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This past Saturday night, I was in the process of hauling trash to the curb and sopping up nasty-ass bathroom messes, as one does on any typical Saturday night.
I decided to take a short break and check my email at my favorite dating site. Oooooooh one little blinkey email in the little blinkey box!
The email bore a name I’d never seen before. My hopes fell. At this point I pretty much only respond to people from this site whom I know from our little social gatherings. If it’s someone I don’t know, I expect to read this: “Hey baby your hot. Wanna get together sometime and see where things go?”
And the answer is always NO. No I do not want to get together and see where things go. I glance at these messages then delete them before they burn my eyes. I’ve had the real thing; there’s no going back now.
But the message I got on Saturday night was altogether different. It was a whole ‘nother level of dating site stupidity.
The email was one line. It said (roughly) this: “hey i’m james at the holiday inn near the airport room 2119 come over and lets have some fun.”
My town has but one airport. And one Holiday Inn near the airport. And (presumably) only one James holed up that night in room 2119.
And he’d just invited me—a complete stranger—to his hotel room.
I become slack-jawed with incoherence at the thought of that kind of stupidity. I’m certain that friend James took a scatter-shot approach. Surely he sent out many copies of this same email, hoping that just one woman would take the bait.
Against my better judgment, I wrote James back. I warned him gently of the astounding risk of sending that specific kind of contact information to strangers. I asked him to consider that perhaps some of us with profiles on that site are not inherently nice people. And some of us with mostly-het-girl-profiles on that site are not accurately portraying ourselves. I suggested kindly that he think with the head on his shoulders so as not to get himself killed in his quest for a bit of the old trim.
And he wrote me back. Almost instantly. He said, “So do you want to come over? If you’re going to kill me, at least fuck me first.”
Again with the mouth-agape incoherence. I wrote nothing more to him. I mean really, what more can you say to logic like his?

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