There cannot be enough warnings about being careful with Internet dating. Never going on a first date alone with someone you've met online, and other tips like that are good advice. But there's another important lesson in the Internet dating story gone horrible wrong on this week's "Dates From Hell" Wed.
Gilles Tetreault found what he thought was a great match online. But when he went to meet the woman for their first date, things took a horrific and surprising turn. There was no woman at all. Instead, he was met by a male attacker with a hockey mask, who tried to attack him in his garage. Gilles struggled and ultimately managed to escape, but he was too ashamed about being duped to come forward. It wasn't until another man was murdered and a hockey mask was recovered at the scene that Gilles talked to the police. It was a bad situation. Luckily, the rain let up eventually, and he showed me how to get to the subway, and I escaped, my heart pounding.
Dates From Hell - Internet Dating Disaster Stories
And the moral is: It was was also her last communication before she admitted that she was still in the middle of something with a boy and would I kindly not contact her again. So I check this guy and he seems really nice, but he has a kid, which is on my list of deal-breakers. Sorry, and good luck! After he took a bite. He was tall, cute, and an artist. So he sends me this super thoughtful, complimentary, clearly researched e-mail that went into depth about several of our shared interests, asked questions, etc.
He sent me pictures of his artwork! I still have them. After two weeks of this, this guy is basically my boyfriend in my mind. I mean, I sent myself an e-mail to make sure my e-mail was still working. I think I even e-mailed him again to ask if he got my e-mail. Then the same thing happened with two more guys, then I made a rule that you set up a meeting after the first e-mail exchange, then I met a guy and we dated for four years, then we got married last July. He maintained a Geocities website for his writing, and as soon as he got my email, he added me to his mailing list.
We order at the counter and go to sit down. He has to use the restroom and takes all his books and other possessions in with him, as if leaving them with me would be unsafe. More terrible things happen I can elaborate if need be and I finally decide I need to make my excuses and bolt. A few days later I receive an email from his listserv and notice that one of his new stories shares a title with a fairly unique phrase I had worn on a button. The story is told in the first person.
I just dress this way to repel men! I googled his name, and found a bunch of amazon wish lists and accounts on sci-fy nerd discussion boards. So then I saw a link to a Vanity Fair article about the Menendez brothers.
A Treasury of the World's Worst Online Dating Stories - The Awl
Turns out my potential online date murdered his father when he was a teenager, and as a cover up, had concocting a complicated plot involving foreign assassins. The plot was plausible enough to garner worldwide media attention after his father was killed. Of course, police eventually discovered it was my date who killed his father, he was tried for first degree murder, and defended by the attorney who went on to defend one or both of the Menendez brothers hence his mention in the article.
My date was ultimately convicted of involuntary manslaughter his mother and sister testified that the father was a violent and sadistic abuser , and served no prison time. Opening act was a comic who did her entire routine about how shitty online dating is, and how all the dudes are big, fat losers who are gross.
That was the beginning of the end. Turns out she was a fan of them only from tv, a medium in which they had sharply toned down their usual act. By that point, I just got drunk and laughed about it. This was after a few too many dates that ended twisting up a lot more then just my sheets. I started corresponding with a guy who worked near by, sent me poems and complimented my on-line pictures with vigor. We decided to meet for a date, and I picked him up on a street corner where he met me with a bouquet of irises. As we drove across the bridge to the city, he stared at me and told me how I was even prettier then my picture.
It started to feel a little icky… why do women like this? Anyways, we went out to eat in China Town and he began to unfold the requisite life story. Turns out he had grown up Jewish in a small town in the south, Mississippi, I think. People had been unfathomably cruel to him, they had burned crosses and driven his mother to alcoholism. They had killed every pet he had ever owned. This guy had been tortured psychologically. It was a lot to take in. As we moved to the dessert course, we talked about the next stage of his life when he moved to Chicago for college.
But, his family demons followed him there and he spent the last ten years caring for his mentally ill mother while getting a PhD in math. He told me that he thought life was full of evil and hatred, and then he suggested we go get a drink. We ended up at a bar where he then guided the conversation to the topic of Israel vs.
He ordered a beer and insisted. He began poking me in the chest and yelling, I kept asking him to drop the subject… he got louder. After trying again and again to change the subject, I finally said I want to go home. A half-hour drive full of blessed icy silence ensued. When we arrived, I had to get out and get his briefcase out of the trunk. He tried to kiss me there in the foggy street. I pushed him away. Names were exchanged and, realizing I was on a date, he wrapped things up quickly and went and sat down in another part of the bar.
