Princess MoMo

Not only do dating sites offer annoying ghosts of dating present, but also ghosts of dating past. I checked one of my online dating sites this morning (though I find myself virtually never responding to anyone these days) to find that one of the ghosts of dating past had written me a message. Below is the message, followed by the back-story.

Texting him was the furthest thing on my mind after reading that message.  Instead, I wanted to commit cyber suicide, i.e., kill my online profile.  On May 30, 2009, I met this character.  I had moved to NJ from DC one week prior and had to stock up on some fresh produce (i.e., new specimens).  I went to a BBQ with a friend. I scoped out the scene and honed in on Christopher because I thought he was the most attractive specimen there (but, remember, it’s all relative).  I determined that he was there without a female counterpart and then decreased the proximity between us.  Without fail, I was able to lure in my prey.  We talked for several hours and exchanged numbers.

Within minutes of leaving the BBQ, he texted me that he missed me, wishes I’d come over and a bunch of other nonsense.  Crimson red flag.  The next day, he texted again asking if I wanted to come over for family BBQ.   Stupidly, I agreed.  I drove to his house to find that there was no BBQ going on and he lived in his parents’ basement.  According to him, the others who were there for the supposed BBQ had left.  We talked for a while and I assume he fed me.  (My memory isn’t 100% on this encounter because it was 3 years ago.)  Then, he started telling me about some girl he met the night before he met me and how hot and amazing he thought she was.  Turn off.  Here’s a clue, guys, if you’re trying to mack it to a girl, telling her about how hot and amazing you think some other girl is probably isn’t the best of strategies.  I politely listened to his crap and eventually left.

That night, he texted non-stop about how great he though I was and how he couldn’t wait to see me, blah blah blah.  I responded with something to the effect of, “I think we’d be better off as friends.”  He flipped out via text and demanded a phone call because he couldn’t understand how I could break things off that way.   I didn’t understand what the fuck his problem was given we had met about 24 hours prior.   But, again stupidly, I called him.

He pled his case about how he didn’t know what went wrong and he didn’t want to lose me.  I remained calm and told him that he didn’t even know me, he should pursue the other girl and that my decision was final.  An hour and 11 minutes later (I remember that because I was highly annoyed at the waste of my time that I allowed to happen), he was repeating himself.  I said, “We’re just going in circles now after one hour and 11 minutes.”  I finally got off of the phone.

The next day, he texted me some total garbage about wanting to take a picture of me next to a beautiful rose bush.  Now, I was convinced of his insanity.  I responded with something about him missing the point of our one hour and 11 minute conversation.  He proceded to tell me about how great I am and how great we’d be together.  I ignored him.  A few days later, I noticed on facebook that he had defriended me and that he was listed as in a relationship (with the girl he had told me about).  The good news: I am way hotter than her.  The bad news: It’s irrelevant.  Within a week, that relationship was over and he sent another friend request.  Denied.

He kept texting me.  I ignored him.  Ignoring only fuels the crazy.  On June 13, 2009, he sent me the following facebook message:

I wanna fuck you.

really fucking amazingly.
quit the shit and call me.

bye.

What a ladies’ man.  Throughout the days, he continued his contact and I never responded.  Every so often, he’d send me a friend request and I’d either reject it or let it sit in facebook friend request purgatory.  I really had my hands full at the time I met him because I was dealing with another Stage 204982304823032 Clinger that I had met just one week prior to this clown and I had recently escaped yet another Clinger by moving from DC to NJ.  Eventually, all three fucked off (with the exception of continued periodic friend requests from all three).  Or so I thought until Mr. Christopher resurfaced on a dating site.

THE END