The Big Ugly Blog is an honest and uncensored collection of anecdotes recounting the madcap shenanigans of a perpetually 39 year old divorcee, as she wades through the mire of the murky online dating pool - ravenously searching (evidently in vain) for the man of her dreams...Keep On Dreaming, Baby!


Monday, July 28, 2008

Lesson of the Day

Today Class, we are going to analyze the fascinating phenomenon of phony profile info..I was reminded of this syndrome of sorts, just last night when a fella I had met for drinks awhile back, tried to IM me, I did not even acknowledge his attempt to reach me. We will refer to him as Markitt, which is his actual profile name, sorry, but I am not even remotely motivated to protect his identity, call me a bitch but I feel he deserves no mercy. Markitt contacted me through IM on my favorite dating site, probably like 3 months ago. I thought he was funny, he didn't live too far away and by all appearances (photo on profile page) he was physically attractive. So we began talking on the phone and eventually agreed to meet somewhere in the middle of our little towns for a cocktail. As the fateful night drew ever nearer, we would talk on the phone to hammer out the details of the big date and giddily gush over our excitement to finally be making each other's acquaintance. I barely noticed him begin to artfully adjust certain aspects of his posted physical description, I guess it came up because we were discussing what we would be wearing and whatnot, so that we might easily recognize each other at the restaurant. I found this somewhat unnecessary since I had a pretty clear and accurate image of him in my mind after studying his photo multiple times and I told him I was confident that I would know who he was when I got there. But then he'd throw in little things like, "Well, that picture is like 5 years old" and "Oh, I dunno, I may have gained 5 or 10 lbs. since then" Still, he would temper these comments by bragging about how much he worked out and stuff, so I wasn't the least bit worried that he wasn't going to meet my expectations. The big night finally arrived and the parking lot at the restaurant where we were to meet was swelling with more cars than I had ever seen there before, so I was thinking because of the enormous crowd, this might not be the best environment to try and get to know a new prospect. I was rethinking our agenda, considering taking our date elsewhere and as I searched for a parking space, I passed this dwarfy little dumpy guy and I knew, much to my chagrin...that he was my date. I was this close to haulin' ass outta there altogether, but he had seen me and as I was parking I watched with dread as he hurriedly approached my car. I cannot even describe my disappointment, I just felt so duped. I mean what was he thinking, that I wouldn't notice that he was fucking FAT? Did he think his charming personality would make up for the fact that he was doughy and a blob? Hard-fucking-ly! But I was locked into this date and best I could figure, I wasn't getting out of it any time soon. We did decide to go up the road to a restaurant where it wound up to be not so crowded and walking up to the place we passed a woman who lives in my town and whom I really can't stand and I was absolutely mortified that she saw me being escorted by such a troll. She's the kind of woman that you want to impress by having a hotter boyfriend on your arm than she has (incidentally, her date was gorgeous! I hated her even more!) I just wanted it to be over, I couldn't understand why I felt the need to perpetuate this misery for one minute more, I guess I was being polite. Even walking into the restaurant, I felt like all eyes were on me and there was a question mark of bewilderment hanging over top of each and every head, it was painfully obvious how mismatched we were and it's not because I am such a remarkable specimen, hardly, I'm average at best! It's just that he was THAT BAD! I could not handle my embarrassment. Nevertheless, we got our drinks and sat down to talk. It did not take long for my frustration to get the better of me and somewhere in the middle of our conversation, I blurted out how irritating it is to me when people are fraudulent about their profile stats.. I said, "Like you, for example, you listed yourself as having an athletic build, HA! I work my ass off to stay fit and I expect that from anyone who is to become my lover, I don't do all this work to end up with some fatass!" I was ruthless and harsh and for whatever reason, he laughed, he did not take offense in fact he vehemently defended the way he looked, again reiterating how often he works out and even going so far as to roll up his sleeves so I might take a peek at his "sculpted guns". It was laughable, there was absolutely NO muscle definition to his flabby, weak arms, I couldn't believe how deluded he was. I finally could not take it anymore, it was frustrating and creepy, he seemed to almost revel in my anger, I suppose he found me saucy and perhaps thought my comments were tongue-in-cheek, NOT SO! I jumped up and told him I wasn't feeling even a hint of a connection and that I had to go now. He tagged along behind me scampering up to my car as I quickly closed myself into the safe haven of my rattletrap Suburban, ahhh. Would you believe that he tried to kiss me through the open window, I was like,"Are you for real? There is NO WAY I would kiss you, ever!" I spun my big boat around right in the middle of that tiny street and hightailed it outta there, what a fucking waste of time. But the jerk was a glutton for punishment because he was already IM-ing me by the time I got home, I did talk to him but only to do everything I could to shut his ass down and assure him that it was the last time without a doubt, that we would be communicating. Amazingly he still tries to contact me every few weeks or so, what an absolute retard!

