C R A S S A N O V A

The Dangerous Confessions of An Online Dating Addict…

Month: May, 2012

OMG – Literally.

Last night’s date was via Sugardaddie.com.

The Place: Knightsbridge

The Drinks: Wine and some cocktails

 

The gentleman was tall, fit, muscular, looked exactly like his picture. Where did it all go wrong?

Probably about the time he asked if I had accepted Jesus Christ as my lord and saviour and began speaking about vibrational energy frequencies.  At first it was only slightly alarming, as I thought “yeah honey, you just keep making those pretty words happen,” particularly as he had revealed himself to be a professional athlete, which was somewhat satisfying and the “don’t bother with the laundromat, help yourself to the washboard that is my abdomen” situation was making the drinks go down easy… But nothing else did. 

After close to three hours of Gabbin’ with God, I decided I was revoking sex from the “on-offer” specials in my head – not that it mattered, though, because although he waxed poetic about my lips (and teeth) at the end of the night, he got really awkward and insisted he give me money for the taxi.

Was I nothing more to him than a Jesus-Beard?

 

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Welcome to the Hideously Truthful and Decidedly Sordid Confessions of an Online Dating Addict.

Here’s the game:

I’ve joined as many online dating websites as possible in order to bring you the hilarious reality of online dating.

You’ll get the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the filthy, hideous, disastrous, hilarious truth on our journey together, scouring  the vile little corners of the internet dating wasteland in search of some true-love-forever Match.com advert. So help me, Blog.

You lucky things.

Submissions welcome too. Get in contact.

thecrassanova@yahoo.co.uk

You’re 44. Get Over It Already.

Last night’s date was via Match.com.

The Place: Marylebone

The Drinks: Wine

 

The Gentleman was suited and booted and looked like his picture. Ahead of the game!  However, things began to get a bit dicey when he started sweating uncontrollably and then over-apologizing for it, saying that he had just been to the gym beforehand.  I found this rather unbelievable given that he was wearing a three-piece suit with a pocket watch (because you brought that to the gym, right?) and furthermore that he was stammering excuse after excuse about it. In hindsight, I should have just taken the cue from the three-piece, which was salmon and reminded me of upholstery fabric used to stiffen a Zoot suit and give the impression of bigger shoulders.

Still, it’s flattering that someone is nerve wracked and shining their best shoes (or in this case, suit) in anticipation of meeting me, so I treated the situation kindly (or blindly, if you prefer) disregarding the hyperhydrosis situation entirely and instead engaging in witty repartee.

Rather than ask me anything about myself (do they not teach you this at all-boys’ school?), the gentleman proceeded to regale me with unending stories of things he had done as a teenager; about the time his parents had left him in charge of the house and he’d done something or other that was naughty, blah blah blah blah GLORY DAYS.

I can’t honestly say what was more tragic; the fact that he clearly could not converse without reminiscing about how super awesome amazing radical cool he was in the 1980/90’s or the fact that he did not have the people skills to recognize he was boring me out of any possibility for a second course, never mind a second date.