John Barry
St. Petersburg Times
Feb. 13, 2006 04:21 PM
Read 'em and weep. Or hug your spouse or your dog. Or throw your computer off the cliff at Lover's Leap and run to the nearest nunnery or seminary.
We asked online daters to share their worst war stories for Valentine's Day. For some strange, inexplicable reason, almost all the responses were from women. We've condensed the longer, more agonizing accounts.
We're giving the "winner," poor Peggy Hedgecock, a dozen roses. We're sorry. We just didn't know how bad it is out there. We should have offered entry into a witness protection program.
THE WINNER (OR LOSER, WE CAN'T DECIDE WHICH):
"Mr. President, I can no longer perform sanctions for the government. I have met someone who does not understand that I am ridding the world of terrorists and bad people." This cell phone conversation, which occurred in my presence, let me know that I was in dating HELL.
I met this gentleman through a popular online dating service. I investigated some of his claims by checking public records. I suppose I am the only person in Florida who was thankful for the hurricane. It prompted my friend to evacuate to higher ground and finally visit. After two days of sweltering summer heat without power or running water he snapped and disappeared to perform a local sanction. His break with reality brought me back to reality.
Still I did not see until I sent him packing ... and loaded my shotgun in case he returned! I then looked at what he had told me through three months of correspondence and daily phone conversations and exclaimed, "What was I thinking?"
Gee, did he really have a sailboat complete with a swimming pool? Although he arrived in a Buick LeSabre could it be, as he said, that he did not want to risk driving his Ferrari on country roads? Was he actually a close friend and drinking buddy of Katherine Harris?
I am happy to say that I never saw him again. I called his pastor and e-mailed his brother to let them know he needed help and was not welcome on my doorstep again. He e-mailed once to threaten to move to Seattle if I would not see him. I hope he enjoyed rooting for his home team in the Super Bowl.
- Peggy Hedgecock
DISHONORABLE MENTIONS
The worst Internet experience I had was meeting a Nazi. I don't mean a young guy with steel-toed Doc Marten boots and his head shaved, but rather a very urbane, sophisticated man (we were both in our mid-forties) - and that was probably the most scary part of the whole episode.
The first time we went out we went to a movie at the IMAX theater at MOSI. He picked me up in his Porsche, we saw the movie and then had dinner. I found him somewhat attractive and very intelligent. We went out a second time and had dinner. I thought for a third date, I would cook dinner for him and rent a movie for after dinner. At that time, Schindler's List had just come out on video. Big mistake!
We had dinner and then he got up and looked at the movie I had rented. A torrent of the most vitriolic words I have ever heard came out of his mouth. He spewed on and on about how the Jews had "manufactured" the Holocaust to get richer and how it had all been staged.
Quite frankly, I became a little scared at this point. I am not a timid woman, but this man was beginning to become so agitated. Initially, I had argued with him about this because I was so incensed by what he saying, but I backed off and suggested that it was probably better that we didn't continue the evening. He left then. However, he called back the next day and began ranting and raving again about I had let my emotions get the better of me. I was very relieved that I never heard from him after that.
- Renee J. White
I became a widow in 2001 and re-entered the dating scene and tried online dating. I went out with four men. Date three was one for the books.
Since he was also a writer, I thought at least we have a passion in common. We e-mailed and got together for drinks. Yes, he was attractive and we could talk about anything. We even exchanged books and signed them to each other.
Now, while we're sitting there chatting away, he says, "I wrote this book during the ninth year of my 10-year prison sentence." I tried not to let it throw me. I asked him what he had done. Armed robbery! Now, I'm from New Jersey and just about everyone knows someone that's connected, so I just ask more questions. It turned out that he was on parole and had been a "wise guy" just moved down from New York. He was in the joint when Gotti was there!
- Barbara Hubert
As a new member of "Black Singles," I received three glamor shots of a beautiful, sexy, brown bombshell. She resided in Brandon, so I suggested we meet in the Wachovia parking lot at 9 a.m., on Saturday.
My plan was to take her to breakfast. The lot was practically empty, but I didn't see her. So I called her on my cell phone. No answer. I looked around again. I realized that I had seen her. She was the fat woman standing beside her car, waving to me.
When I approached her and identified myself, she smiled, revealing an empty space where a front tooth should be.
- Howard Reeves
I found out that the guy was a wine representative and we spoke on the phone. The date said that he did not want to meet for dinner because if he did not like me he did not want to be "stuck" with me. I was a little taken aback, but my thought process was that if he was a salesman he surely would have knowledge about wine and be personable.
At dinner, he tells me that he doesn't dye his salt-and-pepper hair. I said that I liked the color of his hair, but he interjects that he does dye his mustache and the top of his chest hair. He said it makes him feel younger. I was nodding thinking okay, unusual but to each his own. Lastly, he said then, "I use the dye to dye my 'ass hair.' I am looking at him waiting for a laugh and a retraction. However, he was making the physical motion, like right there at the bar he was applying it. He had one arm stretched out like he was holding the mirror and the other like he was combing his backside.
I am finished with dating, but he is still available if anyone is interested.
- Traci Reid
I chatted with a man, whose picture was handsome, and we had great conversations with much laughter. We decided to meet. I choose a church festival, thinking it was a safe atmosphere. I told him I would meet him by the Ferris wheel at 8 o'clock.
Imagine my shock as I saw him with a great-grandmother-looking woman. He introduced his mom. I almost passed out. He brought his mother on a first date. She was such a sweet-looking lady. My soul would not let me just walk away.
So I spent the evening with her arm wrapped around mine, so she would not trip over the thick electrical wires, and we played games, ate cotton candy and won stuffed animals.
Bring a mother on a first date - what could be worse?
- Pam Marino
My tale of Internet woe hails from the now infamous myspace.com. Normally, I delete messages from guys I don't know, but somehow I felt Frank would be different, probably because he was such a hot, beefy piece of man.
I am not even exaggerating when I say he looked like he was ripped out of daytime TV. He told me he was a personal trainer. I agreed to meet him at International Plaza. He told me he'd be waiting in the parking lot. I pulled in, he waved, I stepped out of my car, and what happened next is still the stuff of legends among my circle of friends. He was reaching behind his car for something, which I assumed was flowers. No, it was a Hula Hoop.
Frank stuck his right arm out rigidly in front of his body and did a high-kick, then he slipped the Hula Hoop around his waist and started gyrating while explaining to me that I had "not seen anything yet." Before I could react, he ran over to me, picked me up, and started spinning me in circles, yelling about how happy he was to finally meet me. He was spinning me so furiously that my shoes flew off and I dropped my purse.
When he finally put me down, I leaned over to pick up my shoes and he picked me up again. "I'm soooooooooo happy you are here, this is sooooooooo great," he squealed. "Oh my god, put me down!" I yelled. He did, looking confused, then I grabbed my shoes and purse and peeled out of that parking lot like a bat out of hell.
Now every time I see a Hula Hoop I need an Alka-Seltzer.
- Hildegart Gomez
I was talking to this very nice guy on Yahoo. I e-met him in a chat room, back in the days when I had the time and the inclination to waste. The story was that he was from New York, a stockbroker, living with his mom because she was ill. We spoke on the phone and online regularly and I even spoke with his mom. He would send me two dozen African roses every Wednesday. Then I got a phone call from a woman who told me that he was her man, lived rent-free with her and her mom (the woman to whom I had spoken), didn't have a job and charged all the phone calls to their home phone and the roses to her credit card!
- Michelle Fontaine
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