Tag Archives: match.com

18 – No Car

27 Jun

I was lured back onto Match.com after a succession of sleepless nights, sexless days, and a yearning to never end up like the spinster who teaches in the room next door to mine.  I set up a new profile with new and improved pictures.  I found a discount code online (because I refused to pay full-price) and gave myself one month.

Within the first couple of days, I received an email from an adorable, late twenties-something young man.  He started off his communication by telling me how gorgeous I am (compliments will get him everywhere) and then by telling me how he has a job, but no car. Immediately, I placed him in the “Good Time Charlie” (read: SEX) box.  My philosophy is that if I can go out into the world and provide, for myself, all of the material things I need to make life work…then why shouldn’t I expect the same from my partner?

So “Good Time Charlie” it is for Mr. No Car!

We made it through all of the emails, and eventually graduated to texts and phone calls.  After corresponding with him enough times, I realized that he is an intelligent guy.  I wanted to meet him…and I hinted at it…then blatantly asked him out.  Although I would have had to pick him up, it didn’t bother me.  Well…he didn’t seem enthused with the prospect of leaving his apartment.

The way we finally met face-to-face was all my doing…I asked him if it would okay if I stopped by his place and said hello.  I told him that I didn’t want to come inside his apartment, and that he could just come down to my car and we could talk outside.  He was cool with that.

What I saw was a super-skinny guy who smelled of a cigarette/marijuana mix, couldn’t be bothered to lotion his ashy-ass skin, and had neighbors with way too many children and vicious Pit Bulls.



11 – More Match Madness…But Nothin’ a Little Shag Can’t Cure!

7 Jul

shag notice

So, after my “eventful” date with Mr. MBA…I decide to venture off on a night of tried-and-true fun.  I called Kenneth and asked him if he had already seen Transformers.  Seeing as how it was only released twelve hours before I asked him, I figured that some other bimbo had not beaten me to the punch.  So my Thursday evening was spent in high contrast to my Wednesday evening…laughing, joking, eating, drinking, shagging.[1]

In fact, that was the night of MJ’s death, and Kenneth and I had a talk about loneliness and how much it sucks.  He even mentioned being ready to “settle down” soon.  I found that statement hilarious…seeing as how he was sitting there, with me…and not with whomever he deems “settling down” material.  Although, knowing him, she’s somewhere close by.  See, Kenneth and I have been doing this “thing” for about three years now.  Last October, his “roommate” (read: GIRLFRIEND of twelve years) died suddenly[2], and I was momentarily rendered retarded by the event.  He leaned on me for emotional consolation[3], and I thought, for the blink of an eye…that he would choose me.

I’m over that now.  I know better.[4]

So, I was recovering from my Match Madness and beginning to embark upon another journey…down the road to perdition!  LOL!  A new guy contacted me.  He looked mama’s boy/latent gay/church boy on his profile.  I thought that that could be what I needed…someone to anchor my free-spirited waywardness.  The Latent Gay called me every day, and sometimes even TWICE a day.  He often texted me while he was at work.  We shared our hopes and dreams, while eagerly anticipating the climactic moment of our physical meeting.

I was nervous because Latent gay had not posted any full body shots of himself…nor did he offer.  I did not have any full body shots of myself, however, I did ask Latent Gay if he wanted me to email a full body to him.  He said that he didn’t care about all of that.  He said the most important thing was our ability to communicate.  I was beginning to like him more each day.

So…”D-Day,” we met at a central place in the city.  He had to drive an hour and a half to reach the city, but he said he didn’t mind.  He said he was always in the city.  He even hinted at picking me up, but I told him that coming to my place would add another thirty minutes to his drive.[5] He put the activities of the evening in my hands, and I chose a place where several events were occurring at one time.  There is a bowling alley/lounge, movie theater, restaurant/sports bar, and several places to eat in this one location.  I told him that we could meet and then decide what to do.  He was adamant about pinpointing a time and a “thing” to do, so he called me back and said The Hangover was playing at 6:30pm.

So that’s what we did.  We saw a movie.  With the warmth of a cactus, he gave me a hug…told me how GREAT it was to finally meet me…and that he would call once he made it home.  Well, he did call, but he was not at home.  I heard loud voices and music in the background.  He said he made it home and had a wonderful evening.

I never heard from him again.

I went salsa dancing.

