hand-shaking nonsense. He promptly enveloped Kelly in an uncomfortable bear hug, then released her only to place his arm tightly around her waist. He then pulled her close to his body as they walked back to their table, inspiring Kelly to pencil in "Clorox" on her grocery list.
In her letter, Kelly aptly described her first impression of John as follows:
Feel free to interpret that as a noun, verb, or adjective.
Kelly and John sat down to eat, and John creepily stared directly into Kelly's eyes throughout lunch. John told Kelly he had recently moved down to Arkansas from the Washington D.C. area, and then proceeded to inform Kelly that Southerners like her obviously had problems pronouncing words correctly because of that irritating Southern drawl they all used. When John later told Kelly the name of the town he had moved to, he pronounced it incorrectly. Kelly suggested the correct pronunciation, to which he replied "That's how your people down here pronounce it. That doesn't make it right."
Yeah, Arkansas, why you always gotta be so arrogant and shit!
The sputtering conversation then turned to Kelly's animal rescue program. Proud of her work, Kelly went into great detail about her job in hopes that she could keep the conversation somewhat interesting for the remainder of lunch. But John promptly stifled those efforts by criticizing the manner in which Kelly performed her job. "How on earth do you have the time to properly socialize those animals? You should really consider finding them homes."
Nice serve, John.
At this point, barely 30 minutes into the date, Kelly officially pronounced their one-hour lunch over. She gathered her things and began to walk back to her car with John in tow close behind. Upon arrival at her car, John forcefully grabbed Kelly and tried to plant a kiss on her lips. "I always kiss a girl on the first date," he said, "and it doesn't have to be on the lips."
Kelly used her snake impersonation skills to slither out of John's boa-like grasp, responding "What the hell? I just met you!"
With that, Kelly jumped into her car, slammed the door and locked it, and took off at what I surmise was a rather high rate of speed. Questions remain as to whether indeed there was a trail of smoke coming out of Kelly's ass.
Surprisingly, Kelly received the following email from John the very next morning:
It was a fairly good first meeting. I just could not resist the cuteness.
I also thought much of your conversation. Not only for its own sake, but in spite of how nervous you must have been, you struck me as very bright.
I confess to being surprised by the number of pets. Mostly because a very close friend of mine is currently living with a woman who has lots of dogs and cats. They were a large part of the reason I'm living here instead of rooming with him in Fayetteville. Not so much because of their number as that one large dog ate electronics, and none of them were properly trained. Being fair, they also lived in a small cookie-cutter house with a tiny yard.
I hope you enjoyed yourself enough to wish to see me again. I would definitely be happy to spend more time with you. Please call me at xxx-xxx-xxxx
Did John attend the same lunch date as Kelly?
Did he then actually just confess to her he really doesn't like animals, followed by asking her out for a second date?
Personally, if I was trying for a second date with a florist, I probably wouldn't start out by saying "You know, I really fucking hate flowers, but hey, you wanna go out again?"
Nonplussed, Kelly responded in a courteous and truthful manner.
"John, to be blunt, I did not feel a connection. Good luck in the future. Bye."
Take that, John-Boy.
Luckily, John had all sorts of dates lined up anyway. Or, so he claims in his follow-up email:
No offense taken there, stranger.
I have no idea what you expected from a short lunch. I am led to believe that first meetings like that are generally just to see if product is as advertised.
Anyway, I won't contact you again, but neither will I block you. Please wait a while to get back to me since I have other women to meet with and some job interviews besides.
Boy, Kelly sure was upset to find out she had to "wait a while" to "get back to" John. What exactly was she supposed to get back to him about again?
So anyway, looks like Kelly successfully extracted herself from John! He's not going to contact her again!
Unless of course .... oh, shit ... what's the name of this stupid fucking blog?
You knew it was coming.
You see, it seems John liked Kelly a little more than he cares to admit.
So just to let Kelly know exactly what she was missing, John decided to send a follow-up email to his last follow-up email, the one that ended with "I won't contact you again."
Now seriously folks, I know PLFM readers like the blood and guts and all, but as the author of this blog, I have to admit this is out and out one of the stupidest emails I have seen to date.
See if you can spot his sudden reversal on his attitude towards animals. I'll give you a hint: It's somewhere in the middle.
Take it away, John.
On reflection, there was no connection to be made and it was in part my fault.
Fearing messing things up, I decided to play conservative and presented you with a shell personality, bland, simple and I thought just enough to get to date 2.
In reality, you probably wanted to see the me that hid the little red foster dog from people coming to see him and his sisters so he could stay with us.
Or who ran back to Corgill a year ago while staying at a friend's apartment for job interviews with an orange kitten with an eye infection.
That, or maybe the me that left a party about 6 months to take a stray kitten to the emergency vet because it was obviously sick and had come to me, then stayed with it and made sure it at least had warmth, food and love before it was put to sleep because it could not be saved.
You might even have wanted the John who believes in silly notions of honor and obligation and never turns away the helpless who seek him.
I am sorry for playing a character.
Were I not, as shy as I am, upon seeing you, and how-- well, not like something in this world. Brighter, or like something pushed out from the background. I probably would have locked up again.
I don't think this will change your mind. In fact, had I any belief I will ever deal with you again, I probably would never have told you these things. This time, I mean it that I will not contact you again. I'll remove all ability to do so presently.
Wow, you scored a job interview with an eye-infected kitten?
Anyway, congratulations John.
You just successfully shoved your nose so far up Kelly's ass you could probably gnaw her collarbones.
Like my mother used to tell me, nothing makes a woman hotter than shameless and pathetic pandering to the same interests of hers you once insulted.
Oh, and Kelly wanted to point out one more thing.
Those beautiful, deep blue eyes that so attracted her to John in the first place?
Yeah, those were contacts.
Let me guess, his real eye color was ..... brown?
Great to be back folks, I might be able to squeeze in another post this week as I've got several good letters in the hopper.
(Note to Kelly: See? Not one Arkansas joke. You owe me five dollars.)