My love for you is like diarrhea…

…I just can’t hold it in.

Wow. Have you ever heard anything so romantic in your life? I know I haven’t. *Sigh*

Anyway, you may be wondering, “Hey, what’s with the obnoxiously cheesy (and borderline revolting) pick-up line, Jen?” Well. I initially logged on to tell you all about my date tonight, but…before I get to that, I though I’d first fill you in on one of my other recent adventures, the Stir Event.

Apparently has decided that it isn’t enough to simply feed all of our information into their ginormous database, and “scientifically” spit out a list of people who are ideal for you, allowing you to then sift through and send emails (for a small fee) to the ones who strike your fancy. Now, they’ve branched out into the real world, with their so-called “Stir Events”. These events can vary from wine tasting parties to cooking classes to unscripted and unformatted happy hours at local area bars. Match sends out invitations to a select group of people that they perceive to be compatible, and whomever signs up can go. The event that I signed up for was a free happy hour event at an oyster bar in Baltimore.

First of all, I believe calling it a “Stir” event may be a misnomer. To me, the act of stirring implies, well, stirring. Movement. Some sort of action. This event involved packing a large number of supposedly single people into a small number of square feet in the upstairs loft of the bar. While the idea of sardines in a can works with the whole fishy “oyster bar” theme, it doesn’t really make for comfortable mingling. Or moving. Or breathing.

Second, the woman to man ratio was probably a good 6 or 7 to 1. Good for you guys, but not so good for us girls. Maybe I should revisit the idea of moving to Alaska after all. Much better dating odds there for the fairer sex, or so I’ve heard. Too bad I hate cold weather.

My third issue with this event had to do with the selection of people that  chose to bring together, but also elected not to disclose until you arrived at said event. The beauty of online dating (in the beginning at least, while it is still online) is that if someone “approaches” you through an email that you just find completely unappealing, you don’t have to worry about keeping an impassive look on your face while you politely turn them down. You can just sent a sweet little, “thanks, but no thanks” email and be on your way. No one ever has to see the complete look of disgust on your face as you think to yourself, “Really? A 4’9″ octogenarian who lives in a nursing home and refers to his pet rocks as his children? Is this the best I can do?” With this event, everyone is there for the same reason, and they’re all checking each other out. The smell of desperation was in the air. I found myself afraid to look around, because you never knew when you might accidentally make eye contact with the wrong person, like the David Leisure wannabe with the slicked-back hair and tweed jacket. (Played Charley Dietz on Empty Nest in the late 80’s and Joe Isuzu in the Isuzu commercials in the early 90’s. If you aren’t old enough to remember either of these, first of all, BITE ME, and second, google him to see exactly what I mean. This guy could be his first cousin.)

I made the mistake of locking eyes once with this gentleman, and the blatant head-to-toe ogling I received still makes me want to go and take a shower, over a week later.

The idea behind the events is a good one, I think, but needs a little retooling. A more comfortably-sized venue for the number of people attending for starters. A sneak peek at the guest list would be nice, as well, because if no one that I’m interested in meeting is going to be there, why should I waste my time?

OH, and I almost forgot – the cheesy pick-up line. I took my friend Nancy with me as my wing-man (wing-woman?), and like any good wing-person, she came prepared to help out her socially retarded friend (namely me) by bringing a WRITTEN LIST of pick-up lines. While the list didn’t actually help me in my quest, it did give us some good laughs.

Anybody still with me? No? Is that the chirping of crickets that I hear? Oh, well, that’s too bad, I was finally getting around to talking about tonight’s date. I’m afraid I can’t give away too many details, though…first, because the judge has issued a gag order, and second, because this guy is smart enough to have figured out the clue to my blog address that I snuck into my profile. (Unlike one idiot who emailed me and said, “I must be stupid, I can’t figure out what that means.” Yes, dear, I agree. Thanks for saying it first.) So, all you’re going to get, my friends, are some bullet points highlighting this evening’s dinner, in no particular order.

  • no pants
  • missing teeth – MANY missing teeth
  • chairs on wheels
  • banging dishwashers
  • chicken parmesan
  • a what? a hoagie?
  • the coveted headset
  • duct tape and ball gags
  • sweetie, honey, baby
  • a fork in a glass
  • and, lest I forget…minivan

Is anyone else as turned on as I am right now? (Mom, if you just said yes, please, please, please keep that to yourself. I’ve managed to go 42 years without needing therapy. I’d like to keep it that way.)

A …thank you. I had a great time. 😀

(and we both know what that A stands for, don’t we Sweetie?)

5 thoughts on “My love for you is like diarrhea…”

  1. I was asked to make it clear that the missing teeth in question were not in reference to my date. As far as I could tell, he is in possession of a full set of choppers. The missing pants, however, are another story entirely.

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