To Catch A Player - Vol. 1

Ironically I know I said I was going to take a break from this, but there were just a series of hilarious unfortunate events that have occurred in the past couple of weeks that are absolutely blog worthy and needed to be shared.

                Now before all you “nice guys” start crying and need to change your tampons about how bias this blog post is going to be please note that:  I am not saying that all men are this tooltastic.  Yes, I know there are nice guys out there and no I don’t know why they get overlooked, these are just unfortunate examples of your kind that give you a bad rap.  If you have your own horror stores to share about women that you have encountered via online dating, I encourage you to get a hold of me so that I can share it with the rest of the world.  PLEASE, I’m begging you to share, so that I can stop listening to the whining of men that think I’m bias in the blog.  Show me that us women are just as dirty, scandalous and skeezy!

                One of the greatest things about hanging out with other single women, is that chances are now a days you and at least one of your friends are on the same dating website.  In my case I have 4 female friends that also use POF (3 of which I actually met on POF via hosting events)  so it’s nice to have people to compare horror stories with.  My friends and I have a great system of cross referencing (up until I hid my profile).  When we got a guy that we were considering going out with or talking to, we would send their profile to get their opinion.  It was at that point we could determine if any of us had previously chatted/gone out with that guy.  It was almost as if we were generating our own background checks for online dating and it worked out in our favor for a while, until unfortunately one slipped through the cracks.

 

The Blasian Asian

                I have nothing against men of Asian descent by any means necessary, I just have never really found them to be my cup of tea.  I have always leaned towards the tall, dark and handsome Greek/Italian looking boys.  Occasionally a Serbian or Pollock gets thrown in to that equation, however I have really only a couple of times ventured into the blonde realms. 

                I remembered on both accounts getting messaged by this guy who was half Asian, and you could tell simply because he had some of the facial characteristics as well as “woo” in his profile name.  I simply just did what most of the bitchy women on any dating website do when they are not interested in someone, and just ignore them completely.

                I remembered this one in particular because he fell in to my own created category of “Having a conversation with yourself” (he had messaged me multiple times to which I had never responded, so in theory he was pretty much having a conversation with himself. 

                So I get a text from one of my friends who tells me that she has a date with this guy from POF and she will keep me in the loop as to how it goes.  At this point, I didn’t even think to ask who he was and look up his name because the date was already happening with her, and the thought didn’t really cross my mind, because she was really good at “screening” people.  So when she came back and told me that the date was a disaster, of course I wanted every little detail as to what happened.  She described him as being great on paper: an American/Asian male who looked just like his profile pics, he was attractive (to her) in person, had a good job, no children, lived on his own and seemed like a stand-up guy.  Apparently when he opened his mouth is when things started going downhill.  They were at Dave and Busters walking around the game room and approached a Zombie Shooter Game.  The game had a warning advising pregnant women not play, to which he tried to be funny and made a comment about how she shouldn’t play the game then…  The first time it happened, she thought it was a little weird, but laughed it off (can I mention that I give my friend a lot of credit for not crushing his adams apple with her bare hands?)  but apparently the “jokes” kept coming…and after about the 5^th or 6^th pregnancy joke, my friend said something to him about it, to which he backed off, but really,  I don’t think anyone could of dug themselves out of that hole.

                After she gave me this recap I asked her if she was going out with him again, to which she responded “Probably not”.  I was shocked that there was even a “probably” in front of the not part, however again, she has exceptional patience and a higher threshold for BS than I do.  Life went on as usual. 

                Her and I got together over that next weekend and went to watch a friend of ours band perform at a local dive bar in the area.  Since we have become pretty close in the last couple of months, our filter levels about conversational topics have become non-existent, and a reoccurring conversation starter with her lately has been, “So I have a POF date this week.”  Thinking nothing of it, I ask the normal basics, Who, what, what, where and when and to my surprise she tells me that she is going out with the Asian guy again.  “The one that made the pregnancy jokes?  Several times?  That one?” I said to her with a confused look on my face, to which she replied, “Yes, that one.  I talked to him after and he said that he was very nervous and apologized and wanted to go out again.” 

                It was mid week and she texts me to tell me that the date went better this time around and she thought maybe she was really starting to like him.  Happy for her, I asked her to send me his screen name, I wanted to check this guy out for myself.   To my surprise, I knew who he was, considering he was Mr. “Let’s have a conversation with myself.”  I chuckled and told her that he had messaged me before, but what I didn’t realize that he had ironically actually sent me a message while her and I had been together that past weekend.  Being the message was sent between the disaster date and their second date, she really wasn’t upset or anything, I mean online dating has become so “On to the next one” that there really is no territorial right until it is discussed. 

