I’ve talked about my Freak Magnet here before.
For those of you who are just joining us, here’s the short and dirty version: I don’t attract normal people. Not even remotely normal people. It’s never the cute, mysterious guy who offers to buy me a drink. Nope. It’s that guy’s wingman, the one wearing spock ears and drooling on his stained tee shirt that comes up, grabs my hand, and slobbers all over it. You think I’m kidding. I don’t blame you. But if you’re brave, read on and learn the horrifying truth:
I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m a member of OKCupid. I joined because goosezilla linked their entry quiz on her blog. It was not long after that I became awash in a sea of freakish emails. Here are some excerpts from the most recent.
“I would admit that I have some libertarian leanings. How does being into personal responsibility make me Republican! Last time I checked polyamorus men into ritual magic were not put on a pedistal by the Republican party, except when they are to be stoned.”
‘scuse me? Polyamorus? Ritual magic??! Where in the hell in my profile did it say I wanted to be in the harem of Gandalf the Grey? I don’t even begin to have the social skills to turn this guy down while being nice about it. “Sorry, I don’t date Warlocks”?
He goes on to say:
“Your profile looks cool, and the kinkier and hornier thing is interesting. I am in Seattle ALL the time for stuff at the Wet Spot and would love to chat with you. Maybe I can buy you lunch next time I am in town.
Yeah, it’d be interesting if I didn’t expressly state in my profile I don’t know where in the hell the kinkier and hornier stuff came from. I don’t want to date someone whose idea of a good time involves fisting with spiky gloves whilst wearing a gimp mask. NO.
The Wet Spot is a BDSM sex club in Seattle (for lack of better terminology, I’ve never been there, and have no plans to do so) where apparently people show up in fetish wear, strip down naked, and have sex with random people, while people are flogging other people in the background, and yet more people are sewing vaginas and assholes shut. (Remember, these are just stories I’ve heard….from someone else who invited me to go there. What is it with every freak in seattle wanting to bang me or beat the crap out of me?)
Once again, I’m at a loss as to how to reply to this guy. Lesley has suggested I send single word email in response: “Icky!” While I can’t deny the utter hilarity, I’m also not one who wants to make other people feel bad for their sexual preferences. The only problem I have with them is when they start trying to do it with ME.
On to the second email!
I am a very sweet and caring guy. I live in Federal Way,Wa I am enrolling in a college in Oregon named Le corde bleu it is a culinary institute. I am trying to get in there so I can become a master chef. I enjoy reading and writing. I like art and poetry and I ride horses. I go to parties and love to dance. And I am very good looking and have nice teeth. 🙂 Would you care to get to know me. My name is Robert. I am 21 years old.
I can’t help but be reminded of Hello, My Future Girlfriend.” Please don’t dump me after I like you! The email itself wasn’t so bad, even with the 6th grader vibe..it was the profile that scared the hell out of me. Highly religious, highly republican, and looking for a housewife. Where in the world would he have gotten the idea we were compatible? In the SLIGHTEST?
But lest you think the freak magnet is limited to the internet, allow me to tell one more story..this one, from work.
The day the computers went down also happened to be the day that the new Eddie Van Halen MXR pedal came in. A customer (late 30’s, early 40’s) walked up to me and asked me for a pedal that would make him sound like Van Halen. Easy sale–that one’s in the bag! It’s slow in the store, and my desire to do much of anything isn’t really there anymore, so we chat a little bit about music gear and the music scene in Seattle. He introduces himself, takes his pedal and leaves.
10 minutes later, there’s a call for me, and my deft use of foreshadowing should have led you to the logical conclusion that it’s that guy on the phone. And it is. He invites me out for drinks. I mumble incoherently into the phone. He reiterates. I suggest that maybe he should spend the evening with his brand new gear. He laughs and asks me out again. I tell him I’ll have to call him back. And then proceed to freak out for about 20 minutes. “oh NO! A guy old enough to be my dad asked me out on a date. A guy who doesn’t take no for an answer! What am I gonna DO?” Ok, I admit, he’s not as bad as the “When you’re a pirate robot, can I have sex with you?” guy, but still bad. Still inappropriate!
The clock’s ticking down. I can’t not call him back, that’d be rude. So what do I do? I call him back with, (and I’m as surprised as you are) the truth. “Well…you see, *******, at GC we have something called ‘uncompromising performance standards.’ Which basically means that we go out of our way to be friendly and extra nice with everyone…not to say we aren’t friendly and nice people, but we do tend to keep our work lives and private lives separate from one another. And the problem with uncompromising performance standards is that some people have a tendency to think you’re hitting on them, when you’re really not. I’d be sad to lose you as a customer, but I really just can’t do this.”