[1] In no particular order…but the shagging part was my absolute fav! J

[2] No, he did not kill her!  It was a blood clot in the lung.  She was only twenty-nine.  Very sad.

[3] In fact, called me the day she died and had me sit with him until his parents could make it to his apartment.  It was a six hour wait.

[4] But it still feels like a gigantic cleaver in the heart, regardless!

[5] Okay…so I exaggerated!  I didn’t know him, and I don’t allow strangers access to the location of my home.

10 – Match.Com Madness

6 Jul

Picture 23 copy

Call me a hater…but don’t call me Kendra.  I’m flabbergasted.  How does someone who looks like an inbred pygmy, with the personality of sheet rock, become awarded with the ability to marry an intelligent and devoted man like Hank?[1] How (why) has this idiot escaped the hell I know as D-A-T-I-N-G?  I’m pretty[2], intelligent, hard-working, honest, don’t have a bobble head on top of a nine-year-old boy body, have HUMONGOUS boobs[3], and like to give head…so where’s MY Hank, goddamnit?!  Instead of having an eighty-something, millionaire, ex-boyfriend who probably has a HEFty investment in Cialis/Levitra, I have Match.com.  I hate Match.com.

I have gone on three Match dates.  I’m still an angry-blogging-bitch, so that should tell you how well those dates worked out.  For now, I will tell you about…let’s see…what shall I call him?  Much Bitchassness Awry (MBA)!  MBA and I were performing a cyber-dating tango.  I spotted him on a non-Match dating site a few months back, started a chat with him, and then…well…I don’t know what happened.  I may have met some other loser who, ostensibly, must have diverted my attention for the short-term.  Anywho, I thought that MBA was a “perfect” dating candidate for me because of his height[4], extensive education (recently completed his MBA at a prestigious university), sensible age[5], ability to articulate himself, attractiveness, and his seemingly extensive knowledge of astrology[6].

He didn’t seem overly enthused by my romantic overtures, so I abandoned ship.  Then, I joined Match…I read his Match profile and fell in love with his proper usage of the word “perdition.”[7] I ignored the fact that he was leery of chronic wielders of sarcasm…ummm…because that would be me!  I ignored the fact that, if he went through the bother of writing that in his profile, he is probably built with a weak constitution.

So, after what I deem way too much of cyber chatting, I leave him a Match message that says something along the lines of “Let’s take this conversation of the internet…here’s my number…” and he responds with “I already asked you out on Face Book.”  I was like, you could have CALLED…I gave you my number (weirdo).  Another thing I ignored, the fact that he chose to “ask me out for beverages”[8] on FB instead of just fucking calling me!  UGH!  So we made plans to meet at a local bar/eatery at 1pm, actually, MBA said “between 1pm-3pm”…LOL!  At 12:30, while I’m flying about 80mph in a 65mph zone, I receive a phone call from MBA.  He says that time got away from him, and he really needed to reschedule because his brakes had gone bad and needed to be replaced.

A moment of silence, while we respect the blatant STUPIDITY residing within Mr. MBA.

I took that to mean we would not be meeting…ever.  I laughed it off, and thought that maybe he chickened out on the date thing.  Around 4:30pm, I receive a text from MBA.  He wanted to know if we could meet at 6pm.  I thought that was rather presumptuous of him…seeing as how he cancelled earlier.  We agreed on 7pm.

My date with MBA was as eventful as shopping for toiletries.  He reminded me of bosses I have had while working corporate jobs: the personality of sandpaper mixed with the sense of humor of a rock.  I understood his aversion to sarcasm.  He would not get it.  When he spoke, I felt myself drifting off, slipping deeply into the monotonous drone of his voice.  Thank God I had salsa dancing to look forward to…a spin on the dance floor always rights the wrongs of bad dates!

That bobble-headed Kendra, whom of which throws her panties on the floor and never picks up after herself, should thank her lucky stars that she doesn’t have to contend with the Match madness.


[1] The question is OBVIOUSLY rhetorical…It’s all about the Playboy, baby!

[2] At least, that’s what my gay boyfriends and my mother keep telling me…LMAO!

[3] And no, my stomach does not overshadow/avalanche my boobs!

[4] 6’2” …I am 5’10” …Height can become problematic for me.

[5] 37

[6] He knew his sun, moon, and rising signs…IMPRESSIVE!

[7] Foreshadowing…Hello?!  Dating IS the road to perdition!  LOL!

[8] Yes, he REALLY wrote “beverages”!  LOL!