                Then Friday Night happened.  Another friend and I were having a girls night slumber party, when I got a random text from the girl that had gone out with the Asian.  Apparently the Blazin Asian went stage 5 clinger on her in the course of 2 days.  Not only did he want to skip over the dating part and become an official couple (after 2 dates), he also wanted the two of them to move in together because he wanted to buy a house and didn’t want to do it until he was in a relationship   She had mentioned they were going out again over the weekend, to which I told her she will probably get a proposal, and started considering what color the bridesmaid dresses would be.  My advice to her was to run away as fast as she possibly could and not go out with him again.   I also said he needs to know his roll and slow the fuck down.  What made this even more interesting was when I showed my friend who’s house I was staying at his picture, she also confirmed that he had messaged her before as well.  So it was decided at this point that either he was 1. Extremely desperate for any kind of human interaction  2. A total douchebag  POF “player” who was doing a terrible job at it or 3. Had the worst ironic luck in Online Dating history .    The friend that had gone out with him assured me that she had the situation handled and we moved on from the convo.  That next night turned in to a random girls night and she informed me that they hadn’t spoken since the previous night and decided that she was more than likely going to move “on to the next one.”

                At 7:45 on Sunday AM apparently our 4^th friend who we hadn’t seen in a while sent a mass text to everyone but my friend who had dated the Blazin Asian, about an encounter she had with a creepy guy on POF on Saturday night warning us not to talk to him if he messages us because he was asking her to send him “inappropriate” pictures.  Out of the thousands of men on this website living in the Tri-state area…I’m reading her text and the screename she sent is the Blazin Asian’s.  I seriously cannot even make this up if I tried.  Within 2 weeks, one guy had messaged all 4 of us within a 2 week window online, on Friday night he is professed his undying love for the girl he went out with twice and then turned around on Saturday and asked another friend of mine for naked pictures.

                Wrapping my head around this hilarious situation, I do feel bad for my friend who actually went out with this douchewad.  This guy is defiantly dirty.com worthy.  Being that the 4 of us look completely different (Hair, body types, ethic backgrounds), it is clear that this guy is not by any means “nondiscriminatory” he is truly  is terrible example for men anywhere.  We are smart enough to know that not all men are this scurvy, however ladies of Pittsburgh, please be on the lookout on POF for an Asian man with “Woo” in his name, he will literally love you long time, which in his mind is only for 48 hours.

 

Your Hair Smells Pretty

                In addition to an eventful girls night while discovering that the Blazin Asian was the World’s Worst online dater, one of my friends encountered the world’s “Worst way to pick up a sober girl”

                It was around midnight and me the girls decided to leave the bar that we had met at, and headed to another trendy place not too far away.  For whatever reason, it was not a happening night in the Robinson area, most of the bars were dead, so we found ourselves at a desolate Robinson bar at 12:30 on a Saturday night.  Being that we each had driven separately, we were not drinking, so we pretty much just went to our final destination to people watch and prove a point to ourselves that we were not old and could still stay out till 2 am. 

                When we walked in the door  it wasn’t wall to wall people, but a nice mix of 20 somethings – up to 50 somethings.  We made our way to the corner of the bar where one of the girls I was with was meeting up with some people she knew, so when we spotted them, we had a group of about 6 of us.  As we observed the dance floor, it was a very different extreme.  The dance floor had 2 age groups, 1. “I’m a 21 year old drunk girl I don’t give a fuck” and 2. “I’m a 40 year old drunk man alone at the bar about to channel my inner quagmire.” 

                As we watched this older gentleman prey on these young girls, his approach was really weak.  I believe he had drank himself in to social awkwardness.   He was “that guy” that stand really close to a girl on the dance floor but doesn’t dance, just stares and hovers?  Yeah..that.  So as we watched  every 21 year old on the dance floor who had a sober enough friend to know better drag her drunk friend away from him, eventually the dance floor became empty.   As all of this was going on to the right of us, to the left side we had one of our friends hitting on a married cougar who’s husband was literally sitting next to her.

                This woman knew exactly what she was doing, and it was questionable that this couple may have been swingers.  She looked 35, but you knew she was older.  She was wearing a body hugging white dress and had moves that would make Miley Cyrus put her damn tongue back in her mouth.  She was hot and knew it, and worked pretty much every guy in the room with her eyes.  She is a vision of what I hope to look like in 20+ years. 

                When the cougar was done dancing, she began chatting up our friend “Jersey”.  He was a friend of our friends who was a displaced Jersey guy and absolutely gorgeous.  All three of us girls  were trying desperately to keep his attention, and where it worked for a while, he would eventually divert conversation back to the cougar, so eventually we realized that he didn’t care that 3 single women were drooling over him and vying for his attention and just gave up and let the cougar win. 

                As we stood there and watched our hearts sank as he started flirting with the cougar, I had noticed out of the corner of my eye the drunk guy from the dance floor hovering behind us.  I knew what was going to happen next, it was just a question as to which one of us was going to get victimized.  As I watched him stare and observe, I warned my friend to the right of me and shifted that way hoping that I would be out of the line of sight…and that’s when it happened.

