Danger, Will Me-binson

For a minute last night (yes, the same night!) I thought Potential Dude had ruined it. He started out pretty strong, with a clever and even pseudo-charming message and references to pop culture and such, and even with the smoking (cannot tell you what a turn-off that is, because yuck-yuck-YUUUUUUUCK!!!) and the age question I was officially intrigued. I even replied, which I’d been pretty sure would NEVER happen.

Then, about half an hour later, this weird thing happens. My browser pops up this little window without me saying “hey browser, pop up a little window won’t you?” and when it develops all the way it turns out to be some kind of magic talking box. And the talker is Potential Dude and the message is instant and says something like “send me your email address so you can tell me !” and I went “Gah!” followed immediately by “DIE INSTANT MESSAGEY BOX!!!!” and clicked it dead!

Now, were Beautiful Dreamer in my place she’d have been very excited about this additional, this spontaneous and this super-speedy contact. But for me? Too much! I just sent you an reply not more then 30 minutes ago and you’re clamoring for more? And you want my email address? Way, way too much, Mr. Potential Dude!

Here’s the thing: I LOVE me some internet, don’t get me wrong! I think it’s just about the most amazing invention of my whole life, right after Fudgicles and that powdery chemical candy that you eat with the candy stick, right? But I’m also CONSTANTLY aware of the massive population of whackadoodle nut-chiladas out there! If they did a poll of the internet to find out the ratio of doodle-bugs to non-doodle-bugs I’m sure it would be 50/50 IF THE RATIONAL PEOPLE ARE LUCKY! And OF the population of scary-freaky-odd-sad-broken-crazy-gahgahgahgah-types out on the net, I’m sure close to 200% of them are searching the online dating universe for a partner.

And at this point someone out there is all “hey, YOU’RE out there searching for a partner on the web. Are you saying there’s something wrong with you?” And I’m all “are you NEW? HELLO!!! Of course I know there’s stuff wrong with me! I’m Lady High Empress of the Whackadoodles, keeper of the scepter of RBBRRBBBRRBBRRBBRR!!!” and you’re all “what, you really think there’s something so weird about you?” and I’m all “didn’t you read this post? And this one? And pick any post you want, they all scream “Run from the crazy single lady before she snares you with her box of nasty sarcasm and pudding!” and you’re all “wha- um, I don’t… I mean I just, uh, er, I um-“ and I’m all “Woopity, whoopity, whoopidy! Lookit me, I’m all invisible! Somebody catch that giant flying turnip because it took my cheese-shoes!”…

But enough about me.

This morning there were another two messages. Twice the number of messages I was going for. 200% more messages then I’d been looking to get. And at this point I’m expecting “You’re so excellent, what should we name the first baby?, I don’t want you to spend so much time with your girlfriends anymore, does this dress make me look fat?” and I don’t even want to OPEN the messages.

Don’t worry, I finally opened them and they were fine. Lots more questions – I think this guy thinks he can take me in a pop culture challenge! – but mostly normal. So I sent another reply today. This is bordering on conversational at this point, folks.