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I thought she was saying that she considered my friend coming over and chatting for all of five minutes was rude, so I started to defend his behavior. When he got back from the bar, he launched into his new thing, which was… Scientology. It was fascinating, I have to say, but it was also profoundly depressing.
I was disgusted, obviously, and just completely shocked that this guy would come at me with such racist bullshit within 5 minutes of meeting. I spilled my coffee and said, Oops, guess that means I should go. They arrive, and I do enjoy them! I still have the red velvet box. I think, what the hell, I have done one or two insecure things in my time, I should give the guy a break.
So I meet him at a bar, and he proceeds to be very very silent. Go ahead and tell me what I am.
Dating Glossary for Idiots
I never pulled taffy. So I try the usual: What do you do? I ask him if he has any siblings, and that was the question. Maybe this was a good date for him. He was sweet, intelligent. Anyway, one day, we meet. I pick him up in my car. Lo and behold, he is really, really ugly.
Terrible acne, overweight, just… kind of repulsive. Since I was going there anyway, my brother asked me to pick him up some beer. The date consisted of me meeting the woman at her apartment, and finding she was already pretty drunk.
We went out to eat at a steakhouse she insisted I drive her Camaro , where she berated the waiter so badly and for such a trivial reason that I found the manager while she was in the bathroom and apologized. We had time to kill before our movie, so we went to a bookstore. While at the bookstore, I mentioned that at some point I needed to go to a store and buy some beer see reason above. We agree on a restaurant in another, distant-ish part of the city, and dude decides he wants to walk there instead of taking the subway.
Though my boots have annoying heels, I try to be a good sport and agree. He insists that instead of dinner, he absolutely HAS to take me to his absolute-favorite-in-the-whole-world gelato shop, which just happens to be a couple of blocks away. I turn away from dude to look at some display of artisan chocolate or something and surreptitiously gnaw my hand. He takes that as a positive sign, I guess. Dude ushers me, still stunned, into the tiny little corner onto one of the tiny little stools.
He takes the other stool, and then puuuulllllls my stool closer, right between his knees. He feeds me gelato. He actually presses the spoon to my closed lips until I open my mouth. At this point, I busy myself with drinking water to avoid being fed further spoonfuls of gelato and fake an emergency phone call with a nearby friend.
I make my excuses, and run out of there to her place, where I manage to obtain real food and booze and laugh and cry and laugh. We made arrangements to meet at a stuffy Cambridge watering hole. And she was not happy about it! I, on the other hand, was mortified. This fraction of a second set the tone for the rest of the evening which was to be predictably brief , and we soldiered our way through a single drink together which as I may have mentioned was actually my second, thank god. She was not only visibly displeased with our little arrangement but went out of her way to make this as evident as possible: In short, it was the most excruciating half hour of my professional dating life.
As soon as we both realized there was most certainly not going to be another round she started angrily protesting the inattentiveness of our actually perfectly attentive waitress I guess because I was so off-putting that the bill had to be paid RIGHT NOW and she got up and stormed off to the bathroom. So we walked out together. Meanwhile, the train pulled into the Kendall Square stop, and in brief flash of genius I hatched an escape plan: He sang songs on my answering machine, either telling me how he deserved another chance or telling me what a huge bitch I was.
I met men who told me they were single and then three dates in told me they were married. I met a man who said he was 45 but was probably Since I am the common denominator in all these disastrous dates, I think the problem is me. I must have had a terrible screening process. We met at a bar, and she was super attractive I really wanted to bang her but also wanted to be a gentleman so I deferred to conversation. We talked for 6 hours.
She came over to my place on that weekend where some friends and I were having a fire. She texted me at 2AM from inside my house asking if she could stay over after taking her friend downtown. She stayed over and we had awesome sex. We continued having awesome sex every day that week. And we actually had a lot more in common then sex. Like birds and stuff. Then she mostly disappeared. She wrote me a big ol email about being busy for a while she was finishing her thesis and I was dumb in ignoring the writing on the wall. And this book on the history of graphic design that she said was her favorite.
A few weeks went past, and I emailed her to see if we could meet up to exchange our stuff. She had my binoculars. Then she moved to Iowa with my fucking binoculars.
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