I’ve been slowly giving the proverbial “kiss-off” to most of the men who have messaged me…either that or I have just been ignoring them.
One of them messaged me and asked me if I was “too good to respond.” In his picture, he was in a bar with a beer in each hand.
“Yes, I am. Try again when you learn how to read and by the way, I’m not interested in a two-fisted drinker. I’ve already suffered through that.”
Another took my exit as an insult and wanted me to know that I was more or less missing out on “the wonder that was him.” In his picture, he was shirtless, on the back of his motorcycle and showing off his “colors.”
“Sorry. I’ve already been married to God so ‘the wonder that is you’ is a little lacking.”
One of them had hair down to his shoulders, was holding his shotgun and proudly displaying his latest kill on the front of his truck.
“Um….what did I say about shooting dinner?”
There’s one who is limited to either one word or one sentence. He says “Really? There must be a mistake on your profile.” “Your 65?” “Your beautiful.”
“Again. My 65 what? My beautiful what? Sorry Jack, YOUR mistake was not using the proper contraction.”
I really like the one who messages me four of five times a day. All he says is “hello.” That’s all he ever says. He has taken a picture of himself in his big rig but did not forsake his motorcycle in the garage nor did he clean up the empty beer cans scattered all over the floor.
“Okay. My vocabulary consists of more than one word and I am actually capable of understanding more than one word, even if they’re strung together to form a sentence. But, I will try to speak your language.
Trucks. Motorcycles. Beer. You.”
Another is sending me “gifts.” Pictures of teddy bears and strawberries but no picture of himself and not even one word.
“I have plenty of teddy bears and my teddy bears are better than your teddy bears. If you’re trying to indicate something along the lines ‘if you were a strawberry, I’d pick you’, I say visit another patch.”
This one is priceless. His call tag is “coonass.” He sent me a picture standing beside his motorcycle, another one shirtless and the third one with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. His messages always start with “hello, beautiful lady. I love to ride my motorcycle and go hunting.”
“Okay Mr. Coonass. I suggest you hop on that motorcycle and keep on huntin’.”
One was sending me random messages and last night he sent me one that said “the Jews turned Jesus over to Pontius Pilate. He washed his hands of him. The Jews killed Jesus.”
“I’d like to apologize for all of my Jewish friends (whom I adore, by the way) for killing your Lord.”
What the hell? First I get the “proud to be WHITE and Southern. Now I’m getting the “blame the Jews for everything.”
He messaged me back and said “when you’ve had a stroke, you get emotional.”
“Sorry, pal. Having a stroke doesn’t excuse antisemitism and there is zero tolerance for that bullshit in my world.”
One man is interesting. The only thing he said right off the bat that I didn’t like was “I’m not quite six feet but I could stand on something.”
“Well, just under six feet tall could mean anything from an inch to five feet, eleven and I know how you men like to exaggerate about your size.”
He says he is educated and can in fact, form a complete sentence.
“You could be like Losers’ little brother who spent twelve years trying to graduate from Duke and when he couldn’t (due to his professors, of course), his daddy told him to lie.”
He keeps asking me if I’ve ever been married and I keep dodging the question. I told him that the past is past and I don’t really want to talk about it.
“It’s really none of your fucking business, is it and what part of I don’t want to talk about it are you not understanding?”
Then he wanted me to describe my body to him. He said the categories on the profile page could be misleading.
“I said on the profile that I was slim. If you want measurements or a picture of my boobs, you’re out of luck.”
Newsflash! I just checked and found the picture of a guy I went to high school with. I went to our reunion last year (the first one ever) and I saw him there. He came up, hugged me and said “I’d really like to talk to you later.” His twin brother told me that he was newly divorced and I should “hang around.”
I knew he had “liked me” at some point but back then, I only had eyes for my first and still not forgotten boyfriend.
Should I send him a message?