Never at 3 am, Schmooie!

Due to the slightly graphic nature of this post, viewer discretion is advised. You’ve been warned!

If you couldn’t tell by now from reading previous posts, I hate online dating. You get eager to make your profile nice only to grow a tad obsessed checking on it every day. Then, ultimately, you barely hear from anyone. Most men are too chicken to make the initial contact. They’ll click a button that says they “like” you, or a button to “flirt” with you, or a button that makes it so you get e-mailed a series of guys and have to guess which one is your “secret admirer.” Others will say in their own profiles, “if you like what you’re reading go ahead and email me.” Some will e-mail you first, most will not. Bottom line is most men are there to look and wait. So, based on the fact that most of these men would rather sit on their hands than make contact, I’m fairly certain that any man who initiates contact on that famous Jewish dating sight via instant messaging is clinically insane. Yep, just about any man who’s contacted me via instant messaging has been much older or younger or creepier than me. I rarely accept an invite to chat with any of them. The ones I have chatted with have had their own generous supply of problems. I’ve had a bloated horny religious nut, a confused due to language barrier foreigner, and a 3 am horndog. Replying to an IM at 3 am? What was I thinking? Yeah, you probably know where this story is going….

Now understand, I really didn’t want to accept his invite to chat at first. The picture of him sitting next to a baby did not sway me into thinking he was a family man. The overtired rings around his eyes should’ve told me he was a pro at late night perversity. But according to his profile, he was a lawyer and a writer, so what was he doing up at 3 am on a weeknight? Ignoring a nice quality red flag, I decided to go ahead and find out.

Sure, things started off innocently enough, not that much different than a normal instant message. The standard: what’s up/how’s the weather/ what do you do/how was your day. Then, things took a turn for the Hmm, before making a sharp left turn into the Oye, and finally zooming at full speed into the Canyon of Creepy. Lucky for you, I copied and saved our illuminating conversation. What follows is a paraphrased version. In parentheses is my commentary on the conversation, not words I actually said during the event, but things I’m thinking now.

Loser: hey there, what’s up

Me: hi, how are you? How’s the weather there in Connecticut?

Loser: umm…hot and sweaty (Should’ve been my first context clue toward trouble. Things were innocent for about five minutes as we chatted back and forth about living in our respective states. He’s in CT. I’m currently visiting family on the East coast. I asked him about writing, that’s when things took a turn for the worse.)

Loser: working in the am?

Me: No, I’m on vacation visiting family. Do you have to work?

Loser: In the am or now?

Me: Both, didn’t you say you’re writing something?

Loser: In the am, I might be doing the same thing as now

Me: Wow, you must be working on something intense

Loser: Very intense

Me: Or are you working on something just for fun?

Loser: Intense and fun I’d say (See, I made the mistake of thinking we were both talking about writing, thus missing my second context clue, when he started taking every word I used and perceived it as a physical act)

Me: So what are you working on?

Loser: I’ll give you two guesses

(Oye, what was he working on? I totally walked into that one! Luckily, at that moment I was completely oblivious to what he was suggesting. I was still running on the assumption that he was a writer/lawyer who was having trouble sleeping.)

Me: Are you writing a novel?

Loser: I am working on a book, but not right now. Right now I am working on something else.

(This is the part where I ignored the giant yellow road sign reading: “WARNING: Canyon of Creepy ahead. Turn back now!”)

Me: Do you write fiction or non-fiction?

Loser: Both

Me: Well honestly…….I am very well hung. So I was thinking in a first ever penis reduction article.

(Finally, I caught on to the stupidity. See, I knew with a stranger IM’ing me at 3 am there was a high chance he was just a dirty bastard. Still, I thought maybe he was testing me. A lot of these losers on that famous Jewish dating site claim to be sarcastic, so I thought maybe he was just going that route. In return, I started to reply with sarcasm. It was only as he continued to drag me down into the Canyon of Creepy that I finally realized he wasn’t being sarcastic. He was indeed a late night dirty bastard in search of a virtual good time. Well, he messed with the wrong gal. It so happens I studied Biology and Anatomy and Physiology for many years. Not to mention, my sister has a few old issues of “Cosmo” lying around the house. I would give him a run for his money.)

Me: hey, you could always get written up in the Journal of the American Medical Association

Loser: Yes, 8 and thick. Want to be normal for once.

Me: Do they do surgeries for that? Like how women get breast reduction surgeries?

Loser: Yes, I’ve looked into it

Me: But then again, a surgery like that might mess up other parts, wouldn’t it. Not that you’re probably able to use your parts properly now. You don’t look all that tall in your pictures. Don’t you have trouble with so much equipment to carry?

Loser: You mean peeing or cum?

(Great, the Loser just taught me a new dirty word I didn’t know before and never wanted to know. He started to talk more about the quality of his “cum,” a little too disgusting to post here and I won’t. In reply to his dirty seamen talk I pulled some Physiology on him.)

Me: Does this problem run in your family? Does your father also have an issue with hypersecretion of spermatozoa in its nutrient plasma with secretions from the prostate, seminal vesicles, and other various minor glands?

(Did I mention all my textbooks are stored on my computer? It was easy for me to pull up a medical textbook to quote from.)

Loser: Until you experience it, it’s kind of a dream. But for me it’s a nightmare.

Me: You should write a Reader’s Digest article about that. Makes girlie problems not seem so bad. Hey, I should be writing a Reader’s Digest article on this! What you’re telling me is pretty much clinically impossible. Why would a bigger dickie make you spew more seamen? Are your testicles also too large for your own body? Your penis doesn’t make seamen you know. By the way, almost all men have a penis just a little bit smaller than the size of a dollar bill. A dollar bill is 6 inches. Most men are 5 inches. Are you supposed to be turning me on?

Loser: I think I may be too much for you

Me: I think you may be too much for an elephant. Nice talking to you. Bye!

I quickly clicked the on the “x” to end our conversation. And that, gentle readers, is why you must never accept a request to chat with a stranger at 3 am. Don’t try this at home. I think I ought to make a public service announcement on the subject. *head desk*