                Let me paint you a picture and put yourself in to my friends shoes.  You are leaning against a bar facing the bartenders, trying to get their attention for a drink.  The next thing you know, you feel a body press up against you from behind (like no space between you whatsoever), and hear a guy whisper in your ear as his Miller Light breath breezes across your cheek “Hi There”.  This guy broke every personal space rule every known to man.  Creeped out, my friend lied, grabbed a male friend that was with us, and lied her ass off about him being her boyfriend.  Did that stop him?  Not at all…he kept talking to her.  After a very brief conversation, he moved back in to his space behind us, and yet again observed who his next victim would be.  Approximately less than 3 minutes later, he did the same approach to our other friend…who was standing right next to the girl he had previously hit on.  He went nose to ear and body to body with her and I lost it.   My poor friend was terrified, so we grabbed her and went to the dance floor, but unfortunately…he followed.  So here we are, feeling like we are 25 again doing scare tactics to make guys go away.  (Dancing with each other, doing very dorky moves and rotating positions almost like playing musical creeper).  Nothing was working…he stood there and just stared at her like he was going to tie her up in a basement.  Somewhere out there, someone was looking out for her.  As we ran away, a bouncer grabbed him and kicked him out.  I didn’t think you could kick someone out of a bar for being “creepy” but apparently this guy did. 

                So I’m sure you’re wondering about the cougar and her husband?  We after she lost interest in Jersey, her husband went to the bathroom, and she had already moved on to another guy who happened to be sitting on the other side of her.  So to paint you a picture it went

 

          X                             X                             X

                                                Other Guy                      Cougar             Cougars Husband

While her husband was in the bathroom, her and her new friend engaged in a very flirty conversation that landed the guy having his hand on the small of her back.  It was funny how once her husband turned the corner and was in the line of sight again, his hand disappeared back to his own area?  Weird.  How is it that I can’t even get a second date with a guy, but this bitch has 3 guys stumbling over her engaging in some sort of weird live episode of “Desperate Housewives of Robinson?”  

As we all left, Jersey decided to give one last stitch effort in whatever game she was playing.   We gave him the 5 minute friend rule (where you wait outside for 5 minutes and if they don’t show up they are on their own).  He never came out.  We are not sure what happened to him, if he made it out alive or if the cougar ripped him to shreds.  So I shall dedicate the ending of this blog to our new friend Jersey – the guy that chose to go for a 3 way with a cougar and her husband vs. his choice of 3 single ladies that are all tigers in the sack.  Hope to see you in the jungle again someday!

Keeping it real –
Shelby

The Day Plenty of Fish Broke Up with Me

                A couple of  Wednesday’s ago was like any other day.  My alarm went off at 6:30 am,  half asleep I grabbed for my phone, got out of bed, tripped over about 5 different things on the floor while I waited for my contacts to catch up with the rest of my body and headed for the shower.  During this self-created bedroom Double Dare-like obstacle course, like a creature of habit, the first thing I check on my phone is my POF inbox.             

              
                 I had been having issues with my profile for a couple of weeks.  I would check it before bed and everything was fine, but at some point in the night my profile would be switched from active to hidden, causing me to not show up in searches for certain periods of time.  This happened for about 2 weeks, so every time I would complete the obstacle course, I would have to reactivate my profile.  I really didn’t sweat it, I just figured it was a glitch in the system, and a couple of my friends suggested that I change my password, but I figured it would work itself out considered I had this user name for 7 years, it was nostalgic to me.

              
                 So you can imagine my confusion at 6:32 am when I’m trying to log in to my account, and it’s not recognizing me as a user.  I was as confused as a bi-sexual at a transgender convention.  After several attempts, I tried the “forget your password” function, thinking there was a major glitch now.   I plugged in my email address and I still didn’t exist…WTF.  In a last stitch attempt to figure out what the hell was going on, I texted Chuck and asked him to find me, to which he informed me that I did not in fact exist. ..and that’s when I had an epiphany:  Someone had reported me and my profile had been deleted from POF. 

               
                  I had heard stories from people that actually knew that this had happened to before, but I didn’t believe it.  I put it at the level with a  Lockness monster or Bigfoot sighting; it was only a myth; and this would never happened to me?  I’m like an internet superhero, saving people from one douchebag at a time.  How dare someone report me for “inappropriate conduct” when they haven’t even seen me drunk. So I started thinking back to the past couple of weeks, and  I had a feeling I knew who it was.  I had only really pissed off one guy within the past two weeks that was capable of doing something so childish; and in my defense, he wouldn’t take No for an answer and believe it or not I was very polite about letting him down easy at first, but he kept going on and on and I had to bring out the big guns on him.

             
                  I don’t think it was the action of getting deleted that hurt my feelings, it was the way POF goes about doing it that hurt my feelings the most.  They way that POF broke up with me reminded me of both of the previous relationships I have recently been in within the past year.; 2 men and one website basically break up with me by  pretending that I don’t exist and just straight up ignore my existence on this planet.  Yay!  There was no email, no phone call, no closure what so ever as to why I was denied access to my account of 7 years.  After 7 years, POF made me feel I was walking around with a Scarlett P on my chest – P for pervert. 

               
                 I decided to put my big girl pants on, suck it up and reclaim my former profile to its righteous status.  It wasn’t until I got about half way in that I realized I had had a 2^nd account from when I had been blogging about the men in different cities and it was game on.  It was the exact same profile as before (with my infamous “Do not message me if” rules) all it needed was a couple of pictures and I was ready to go!  So with a new outlook on how the day had begun, I updated my profile and continued my day as planned. 

               
                As I stepped off the bus to walk to my destination, I felt my phone vibrate.  As I grabbed for it to see what was going on, I had received 30 new POF messages within the duration of the 25 min bus ride.  Apparently, men thought that I was a new user and once again my inbox had been blowing up.  With my former profile, things had been a tad slow; I had either ignored or talked to most of the men on the site already.  But with the name change (Same pictures, mind you)  I was like the equivalent of a big juicy hamburger to a person who is cleansing. 

