This story was going to be about the date that made me quit online dating for months. However, there seems to be some interest in a story that actually goes semi-well. So let's try one...
I was checking out the profile of a cute Asian girl (she listed herself as Asian and her pictures indicated so) and sent her an email. The next day, her profile changed into that of a man. And not even a good looking man. Yikes!
It's always sobering when you click on a photo you like in a thumbnail and realize the hot girl is actually a hot girl with a penis. It brings out a lot of self reflection - that time you admired Matthew McConaughey's eyes in "A Time to Kill", the fact that you follow the Tim Riggins' parody twitter account and dream that it's really him, that one time you let a guy blow you. But this seemed different. Something weird was going on here.
A few days later, the profile was gone, and the next day, a new one was up. It was her again. And she had been hacked. This left me in an awkward position: do I email her a second time? Had she even gotten the first one? Because if there's one thing I am not, it's a double emailer. I just don't do it. You either respond to my first attempt, or that's where things end.
This was a special circumstance though, so I sent her a joke about how after I emailed her the first time she had turned into a dude. She responded. Emails were exchanged, then texts, then I made the phone call.
As I said, this was an attractive Asian girl. But when we talked, she had a very, very thick Indian accent. Not a wind talking Indian, the other kind. And that's when it hit me: Indians can be Asian! Mind blowing. And when I rechecked her pictures, I realized that I was an idiot.
While this was going on, I was also trying to get a first date with a different girl. She was half Mexican, half Filipina, which if you didn't know, is basically like Christmas in my pants. But she had all sorts of issues, and canceled on me like 4 different times.
While my date was set up with the Indian/Asian girl for a Saturday night, the other girl, at the last minute, requested one at around the same time. Hmmm. A dilemma. I consulted my pants, and made the date with the Latinapina. But I didn't cancel with the Asiandian yet because I was pretty confident the other girl would bail as she had many times before.
Well, I was right, and she canceled (she would later show up for a date, and it wasn't good. Santa Clause didn't come down the urethra this year, but that's another story). Alas, I headed out for the original date. I got up to the top of an escalator to where the bar was, and I saw her sitting outside...and I shit my pants. She was hot. Not just a little hot. Crazy hot. I couldn't believe I had the temerity to almost cancel on her for the Latinapina! My instincts are terrible.
We got a drink and chatted, and she said she was from a place that I assumed was a city in India. But I was wrong. It is actually its own country. But under the mistaken impression that she was Indian, I started talking about M. Night Shyamalan and Slumdog Millionaire, throwing out every Indian reference I had. Who am I kidding? Those are the only Indian references I have. Unless you count, "how about that tsunami, that was nuts, huh?"
Although, we would later go see "Life of Pi" together, but that's just a coincidence.
I somehow overcame that huge geography mistake, and we proceeded to take things to a second location for a bite to eat. Second location! We parted with a hug and the promise of a second date. The second date is dinner. Always. We got drinks after. And we had a little goodbye kiss. Third date. Dinner. Drinks. Then a walk. Then we go back to her place. Kissing. Clothes come off, and that's when I saw Jesus.
Jesus in the form of an unbelievably perfect body. Just...perfect, there's no other word for it. I think I actually literally gulped. I didn't feel worthy of being there. It was like I had been dropped into someone else's movie, and that someone else was a handsome man who was used to this. But I wasn't going to tell her she was making a mistake.
So...the magic happens. And guess what? She was a reciprocater! Hallelujah.
And we proceed to full fledged dating. I'm talking bike rides, movies, dancing, words with friends, the whole shebang.
But here's the thing, when you go out with someone who is from another country, you don't know if they don't know things because they are foreign, or if they just don't know things. It can be very confusing.
As the dates began to pile up, a simple fact was rearing it's ugly head: we just didn't have a lot to say to each other. Her attractiveness blinded me to this in the beginning. When you're in a long relationship, wanting to check your phone during dinner is a natural feeling. But on date 4? That is a bad sign.
I was concerned, but I wanted to make it work. And that's when Jerry Seinfeld intervened.
I was at home, by myself. And Seinfeld tweets that he's going to be popping in at the Hermosa Comedy and Magic Club. A club that is a 2 minute walk from my house. I threw some shoes on, walked down there, and watched Seinfeld do an hour of standup from about 5 feet away. Glorious.
On my next date with the young lady, I told her that I went to see Seinfeld. And she said:
Who is Seinfeld?
And that was that.
Without references, I am nothing. I have nothing to say. I need to be able to freely talk about Brandon Walsh. I need to expound on Ralph Tresvant. I need to break down Stanfield, Barksdale, and Stringer Bell. That is important to me.
And if you don't know Seinfeld? Then the future is bleak, my friends. Things ended. With the unintentional hilarity of the fact that breaking up with a girl because she doesn't know Seinfeld is like some kind of weird meta episode of Seinfeld.
But there was still something between us, something that couldn't be easily left. And so, very dutifully, we finished our game of Words With Friends. You have to respect someone with a love for the game. And taking advantage of the fact that English is my first language, I destroyed her.