The Cat Story.

OK! I had brunch with my girlfriends the other day and they all agreed that I needed to start posting my dating stories. So here goes. This is going to be a long one!

One guy- I shall call him Bob- was (somewhat) worthy of more than just a first date. So we had a couple. We had a few dinners out, we ordered in once and watched prime time together, and, um, we got to know each other. Our entire relationship progressed via text messages. I didn't want anything more because I am a job-snob and he has a bad job and no ambition.

So a couple of weeks ago, Bob tells me he's taking in the 2 cats that his co-worker can't keep anymore. Aaaw. He gets them on a Tuesday. That Thursday, he calls me-- yeah, red flag number one. He proceeds to tell me some boring story about how his super and landlord need to come in and inspect his apartment. And, oh yeah, he's not allowed to have cats. Well, he's allowed with permission, but for some un-explained reason, he didn't get permission. So, can he ask me a favor? My head says no. Like, immediately. Bob and I are sooooo far from the favor stage of things. My mouth asks what the favor is. Bob asks if I'll take his cats for Friday to prevent them from getting evicted and having to go to a shelter and dying a horrible death. Bob didn't phrase it like that, but he did actually say, "jokingly," things like, "feel free to say no, but it'll be their blood on your hands if they go to a shelter." Um.

So he prayed on my weakness-- animals. And, you know, not having animal blood on my hands. So I said OK, and when can you bring them over? Silence.

Bob: "Oh, I can't bring them over."

Me: "What?"

Bob: "I have no way of getting them there."

Me: "Don't you have cat carriers? How'd they get to your house?"

Bob: "The guy brought them. In his car."

Me: "Uuuum. . . just, like, running loose in his car?"

Bob: "Yeah."

Me: "Ah."

Bob: "Sooooo . . . don't you have a car?"

What? Don't I have a car? Oh my god. Why the story even progresses past this point still amazes and angers me-- clearly, I am a sucker and a pushover, at least when it comes to cats. But still! So I say, "Well, I actually have to move my car tomorrow for street cleaning, at 9:30, so I can come then." (I know that Bob leaves for work at 10am). He says that he actually has to leave for work at 9am on Fridays. Long story short, I work it out that I'll have to get out of bed a little more than an hour earlier than I normally would so that I can go to his place and pick up the damn cats. Bob thoughtfully offers at this point to let me come get the cats that night. Yeah, its like 10pm and I'm already in bed. I tell him he has to come with me back to my place to help me bring the cats-- loose cats-- to my apartment. He says, "Sure. And then, like, what? You can just give me a ride into the city?" Oh my god. Words cannot even describe the feeling of incredulous disbelief at this dude's sheer lack of shame.

So I do this. I get up early, drive to his house, get his cats (who are somewhat f-ed up looking, so probably would never get adopted at a shelter), bring them to my house and we leave for work. All day at work all I can think about is coming home to an apartment filled with blood, tufts of fur, cat corpses, and ruined furniture, because although the initial introduction between Bob's cats and my cats went OK, you just never know. Oh! And Bob and I also discussed when the cats could be returned. It's revealed that, due to our schedules, the only time Bob and I can meet to return his cats is Sunday afternoon. Part of this is due to the fact that I had told Bob that I had plans Friday night, but I really didn't. I just didn't want to spend it with him. So Bob says, "Looks like you're keeping my cats until Sunday!" A**hole.

So I already made up my mind that I was going to return his cats Friday. At 7:45pm, I text him asking if the inspection was done. Bob calls and says that the super came but not the landlord-- the person who cares about the cat policy. The super told Bob that the landlord "might" come on Saturday. "So . . . do you want to return my cats now or Sunday?" What do you think, Bob? I say, "I'd like to return them now." Bob argues a little due to the fact that the whole reason I took them in the first place was now postponed until Saturday. I say I don't care, I need the cats gone, and tell the landlord you're cat-sitting for a friend. And what happens if the landlord doesn't come Saturday? Did he expect me to just keep the cats indefinitely? (I'm thinking yes, yes he would.) He says, and I can just imagine his stupid puppy-dog eyes as he says this, that he'll figure something out. Yeah genius, you will. He then has the gall to say, "I really want to inconvenience you as little as possible." I say, "too late." He then gets defensive. Defensive! He says, "Oh, so what, you had to get up a little early?" Oh my god. This dude had no f-ing concept of how inappropriate and inconveniencing his "favor" was. For Christ's sake, I feel bad asking my sister to feed my cats for me when I'm on vacation.

