Online Dating Veteran: FML (F*%K MY LIFE)
This is not the way I pictured starting my morning.
Lauren Rich is an online dating veteran (the “newbie” can be found here), having logged many hours winking, messaging, and doing the dreaded “meeting in person.” Here, she shares some her most memorable experiences with internet dating.
Note to self: when calling a car service, it helps to know where the hell you actually ARE.
Another note to self: wedging a menu between a door will not keep it from shutting.
There’s really only one word to describe my life at this exact moment: tragic. Where do I even begin….
Well, I suppose it all started last night at a cocktail party at Top of the Rock. Three glasses of champagne later (and no dinner) I went to meet up with, oh, let’s just go ahead and call him “ONS.” An internet first date. To say that drinking before a date without dinner is the understatement of the century – which brings me to not only one of the cardinal rules of online dating, but of any dating. Please, ladies. Spare yourselves what you’re about to read happened to me and if you can’t grab dinner before a date, at least stuff a piece of bread in your bag to shove down your throat in the ladies room between drinks.
I was actually quite fine all throughout the Black Finn. I was even fine when I went to a friend’s birthday party at Von shortly after (to which ONS came with). I was still fine when, after the birthday party (couldn’t even tell you what time this was – 3am?) ONS and I left and, walking up Bowery, stopped into Phebes (you know, that weird pub/sports bar place across from B-Bar). Yet another glass of wine down, and that was it.
Done. Dizzle. Dunzo. Plastered.
I fully remember walking into the bar. Mmm not so much walking out.
Yep, yours truly apparently decided to get herself some – at ONS’s apartment in BK Heights. Hey, it (sadly), has been awhile…
Well, wish I could tell you if it was good or bad, but, oh wait! I can’t. Because drunk as a skunk here passed out on ONS while making out on the couch. Yep, I was totally one of those girls who completely blue-balled. And might I add – THANK goodness. If there’s anything worse than a one-night-stand, it’s a one-night-stand you don’t remember. Talk about a waste of a number.
Oh don’t worry the story’s far from over. It gets better worse.
Fast forward to 7:40am this morning, I wake up (yes, fully clothed) to ONS all dressed and ready to go to work. Meanwhile, spastastic here is running stumbling around like a lunatic trying to find her phone. Couldn’t find the damn thing so I had to have ONS call it.
Yeah, that was pretty cool listening to my “In the jungle, the mighty jungle” ringtone as I found it wedged (read: buried) in between couch cushions.
Oh and then there was my appearance. My hair had somehow matted into one giant knot, no hairbrush, and no hair tie. Skin dehydrated, eyeliner smudged.
Tawdry. piece. of trash.
Finally I’m somewhat together when I realize there is absolutely no way I am suffering through a subway ride looking like a morning after swampdonkey. So, being the resourceful gal I am, I remembered I still had the card of a cheap car service I used to take (back in ’08) when I dated a guy who lived in Greenpoint.
Ladies – if you ever find yourself in a similar predicament in BK, take down this #: 718.383.0200 (Malones Car Service).