                    As usual POF did not fail me.  I got a lot of men that forgot I had ignored them before, a few guys 

that recognized me and asked me what had happened, and of course the blog worthy ones.  Apparently If I ever

 find myself in a position where I need good material, all I need to do is just create a new profile.  Fast forward a 

couple of weeks later and it turns out its been a rough couple of weeks in the dating department. Sadly the "on to the next one" mentally is becoming a thing of the present for me. In three weeks I had met 3 guys, all to which I felt had great potential. Great convos, one was even an old college crush who I reconnected with, another who I

 felt like was the male  version of me, and the other was just absolutely adorable in the conversation.   Don't let me fool you though, it is in my nature I do what I do best and I managed to send  2 of them running for the hills in

 the same night thanks to a vodka induced haze I put myself in to at a black tie event (to which both of them

 ironically were in attendance)  The third and newest blow came by the adorable one who was by far the most good looking guy who had ever been dumb enough to go out with me. I knew he was too good to be true considering he disappeared very quickly after the date. So three disappearing acts in 2 weeks. That has to be some sort of record right?

                     Eventually you feel defeated, failure is the result, not the option and you start taking it to heart. I

 am clearly aware that I am not perfect, however my uncanny ability to repel penis has become so unintentional

 now that I can’t even control it. Striking out is one thing but I am to the point where I'm sitting on the bench at a kindergarten t-ball tournament. I think my profile getting deleted was a sign by the Internet gods telling me it's

 time to quit online dating for a while. It only took me 7 years to realize it, but I’m starting to think online dating isn’t for me. My suspicions where  correct I had a  hormonal melt down Chuck and he told me to take a break. So unless life gets interesting or people submit their horror stories directly, unfortunately this may be the last blog for a while. 

                    Fighting to get back to my old self and mend my broken heart took a lot out of me. I really don't have much fight left in me when it comes to rejection anymore. I have always been the type of person that I'd much 

rather avoid a conflict then deal with it  head on. So if I have to remove myself from online dating to prevent myself from meeting people that I'm to get rejected by anyways, might as well do it. I probably sound like a huge 

Debbie downer right now , and it's just a reality of being single.

My friend Lauren and I were talking one day, (she is also on POF) and we were comparing notes. She wasn’t

 having much luck on there, and asked me what my secret.  It got me thinking to do some research on my own 

stats, and this is what I came up with in 7 years of online dating (these numbers are so not accurate I have a

 feeling…there has to be more)

47 phone numbers I have acquired from Pof alone
20 from other websites/apps

Of those numbers:

22 dates (that I can remember, considering the contacts in my phone that have not transferred with new hardware, and that really does seem low considering I was going on like 3 dates a week at one point) 

Of those dates: 1 year long relationship that was derived from match.com 

So yet another argument in favor of me canceling my account.  In 7 years I ended up with 1 relationship that started like a fairy tale and ended like a horror story

So in conclusion, I would now like to highlight some new messages that I have received this time around.  Some are just conversations, others I put my 2 cents in.  I will only blog now if things happen to me in real life, so

 chances are you won’t be hearing from me for a while  Who knows, I may get bored in a week and rejoin or maybe in 6 months, the point is, if you are like me and feel the defeat, know that at least you are not alone…You can join myself and apparently these people who clearly should not be online dating…

Hungry?  Why Wait…

Dear Forever Single:

                Thank you for covering all of the bases here in your initial message by telling me that you would kiss ALL of my lips.  This poetic description reminds me of an un-recorded Boys II Men song   The profile headline really says it all.   I really am starting to think that you are the poster child for being a walking version of  “emotionally retarded but all  vagina’s sound neat.”   You really are a lady killer aren’t you?  Because you literally just killed any desire that I have to get myself off later.  I feel like the only lips that you will be coming in contact with for the rest of your life are your own and the only thing you will be eating is dinner for 1 at 4pm at Denny’s.The lol after your eating comment really changed my mind about you though.  We all know that when you add LOL to the end of every sentence that it instantly turns funny right?  Just like this:  You are truly an asshat lol.  I really hope that you get your tongue stuck in a light socket lol.   Please move to Antartica lol. 

You can’t fix stupid…

Dear Smarty Pants

                It’s very clear your level of intelligence here and you have taken stupidity to a whole new level. Unless you have the ability to telepathically  send messages via the internet with your mind…You are a member of this site.  I’m not sure how drunk or stoned you were when you first “didn’t become a member” but you know that part when you had to fill out personal information, upload a picture and click “Yes” and agree to terms and conditions?  Yeah, that magically gave you member status jackass.  So the fact that you want to be instant facebook friends, pretty much showed you were trying to beat the house that is showing a pair of aces, and you are holding a 9-high.  To add insult to injury, even if I wanted to be your facebook friend, you didn’t even list your  full name in the message, so I couldn’t find you if I tried.  I would avoid any jobs that require any kind of technological/internet based experience, because I feel like if I told you to shut off the internet, you would spend a very long time looking for its off switch.    