So I tell Bob that I have "postponed" my Friday plans a bit so that I can deal with this situation. He proceeds to pretend to figure out how to get his cats back without inconveniencing me ("I guess I can borrow your cat carriers . . . and make 3 trips . . .") Because, as is by now painfully obvious, I am a sucker and a pushover, but mainly just to get the whole situation over with as soon as possible, I just drive Bob and his cats home.

A couple of days later, I write Bob a nice email, not mentioning the cat story, stating that I think it would be best for me to stop seeing him. The real cherry on the cake of the story is that Bob texts me back, and his text says: 'Guess I shouldn't have asked you to do me that favor with my cats.' WOW! Would that be your first case of introspection ever, Bob?

Lesson of the day: Both Bob and I are assholes.

Addendum

You know what's funny? I'm supposed to be using this blog to discuss hysterical and enlightening dating stories, but I'm having way too much fun making fun of people.

Recall the man from the last post who wanted to know how to get my "attetion"? I looked at his profile today-- he is the incarnation of my Match nightmare. He has 2 kids and he lives in Florida. Florida!! I've already said my piece on the kid thing, but do you not see where it says I am looking for people 50 miles outside of Brooklyn? Dude, I'm rejecting guys who live in New Jersey! Whatever. I went on to find out that "I am adventures"; that he "went to college did not graduate"; and that he likes to escape the "havick" of the city. Uuuuuugh.

He did make me laugh out loud, though. Under the "last read" section of a Match profile, where you put what you're reading/recently read, this is what he wrote: "Im currently reading Persuader its by Lee Childs. The New York Times best seller is about an ex military cop who is the ultimate loner. He has no family, no commitment and no fear. Nothing except a strong sense of justice. Once he starts he cant quit" HAHAHA! Thanks for the book report, loser!

Grammar, and why we need friends.

Two posts ago was about pickiness and etiquette on Match. There is one glaring example of both that I decided I needed a whole blog for: grammar. I have a thing about grammar-- my eyes gravitate towards typos on menus, signs, everywere. I'm sure lots of people realize the typos, but they then go on their merry ways. I, however, get mad about them, and will angrily comment to whichever poor sucker I happen to be with about the lack of education and proof-reading in this country, etc etc. I am not ashamed to admit that it's kind of a problem.

So. My Match profile actually says "bad grammar is a dealbreaker." Which, um, it is. Primarily, I just think people in their 30s should know and understand the basic rules governing "their, they're and there" and the like. On Match, it annoys me even more because you are attempting to impress people, and if you sound stupid-- which you do with bad grammar-- you're not impressive. Also, if you put this little effort into your profile or emails or whatever, what does that say about your effort level in general? No thanks. This innocent caveat of mine has provided me with much entertainment. Some guys actually read and understood that clause, prompting humorous emails from them making some joke about they're watching their grammar, which of course I find totally endearing. The more entertaining stuff is, of course, the bad ones, who apparently can't even read or, as I discussed before, just ignore my very clear warning and contact me with their poor grammar just laid out there like a f-ing present.

Now's the time in my blog where I make fun of poor unsuspecting men (and these are cut-and pasted quotes, people):

This is an email I got: "Hi X!,I am very well,i am glad its weekend though,i have a very productive but busy week and fun but busy weekend waiting for me and i hope weather will be nice. Are you ready for the weekend? Any fun plans? I enjoyed reading you profile and you have a very nice smile,Tell me bit more yourself,Talk soon,keep smile, X". Sigh. Proofread your shit.

This gentleman 'winked' at me, so when I went to look at his profile, this is what I saw: "am lovely guy, i would like to find ,some girl who really love me, am very honest, i like the true, i love to dance in special salsa.i like to play soccer, go to the movies, walk by the beach, i like to give everything of me to my couple" Now, this is just so poorly written that I'm pretty sure English is not this dude's first language, but if thats the case, have you no-one to proofread your shit for you?? also. . . what is 'the true'?

