I am not having what you would call a great day. I greeted the morning by pressing snooze half a dozen times on my alarm, could barely muster the enthusiasm to dress for work, and have spent the majority of the day feeling mopey and unengaged. I wasn't sure if it was going to get any worse and then it did.
Nerve.com sent me an email informing me of communication from a potential new suitor. Despite the fact that I have basically written off all online dating as a haven for freaks, misanthropes, the deformed and the maladjusted (this is just my experience, I know that some of you feel differently), my morbid curiosity got the better of me and I moseyed on over to read my mail.
Oh, how I wish I hadn't.
Did my inbox contain a well thought-out message from an attractive, interesting man politely introducing himself in a manner that would compel an attractive, interesting woman such as myself to strike up an online flirtation?
Did the message ooze chivalry, charm and a certain je ne sais quoi?
No. No on both counts.
If the message were a greeting to a person in real time, it would be a Neanderthalic grunt followed by a tug of my metaphorical pony tail and a kick to my teeth.
It said something to the effect of me man, you woman, in town for business, lets get it on.
That in itself wasn't so terrible. That in itself would have warranted a roll of the eyes and a shrug of the shoulders.
It was what accompanied said message: the photos he had included of himself, naked, proudly displaying his manhood in all its tumescent glory.
Call me a prude, but that form of wooing doesn't fly with me. Maybe it does with some women. If it does, I care not to know. Despite some very ill-advised one night stands in my twenties, I am generally the sort of woman who believes that nudity is the sort of thing you should work up to in a relationship. I don't have a firm rule on this like some women--my rule of thumb is to keep an open mind but that it's generally not something I feel comfortable with right off the bat. Indeed, I have grown extremely guarded in recent years when it comes to sharing myself with other people.
And how am I rewarded for this new-found maturity? I get flashed by some idiot f*cktard oblivious to the rules of common decency. In recent weeks I have found myself caring less and less about dating. While I haven't given up looking per say, the whole concept has slid extremely far down the priority list now occupying the space slightly below dusting my bookcases and organizing my sock drawer.
And this new development? It's not really helping.
Now where did I put my whimple?