This one came directly from a friend:

Her and I’s convo as this is taking place…

	Horny and Confused A****1 3/14/2014 4:08:39 PM You wanna make $2504
	Me 3/14/2014 4:09:37 PM So exactly 2504? Is the extra $4 overtime?

	A****1 3/14/2014 4:10:37 PM Report this message for inappropriate content I meant $250 lol
	Me 3/14/2014 4:11:55 PM Whoa. That's a bad extra digit to add...what does this consists

	A****1 3/14/2014 4:13:32 PM Report this message for inappropriate content Just sex both oral and regular.
	Is that ok or you just wanna do the head for $200

	Me 3/14/2014 4:22:46 PM Is this a joke? Am I being punked? Is Ashton going to jump out of the cubicle next to me?
	A****1 3/14/2014 4:24:03 PM Report this message for inappropriate content No lol. Look i ain't rich. $350 Is the highest i can go.

	Well???
	All i want is a blowjob

Dear Daddy Blowbucks:

            I can look past the fact that you are trying to get a BJ on a dating website.  I think it’s really cute that you like to negotiate.  What I am super pissed off is the fact that you think I am only worth $350!?!?!? I did some price comparison and asked a couple of friends what as well as some C-squad strippers and actual East Liberty Prostitutes and they all agreed that you are trying to low ball me.  Clearly you know nothing about acquiring the services of prostitute.  I would really love to know how this came about.  Did you decide to wake up one morning with the genius idea to turn to POF for your Blow Job needs?  Was Craigslist just not working out for you?  Did you “blow” it with all your other options?  You clearly “suck” at this, considering you are just making up your own prices.  Listen my brother from another mother, maybe you should start small with some crack whore that’s looking for a drug exchange…If you are looking for Pittsburgh’s very own version of the Bunny Ranch, shall I suggest you start on the North Side?  Nothing says good oral like a good toothless crack whore right?

Before I leave you for a while on a more serious note:  

For those of you that don't know this is Chuck, my best friend.  Why is in he in a dress?  He is raising money for the Mario Lemiuex Foundation/Pittsburgh Marathon.  After he hit a particular goal, he agreed to wear this hideous thing to a Pen's Game.  I am asking all of you to please help him reach his goal of 5k by donating something.  Even if its $20 just to support this great cause.  If he hits his goal, he is considering dressing up like Wonder Woman.  Who wouldn't want to see this.  I will also consider going out with someone of your choice, if you donate $20 or more to this great cause.  Set me up with the worst of the worst, a $20 donation gets you the ability to set me up with 1 person of your choice (within the Pittsburgh Area).  Here is the link to donate...Click Here

Keepin it Real...Until we meet again...

Shelby

Lonely Heart’s Club

With one of the darkest days of any single person’s life approaching (Valentine’s Day), I felt that it was only proper to blog about how terrible it is to be single 1. Near, around, and on Valentine’s Day; 2. In general.  Now if you are single reading this, you already know.  You have been haunted by the larger than life stuffed animals that fill shelves upon shelves at the grocery store, the cliche jewelry commercials that no matter what station you are on, you can’t hide from, and of course the day to day struggle to not self-indulge in chocolate covered everything because you know that you will not be receiving it as a gift and only as a gift to your ever growing waistline. 

For those of you that know me (which that number has dwindled significantly within the past year)  I began hosting singles events through Plenty of Fish’s website.  My events usually target 25-45 year old men and females and are hosted somewhere in the South Side. The first two were total sausage fests.  My intentions were not in anyway focused on me finding someone.  While I was still struggling to get over my ex, I actually began dating someone new, but unfortunately he was not the solution I was looking for to cure my broken heart, and after that experience, I literally had given up for the time being on me finding love again.  My primary focus was to help others possibly experience one of the greatest feelings in the whole wide world.  Some people go their whole lives without feeling it.  Trying to revive the optimistic Disney princess side of me that had been buried by evil and poison, I set my sights on helping other people get their happy endings.   I will say to the people that did have the balls to show up and really put themselves out there, I have nothing but high levels of respect for them, which is why there will never be a blog about what goes on at these events, because after seeing people who are similar to me and my situation (lack of single friends, had epic revelations in their lives, got their hearts ripped out, etc), I now know that where there is a large group of people entering the lonely hearts club, I am not alone.

After reconnecting with an old friend and telling him the rollercoaster events of my life in the past year, he really put things in to perspective.  He said to me, “Shelby, you are fortunate though... you got to figure it all out... and you got to basically hit the reset button.”  And it was so true.  In 1 year, I have acquired an entirely new group of friends, been through mental hell and back, and eliminated all negative variables in my life.  I now understand that I am exactly where I am meant to be.  

Unfortunately though, with hosting events comes great stupidity and great unwanted attention.  When you host a party on POF and you get a certain number of RSVP’s, you then have the ability to mass message people that are within 10k of your event…or so they claim.  Turns out, that it doesn’t stop at 10k, its more like 100k.  So after my first event, I found myself messaging everyone on the website, literally from Wheeling, WV to St. Clairsville, OH within a 25-45 age range.  So in summary, I basically mass emailed roughly thousands of people about this event. 

