OkCupid Adventures: How to Completely Repulse Anyone

Normally when I have a particularly unpleasant experience on OkCupid.com, I end up making a rule. (For more about this, see my previous post regarding trannies.)

However, there are no rules that can cover the most recent weirdness.

OkCupid, like other dating sites, tries to match you up with people that you will get along with, the keyword there being *tries*.  Because it does try... But it's only an algorithm, and thus cannot process some of the most basic signs which indicate to you that your so-called potential match could be a transvestite serial killer.

Sometimes, your match's username is a good indication of mental instability. Case in point: while trolling the latest selection of people OkCupid had chosen for me, I came across the user I will call black_cold_hate. As bad of a name as that clearly is, it's not actually the REAL name of this user. To avoid naming him directly, I've replaced each word with one *opposite* the original. Example: Red spoon would become blue fork. Now. Do that with black_cold_hate.

Did you do it?

Yes. That is his actual username, I shit you not.
So, needless to say, after I saw that, I asked myself what the hell he must've been thinking when he chose that. Suddenly, all those guys with "taco" in their username didn't look so bad.

Well, I then click away to another page... Only to see that black_cold_hate has actually sent me a message. Huh. Warily, I read the message. It does not sound psychotic, so I go check out his profile. The profile also does not read as psychotic.  I think about replying, especially since he has asked me to please answer one way or another, whether interested or not.  I haven't decided which answer to give, so I don't answer right then.

Typically, I make it a rule not to answer these emails right away. I like to sit on them for a day or so, and think about it, consider what I'm going to say, and why I'm replying: am I interested? Am I desperate? Or am I just bored? And only then do I reply.

But, black_cold_hate did not even allow me two minutes of time to contemplate his message... Because just as I clicked to another page, he messaged me AGAIN.... To say he'd seen me check out his profile, and wondered what I would say. Because... That doesn't come off as totally creepy and/or desperate at all--oh, no wait, yes it does. I narrowed my eyes at the screen... and resumed my internets business.

Skip to the next day. I return to OkCupid, still pondering how to answer this dude. I hang around on the site long enough to read a message from someone else, see who has recently visited my profile, and leave again. Upon leaving, I pop to my Gmail inbox... And guess what? User black_cold_hate has sent me ANOTHER message. To apologize for the weird IM he sent me, during the 2.4 minutes I was online... An IM which I didn't know about, because I must've just signed off as he sent it.

So. Four messages, in two days. In somewhat stalkery fashion... With a username like black_cold_hate... And we only match 72%. For me to ignore the rest of that, we'd have to match 97%.

I have not messaged him back yet to tell him to fuck off, but... I am going to, simply because he asked me to let him know either way, and I'm not a total bitch. (86%)

Anyway, the lesson to be learned her, chilluns, is that like your thong, it's tacky to let your desperation hang out where everyone can see.

Although, let's be honest, with that username, he's already set himself up for creepy.

Train Car Etiquette for iHoles.

On Fridays, between the hours of 11 am and 2 pm, I am always in the same locations. I leave my apartment, take the train downtown to my therapy appointment, where I spill my guts for an hour, I stop to take a whiz in Macy's, then  I get back on the train and hunker down for the long (30-40 min) ride north back to my neighborhood. There are some variations therein: sometimes I stop at the bank to get quarters so I can do laundry; I might stop at Starbucks for a tall non-fat chai latte and a quick flirt with that barista I like; or maybe I had some other business downtown to take care of. Whatever.  Usually, it's the same old-same old, and always results in me getting back on the Red Line.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Red Line, I'll give you some basics. It's one of only two train lines in the city that runs 24 hours, meaning it's generally dirtier than  the other lines, and is more frequently inhabited by crazy and/or homeless people and the fragrances of B.O. or urine. That said, these things are rarely more than minor annoyances. As it turns out, the most obnoxious aspect of taking the train (or any type of public transit) is other people and their electronic devices. These days,  everyone is an iHole. And this is where shit gets real. 

So, it's roughly 1:15 pm: I am tired and cranky (as per usual), and I'm on the train, attempting to read a book. Across from me sit four black boys, ages unknown. I figured there was probably no school for Easter Break or Good Friday or some shit like that, but who knows. The oldest of these boys was maybe 17-18, the others progressively younger. And it was clear that the oldest boy was the leader, because it was he who started the shenanigans. 

We're a few stops out from where I got on, but still a long way from my final destination, when Shithead (as I will hence refer to the oldest kid in lieu of knowing his name) takes out his phone and turns on some music. He does not put his headphones in, but instead turns the music up loud enough that I, sitting across the way, can make out distinctly instances of "fuck" and "bitch" over the baseline. After a few minutes, Shithead begins to sing along with the music, and is joined by his friends. 

From my seat, I steal glances at him, subtle social cues that indicate "Hey, that thing you're doing is annoying me," the kind of cues that most people would take as a hint that they should stop doing whatever it is they're doing.  But no, not this kid. So I look around at the other passengers, who are also glancing up with looks of helpless distress, and I sit there for a few minutes, growing increasingly pissed off, irritated, annoyed, anxious, and PISSED off. The whole time I keep thinking "Will it look racist if I say something to this kid?" And then ask myself if that question itself was racist, and continue to dither...

Until I realized: No, it's not racist, because regardless of color, dude is being a shithead... And no one else is going to say anything, meaning I could be stuck with this bullshit for another 20 minutes. And if I myself said nothing, I'd continue to replay the incident in my head for the rest of the day, thinking of what I should have said and done.

In days past, I might've let it go. I might've just said Self, there's nothing you can do here, just mind your own business. But this time I said Hey, Self. Someone should tell that asshole that he's being an asshole. Let's do this. So, finally, I looked up and said "Hey, I'm sorry, but could you possibly turn your music down?" ....and thus began the following.

Shithead: No.
Me: ...No, you won't turn your music down?
Shithead: No.
Me: Even though you're being incredibly rude and disrespectful to everyone else in the car?
Shithead: People shouldn't ride the fuckin' train if they don't want to hear it.
Me: Uh, no, that's not true.
Shithead: I don't see anyone else sayin' anything.
Me: And no one else is going to. But I'm saying something, because you're being rude.

(Throughout, Shithead is becoming increasingly pissed off, and his friends, increasingly embarrassed, begin trying to tell him to turn the music down. At this point in the conversation, though, nerdy white hipster guy sitting near us all attempts to back me up with a comment about how it would be different if Shithead were wearing headphones...)

Shithead: You just don't like black music. I bet you wouldn't be sayin' nothing if I was white listening to white music.
Me: That's not true.
Shithead: Yeah it is, you wouldn't say nothing to a white kid.
Me: I wouldn't care if you were a white kid playing polka music, I would say something. It's rude, and it's rude to everyone in here.

At this point, Shithead makes a few more ironically racist comments about how I'm being racist, but grudgingly and grumblingly turns down the music a bit. He continues muttering, though, at least until I got off at my stop.

I've ridden the train with a number of Shitheads like that one, none *quite* so flagrantly irritating (who did not also appear batshit crazy), and never said anything. But every time, I wished I had, or that someone else would. This time, I decided, for myself and everyone else in the train car, that it had to be done.

Because, goddammit, I was trying to read.