And this one, from “singleansearching” (notice that even his handle is incorrect. . just too lazy for that d in 'and'?): "were do i begin, im new2this?single attract male seeks attract sensitive carin woman4 datin n poss a longterm.i enjoy movies dinin out n long walks on the beach n park. Love holdin hands n cuddlin. Seeks same in counter part. Ru out there? If so get back2 me" GAH! get a friend to proofread your shit!!

I got this email today: "Hello gorgeous what do i have to do to get your attetion" Do you loyal readers know the answer to this question? It's: 'get a friend to proofread your shit!' Thats how you get my attention. With an 'n', and a question mark, a comma, and proper capitalization. sheesh.

Then this was a sentence in an otherwise grammatically correct profile: "I love women who are Spontaneous, Understanding, Exciting and Independent." Whats with the capitals?? hee hee, this one makes me laugh. It makes me think of advertising: "She's Spontaneous! Exciting and Independent!"

Lesson of the day: GET A FRIEND TO PROOFREAD YOUR SHIT.

By Popular Demand. . .

I received quite a few emails regarding the Match handles. So, since I live to serve you, my public, here are some more noteworthy handles. And, of course, my snarky comments.

By the way, I've been feeling some distress about making fun of these men. Am I a bad person? Or do the mean-person-rules change when its for comedy? Or is it OK because, really, look at these f-ing handles, these guys were just asking to be outed on a blog?

"poptheglock17": A Glock 17 is a pistol; Glocks (not sure if its the 17 or not) are what the NYPD carries. If this guy is a cop, thats a stupid handle, and if he's not a cop, its an even more stupid handle. Is it a threat? A brag? What??

"007spy": Really? On Match.com?

"biglebowskiman": I love the Coen brothers like anyone else, but I really thought The Big Lebowski sucked. Its really a guy flick: for some reason they love the character "The Dude," and I believe its also popular with stoners. So forgive me if I can't relate to a man who chooses to describe himself as this movie.

"yodasmygrandpales": This is the most confusing one. I've decoded it to Yoda's My Grandpa, LES. LES, for non-New-Yorkers, is an acronym for the Lower East Side, a section of Manhattan. So, not only is this guy claiming, for whatever reason, that Yoda is his grandfather, but he feels the need to enhance that claim with the fact that he lives in/is from the LES. Why is this necessary? Was "yodasmygrandpa" taken? And if so, instead of re-thinking your level of creativity, you just added the LES, which really has nothing to do with your imagined family tree?

"good2betheking": No, actually, its good to have an inflated sense of self-importance and broadcast that cockiness to all the women you are trying to date.

"suddenlybright": So . . . what, you were stupid before? In a dark place? Funny, this doesn't make me want to date you.

"package_total": Oh, this is by far my favorite. Besides having arrogance above and beyond the man who thinks himself king, I'm just going to give this guy the benefit of the doubt and assume that "total_package" was taken. What a tool.

Match etiquette, handles, and my new-found pickiness.

Sooooo . . . I was a psych major in college, and I love to psycho-analyze people (and things) wherever I go. So: Match.com. Even if I end up an old maid, it has at least provided me with a really fabulous playground for my psychoanalysis.

One thing that struck me immediately on Match was people's handles. You have to create a little name for yourself that is both your sign-in name and also the handle that goes along with your profile. When you search for people on Match, you're provided with a list of, er, matches, and all thats shown on this list is the person's primary photo, their handle, and their little witty opening line. The handles that people choose (1) amuse me to no end and (2) have become a basis for me to click or not click on a profile. Which I think is both snobby and smart of me.

For example: one guy is "NJ raver 1" or something. Um, no. Raving is so 1990s, and even if you're not into it, something made you choose that to describe yourself. If its just your side job as an Ecstasy dealer, I don't want to hear about that either. Another guy is "JoeysLimo." A thing about Joey. At first, I gasped when I saw that-- in New York/Brooklyn, if you describe yourself as Joey's Limo, you might as well just tattoo your forehead with the phrase "fuhgeddaboudit". But he intrigued me (cause I laughed), so I clicked on Joey's profile. Then I laughed and laughed and laughed. Joey had uploaded at least 20 photos of himself for his profile. Every single one was self-taken of Joey at the wheel of his, I'm presuming, limo. I don't think Joey meant this to be funny in the way that I found it, or funny at all. I think he thought he was actually taking good pictures of himself, and missed the joke completely about him and his limo. Then there are the guys who just brag-- in their handles!!-- like, "NY Doctor and Lawyer," "moneybags," etc. Dude. Come on.