By doing this, unfortunately you see the good, bad and ugly side of online dating.  Some men, see a message from you and automatically think that you are messaging them to get to know them, which in return results in a lot of messages back, or straight up messages asking you out on dates.  Others, call you a psycho and ask you to stop sending things to them.  You also get really dumb questions like “Are you going to be at this party?” and “Are you single?”  Within minutes of sending this message my inbox blew up.  I literally  had 200 new messages within a few hours so as far as my friends telling me that I need to “Put myself out there” yeah…go hard or go home right?  Eventually you get so annoyed, and so bothered by the messages you just feel the need to respond back.I share with you now, some of my favorite messages that I have received/responded to while trying to host singles events:

Mr. I Don’t Have a Clue:

Clearly common sense is not a strong point with this one.  That and the fact that he is 23.  Notice how I try to divert the conversation to reflect that “Hey I wasn’t talking to you, I was inviting you to a party so you could meet someone who is so very not me,” but he didn’t get the hint.  His persistence is more annoying than anything, considering he tries to continue the conversation with, “So are you single?”  No, I’m just on a dating website because I enjoy stalking people from afar. I have no life so my other hobbies include printing inspirational cat pictures and framing them and recreating a life size sex doll of Justin Timberlake,  but I’m not at all single, being on a dating website, where it clearly states that I am looking to date someone in my profile.  Dinner with you scares me, considering I’m worried that you will ask me dumb questions through the entire dinner like, “How do I use a fork?”, “Did you drive here?” or “So, You like Food right?.” 

Mr. I Can’t Handle Rejection:

 This is one of my favorite ones simply because it showed 50 shades of fucking crazy.  You see leading up to this conversation, the gentleman asked me out, to which I politely (yes, seriously) declined due to 1. I was not attracted to him and 2. He lived out of state.  With that being said, he began to bombard me with messages as to why I wouldn’t give him a chance.  After ignoring him for a few weeks, my mass email about the party went out and the above was the result.  Just the simple fact that he called me a douchebag, makes me laugh so hard that I can’t even write a witty response.  It’s pathetic enough that he couldn’t handle rejection by a girl that he had never met before, but the fact that he wanted to engage in an internet argument was about as useless as a priest judging a bikini contest.  I think you my friend are the one that should be endorsed by Summer’s Eve.  Can you tell them to hurry up and make a “New Car” scented douche already?  Thanks!

Rub-a-dub-dub

 So yeah, Rub Powers eh?  I can honestly say that this is a whole new world for me.  Is this the equivalent of dry humping?  I was unaware that my vagina had special powers?    I mean I can’t fly because I have one, I do not have the ability to read people’s minds, and I certainly do not have the ability to cast a love spell over anybody, so I’m not really sure where you are going with this Mr. Bump and Grind.   I mean the only thing that is special about it is that it can bleed for 5-7 days and not die?  Does that make me immortal?  Do you think that you are a vagician?  Because the only magic you will be making involves your winky and your pinky. I’m starting to question that you may be a love child of either  Austin Powers or Glenn Quagmire, either way unlike them, you will more than likely be spending your Valentine’s Day alone…

Short, Sweet and To the Point

 There is no need for an explanation – Shelby -1; Every douchebag that puts up a shirtless pic -0.  I promise to all my readers that I will continue to keep fighting the shirtless mirror bathroom pic/duckface war…one picture at a time. 

Learn When to Stop…Please

 You would think that when someone says to you, “I appreciate your interest in me, however to be brutally honest I am not looking to date right now.  I am focusing on hosting events and helping others find happiness” that that would be a cue to walk away.  Not Captain Crabs, he has to take it to the next level of creepiness.  With his age set as 32 and his face looking about 16, the thought of him asking me about my sex life made me feel like a pedophile or even worse, a Beiber fan, I had hoped that “Have A Nice Day J” would be a great cut off…nope.  He had to take it even further in to the realms of total creeper.  Calling someone gorgeous is one thing, however referring to a pair of boobs in a singular term is a bit confusing.  If you are going to complement my “breast” could you please be a bit specific?  Are you a fan of Amelia (Left) or Gretchen (Right)?  Which one do you feel is the perky cheerlearder vs. the bookworm?  You must be a virgin because clearly if you think that it is a choice to “sport” something that is permanently attached to your chest and requires surgery for removal.  Oh and by the way you can take your J and…well never mind, you may get a hard on talking about its upper lip…

No Vacancy

Happy Valentine's Day/Singles Appreciation Awareness Day Everyone!  If you are single, living in the Pittsburgh area and want to attend my Vday Singles Party please email playettechic@gmail.com for more information!

Keepin It Real

Shelby

Ebay takes on the Break Up Box

I’m not exactly sure if people even do this anymore, but I know that when I am going through a break up, I like to assemble what is known as a “Break Up” box.  A “Break Up” box consists of a shoebox, or pending on how serious the relationship was, any size box that can be stored somewhere out of sight, that is filled with every single memory of a recent failed relationship.  You tuck all of your memories in this box (pictures, gifts, clothing, anything that was given to you/reminds you of your ex) and put is somewhere that subconsciously you hope to forget about until you’re ready, or if you’re like me, put it in a place that you have to be 100% sober to have access to it.  (Unless like me, you tend to become a drunken rain man when drinking, then you are fucked.)

