Divorce or Date #4: Weirdos R Us
DoD, Ep. 30: I'm A "Switch"
A friend told me tonight that a recent study showed how demoralizing dating apps were for men. Apparently, it’s a ghost town for most guys in terms of matches and replies.1 Carlos concurs, “I won’t get a match for a couple of weeks. For me to do the numbers game like your friend says to do, it would take a year to find someone good. You could do it in a month.”
Theoretically, yes. Realistically, no fucking way. I’ve been on one date. I’m still recovering. Not because of the date itself, which was overall decent, and yes, I’m writing about it—but because the emotional and temporal toll of the whole process feels exhausting. Or maybe it’s my post-breakup, perimenopausal hormones. Either way, fun times. It truly is a trial being a woman. Next time, I’m definitely coming back as a guy.
But not on the apps. And not as these guys…
Here are the weirdos, angries and just plain puzzlers who I’ve matched with in the past couple weeks.
Entitled, Angry Model
Very handsome and that’s possibly all he had going for him. His opener: “You’re really pretty. I used to model in Milan and Paris. We should meet.”
Hmm.
I have been accused of being a modelizer. Because I appreciate pretty boys who are sometimes so pretty they get paid for it. But just pretty isn’t my preference. I want the whole package: smarts, kindness, muscles, sexy, high EQ, loyal, interesting, the list goes on…2 (How am I still single, you ask? Ha.)
Who am I to suddenly pretend looks don’t matter? I matched with him and he immediately pushed for drinks that Saturday night. It was Wednesday.
I replied I could maybe meet him, but regretted it right away. I was finishing my spirituality course in India on Saturday night and I most likely would not want to follow it up having drinks with a stranger, no matter how good-looking. Still, I put off canceling because I always think I’ll get a burst of freakish energy like a puppy with the zoomies. This never happens.
He gave me his phone number and I figured I’d text him Friday. Which I kind of forgot about, plus I generally don’t text men first. My bad. At 11:03 pm, he messaged me, “a little rude of you not to respond , lol Must be the French in you.” [sic all the non-capitalization and poor punctuation]
Never call me French. I can swallow Parisian, but not French.
Moreover, we exchanged a few messages on a dating app. I don’t know you and I don’t owe you shit. Why do some men feel so entitled to a response from a woman? I know it goes both ways, but fewer women attack a man they don’t know for not responding back or quickly enough.
Negging also pisses me off. As if I can’t see right through it. Insulting me will not make me want to sleep with you because you think women are all people pleasers who want everyone to like them. Negging just shows me what an insecure asshole you are, one who stupidly takes incel advice from red pillers.
I unmatched with him instantly.
Throuple Seekers
Usually it’s women who approach because it really is less threatening to another woman. I’ve been propositioned 5 times (so far) to join a couple, usually for something long-term but everyone’s “open to play.”
The craziest thing about this for someone who knows nothing about ENM (ethical non-monogamy)3: These couples are really attractive. Like, they aren’t the Midwestern swingers from the Jerry Springer show in the ‘90s. The women and men are far above the average app-user. I guess that’s why they’re coupled up already!
I started discussing it with the one throuple guy I matched with who explained that he and his girlfriend are “open, honest, communicative, emotionally intelligent and available, and highly sexual.” Sounds good.
Then he mentioned they have a dom/sub relationship and HE’S the sub.
He’s British so that tracks.
He followed it up by asking whether I’m a dom or sub in relationship and in bed. I had to think about that one. I’m a switch (according to the parlance). He hearted that answer and said he is as well, but he prefers being a sub because he likes “to serve, worship, please.”
Ok then.
I have not unmatched with him. There’s nothing wrong with a gorgeous Brit who likes to worship and can explain the ins-and-outs of ENM. (Cringey pun not intended, but I’m keeping it.)
10-Pack Abs aka Nigerian Prince
I’ve failed to mention that 10-Pack—as he’s known to my friends and this Substack—is sort of famous, I guess? He’s back from Europe, we’ve been chatting and we have the usual health, spirituality and wellness overlap like most of a certain LA demographic.
“You love the sauna, cold plunge, meditation and peptides, too? We must be soulmates!” (Not. I already know my soulmate.)
