Myths About Online Dating

I have a lot of baseless fears about online dating.

We are eating dinner at the bar of a nice restaurant, and after I’ve spun a bit of my story, I’m trying to learn something about her.

“So where in New York are you from?” I ask, slurping spaghetti noodles. “I grew up along the lake for a while.”

“Oh, actually, I’m from Crete originally.”

“That’s not what your profile said. I thought you were from…” But as I look over at her, the snakes are already emerging from under that dopey hat she’s wearing. Over the course of the next few seconds, I turn to stone from the eyes out, frozen in rock. Weirdly, I’m still conscious. I’m a living statue, staring straight ahead at her with probably a really dumb look on my face.

She shrugs and gives me a pitying glance. “Sorry, guy. A girl’s gotta eat.”

Looking down at her food, she starts rummaging in her purse. “What?” I think. “We could have just eaten, I would have picked up the tab, and gone our separate ways. Why am I… what…”

And then out comes a hammer and chisel. She sighs, stands up over me, and places the chisel on my nose. I can’t really feel the cold metal; I just imagine that I do. She raises the hammer, and starts splitting off pieces of my face. It doesn’t hurt. It feels like someone tapping on my skin, and then my nose isn’t there any more.

Then she picks up the pieces and starts gnashing at them. I’m just really confused and hurt, now.

For a while, she crunches away, like someone really enjoying a whole bag of potato chips. I wonder why nobody in the bar is doing anything, but they’re probably running away. Or also stoned.

Loudly, I try to think real hard at her. “That hat looks really bad on you.” I silently curse the friend that recommended mythsingles.com to me. “Dammit, Jeff…”

I really like her, right off the bat. Just drawn to her energy, like a moth to flame. Fascinated by what she does, and her obsessions in life.

Initially, we hit it off pretty well. But she seems repulsed by me more and more as we continue to date. Then she outright calls me disgusting and stops returning my texts.

I don’t understand. She won’t tell me what I did that was gross. Or maybe I’m just generally repellent? Great. This’ll do wonders for my self-confidence. By now I’m wishing I was turned to stone, instead.

Maybe worse than that is someone I get along with great, but all my friends secretly hate her. It ends up driving a wedge between everything, and when we finally break up, I’ve got almost no friends left.

My one remaining friend tells me, “Every time you asked me to hang out, she would call me and leave a voicemail message about how she’d ruin my life.”

“People don’t do that,” I’d scoff. “There’s no way she did that.”

He shrugs, takes a sip of beer. “Hell, man. You can think what you want.”

It’s a shock even to me, a master of ruining first dates, as I fart so loudly in the restaurant that the waiter walking up behind us faints and falls over. He conks his head with a loud ‘snok’ on a nearby table, and when I lean over to check, he’s not breathing.

“I’m calling 911! Do something!” my date screams. This is not how I wanted it to go, I think.

Frantic, I try to apply CPR, but I never learned how to do it properly. I’m forcing my fists into his chest. It doesn’t work like in the movies, but he splutters back to life… Somehow in the process, I broke several of his ribs, and he’s screaming in pain. My date runs out of the place, kind of giggling in shock.

The only other time I see her is at the court hearing for my assault case. Turns out she’s the prosecutor. I try to say hello, and apologize for how awkward this is, but she pretends like she’s never met me before in her life. That’s fair. I just nod to myself. Totally fair.

“Hahaha,” she laughs, with her phone out taking a video of my naked body. “This is rich. I got a few friends who are going to just die from this one.”

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, confused, struggling against the handcuffs. “I mean, this is real weird. Are you blackmailing me?”

“Do you really think you had a shot with me? With THIS?” She gestures at her perfect legs, as she zips her dress back up with the other hand. Then she points the phone lens back at me mockingly.

“I dunno, I guess I thought even a nerd could get lucky once in a while…” I trail off.

She picks up her phone. “You’ll be on the internet as a meme in 15 minutes, my friend.”

“What?” I’m just baffled. I lie there trying to add it all up, halfheartedly pulling at the restraints, and wonder what could really happen if that video gets out. I did say some pretty stupid things earlier.


It turns out, I meet someone the old-fashioned way. Not on a dating site. Through mutual friends, a lucky thing. And we really connect. It gets pretty serious, and I love how we click together. We spend several years building up a warm, positive relationship.

Then over the course of a month or two, she gets very distant and depressed. Before I understand what’s going on, she dumps me and breaks my heart into to so many pieces that now all I am made of any more is irrational fears about human interaction, glued together with a weird sort of resigned loneliness.

I still don’t really understand why, but would it matter if I did?

Damn it.

I gotta get back out there. Mythsingles.com, here I come.



Fragment 1

A phrase keeps running through my mind and I don’t know where it came from.

“More like an echo than a man.”

I don’t know what I deserve.

I’ve got to be the echo or be the man. Whatever I am. I have to keep striving to just be.