So. Here is a report from the battlefield, otherwise known as the world of internet dating, otherwise known as the world of beating your face blindly against a brick wall.

I met this dude, we shall call him Corky.

Corky seemed really cool and nice, and his photos were, for lack of a better word, hot. Great face, slamming body perfectly showcased on racing bike, very very nice.

I noticed that he spelled a lot of things incorrectly as we e-mailed and IMed, but I’m trying to be less of an anal-retentive English major, so I let it slide. People spell things wrong! People mix up “to” and “too” all the time! People have a hard time with “they’re”, “their”, and “there”! So what if it makes me gnaw my nails down to the quick!

No big. I was as cool as a cucumber. I was Letting It Go.

Finally we reached a point in which Corky was going to call me on the phone. I was slightly nervous, as I always am before a phone call, but I was sort of excited as well.

“I have to warn you,” he said. “I have a Southern accent.”

No problem, I thought. I can deal with that. Southerners are people, too.

Sometimes.

Then he called.

Now what I’m about to say is going to sound horribly, terribly politically incorrect, but please know that I am only telling you the God’s honest truth and am not making fun of said segment of the population in ANY way, shape, or form.

He sounded retarded.

Or slow, or special. Whatever you want to call it, whatever is the newfangled, politically correct way of saying it, he sounded it. And I’m not saying it in the colloquial, douchebaggy, way, like, “That’s so retarded.” I mean, he sounded like he had Down’s Fucking Syndrome.

I was rightfully kerfuffled, I think.

I had a very difficult time understanding him and asked him several times to repeat himself. He did, and I noticed that he made several jokes that seemed… well… slow.

I think I was being macked upon by a special person.

And there is no fucking way in HELL that he wrote that profile. No way on God’s green earth.

I didn’t know what to do. Sure, Corky was nice, he was very nice, but there was no way in hell I could go out with him. Still, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

Finally I had to do it. I texted him the next day that I met someone (which I actually did, and I will get to that) that I had a lot more in common with, and that I was very, very sorry, but I didn’t think it was going to work out.

He immediately went batshit insane.

“WHATEVER YOU LIVE WITH UR MOMMY AND DADDY AND UR A DRUNK* AND U DON DRIVE IM 2 GOOD 4 U ANYWAYS”

*(He doesn’t drink at all, ever, therefore I am a drunk because on my profile it says that I drink “socially”.)

I replied, stupidly, “Look, I’m really very sorry, but there’s no need to be rude!”

“WHATEVER YOUR LOSE (sic)”

My lose!

He sent me a couple more inflammatory texts, and then I blocked his number. Unreal.

I know people have a hard time with rejection, but damn. Corky done totally attacked my whole game!

So there was that, and what did I learn? I learned not to automatically trust a pretty face.

While all of this was going on I had been talking to this guy in a very benign manner, more as friends, who is very cool, is a plumber, and has just finished writing a horror novel.

I wasn’t sure whether it was going to go anywhere, and I wasn’t particularly attracted to him, but he is extremely witty and smart and nerdy in a way that’s very compatible with my own nerdiness, so, win.

Finally, we wound up talking for some disgusting amount of time like eight hours online yesterday (on and off, of course), and he asked me out.

What the hell, I thought. I was starting to seriously like him. So we’re going out tonight to see some eighties band at a club.

There is one problem: He’s missing a front tooth.

You read that right.

Apparently he was in a car accident a few weeks ago and had a front tooth knocked out, and hasn’t gotten it fixed yet.

I am relatively OK with this – I told him I’m going to call him Jim Bob from the trailer park and he told me to fuck off, so again, win; but he had better not smile that much.

Other dating site e-mails this week include Pretentious Theater Man Who Goes By Edward, Not Ed Or Eddie; Volunteer Firefighter With Funniest Profile Ever But Too Many Kids, Or, Old Man In A Shoe; Dude Who Wants A Blowjob, Or, You Sure Got A Purty Mouth; and Guy Who Just Wants Advice, Or, Hey, Ann Landers.

They’re pouring out of the woodwork this week, really. I don’t know what it is.

In other news, I am now a Sagittarius.

What crap.

Happy Saturday.

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