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Saturday, April 30, 2011

There's a Reason Some Men Are Single

After my first marriage came to a close, I did what any reasonable, grieving woman would do. I signed up for an online dating service.

I mean, where else are you going to meet single men these days? I doubt very much that the love of your life is at a club, dry-humping his way down the bar. Clubs and bars contain men who are...shall we say...less selective. Or perhaps less a victim of "natural selection." These men don't have to worry about commitments deeper than one night and a Walk of Shame to the cab. Do I have to mention Mike "The Situation"? A man whose greatest accomplishments are his stock shares in penicillin and his poetic ability to liken women to "grenades?" Ladies, you MUST aim higher.

No, a much better idea would be to meet strange single men online first. I mean, how faceless, anonymous and dangerous could it possibly be?

My first date was with a 46-year old house-flipper. That was his title. We met for coffee and he spent the first 20 minutes on his phone flipping a house, talking about flipping houses and showing me pictures of the houses he flipped. In between, he showed complete and utter disdain for the fact that I had cats and an IQ greater than the number of minutes it took me to get back to the car. Bye bye house-flipper. Good luck being single.

Then there was Morton the Cheese Man. In his picture, he looked tan and had a nice smile. He was also sitting down (ladies, if a man is sitting down or in profile in his picture, run away. He is either short or cross-eyed.) We met in a public place, and when he approached the table, I noticed that he was about 4 inches shorter than I was, broad on top with tiny little bowed legs. He looked like a bulldog trying to walk upright. He kept looking over my shoulder, and after about 10 minutes, I asked "Did you bring someone here?" He admitted that yes, he had brought a friend "in case I didn't work out." It only got better from there.

If I hadn't made it clear before, he worked in cheese. He bought, sold, and developed cheese. He'd ask me what my favourite brand was, and whatever I answered, he'd announce proudly that he somehow had a hand in it, then he'd fist pump and high-five his buddy (who had by this time joined our table.) Then he asked a series of questions: Meat or cheese? Skiing or water-skiing? House or condo?

I mean, what else could I do but get completely and totally wasted? I was allowed to leave only after promising to join him the next night at a club called Berlin (because every Jewish mother wants her Jewish daughter to frequent a club named Berlin. Or Gestapo.)

I never went to Berlin. I did, however, remove my profile post-haste.


  1. Anyone who lists the word 'flipper' anywhere in their job description is immediately suspect. Too bad the cheese dude didn't even bring samples. How thoughtless. Men.

    Great post, btw.

  2. There's only two kinds of men in online dating services: assumed single guys trying to hump needy single ladies or lame guys who would never get a girl in regular bases