The Perils of Internet Dating, Part Two

Okay, welcome back to the far too engrossing and sad exploits of dating and the Internet. In part one (scroll down the front page or just look in September's archive.) our intrepid Cyber-Casanova, Tony Ritz, was loooking for love (not really) in all the wrong places: chicago.craigslist-namely. Fortunately, for you, the reader of suddenlystruttin, hilarity and exploitation of people's emotions ensued! Today, part two:

Alright, for the second, and mercifully, final chapter of this experiment I moved away from the whorish digital wasteland that is craigslist, and into the slightly-less whorish and marginally more "respectable" venue of myspace. The one advantage craigslist did offer was the "W4M" section of their classified ads; wherein, with myspace I had to be far more pro-active. Luckily, I had planned ahead for such a situation by investing in a "Creative Factory." [Ed. Note: He means a six-pack of Stroh's.] After imbibing in the "Creative Factory," I perused myspace with the criteria of: being between 23 and 28 years old, college-educated and over 5'7". Upon gathering these results I then sent out five myspace emails to a diverse [Ed. Note: He means, one of them was Jewish.] selection of potential dates.

Startlingly, I actually received two positive replies, I blame my rapier wit and rugged good looks, not the Stroh's. [Ed. Note: Blame the Stroh's, you're stupid and ugly.] Contestant #1 was a great looking, toe-headed lass, who's profile, although irritating, (music set for waaay loud and autoplay,) was not without it's charms. Her reply email seemed fine and the only thing that prevented me from going on a date with her, was....drumroll, please!.... She didn't drink at all. Not, "I don't like to drink that much," but no drinking. Teetotalling drives me away from people with a quickness, and let's face it, if somebody doesn't drink than it's almost guaranteed that they don't like having fun either, right? Seriously, as good looking as this girl was, Amy, the gorilla from the movie, "Congo," had a better shot with me, because, "Amy, like green drop drink."*[Ed. Note: A king's ransom to the person to get me a youtube of Amy saying that line from the movie.]


"No likey drinky drink. No hangy outy with Tony Ritz. Seriously, what were we going do on a date, go to a bar and have you watch me drink?"

Contestant #2 was far more my speed, insofar as she liked to drink, big plus! After a few emails, we exchanged phone numbers and made a plan to meet up for drinks at a decent bar in her neighborhood. Upon meeting up we had a few drinks and a decent enough conversation that we felt we should hit up another bar. After a few more drinks I walked the lady to her place, exchanged a few good night pleasantries and headed to my abode. Five days later and a few mutually friendly text messages later, the crazy began:

Phone ringing, I glance at it and it's Contestant #2, pick up.

Tony Ritz: "Hello."

C#2: "Hey, it's me."

TR: "Hey, how's it going? What are you up to?"

C#2: "I'm at some crappy bbq. I think I'm just going to go home."

TR:"Oh that's cool, do you want to grab a drink later in the week?"

C#2(Amping up the Crazy...NOW!):"Look, I don't think I can do this.I'm sorry, I just can't give this 100% right now. You seem like a really nice guy and you're hot and funny, but, I can't do this."

TR(Befuddled):"It's okay, we only went on one date."

C#2(Crazy Levels are off the charts):"I'm trying to get over this other guy who totally treated me like shit, and I just don't know if I'll ever be the same. I needed to tell you this after one date instead of after the tenth or eighth date or whatever."

TR(Eyes rolling, pondering a six-letter word for bored): "It's totally okay. We only went on one date, don't be so hard on yourself."

C#2(Still rambling and oblivious): "Listen, I'm not sure what's going to happen, but, you're a really great guy and I'm going to totally drunk text and drunk dial you in the weeks to come, you better be ready for it."

TR(Please, let me hang up, I'm gnawing my arm off here!):"Uhh, what? Sure, whatever, I'll talk to you later?"

C#2(Cautiously Optimistic?):"Okay, talk to you soon."

There you have it. The end of this project for good. If you have any great stories on awful dates feel free to share in the comments!

