Is That A Shoe in your Pocket? Or Are You Just Creepy?

No, it's not cows moaning in a pasture you're hearing, it's me scream crying from my couch while reading through my online dating messages. I'll be sure to scour the city tomorrow on my lunch hour to find that guy who sells guns out of his van. I'm positive most of his customers are single spinsters (much like myself) who are 10 cats and one shopping cart away from going off the deep end.

It's been 3 hours since I posted my profile and so far I have a toothless 63 year old man from Doucheville, Ontario trying to win me over with his intellectual messages such as "Hi" and "I love this time of year."  Oh and let's not forget about the other guy who claims to be 5"4 in his profile which is a blatant lie and he's probably 1 foot tall in real life. (Please don't get me wrong, nothing wrong with little people, I just can't imagine hooking up with one since my right thigh is the size of an average person.)  I'm 5"9 so being able to pack up my date and put him in my purse is just not an option for me. Mind you, maybe he could shave my legs while he's down there? Lord knows I don't do it. My hairy legs haven't felt my sheets since the summer of 2002 when I thought sleeping around and crushing 8 vodka coolers before the bar was a hip thing to do. It's funny, that's the summer my dignity went missing. Weird....

I typically don't end up going out with men from online dating sites. There is something very 48 Hours Mystery-esque about meeting a random person online. LOTS of my friends have done it and have met the love of their lives, but for me (and if you follow this blog) you'll quickly realize if there is a WORST CASE SCENARIO to happen...I'm your gal and it'll happen to me.

However, with enough wine...I can do anything. So I have given in and gone on a couple of dates. One was with a tall British guy who absolutely hated his life but loved feet...actually not feet...but shoes. It got to the point where he would ask me to snap photos of the shoes I was wearing to work...like take pictures from under my desk and send them. The first day he asked, I had on a sick pair of penny loafers to match my Hilary Clinton pant suit so he was in luck that day. I thought this would for SURE get rid of him since I told him I wore stilettos and skirts to work...which was completely false.

Pfffft...PA-LEASE. First of all, I'd be dead in a ditch if I were to ever even think of stilettos and skirts are a big no-no with me. I cannot risk my leg hair poking through my panty hose. It just makes everything awkward for everyone involved. Plus the risk of chaffing greatly increases since my thighs have been touching since birth.
So what's a gal to do? So... I started sending him pics of my shoes...don't judge...I was lonely. Just wait until you have to take a Dust Buster to your vagina and then we'll talk.

So the next logical step was to start sexting since he wouldn't drive to come see me because he was too lazy. ( OH GOD, as I type this, there is a very dramatic single tear streaming down my cheek as I realize how desperate and lonely this situation really was...hold on...need to grab a Percocet.)

Okay, I'm back. So obviously this ended badly...blah blah blah... The shoe fetish went WAY beyond a level of creepiness I was comfortable with and I never saw him again. From time to time I do think how great of a blog post it would be if I actually licked a shoe, or did anything remotely sexual with a boot.  Then I slap myself back into reality and think about how unsanitary it would be.

THIS JUST IN. Here is a very blurry pic of a conversation I just had a minute ago, on an online dating site. You will see EXACTLY how this works and the type of men who are striking up a conversation with me. Please note we were having a very normal conversation prior to me asking,"Don't you have a job?" And his response is in green.

"You don't want sex?" and "Are you crazy?" Are two very common responses to "Don't you have a job?" RIght? Jesus, take the wheel will ya? I then go on to respond to his sex comment "Of course I do, but not right away, not my style" Which is probably the most hilarious part since I'd hump a lamp post right now. GAME OVER.

Anyway, I'm gonna peace out now...I see a pillow I'd like to scream into.

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