The Saga of Internet Dating Continues - Missing the Big Sign That Says "Run Away!"

Full Episodes Of Family Guy - The Saga of Internet Dating Continues - Missing the Big Sign That Says "Run Away!"

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After my first caress (disaster) with internet dating, I was tempted to swear of the whole thing entirely. I idea about it for a while and decided to keep trying - besides, if one bad caress with a website made me stop using it altogether, I would not have all of this cool stuff from Ebay.

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So I got back online and started searching.

Bingo! I found a girl who was potentially my dream date and sent her an email. She was five-foot-ten, had a semi-athletic build (by definition 70% feminine, 30% biceps), and each of her pictures showed a amazing smile. She also drove a big truck, which I was idea was the coolest thing ever, second only to a woman who drives a stick shift. She had a few typos and misspellings in her profile, but that didn't mean anything, right? Right. Plus we also didn't have many tasteless interests, but as the old saying goes, "opposites attract", right? Right. So she replied, we chatted via email for a while, and then we decided to meet.

She picked a typical bar/restaurant for us to meet at. Again, I idea this was a amazing idea as it gave me direct entrance to an endless provide of liquid courage. Then she dropped the bomb on me: she wanted to bring other guy who was her "friend". I replied, "Certainly! The more, the merrier!".

Maybe I am too nice sometimes.

So I showed up at this cafeteria about ten minutes late (you know, to look cool) and found them already sitting across from each other at a table, deep in conversation. This night was off to a great start already. I walked over and introduced myself to the girl (we'll call her "Gina") and to her "friend" (we'll call him "Bonehead") and sat down next to her. Two guys and one girl - I was going to have to play hardball.

Anyways, to say this guy was a faultless waste of humanity is a serious understatement. Also the sleeveless shirt exposing tattoos that were probably cool about a decade before, he undoubtedly reeked of some cheap cologne and talked at length about his popular topic: himself. I was disgusted. It has been said that if you don't have whatever nice to say, you shouldn't say whatever at all. Five minutes into the evening I was in mime-mode.

After a short while we both noticed Gina sitting closer to me (yes!), so Bonehead (I think his real name was Derek... Or maybe Fred) began to engage me in conversation. He told me he was 21, which was odd because he looked at least thirty, and then asked me where I worked. At the time I was working for a major credit card company, to which he replied he had worked there six years before. He then went into a long speech about how they were a horrible business to work for, that they would hire practically whatever (thanks!), and that if I were smart I would get out of there and find a "real job".

Irony, you are my best friend.

There was one thing that Bonehead apparently didn't know about me: I have a head for numbers. There was also one thing about him that I now knew: his math skills left a lot to be desired. I decided it was time to torpedo this moron. I pointed out that the business in interrogate only hires employees that are over 18 and have practically three years of caress in a linked field (which puts the age requirement closer to 21). If he had worked there six years prior, that means they hired him at 15, making him the Doogie Howser of the credit card world. So in other words, either his math was off, or his receding hairline was telling the truth about his age.

Needless to say, he left somewhat instantly and Gina and I had a great time. She told me about her family and her upbringing... She grew up in a rather expensive part of Scottsdale, she had never a full time job in her life, and her parents had just bought her the truck. All of these were the signs of a potential spoiled brat, but I liked to find the best in people, so I enjoyed the night and bid her good bye.

The next afternoon I called Gina to see what she was up to - I figured she was free since, you know, she didn't have a job or anything. She seemed rather upset so I asked her what was wrong... That was a bad idea. She was angry at her parents because they were only going to give her five thousand dollars to customize her truck. The truck that they bought her. Unbelievable.

So now I was mentally checked out where this girl was concerned. I should have seen this one coming. After she calmed down a bit she asked what I wa up to the next day. Before I could say, "Learn-some-manners-and-don't-ever-call-me-again-you-spoiled-rotten-brat", she told me that she and her friends were meeting at a bar and she wanted me to come with them.

Her friends? Really...

Now I am not a player and don't date complicated girls at the same time. In this case, I figured I was done with her so why not meet some new people? Besides, I was new in town and didn't undoubtedly know anyone. If nothing else, it would have at least been a occasion to put this brat in her place.

So the next evening I headed over to this nice outdoor bar and sat down at a table with four beautiful women all doing shots and pounding fruity drinks. Needless to say, I had an optimistic idea of where the night was going along with a letter in my head that started with "Dear Penthouse". But after a few minutes of chatting with them, something struck me.

These were the most awful women in the world.

Sure, they were drop-dead gorgeous, but they were arrogant, egotistical, self-centered, and outright rude to the waitress. All they wanted to talk about was how much money they got from their rich parents (barf!), how much they loved each other's new purses and shoes (Lord, what did I do to deserve this), and the most modern lesson of whatever mind-numbing show they watched on Mtv ("My goodness, Richard, that drink is already gone?"). Worst of all, none of them had ever had a full time job and none of them had even the slightest idea what the "real world" was like, despite dedicating a large part of their lives to watching a show of that name. I decided to fall back on that old saying about not saying whatever at all if you don't have whatever nice to say.

Five drinks later, I decided it was time for the gloves to come off.

It started when the girls began talking about dating and sex. Needless to say, my ears perked up. One of the more women in the group said these exact words: "I have standards when it comes to dating. I regularly wait until the third date before I sleep with a guy unless we hook up when I first meet him." With a line like that, the jokes practically write themselves. In my semi-intoxicated haze I went with the first one that came to mind.

"Wow, what a beast of virtue you are. I suddenly why you are still single, being such a prude and all. Let me guess: missionary position only until the fifth date, right? Right. We wouldn't want whatever to think you are easy or anything."

Silence at the table...

Finally one of the women blurted out the most spirited phrase she could possibly come up with: "Oh my gaaawwwd, that was like, so meeeaaan!"

Undaunted I fired back with, "Mean? You think that was mean? Let's talk about the way you ignorant trolls discuss everyone else together with your parents, who pay exorbitant amounts of money so that you don't have to hold a full time job but you can buy all the cosmetics you need to hide your true appearance. The end supervene is that your outward appearance resembles your personality: wholly fake!"

I stormed (stumbled) away from the group of socialites leaving them in faultless awe of my sudden tyrade with their mouths hanging open. They probably spent the great part of the evening seeing up any of the words I used to see if they should be angry or not. I guess they figured it out, because I never heard from her again. I did happen to see her on the road two years later in her truck that was customized to the point of gaudiness. either she got a job or her parents gave in (duh). Maybe temper tantrums undoubtedly work in this part of town.

Undaunted yet again, I decided to continue my search via the world wide web to find the woman of my dreams. I idea to myself that maybe the old saying is true (by the way, I am a undoubtedly big fan of those old sayings), that the third time is a charm.

"Charm" was hardly a way to report it.

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