Five Internet Dates from Hell

Really, this is all anyone is looking for in an Internet date. Is that too much to ask?
Really, this is all anyone is looking for in an Internet date. Is that too much to ask?

There was a dark period in my life a few years ago when my days consisted of work, classes, writing and not much else, and my nights were packed full of the saddest event known to modern humans: the Internet date. If you've never been on a dating website, if you have a spouse or a social life or self-respect, then let me set the scene for you. Internet dating websites are digital markets full of sad sacks trying to sell you on their "laid-back personalties" and "love of the outdoors." Seriously, according to these sites, everyone is constantly napping in a hammock somewhere.

You see people's pictures (behind several filters), read a few paragraphs about them (this is where "laid back" comes in) and see what they're looking for (it's never you). And underneath every profile lingers the sad truth that, hey, we're on a dating website; our lives are shit. But at the very least, those endless months of shitty first dates have given me some stories.

In order from "I really need to get my life together" to "I think I may try lesbianism," here are my five worst Internet dates.

Unless you're the reincarnation of this guy, heavy sweating is not a good first-date choice.
Unless you're the reincarnation of this guy, heavy sweating is not a good first-date choice.

5. Extreme Heat Guy It was summertime. Probably July. I can't remember exactly, but I do remember that walking outside felt like stepping into a super-charged sauna. One minute into my drive to the Denton Square for an Internet date and beads of sweat were making their way down my torso before being absorbed by my Hanes undies (which were now soaked from the top down). My main focus was to not look like a drowning rat in front of this guy, so I spent a couple minutes in the car finger-brushing my hair and blotting a napkin on my face before heading toward the coffee shop. I almost had my hand on the door to head inside when I looked down and saw my date kicked back at an outside table.

I walked up, introduced myself and, when he made no move to get up, sat down. The table and chairs were metal, and I knew I was being branded like cattle when my thighs made contact with the seat. We chatted for a couple of minutes, I went inside to get a drink and, feeling the blast of cold air inside, decided to lure him toward air conditioning. "So, do you wanna get a table inside?" I asked when I came back. "Nah, I'm fine out here," he said. "It's a nice day." A nice day? My glasses kept sliding down my face, and I could see my freckles turning darker as the seconds ticked by. We spent the entire 30-minute coffee date in the blazing sun making inane small talk while I chugged an iced mocha just short of a brain freeze. We never spoke again. I probably have sun-induced cancer.



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