My breakup box sat under my bed, behind a storage container, and was a real bitch to get to.  Sadly, for being together over a year, all of my fondest memories of us fit it to a small size 7.5 ankle boot shoe box.  My breakup box sat collecting dust under my bed for a good 6 months before I was ready to even open it again.  Opening your breakup box during a period of time when you are still healing, grieving and trying to accept the fatal fate of your failed relationship is the equivalent of opening up your own personal version of Pandora’s box, and boy is that bitch an unforgiving one. 

For months I had been moping around, secretly hoping that we would reconcile, because even though I felt that I was totally victimized by him and hoped for an apology that I knew I would never get, I clang to the unrealistic hope that love would find its way back to us and we would magically return to being the two people that we were when we first met.  It wasn’t until a co-worker of mine said something to me that finally gave me the ass kicking I needed to open the box.   I was sitting at work one day, and we were randomly talking about relationships/marriage and she said to me, “It’s a known fact that you have to get your heart severely broken one time in your life in order to be ready for true happiness.”

When she said that to me, I had a total epiphany.  I had been living in a shit storm for months, and it was time for me to finally buy an umbrella.  This was the heartbreak I needed to find true happiness.

Temporary happiness at one point for me came when I discovered the joys of Ebay.  What first started as a simple shopping experience, turned in to a full blown obsession with buying clothing via Ebay.  It got so bad that I had to get rid of clothes to make room for new clothes that had overtaken my closet.  When I was getting rid of these clothes, I decided to try to make some additional money and took a stab at selling clothes on Ebay.  After making close to $100 dollars, I had yet another brilliant idea to buy other peoples unwanted clothes and try to turn them for profit.  $700 and 180 articles of clothing later, my apartment is once again over flowing with clothes that aren’t even mine this time around.  The last time I was in any type of position to where I had sellable items post break up, I went to a local pawn shop and got like 50 bucks for a diamond necklace, pair of earrings and the worlds ugliest ring.  I then proudly took that 50 dollars and went straight to the casino and gambled it away.  This time around was different though, I now had Ebay that I could sell my unwanted break up box items on. 

There were really only 2 things that were Ebay worthy.  One was a necklace/earring set from Kay Jewelers and the other was a Pandora equivalent Charm Bracelet with about  8 charms on it.   I remembered him telling me (during the good times) that he couldn’t wait to fill up my charm bracelet.  Even though I was highly allergic to the metal and if worn for long periods of time I would break out in to a rash, I didn’t have the heart to tell him because he was so proud of it, it meant something to him, and it was a sign of our intentions to be together for a long time, so even though it had the potential to disfigure me, it instantly meant something to me as well.

Fast forward to the break up and now what do I have?  A charm bracelet that I’m allergic to with 8 charms that now have no meaning other than a reminder of times that are a distant memory.  I can’t wear it because it’s meaning is insignificant now, I can’t wipe my ass with it, because it would probably legitimately hurt and make my butt bleed, and I can’t pawn it because where its unique to the wearer, a pawn shop could give a shit less.  So I decided to sell it off, one by one on Ebay, but in my own special way.

Disclaimer:  What you are about to read are real product descriptions that I posted on Ebay in efforts to sell these items.   They have not been edited or modified. 

Charm Bracelet and Starter Charm

Give your special someone a gift with true meaning. Unfortunately at one time this bracelet meant something to me, however now I'm hoping that by selling it will fund my eternal match.com membership. It's a really great gift to get a female if you're not looking to put a lot of thought into gifts during a long-term situation. You can get her a charm every single holiday and every single special occasion and it will keep her happy. Typically the bracelet and charm combination would retail for about $125. If you're looking for more information please visit the persona website. I unfortunately do not have the original boxes because I thought that we were never going to break up, nor did I think I would result to selling it on ebay out of spite. Oh well, hopefully you buying this will have better luck than I did.

Heart on My Sleeve Charm

I find the irony in the name of this particular charm. The fact that it's called "heart upon my sleeve" correlates nicely with the fact that when I did wear my actual heart on my sleeve the person who gave me this charm ripped it out, threw it on the ground and stomped on it. I'm glad that I've finally drank myself in to so much of an oblivion that I can chuckle rather than crawl into the fetal position and cry. I still like how the heart glimmers in the light. It is similar to the same glimmer that I would get when I stared into his eyes. But now that glimmer is gone, and all I have left is the reminder that I am 31 and single again, and living in a city where single people are the minority and my neighbor’s dog gets laid more than I do... No original box sorry

Lucky Charm

What can I say about this lucky charm? Don't take it literal. The Shamrock brought me no luck whatsoever, so hopefully you can change that. My ex though that it was thoughtful to get me one considering I'm Irish, and it was also St. Patrick's Day. But the only action that this Shamrock brought me me, was the beginning of the downward spiral that I would look back and call the "dark times". I was hoping to use this money to buy a high grade quality frying pan so that my friends could "butterfly effect" me and I could begin my own series of events that would result in me 1. Being rushed to the hospital with a severe head injury, 2. Having a temporary case of amnesia and not remembering who I am or the events of the past. Which would then lead to. 3. Meeting a handsome Dr, falling in love again, and not having to harvest my eggs for "a later date"

