Back online to ‘put myself out’ there (have not resorted to praying quite yet), I received a message on Nerve today to which I’m not quite sure how to respond. 31-yr old Brooklyn White Male sent me back my own profile picture after he photoshopped me to look green. He turned me into the She-Hulk. The title of his message was “Avocado Green” and there was no content in the body. I haven’t responded yet.
This is from over a year ago – but had to share. (Names and websites have been censored to save me from embarrassment.)
Senorita (&*^*&*^%,
You are a beautiful flower. Like no other in this digital landscape known as *&(*&(.
Come with me and I will show you a world of pleasures. I will take you on a Norwegian Cruise, but we won’t go to Norway. We will go to E’Spain where we will spend the days riding the coast with you on the back of my most precious stallion.
Once there I will paint you a picture. A picture of you, and of me, together, as we ride to paradise on the wings of sheer artistry.
Mi Amor, write back to me, before my lonely heart overcomes me.
Yours My Love,
M
Yes, I’m a lazy blogger. But not much has been happening. And I promised myself I wouldn’t use this as a space to man-bash… However, a message I received today from a fellow online dater has prompted me to post. Once again, fellas, this is what you should NOT do… (I’m starting to feel overexposed and underwhelmed by my virtual dating experience.)
Hi, i really did enjoy reading your profile. I love strong, and independent minded women. Below is something I wrote in my journal about 1 year …Its about the person of my dreams who i dream of but still dont know who that person is, and how i look to the day when we finally meet. I know that person is out there and its just about the curiosity of someday knowing but not knoing when destiny will bring us together….
I wanted to tell you last night. I wanted to say it before I feel asleep last night as I imagined the moonlight shining in on you and your beautiful face as you slept in your bed. When I imagined I felt your heart racing against my chest. But mostly, I wanted to say it before I said good-bye to you last night. As I dreamed of holding you in my arms; looking down at your precious face knowingly looking up at me, feeling your soul embraced to mine. Quiet, motionless but so truly in-tune with you. I wanted so badly to tell you that I could fall in love with you. But the words, each time, graced my lips like an impostor, only to fall away like some great blizzard that was taken out to sea to rain its fury on the dark ocean, alone, unbeknownst to any hearing. I was afraid you would take them as a responsibility. I was afraid they would frighten you. I pray that you can hear them for what they are, and not mar them with the knowledge that they stand apart from your ability to reciprocate them. Please take them in your heart and feel them with your eyes closed and your soul open … for just a moment, my voice speaking them softly in your ear with a kiss… you are the girl I dream of loving” My dream girl. I know you can’t be the girl of my dreams right now, and it’s all right. But I wanted you to know, I wanted you to hear it from me … when you smile, when your head lightly moves to dance, when your tongue finds my lips, when you ramble over a glass of wine, when you act boldly, when you laugh, when you squeeze my hand, when you call my name in a gruff whisper, when your heart races on my chest in a close embrace, when you love me. What I’m sad about is selfish. I”m sad at God’s timing. I am only a man. But I miss you. But what I miss most of all is what has not happened yet. I miss the dream of your kiss. I miss your smile, oh, how I miss the thought of seeing you smile. But most of all I miss the moment when you let yourself fall for me. Your racing mind, your hard beating heart, the expectancy, the yearning, the warmth, the thoughts, the love of your love. The you in love with me. What makes it hard for me is knowing how much you could care for me. How much, in a way, you could love me. How much you would enjoy smiling wryly as you hurled yourself backwards off the cliff and said, “catch me baby.” If I didn’t know that, I could make you a villain, me a victim and soothe myself. But I can’t because it isn’t the truth. The truth, we both know… The truth is … not today. Someday maybe, but not today. So I guess I better disappear. I know you’ll be okay, and soon I will be too. And maybe, just maybe, if God so desires, a day will come when, as friends, we will find ourselves accidentally strolling along the white sands of a beach, or the glistening harbor of old New York, or anywhere in this precious world, and from the heights, in the stars, among the angels whose arms will cradle us, in a moment neither of us was told about but knew like our oldest happiness, we will look into each other’s eyes and know … it is today. It is today. And whether that day is tomorrow, or next week, or next year, or next lifetime – I will finally get to tell you to your sweet face. The face I will miss more than I could ever tell, that… I love you. And you’ll smile wryly, close your eyes, say “catch me baby”…and fall.
UGH. Contrite doosh.
Seriously, I’m not here to man-bash. I’m just trying to help. (yeah, I think this will be an ongoing feature)
Mr. Online-dater – take my advice and maybe I’ll wink back. 
The other day I was complaining to MRod about this, and its still bugging me. Having signed up for what seems like every social networking and matchmaking website there is, I’ve successfully received winks, pokes, messages, etc. from all kinds of men. Perhaps it is because I’ve taken the time to create a profile that adequately represents my charming personality. I’ve picked out flattering photographs that are sufficiently recent. You’re welcome, fellas.
What I find creepy are the men who remain anonymous (no photo, private profile, “if you want to know about me, just ask” lines in their ‘about me’ sections, etc.) and are a) viewing my profile b) sending me messages, and following up with a self-important tone when they don’t hear back from me. To me, this is a bit peeping-tom’ish, and lately I’ve been sympathetic to the whole hijab lifestyle. But I can’t fault men for looking at my very public profile. I mean, thats like me getting pissed off at men for checking out my chest when I’m wearing something low cut. But I do think its unfair that you can go looking at all my pictures, send me a message, and then feel like its appropriate to question why I haven’t responded to you! Perhaps it is too extreme to say that it is an extension of the objectification of women in our society. But it is another form of male idiocy. I’d rather you and your buddies just ogle me from the other side of the bar, thanks.
Ugh, I miss my ex. What would Bear say…
