I Don’t Know What To Title This

I was chatting on the phone with Meg last night and she was marveling at the hideousness of men after seeing my post about this exchange with yet another online dating dodged bullet.

This man messaged me Saturday morning “Good morning!”, but since he’s not my boyfriend nor had I met him yet, I didn’t feel I owed him an immediate response, not to mention, I was running around quite a bit, and I try not to message with someone if I can’t engage with some thoughtfulness.

A day later he messaged me again with something to the effect of “Good luck. I don’t have time for games”

So I responded with the following because I don’t have time for babies who need immediate responses to feel OK about the world. And as I mentioned in my previous post, I just don’t give a crap about what men think of me anymore.


The irony of his comment is not lost on me considering that, while we were messaging about dating experiences, I said men don’t seem to feel women over forty are datable. I love the implication that because I slighted him by not responding within 24 hours, he moved on and found a new and younger love! It’s like I’m an inadvertent match-maker (Oh my god, I wish that occurred to me. I would have told him he owed me a finders fee!)


“I saw you online” he writes.

A. That’s very creepy (amateurs look to see if people they’re interested in are online, but they don’t admit it), and
B. If the app is left open on my phone, which it probably was, it looks like I’m logged in.

Again; idiot.

Meg suspects and I agree that a lot of this rudeness comes from the anonymity of online dating. Most of what I am told in messages would not be said to me if it were in person.

Apparently, this is the same for driving too.

Today I pulled out of a parking spot. There was a car approaching in my lane of traffic, but I knew I had time to pull out of my spot because it was a slow road with lots of parked cars. The driver would need to slow to let me out, but as I was pulling out of my spot, he was easily 15 car lengths behind me, so it wasn’t a screeching halt and my move did not remotely resemble a cutting-off.

As I pulled into traffic, he honked his horn and I saw him pop into view in my side mirror, as though he were attempting to pass around me. Basically, he just wasn’t willing to slow a bit so I could pull out. He honked at me, flipped me the bird, flashed his lights at me from behind as I continued down the street for about a block. I gave him a subtle, friendly wave over my shoulder.

He reacted to this situation in true Masshole fashion, as though I had cut him off in fast-moving traffic.

I did not. I assure you.

He passed me on my right and because I have zero faith in human beings anymore, I knew what was coming. Sure enough, as predictably and Mr. I Rather Have Someone Keep Real,  I got a  “Ya f*ckin’ c&nt!” as he passed.

{sigh} {shrug}

And here’s a cute picture of Harlow and the fresh spring haircut I gave her. This was about two hours after I came home from work early to find so much diarrhea in her bed that I just opted to throw out the entire bed.

Don’t worry, she’s fine.

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