I endured a similarly disappointing incident with a guy from Richmond, Bobby. His deal was slightly different because he posted no picture on his profile page and the reason he gave for that was because he was married. I know, I shouldn't have even continued our conversation once I found that out about that little tidbit but he swore that he and his wife had an understanding and that he lived in a separate house on their property and that once his kids were grown and gone they would officially split, yadda, yadda, yadda. We started talking because it turned out that we had gone to brother and sister prep schools three years apart and we knew a lot of the same people. We both enjoyed sharing stories old and new about some of the friends we had in common. He loved the fact that I was training to box because he had done martial arts for years and said he still had the physique to prove it, claiming that he diligently worked out all the time, just not in the martial arts. He sounded really good to me so we organized our first date. He willingly agreed to drive up here and meet in a teeny town near my house to pick up lunch and head to an incredibly panoramic setting at a local State Park (none of my friends thought this was a very good idea, they were seriously convinced that he might be some sort of maniac who was gonna dice me up and scatter me around the thousand acre park after he had had his way with me, I poo-pooed the notion!) Kay, so it was like 9 in the morning on one of the first truly beautiful days of Spring and I was elated by the prospect of meeting someone so seemingly perfect for me. I pulled my car into a slot at the quaint gourmet market where we were to meet, and I saw this man meandering around the parking lot. My eyes became fixed on his enormous belly which was draped over the waistband of the his pants, he looked fatigued from having to tote the derned thing around all the time, my heart sank, like all the way to the bottoms of my feet. He noticed me and adjusted his posture, now standing up a little straighter his eyes brightened and a smile crept over his face, goddamnit, it was him. I could not digest the fact that I had to walk into my local grocery with this lardbutt in tow. I KNOW the people who work there, this was to be unabashed humiliation at it's very worst. My friends at the store had prepared a fabulous lunch for me to take on my blind date about which we were ALL very excited! I knew they would understand and share my dissatisfaction with who the intended recipient of all their hard work and my attention, had turned out to be, ugh. There is so much guilt involved in a situation like this, you know, the guy has driven 2 1/2 hours up to where I live and even though I want to be honest from the get-go and immediately give him his walkin' papers, inexplicably I feel obligated to indulge him. He was clearly very excited to meet me which only made me recoil further. Here's the clincher, just when I thought it could get no worse, I looked down at his feet and to my horror realized that his pale, fleshy feet were disgustingly devoid of big toenails! Why he wore flip flops is beyond me. I honestly felt my eyes fill up with water upon making this horrifying discovery. We went to the park and ate lunch and even though he had bragged about how fit and tan (HA!) and outdoorsy he was he seemed to have no interest in hiking through the park at all. Again - flip flops not such a good choice. We decided to take a tour of my place and possibly lay out in the sun a bit, I couldn't think of anything else to do, I felt like I was obligated to entertain him, but I certainly wasn't going to take him anywhere else out in public and risk further social disgrace, are you kidding me? We did end up back at my house and after showing him my studio (where I was temporarily living while my house was under renovation) and the house project we decided to lay in the yard under the big, bright sun. I dry-heaved a little when he unleashed that revoltingly ginormous belly out from under his shirt, I don't even understand what the hell can be inside of a belly so gargantuan and taught that it looks like it could rupture from the pressure of its contents. I just laid on my towel, closed my eyes and slipped into a silent place far from where, sadly, I actually was. And then it struck me, I simply could not lose this glorious Spring day to baby-sitting this bogus bastard! I rolled over, looked directly through his coke bottle glasses and into his nervous, shifting eyes and asked him how he thought things were going between us. He said he thought I was incredibly cute and that he was encouraged by how well it was going. He asked me how I was feeling and I said' "Frankly, I'm not really feeling a connection, I'm sorry for that, but generally, for me, if it's not there right from the start I consider the prognosis, not good. Chemistry cannot be created, it's either there or it isn't." And with that he quietly collected himself and his things and headed home. I quickly eradicated what little compunction I had suffered because in all honesty, I owed this guy nothing! I was ecstatic that I had reclaimed my day after having almost lost it to placating an undeserving sap and you know what burned me up one side and down the other? I had been nothing but painfully honest with him about myself and my situation and personality and my past and he had blatantly lied to me about himself, he had maliciously snookered me with his ruse. Despicable! I did learn a lesson from this unfortunate episode and that is to NEVER communicate with anyone who does not post a photo.

The other thing of which one must be cognisant is that the photo that one sees may not necessarily represent the person being described in the verbiage of the profile. As you know, I typically do not make the first move, I tend to wait to see who may be interested in me and only then will I open dialog or respond to mail that I receive. But I came across a picture of the most deliciously gorgeous man, one night. He was wearing a military flight type jacket, his full head of dark hair cut so closely he was almost bald, in a good way. And he had these intensely serious, dark eyes which consistently beat me in the staring contest, so penetrating, I always had to look away. His profile name was flyguy72, and I was captivated by his look. I went ahead and made the first move, I couldn't resist, he was just too yummy to ignore. I wrote to him, "I don't know anything about your personality but your face is my favorite." and he answered with, "I was thinking the same thing about you." Ah ha! Could be some potential here, I thought! So I asked him about a couple of things he'd mentioned about himself on his outline and I never heard back from him, darn the luck! Every once in awhile I would come across his flawlessly gorgeous mug, his piercing eyes still burning holes through me, but trying to maintain a little dignity I resisted contacting him again. One night I was searching through the droves of faces of available men in my area and I came across the flyguy72 name. The profile name and face were different but the heading said something to the effect of, "Hey ladies, I am flyguy72 and I just want you all to know what superficial bitches you are for only being interested in me because of the photo that was attached to my profile..." He ranted on with his diatribe, obviously furious at all of us gals who had naturally been unable to resist his otherworldly puss. What had he expected to happen? Didn't he put that perfect face on his page specifically to lure all of us to him anyway? I mean truly, who should be pissed here, him or us? He was a fake, 100%! I considered sending him an e-mail to say exactly just that but decided that he wasn't worth the effort. He was just some insecure loser hiding behind a fabricated image pretending to be conducting an experiment about the egregious behavior of women on the man-hunt, when in actuality he was just a below-average-looking guy, who simply did not possess the looks nor the personality to bag a babe without prowling (same as us girls) behind a sorry for you, buddy!

Here endeth the lesson...


  1. You say your looks are average at best. You grossly underestimate yourself.

  2. P.S. Now that I think about it, I should not have used the term "grossly" in a comment about your looks. Please don't don't think there's a Freudian connection.