The handles is just one thing in what I've discovered is my profound pickiness on Match. I've realized, when you meet someone in person, and you talk and laugh and have a great time and you really like the guy, you (or at least I) tend to overlook certain other things as a result because you're like, "but he's SO funny! its OK that he's 5'1"." But on Match, you have no idea if you'll get along, so I feel like that gives me free reign to just knock guys out right and left. At times I feel bad-- 'this could be your soulmate, are you sure you don't want to give it a shot just because he lists 'The Da Vinci Code' as his favorite book?' But then I get over it. Because, you know what, I've spent a great many years overlooking things in men, and now its time to look out for me. Also, as described in a previous blog, Match is just one resource for me, so it's not like I need to contact everyone on there.

And, I've also been recently knocking guys out because of their lack of pickiness. Match allows you to talk about yourself at length, but then there's a whole section on what you want in your match. Some guys have this whole thing blank, or filled in with the catch-all response 'any.' This goes for height, body type, job, education level, whether you smoke or drink, religion, race. . . Now some of those things I also have "any" allowed, but your whole match can be 'any'? Tell me if I'm wrong, but doesn't that sort of reek of desperation? "I'll take anything!! Please, just give me a woman, any woman!!"

Speaking of what you want in a match, this leads me to Match etiquette. I always check a guy's wants in his match to make sure I fit it before I contact him. This is both a sort of self-defense mechanism but mainly to make sure I respect what he's looking for. Do I get the same respect in return? No. Like I said, I have a few categories that are 'any', but I also have a few that are clearly filled in with certain specifics in mind, and I did that for a reason. The reason is I'm fucking 30 years old and I fucking know what I'm fucking looking for. So I'm sorry, but why must every 5'2", divorced with 3 kids who live at home, high-school educated man in the NY area contact me? I know that sounds slightly horrible, but come on! You asked for it. Read my damn profile. Read it!! It says RIGHT THERE what I want. And if you're not it, you're not it! Move on! Read it and say, "Oh, how sad, she doesn't want to take care of my rugrats, guess I won't contact her." Don't read it and say, "Oh, look, she wants a guy without kids. Thats OK, I'll contact her anyway, I'll woo her with my profile charm.. . " No. And before you all start thinking how snobby I am, its not just me, either. I've actually seen men's profiles with variations of "please respect my match requests." Ha.

A Justification of Online Dating.

So . . . yeah. Match.com: I paid to date. Question of the day: Am I a john? As in pimp?

Seriously, though. Online dating has come a looong way. It no longer has the taboo associated with it that it once did, where normal people (myself included) assumed that only pervs and weirdos were on there, scouting for abnormal sex partners and people to hack into small pieces. Well, now would be a good time to tell the story of my only other foray into the world of online dating. This had to have been 5, 6 years ago, when, truth be told, I think the taboo was still there. My girlfriend put me on this dating site where other people recommend you; she also wrote my profile. Among "things I like," said girlfriend wrote a laundry list of things I like, perfectly normal things, one of which was the movie 'Secretary,' which had just come out. I do like that movie. I thought the acting was great, it was very original, and I love Maggie G and James Spader (why is he like the most creepiest-hot person ever?). Anywho, I get contacted by a guy who would like to take me on a date. He is SO not my type-- his picture reflected an unattractive, skinny uber-nerd. But, in my never-fading dating optimism, I thought, "well, it hasn't been working with guys who are my type, so why not give it a try?"

Ha. So, we go out. We go to a burlesque show off of Union Square-- on a first date. Who does that? Songs and dances, OK.. . nekkid boobies, thats kind of a second date thing. Anyway, we're having a pre-show cocktail, and the first question out of his mouth is about Secretary. I give my little talk-- great acting, blah blah. He's like, "Yeah. So. . . are you the top or the bottom?" Exqueeze me? He continues: "Yeah, I was in a BDSM club in college . . ." First minute of first date. Telling me about his bondage activities and inquiring about mine. The real issue was trying to convice this dude that I had none, which he just wasn't having. I mean, is it really that unheard of for someone to like Secretary in a non-I-used-to-do-that kind of way?? Sheesh. The other thing I couldn't stop thinking about was how this guy found dates. I mean, did he do a keyword search of profiles? And if so, was his keyword really 'secretary'? Cause thats pretty lame, and in retrospect, I'm beginning to question just how hardcore he really was. Seriously, how bad can a collegiate S&M club be?

