Oh, goodness, you guys. I feel like I am a public service at this point. You see, I lived in Los Angeles for 20 years. Every time one of my friends in LA would meet a girl that they were interested in, they would immediately call me up and ask me if I'd ever gone on a date with her. They did not do this because they knew I was young and single and pretty and wildly popular, and of course they held our friendship completely sacred so they'd never do anything that could even potentially hurt my feelings like dating someone that I'd dated. OH NO. They did this because if I'd gone on a date with her, there was a 99% chance that she was absolutely insane, because nature has created me to be the official Barometer of Crazy. Seriously, if I said "Oh yeah! I've been on a date with that girl," there were absolutely no follow up questions. The friend would just hang up and immediately call the police department to get a restraining order against the poor, unsuspecting girl (fun fact: mentioning that I've gone on a date with someone is enough grounds to file a restraining order against that person in at least 10 counties). So really, my going on dates with crazy people? Sucks, but I'm doing it FOR YOU, people of the world! You're welcome.
I think we need to revise our method, though, because today's crazy that I'm bringing for you has NOT even gone on a date with me. Let me explain. The other day, I got a message on a dating website that seemed very heartfelt, sincere, and honest. I like that. It also contained a TON of compliments. I like that, too! I did not like that he insinuated my going out with him made me some kind of cougar when he was only 4 years younger than me, but I digress. Anyway, I responded in kind, and we exchanged phone numbers. He called me shortly after, and we discussed our days and talked about meeting up. He wanted to meet me that same night, which was a terrible idea because a) I had to get up at 5am the next morning, b) I had just made plans to go to dinner with my friend, and sushi is WAY more awesome than awkward conversation with a stranger (my buddy's pretty cool, too, I guess), and c) I would have to drive through this creepy tunnel that switches directions and I hate that tunnel so much that I never go visit my awesome friend Quin that lives on the other side of that tunnel. The ensuing conversation went a little something like this:
Him: I mean, I'll be over in your neighborhood tomorrow for work, but...
Me: Wait, hold up. You will? Perfect! Tomorrow would be perfect.
Him: But I'd like to see you tonight.
Me: 5am comes far too early for that.
Him: Okay. I can pick you up and we can go to my town!
Me: Wait. Why can't we just hang out around here since you'll already be here?
Him: I got my car stolen once. It was no where near your house, and it happened years ago, but I still don't want to park in your town.
Me: Okayyyyy. I guess I'll drive over to your town.
Him: Cool! I'll make a plan of attack for making my apartment look presentable.
Me: Uh. What? I'm not coming over. I have a rule that includes absolutely NOT going to someone's house on the first date.
Him: Well, I'm a psychologist, and my patients are servers and bartenders and baristas at literally every restaurant, bar, and coffee shop in my town, so you should just come over.
Him: I don't follow rules.
Me: Well, then I guess we shouldn't meet.
Him: Fine. This wouldn't have worked out anyway. Good riddance!
Two minutes later, he texts me.
Him: I want a fresh chance with you.
Me: I don't think that's a good idea.
Him: I'm giving you another chance.
Me: Another chance to have my boundaries disregarded by a complete stranger and then disrespected when I say that's not okay?
Him: I will play by the rules, I just got offended. I felt tracked into the "asshole" category. I'm a sensitive guy.
Obviously, I stopped responding to him because he wasn't listening. He stopped texting soon after. Oh, but the following day, I was checking in on the dating site he'd emailed me through, and he messaged me through their instant messenger function.
Him: I really want another shot with you.You're the most beautiful/smartest girl I've met in a long time.
Me: Listen. I really don't think that's a wise idea. No, thank you.
Him: I know your approach was crude, but I'm willing to give you another chance. I'm your best option.
Me: No. No, you are not.
Him: You'll never meet anything but douchebags on here!
I stopped responding. Yesterday, he texted me a simple, "Hey, what's up!" as if nothing had happened. Radio silence today, which I hope continues, because obviously this guy needs some professional help. Oh, for the record? I looked up the mental health department of the medical center he said he was a psychologist for. Besides the fact that there's no possible way he could have met the education and internship requirements at his age, the center's website lists all doctors, social workers, therapists and interning docs in their employ. His name's not listed. I'm exceedingly grateful that he brought the crazy before I agreed to meet him for a beverage, because who knows what kind of crazy he would have brought in person!