Aaaaaand bullet dodged.
That’s it for this installment of Mellzah’s Freak Magnet. Be sure to tune in next time!
Hey, it could have been worse…you could have called him a Democrat…HAHAHAHAHAHA
Stereotypical Latin men have their things about women, and the popular saying in Italy is transliterated to “Men want a nun in public and a whore in the bedroom”…that’s what those men see. They will “fix you up” in public, and you will be their bedroom whore. It’s like that email I sent you yesterday.
You don’t just attract wierd men…you attract men who want you to be bipolar after they break and fix you in their image, and knowing your tolerance for chauvenism, it’s especially humourous for me and frustrating for you to see that. I swear, that was always the vibe I got about “S”…he just wanted someone who was knowledgeable enough about art to support what he was doing, but mushy enough to be afraid of losing him when he exerted hysterics…it’s a classical manipulation move in relationships. Man, I hate to even use that word.
Anyway, I’m divorced. I’ve seen all the “techniques”…I don’t think it would even help to put on a disclaimer about that since people aren’t reading what is there, and if you’re too strong, you’ll get a bunch of milquetoasts who want to be dominated 24/7, the lazy fuckers.
Yeah, I suppose neither party is very popular in my book lately. Oh, but for a viable alternative!
I think you’re wrong about my tolerance for chauvenism, though. I may tolerate it for a little while, but eventually I will demand respect. Eventually is taking less and less time, these days.
You know, I don’t think its you. I think it’s a retail thing. I work for Barnes and Noble, which you would think would attract a fairly non-skeezy clientle, but you would be wrong. Dead wrong. I can’t tell you how many times I have had a balding, paunchy, middle aged guy staring at my chest (the ruse is to claim they are looking at my id. They are liars) and whilst beadlets of sweat start to form on their brows and they start breathing heavily (oh and they are all mouth breathers, every single one) and starting this sort of ‘I’m so sexy’ kind of swagger, proceed to ask me either out, or if I have a boyfriend or why all the girls in bookstores are so pretty blah blah blah….
Bascially I ended up going to Walmart and buying a 12 dollar fake engagement ring. Problem solved!
Tell me…are these skeezy, middle-aged, balding, paunchy men buying Tom Clancy novels?
of course they are.
“excuse me (::heavy breathing::) do you know where uhhhhhhhh (::staring at chest::) the uhhhhhh (::beadlets form::) book….. ummmm…. Hunt for Red October is…. and ummmmm, are you ahhh, seeing anyone…. Carla?”
o_0
ok the kinkier and hornier thing comes from the questiosn you’ve answered so far, okcupid gets a basic idea of who you are by your responses….the way it shows him your hornier ETC is that it compares your answers to his answers, and if you answered differently than him it makes a note…for example;
how important is sex to you, 1:a little 2: little more 3: alot 4: I’m having sex right now
how many partners have you had, 1: 1-3 2:3-5 3:6-10 4: I lost count.
lets say you answer 3 for question one, and 1 for question two, lets say that he answered 1 for question one, and 2 for question two…lets add it up 4 for you and 3 for him, 4>3 there for you are hornier/kinkier/more into beastiality/most like michael jackson whatever. mind you okcupid’s system is much more complex but that is the basics of it.
hope that helps mel
I get what you’re saying, but at the same time, I can’t say that I’ve answered questions that make me the slut of the week. Unless there’s a lot of vanilla people out there, of course. And they all email me.
Someone replied, and then deleted their message! Luckily, I have email comments turned on:
“Im new to this ,but i have to tell you that your journal is very funny.you have a nice since of humor . but i wanted to suggest something that someone told me once .its more of a day to day reminder really. and that its allot easier and more fun to pick on others for your problems than your self .”
You’re damn right it’s easier! If I had to find fault in myself, it wouldn’t keep my huge ego in check. Not to mention that it’d make my journal a drag to read. I mean, c’mon. “:sigh: Today I realized that there are approximately 2 billion people that are smarter than me out there. Then I looked at a fashion magazine and realized how truly disgusting I look. Sometimes I wish I were dead.” Would you want to read that? Really?
You should know better than anyone (and I do know who this is) that what I write on here, while not untruthful, only pulls from the more interesting parts of my life. It’s like those fishing shows on TV–they never show you the long downtime between catching fish, they never show you the teensy goldfish they caught by accident…same principle here.
I’ve written enough truly bad entries that I don’t care to do so again. Depression fades, bad days at work go away. If I want to write about them, I’ve been trying to do so in a manner that makes me laugh about the situation. It’s good therapy–it makes ME look at situations differently. So I laugh. I laugh about life, I laugh about others, I laugh at myself…it’s the best self-defense mechanism I have.