Anyway, I got an email from the app saying he was removed for fraudulent behavior but they couldn’t reveal what the behavior was exactly. Which I figured meant someone was catfishing as him? Or he’s in a lot of personal debt and asking unsuspecting, looking-for-love women to send him money. Which kind of bummed me out: 10-Pack wasn’t real and I’m being scammed? Am I not hot enough to match with a physically perfect specimen of a man?
A couple days later, 10-Pack messaged me, explaining he’d been booted off because someone said he wasn’t him and he had to re-verify, but he’s back!
Frankly, I don’t know what’s real anymore. Life feels surreal to me nearly all the time. I just replied, “So you’re not a Nigerian prince…”
Still matched.
Phone Sex Addict
Bro. Bruh. Men. Please don’t do what this guy does. It’s all-around gross and the real woman on the other end will possibly write about it on her blog.
David4 is categorically handsome and appears to be a devoted dad to his 5-year-old son. After a brief exchange, he went straight to, “Where do you like to be kissed?”
This was new for me and also the app pops a warning, “Are you sure you want to message that?” when you write anything remotely sexual.
He quickly asked to text me off-app. It was around 9 pm. I asked him his last name, which he gave me, but when I googled him, nothing came up. Which I told him. I asked for his LinkedIn and he said, “It’s too soon for that, but please let me text you.”
It’s too soon to know your professional history but not to sext?
I’ve realized something about myself. I deal with trauma or anything heightened by disassociating. This is why I’m a writer. When something even vaguely unusual/alarming happens, I start observing and I get curious, “Where is this going?”
This is why I finish every movie or book, no matter how awful. I need to know how it ends. I’m realizing as I write this that this must be why I hang onto unhealthy relationships too long! (The more you know yourself…)
So despite David being the shadiest motherfucker I’ve come across on the apps, I gave him my number because I wanted to see what would happen.
What happened was a series of basic, getting-busy scenarios along with the generic, “What are you wearing? Take off your thong.”
For the record, I was in my Aviator Nation sweatpants and a Guns ‘N Roses tee but he thought I was naked in a thong. See, nothing is real.
I let him ramble on with minimal engagement. I was wondering how many women he tries this with, how many women allow him to, why he doesn’t call a phone sex line (do those still exist?) or get an OnlyFans account?
He then begged to call me so he could “explode in [my] ear.”
Eww no.
But as the good former tabloid journalist I am, I said, “You can send me a recording.”
And he did! Two of them!5
What an idiot.
They weren’t of him “exploding” but even more boring scenarios that involved a lot of me “putting my legs around him.” Guess he’s a legman.6 He also had the weirdest, whiniest voice that did not match his photos. This jarred me almost more than the insta-sexting. (Another thing on my Forever Partner list: A beautiful voice.)
Could he possibly have been catfishing me with those videos with his a kid? And how could he be sure I wasn’t catfishing him? Imagine two people catfishing each other! It was all too meta.
He begged again to call me. I gave a definitive, “NO.”
Silence. I assume he exploded all by his lonesome.
The next day, I told Peter about it and screenshared so he could see David’s profile—and the pervert had unmatched with me!
I suppose so I couldn’t notify the app, though we were off-app for the egregious bits so I doubt David violated any rules beyond common social boundaries and being too cheap to call a phone sex line. (They do exist! I just googled it.)7
I went to a party that night, telling my friends what happened and he texted, “Hi beautiful.”
His penis must have been ringing.
My friends thought I should confront him, “Why did you unmatch with me?”
I blocked him instead.
Who have you matched with recently? This bad or worse? Leave a comment or email me if you want to share anonymously: divorceordie@gmail.com.
Do I care about this? Not really.
I did a whole wheel with all the traits I’m looking for in my forever partner. It took up the entire page with very small handwriting.
There are so many variations of this that I haven’t had the time, energy or interest to research. I’ll ask AI at some point. Unless someone wants to enlighten us in the comments.
Name not changed because he’s not innocent.
If anyone wants to hear these, lmk.
My ex-partner told me that doesn’t exist, but it does. My ex-husband is most definitely a legman.
Jesus. I’m going to have to scrub my search history just because of this Substack.
"For the record, I was in my Aviator Nation sweatpants and a Guns ‘N Roses tee but he thought I was naked in a thong. See, nothing is real." Hilarious.
“Name not changed bc he’s not innocent” 🤣