*Green Drop Drink was Amy's word for a martini, what? I'm the nerd for knowing that? Not likely.

The Internet is full of fat liars who are ugly, OR, The Perils of Dating, Part One

All right everybody, for about the past month I've been going on a series of "Internet dates." Now, before we get into the excrutiating details of how AWKWARD every single one of these was, let us review why I submitted myself to this torture and what rules/caveats/escape clauses I set up for myself.

Why I did it: Because I was bored, so bored, patient and dear reader. Furthermore, a friend of mine had lameneted what a pain in the ass Internet dating in general typically is, and so, in the mold of great participatory journalists of the past, I decided to channel my inner-Plimpton and subject myself to the slings and arrows of mericless Lady Internet.

The Rules/Caveats/Escape Clauses: The rules, only using, ugh, chicago.craigslist and, ugh, myspace I would go on a minimum of two dates (one from each website) and "test the tepid waters." I think that was the only rule, the only caveat was not going out with someone too below my superficially demanding standards of "attractive." The only escape clause was being able to bail out at any given time on any given date. Of course, the subjects to this experiment were not informed of what they were a part of.

First up was craigslist, and WOW! there is nothing nice I can say about the craigslist experiment. After responding to a number of "women seeking men" listings and filtering through a number of photos and emails I came down to two finalists for the vaunted craigslist date.

Contestant #1: A sultry lass from Chicago's near Westside looking to "have a good time," and felt that "we should grab a drink." Tony Ritz, after receving her picture as an attachment felt like "suicide." *CAUTION, DEAR READER THE FOLLOWING IMAGE IS HARMFUL!*


Forensic Breakdown: Well, clearly, "she's" wearing a wig to cover up her massive "five head" which is a result of "her" receding hairline. "Her" protruding brow suggests an element of the lower primate order; while her defined jaw line betrays both a criminal element and perhaps the fact that "she" is a "he!" Bum. Bum. BUUUMM!

Contestant #2: Okay, contestant number two was also found in the dredges of romance that are the craigslist W4M, she's a 23 yeard old* who moved to Chicago from LA for college. Here's her photo**


Wondering what the asteriks next to her age and photo are all about? Well, she lied about being 23, actually 20. And this photo has to be from when she was at least four years younger and forty pounds lighter.

Based off the photos alone I'm sure you can guess who I went on a date with. Yep, Contestant #2. So let's cut to the quick and review what all was wrong with Contestant #2:

For starters, she was two fucking hours late for our rendezvous. Originally we had agreed to meet at 9 pm and she pushed it all the way back to 11 and changed venues. Changed venues from a bar-where they are plenty of witnesses-er, patrons. From bar, to???? her front yard. Brilliant! I met her in her front yard, and from there she proceeded to drag me to a late-night Mexican restaraunt. Upon arrival she ordered a whole fucking meal and expected me to watch as she stuffed her already bloated face full of more unecessary sustenance. Appalled at this, I continued with the date merely for the sake of science. As I fought back convulsions of apoplectic rage from her tardiness, necessity for eating in a manner most befitting of a barnyard animal and her sloven appearance-Cowgirl was wearing-unbelievably-mesh gym shorts and a baggy tee shirt-we moseyed back to her apartment where she offered me a forty and I obligingly accepted. Our conversation at the her late night feeding had been awkward but at least mininmal, thanks to her pie hole blessedly being full of food for the most part. The conversation that ensued in her front yard, as I desperately tried to fight back my revulsion with swallow upon swallow of malt liquor, was forced and incrdibly awful. The highlights:

Her: "I like to play video games. I have every gaming system that's been released since the first Nintendo."
Me: Mouth agape, stumblling to conjugate a complete sentence.

Her: "My brother is the one with all the looks, but he's a bigger nerd than I am."
Me: Fighting back tears, of rage? fear? I couldn't tell at this point.

Me: "Well, I'm really tired. I'm going to get going."
Her: "Can I have a hug?"
Me: "I don't think so."

Coming Soon! Part Two! "When the going get weird, the weird go professional!"