S is for… Charm

Currently this charm is a hot commodity online because it is out of stock on the website.  I’m not sure even where to begin on the meaning behind this.  The representation of this charm was simplistic…the first letter of my name.  9 months later, when I look at it, all that comes to mind are adjectives that parallel my roller coaster like emotions.  Pending on any given time of the day, S could stand for:  Seriously? Shit; Salty; Single; Sucktastic – which in all honestly; is a very good representation of what a day in the life of me is like anymore.  I would suggest dousing this charm in holy water and having it blessed by a priest prior to giving it to your loved one, because let’s face it…given the ratio of how quickly  receiving this charm and the relationship shitting the bed was…I would say S is for…well you get it..No original box…Sorry

Sorrie Wine Charm

I never really got the meaning behind why this charm was purchased for me, so the only conclusion that I could come to was that my ex really didn’t’ know me after over 6 months of dating.  For starters, I do not drink wine, for I am a vodka girl.  You would think him watching me down bottles of vodka in front of him, would lead him to think not only that I have binge drinking problem, but also that I may be mistaken for a Russian Army Sergeant trapped in a females body.   Now mind you, I would have been less likely to sell a charm that consisted of a Belvedere, Three Olives, or when I’m desperate Absolute logo.  Also, when I look at this charm, I think it is meant for a certain type of of “girly girl” that sips wine, acts like a lady and gets tipsy and not too buzzed because she doesn’t want the world to have a bad perception of her.   I, on the other hand am not…by any means…a girly girl or a lady when drinking.  I am more the equivalent of a Russian Army Sergeant at a strip club trapped in a female’s body when drinking….No original box…Sorry

Pink Roses and Dew Drop Charm

Well la de da, if only all relationships were as happy sounding as Pink Roses and Dew Drops, we all would be shitting sunshine and barfing rainbows wouldn’t we? Just saying the name of this charm out loud makes me break in to hives and heave a little.   You can’t help but to think this charm is pretty though, its calming green colors with the pink blobs that look like roses, it almost makes me think of a watermelon. A watermelon made of Italian glass, so really that would be a painful watermelon to ingest.  What a fine job those Italians do with their glass.   I’m starting to think that rather than constantly dating men of Mediterranean decent, maybe I should consider dating an Italian glass maker.  Or even just an Italian Man.  Hell at this point I’ll take a bowl of spaghetti, 2 large meatballs and an average sized piece of garlic bread.  No original box…Sorry

Briocade in Teal

When I look at this charm, with its leaf and vine design, it reminds me of a fairy tale.  Maybe it’s the charm that Robin Hood bestowed upon Maid Marion?  Maybe it’s a gift that Snow White received from her Prince after her life changing kiss?  Then I look at it again and realize that my fairy tale was crinkled up like a baseball, whaled in to a dark forest and molested over and over again by dream killer fairies.  Guess what Marion…Your boyfriend wears tights and calls his friends “merry” men.  You may be a princess, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out on your own that your boyfriend is the spokesperson for gay brothels in the middle of the woods.  And as for Snow White, can someone please explain to me how a lazy narcoleptic woman that has bestiality-like tendencies and hangs out with 7 midgets can manage to get a man to travel for days to rescue her, yet I am a 31 year old employed, financially independent woman with no children and very few friends and yet I can’t get a guy to drive 20 minutes across town to rescue me from my vibrator!  No original box!  Sorry….

Enchanted Escape

This is by far my least favorite and ugliest charm that was purchased for me.  I do not get the correlation of the random bird being surrounded by the roses.  It looks like the bird was raised next to a power plant and was severely deformed, leading to its ability to shit rainbow colored flowers.  It reminds me of an ugly broach that an elderly woman would wear that her 5 year old granddaughter picked out because it was, “Pretty”.    You know, I had hope when he enlisted my friends to help pick out a cookie cutter necklace and earring set from Kay (Also for sale) for my birthday, and my friends steered him towards gold and not silver because that is all I wear.   It is very visible in the form of my gold rings, gold necklaces and gold earrings that I wear.   So when I received this charm bracelet, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I have an allergy to the metal and if I wore it for long periods of time my wrist would break out in to a rash.  When he handed me the book of charms and told me to circle ones I liked, I literally circled all the gold plated ones, with the hopes that he would get the subtle hint.  2 weeks later, instead of a gold plated charm…I ended up with this horrific looking thing.  I am not an artsy person that can look at a pile of shit or a hunk of garbage and see artistic wonderment in it.  I look at it and perceive it as being a literal hunk of smelly rancid garbage or a heaping pile of shit. If you find the beauty in this charm then clearly it is meant for you, and that we should probably not meet in real life because chances we have too many artistic differences to be considered acquaintances. 

Editors Note:  My bracelet sold within 2 hours of it posting along with the “Heart on my sleeve charm.” It was a bitter sweet moment for me.  I was finally letting go…moving on after many grueling months of clinging to the unrealistic hope that a relationship still existed.    After the purchase, I received the following note from the buyer (random stranger) that not only put my faith back in to humanity, but I felt like it was a sign that it was going to a good home:

Keepin it real

Shelby