Wherein I realize I have standards: A horror story of single life

My particular walk of life has left me in a situation where I don't get many chances to meet girls. As such, I take what I get and use whatever resources I have available to me. For every intent and purpose, my standards aren't exactly high. I also don't get too many opportunities to meet girls that I can actually ask out. My life revolves around work and  being an anti-social shut-in that spends too much time writing for a blog that has a whole one follower. My problem, as mentioned before, is that I don't really know how to ask a girl out even if I met one I liked.

So, there was a period of time when I resorted to a certain, unnamed dating website that I have decided to devote this random poem to.

Only for the desperate

Kind of makes you want to die

Causes a deep-seated hatred for humanity

Um.

Phuck, I didn't plan this out very well.

I don't care though. I'm making a point.

Don't judge me, dammit!

Ahem.

You meet interesting people on-line. However, there are multiple kinds of "interesting" and they're not all good.

In fact, the overlap between "interesting and from the internet" and "interesting in a manner that I like" looks something like, I dunno, this:

And so I fall into predictable graph jokes

So, where does a girl on a dating website fall? If I'm talking to them on a dating website, then that would suggest she's in the blue, right? But she's from the internet, so she'd technically be in the red. Red and blue don't mix.

As I have learned, you probably shouldn't meet people from the internet. The exceptions happen once in 500,000 users and those usually end only in regrets anyway.

Today's story is about one of those that don't fall under "Exception." Unfortunately, this is just one of many.

I had just gotten out of a relationship (re: broken up with) and wasn't, um. Stable is a good word, I suppose. I'm not the type to get "unstable" as in "Hoho, I'm coming for you!" as much as I get unstable in the "Hoho, I'm going to meet a stranger from the internet!" sort of way. Which is exactly what I did. There's really no covering this up and making me look good. It's not going to happen. So, here's what went down.

Never trust a big butt and a smile

Okay, a lot more went into the conversation than that. She also challenged my manliness. Also, she said I looked like a This instead of a That. Homey don't play that. Having been challenged and being charged up just enough by Testosterone, I went and met up with the girl.

"But, Mr. Sandwichman!" nobody protests, "What if she turned out to be crazy? Please tell me you met her in a public place so that if she turned out to be a serial-rapist-castratist-murderer you would at least have some witnesses!"

Right, of course I did. I'm not that foolish. I met her at a library and we proceeded to drive around town in my car. Alone. While I realized she may not be a serial-rapist-castratist-murderer, but she was indeed crazy. From the very start, I knew something was slightly off about her. For one, she looked nothing like her profile picture.

What I Expected:

What I Got:

My MSpaint skills never cease to amaze

Next thing I noticed is that she smelled bad. I won't deny the fact that I'm not always the best smelling person. I spend a lot of time in a state of social anxiety about whether or not I'm offensive to the olfactory sense. I don't expect girls to smell like daisies, cinnamon rolls and unicorn farts all the time. However, having B.O. that is worse than a men's locker room after a rousing round of forcing each other into awkward positions is just a bit of a problem.

Oh, yeah, and then there was the fact that she told me about her abortion. On the first day we met in person.

"Wait, what?!" Yeah. That's pretty much what my reaction was too. I didn't even ask for that information. That's not the kind of thing I want to know right away. If I had asked or said anything that even possibly related to the topic of abortion, then I could maybe see her coming forth with this information. That is somewhat reasonable. But, if you've read the previous two posts on this blog, then you'll probably figure that nothing in my life is ever fucking reasonable.

I believe the best way to convey this story is with interpretive dance. However, I don't have a camera to film that with. Nor do I have the patience to draw the entire thing on MSpaint. Just go ahead and feel slightly more sophisticated if not slightly more uncomfortable for having watched a magnificent dance about abortion. It's okay to feel awkward, though, because that's how normal people feel abortion is taken so lightly.

So, instead of a terrible dance that would make people feel terrible, have a dramatic, slightly exaggerated script of what went down instead.

(Mr. Sandwichman and Abortion Girl [A.G.] sit down in a chicken-eating establishment, neither feeling terribly comfortable about the greasy food or each other)

A.G.: So. What do you like to do in your free time?

MS: Well. I, uh. I like to read and write a lot. I haven't been doing much writing lately, though. No inspiration.

(AG gets a look on her face of "I could be your inspiration if you know what I mean, wink wink nudge nudge saynomoar saynomoar)

MS: I'm a huge movie buff. Uh. I play video games if I'm really bored.

AG: Ooooh, I play video games too! What's your favorite one?

MS: ...uh. Th-the one... with the magic.. and.. stuff?

AG: Kingdom Hearts?

MS: Sure.

(Allow AG to improvise at this point, going on a massive spiel about how certain characters in the game are probably having sex even though nothing in the damn game even hints toward that)

MS: ....

(Other patrons in the eating establishment start looking at the two oddly. MS feels all sorts of shame and decides to get back into the privacy of his car. AG hasn't stopped about various assortments of pixels "mashing buttons" if y'know what I mean)

MS: Right, so uh. Have you met any other guys on that site?

AG: Oh, yeah! You know when you have an abortion or a miscarriage you're supposed to be on bedrest for two weeks? Well, the last guy I met from {name removed} wanted kids and when I didn't have his he broke up with me.

Okay. Pause. I thought "Shake it but don't Break it" was bad. I thought that was something you simply couldn't recover from. How do you respond to "Shake it but don't Break it?" You can't! BUT! That's not nearly, nearly as bad as being told that your previous boyfriend left you because you had an abortion. On the first "date" and I really struggle to call it a "date" because it lasted the entirety of an hour and a half, most of which was me driving to meet her and then driving to drop her off. Seriously, WHAT

THE

FUCK

Moving right along.

This actually happened before my DON'T BREAK YOUR DICK 

incident, so I really had no idea what to do in that situation. Fortunately enough, at that very moment when things couldn't possibly get any worse (Well, y'know. Short of being post-partum aborted.) a friend called! His car had broken down and he needed a ride to the shop! Salvation! And it was the truth, not something insane like me texting that very friend earlier when I realized things were going down the toilet telling him to call me immediately and bail me out! Because that would be a douchebag thing to do.

And that's why I'm still single.