Worst Case Wednesday: The Bathing Beauty

How bad is it REALLY?

Yes, people have asked me this. They have scoffed when I have written of the messages I’ve received. They’ve speculated about  how much of what I write is true and how much is exaggeration.

Rest assured, dear reader, that there is no way to overstate the awfulness of some of the encounters one has in the realm of online dating.

Some of it is so awful that it’s funny, and in the interest of this dark, twisted humor, I have decided to start a scheduled feature.
Though I will still post ex-file snippets as they occur (or as I have time accompanied by the ever-elusive motivation), I will also post  a series called “Worst Case Wednesdays. Every Wednesday, I will summarize the most disastrous online dating encounter of the week.

To read/see the Worst Case of the week, you will have to follow the “Click to read more” link.
DO SO AT YOUR OWN RISK. There are some things you can never unsee.

(You can’t say I didn’t warn you.)

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In Which the Show Must Go On

It’s one of those days in which the world, through no fault of its own, happens to exist; and the very fact of its existence is incredibly irritating.

EVERYTHING is irritating, up to and including myself.

Standing Close??? heh–I’m pretty sure that someone is currently attempting to string a guitar with that last nerve.

This, poor readers, is what happens when I don’t get enough sleep: I sporadically fluctuate between manic hyper happiness and hypersensitivity.

(Please don’t ask me how many times this emotional roller coaster has crashed during the past 8 hours. It hasn’t been one of my prouder days. [Emotional stability is TOTALLY overrated anyway.])

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In Which I’m Still Trying to Find Myself, But Others Find Me Humorous(ly)

“You’re just not what I’ m looking for.”

Been there. Done that. Never bought the t-shirt because–let’s face it– I’m way too cheap for souvenirs that aren’t at least figure-flattering, but I COULD have had I wanted to.

I get it. You’re looking for someone else–Someone smarter, prettier, lower maintenance, higher  maintenance, thinner, curvier, funnier, less cheesy,  more graceful, more gracious, more assertive, more compliant, more ambitious–whatever. You discovered that you wanted something different; and I’m just not what you’re looking for.

And yet, regardless of what you seek, I am what you found.

Recently, there has been a slew of searchers who, in their quest to obtain something else, have found me.

And it’s been hilarious.

Below is a sampling of the terms we’ve come through:

Continue reading “In Which I’m Still Trying to Find Myself, But Others Find Me Humorous(ly)”

In Which My Socks Need Marriage Counseling

When I was in 6th grade, my English teacher (Mr. Harris-such a great teacher that I STILL remember his name over a dozen years later [which is rather epic considering I can’t remember the names of one or two people I roomed with in college]) gave an assignment in which each student was given a word that he had made up, and we had to come up with an extended definition.

My word was Zigleporph.

According to my sixth grade mind , a Zigleporph is a tiny creature who lives in the coat closet hangars.
When the hangars fall,  zigleporphs sneak out and feast on shoe laces and then creep into the dryer to eat socks. Just one sock is enough to fill them, which is why my socks have a higher divorce rate than Most Hollywood couples.

So there you go, Claudette, now you know where socks go when they disappear.

zero-to-hero Assignment 12


In Which I Resolve to Make Better Bad Decisions

Every once in a while, inspiration strikes. When it does, it tends to leave a bruise  because my skin is RIDICULOUSLY sensitive; and contemplating this unnecessary violence led me to the sudden realization that I needed to step up my game when it comes to acquisition of culinary excellence.

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In Which A Man’s Stomach and My Cooking Might be Incompatible

Not cooking is one of my favorite things to do. If someone inquires about my favorite food, I will frequently reply, “Food that isn’t made by me.” This is partially due to food tending to be more edible when someone else makes it and partially due to my own laziness when it comes to developing excellency in culinary creations.

(If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, things are CLEARLY unfavorable).

odds never in favor


But every once in a while, I am struck with the urge to do better–the impetus to try try again–the resolution that I WILL eventually make something that a man could put in his mouth without politely fighting the urge to remove it immediately.


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In Which I Address Ideal Readers

Dear Ideal Reader,

Yes, You, with the puzzled expression on your face.

Oh–you didn’t know you were my ideal?

Ok, OK– I’ll confess, if I WERE writing to the idealest of my ideal readers, I would be addressing a tall, dashing, deeply intelligent yet actively compassionate man of stability and means in possession of sound character, soulful eyes, slightly calloused hands, and an amused expression as he reads my blog and finds himself so utterly charmed by my scintillating wit that he feels compelled to send me a (well-written, erudite without being pretentious, humorous) email of introduction because he must know more about the fascinating creature who has penned such insightful reflections on her life. (But if that were a scenario which had even a fraction of a percent of a chance of being a realistic expectation, I probably wouldn’t be writing this blog in the first place, now would I? ^_^) Which brings us back to you.

Continue reading “In Which I Address Ideal Readers”