So, I held off on the internet dating for awhile. I'm sure the pervs and such are still on there, but now, us average Joes have also joined the ranks. In addition to the general taboo having been remvoed, my one-month-long involvement with Match has shown me that there are actually some pretty good catches on there. I mean, "good catch" is subjective of course, but many are employed, make good money, and went to college. Some even own cats, which is the true test of any man. AND, they have real jobs, too. Some are still fumbling about trying to figure themselves out, but lots are doctors, lawyers, financial planners . . . everything your mother dreamed of.

Speaking of mothers, my own has made two comments thus far on my online dating: (1) "Bring your gun on every date!" and (2) "Get a docta!" That last comment was via email, so she did indeed say/write 'docta.'

Anyway, after my break-up, I decided there were two ways for me to go: the old wallow in my own pathetic misery route, which would have absolutely culminated in some sort of suicide or masochistic act on my 30th birthday; or buck up and get over it. I chose the latter, although it was, of course, difficult. But honestly, I think one of the hardest things about a break-up is that feeling of wanting the person back for awhile afterwards . . . the holding onto the feelings of "what if he wants me back? what if we could get back together? When is he going to call/email/text?" Once I forced myself to admit that not only was Mike (the primary offender) not going to call and that he was not going to change his mind, but that I didn't want him back, things got easier. It was all in the mentally letting go, which is still enormously difficult, but it was what I had to do. The more important thing about mentally letting go was that it frees up your mind and emotions for new things, to move on. At least, it did for me. Because I was ready to date again after only a couple of weeks after the break-up.

So why Match? People always think that New York is like a goldmine for dating, but its SO not. Unless you want or are a waif-supermodel-wannabe. Nonetheless, I look at it this way: its a resource. I'm not holed up in front of my computer every night waiting for my new Match 'winks' to come in . . . I'm going out and making myself available, and being online is just one more resource to use. I definitely think I'm meeting men whom I otherwise wouldn't, by simple factors such as where we live (for non-New Yorkers, there really is a difference between Brooklyn and Queens, say, and commuting for a date in this town can take hours), our jobs, or where we hang out. Besides that, I think the chances of me meeting another S&M guy or serial killer are possibly less on Match than in the general NYC-world. Writing a thoughtful Match profile is time consuming and a lot of effort. And if I do end up getting slaughtered by a serial killer who wrote a sufficiently enticing profile for me to contact him/respond to his contact, I could at least be proud of his smarts and writing as well as his knifing skills. So much better than the pulled into an alley by a homeless dude scenario.

Introduction

Well, hello there. I'm a 29-year-old single woman living it up daily in this grand playground called New York City. My second serious break-up in about a year coincided with the dawning of me turning the forbidden age (I'll be 30 in just a couple of months . . .), which spurned me into dating action.

After the second break-up, which I think I might detail in a subsequent blog, I did not hole up in my apartment eating pints of Ben and Jerry's . . . OK, I did that a couple of times. But then I threw down my spoon, wiped the chocolate from the corners of my mouth and declared-- loudly, and to my bored audience of two cats-- "I will take my love life by the reins! I shall date again!"

It was, in reality, far less dramatic. However, I did fork over $120 and joined Match.com for 6 months. I'm hoping to use this blog to chronicle my dating experiences-- past, present, and future.

As for my blog title: I am the law. I am a Federal agent who works tirelessly to protect the innocent and arrest the guilty on a daily basis. Except for when, you know, I blog instead. Hence all the secrecy with my identity. Its not that we Feds don't date, its that I will get made fun of by my male coworkers for this, and I don't really feel like dealing with that right now. So far in my dating life men have been appropriately respectful of my profession, but there have been times when I wish they were a little more interested, a little less "I love the police! Did I ever tell you. . .. ?", and, if we're being honest here, a little more afraid . . . of me. So, check back often for stories on yet another single-woman-in-New-York blog.