Although my instant messenger beeped five times in quick succession I steadfastly ignored it. My partner had long ago gone to bed and the friend whose website I was working on was even at that moment sucking her husband’s cock. Whoever it was, I figured, could cool his jets for five minutes until I closed a few browser windows.
When finally I clicked over to read the messages I found that I didn’t know the person. He’d plucked my name from the message boards of my favorite pervy dating site; ostensibly he wanted some information about an upcoming event our group was organizing. He asked question after question until he’d exhausted every possible permutation of How can I meet more ladies? “You seem like a pretty cool chick,” he then said. “We should get to know each other.”
In an inexplicable fit of anti-misanthropy I failed to terminate the conversation. “We’ll do something I’ve done with several other women,” he said, which must be the least appropriate statement ever made in such a situation. “We’ll play twenty questions so we can learn more about each other. It’ll be fun!” Having my brain extracted via my belly button sounded more enticing, but as I’ve been trying to be nicer lately I agreed to give it a shot.
Questions one through eleven established our relationship statues (divorced), number and types of children (varied), physical proximity (tolerable close) and employment (he worked for the city and accepted without further inquiry that I write). My lids were going droopy from all the fun.
“Have you ever been to jail?” was his twelfth question, and suddenly my sleepiness passed. “Why yes,” I answered coolly. “Yes I have been to jail.”
I waited just long enough for that to sink in before assuring him that I’d only visited the county jail on a scouting field trip when I was ten. I did, however, lob the question right back at him. “Yes,” he answered, “and it wasn’t for a field trip. But I’ll tell you that story some other time over a beer.”
Ah, I thought, my mother would be so proud.
Questions thirteen, fourteen and fifteen were of a sexual nature. He seemed stunned, stunned I tell you, that I’d indulged in group sex and that I wasn’t looking for another husband. Charming as his game was I knew that there would be no connection between us. I cast about for a suitable excuse to end the conversation. Phone call? Childish emergency? Sudden power outage?
Before I could make up my mind he provided the answer. “Question sixteen,” he wrote. “I’ve long had the rule that I’d never sleep with a woman who weighed more than me. So, are you under 168 pounds?”
Oh thank god, I thought, and quickly typed out an answer. “Oh sorry,” I told him, “I don’t meet your criteria! But best of luck to you in your search!” And I quickly closed the IM screen.
But he popped back up. “Wait!” he typed. “I might make an exception!”
“Oh I never make exceptions on this topic,” I told him. “I’ve long had the rule that I’d never sleep with people who only tolerate my appearance. It’s not worth it. I’ll only be with people who love me just the way I am.”
Disgusted, I logged off and went to bed. Next morning I found several offline messages from him referring to our unfinished game. Before I had a chance to delete them he messaged me again. “You left so fast last night!” he said. “Want to keep playing now?” I blocked him, only to find a message in my dating site in-box ten minutes later. “Ready for question seventeen?” it asked.
No, I thought. I won’t ever be ready for your question seventeen.
Hah, wow. Sounds like a winner. Too bad even a little intelligence is lost on fools like that.
Regardless of his weight vis a vis mine, I’d almost instinctively respond to him, “I’ve long had the rule that I’d never sleep with a man who weighed less than 180…anything less is too wimpy! So how much do you weigh?”
Oh that’s a good one. Maybe I should have asked about his height or penis size too. :)
You are amazing. It isn’t worth it to share yourself with anyone who doesn’t worship your body as it is. “Flaws” are to be cherished too. Amazing.
Ha. What a tool.
You should start printing out the screenshots and assemble a book.
“The worst guys I never dated”
;)
Good thing you found out what his rules are ahead of time. Asshat.
peace…
What an idiot, also perhaps not sober?
So many people just don’t get the hint. And I don’t get it. I blocked you. Ignored you. Told you to go away. FOR A REASON.
Also, with those criteria, he’s not going to have a very large pool of women to date from. MANY, MANY, MANY women are over 168 pounds. Many beautiful, perfect, completely normal sized women. Fucktard.
LOL. That last sentence made my night.
Your answer to him was amazing! It has taken me years to learn not to be with a person who just tolerates any part of who I am. Thank you for such an amazing comeback.
Stuff like this makes me embarrassed to be a guy sometimes. After reading your post, it’s difficult to list the many levels of stupid, selfish, and ignorant on display from this fellow. You are to be congratulated. You went way beyond the call of duty for being nice.
Good Job! He was an ass.
You say you’re trying to be nicer lately. After seeing where it gets you, I have to wonder, “Why?”
I share Ken’s embarrassment. I am embarrassed for, nay, ASHAMED of my sex after reading that. The guy is going to lose out on a lot if he uses arbitrary criteria like that. 168 pounds is a ridiculously arbitrary number and (as Brit said) ridiculously unrealistic.
Still can’t believe you put up with that for that long. Regardless, thanks for sharing it. I needed a laugh.
– PB
Does one need a reward for being nice? :)
To paraphrase Dalton, that great philosopher and bouncer in the cinematic masterpiece “Road House”: “I am always nice, until it’s time to not be nice.” In other words, I do try to be nice too, but if somebody shows they’re not worthy of it, I don’t feel I should have to suffer fools gladly. Your mileage, of course, may vary; if you’re just nice regardless, you’re a better person than I. :)
– PB
We Brits have an expression for people like him – ‘Tosser!’ :o)
I love the fact that while he was being an asshat, ultimately alone on the internet, a fat girl (me) was sucking the cock of a man who has loved her and found her attractive no matter what her weight.
:) You’re awesome no matter what.
You rock! I love your response to him and what a clueless douche bag…on many levels!
I don’t think I know many men who weigh 168 pounds — or less. Unless they are on crack. or meth. or not much of a man. or all of the above.
Sorry, sorry, I guess I’m just being size-ist.
Thank goodness I wasn’t the only one!
I know some guys that weigh 150… but they are usually 19 or less.
Does enthusiasm make up for experience?
Clearly he’s an idiot. If that was so important, why wasn’t it question #1? Would have saved you several minutes of excrutiating boredom.
Wow, you sure missed out here. You may never have another chance for him to deign to sleep with you. I guess you’ll just have to imagine what might have been as he moves on to pursue someone else he doesn’t deserve.
No wonder the toolbox is anxious to meet more ladies. His relationship half-life is probably an eye blink.
My, you do attract the nicest people… Given his strict limit for that magic number 168, he probably hasn’t entertained the idea that his potential partner might be 6ft tall, built like a brick sh*thouse, and easily weigh 170. Think of the fun he’s missing. Yeah, I ditto the asshat thing.
Please, bring on the Amazons!
What a pig. I love your answers.
so well written! i was hanging on every word, wondering what would happen next. just wanted to drop a quick kudos.
A victim of dysfunctional socialization, trained to accept and endorse my own marginalization and objectification, by first thought of course upon reading this was, ‘Wheee! I’M under 168 pounds! This asshat would sleep with me!’
Oh yeah, I meant to ask this earlier. Do you keep your profile active on said pervy dating site for some masochistic thrill, or just to provide fodder for this blog? As I said before, you meet the nicest people… :-)