Chapter 13

 

Internet Dating
Fraud in the Inducement
Everybody Lies a Little

 

More than one in eight couples have met online.  Is Internet dating a passing fad, or is it here to stay?  Nobody can guarantee the future, but it’s a safe bet to put your money on the Internet.  Not only is it a major dating factor now, but it is growing in popularity.  As long as it provides convenience and the ongoing success stories supersede the Internet horror stories, it will proliferate.

Speaking about horror stories…here is a good one based on personal experience:
Lorraine P. lived in upstate New York.  She aggressively searched the Internet dating profiles seeking a kindred spirit.  She was an excellent writer, loved humor and was on the Internet for hours weekly looking for Mr. Right.  As winter was approaching, she started looking for men who lived in warm weather locations.  Sunshine is better than major snow drifts.  She had hoped to interest a few good men and get an invitation to spend time in Florida.

I had my profile on two online dating services.  She found me.  Told me we had lots in common.  Both loved to write, loved to laugh, loved to find potential dates online and if not geographically desirable, at least collect pen pals to share humorous stories with.  We exchanged e-mails. I loved how she wrote.  She was a published author; she wrote books, magazine articles and wrote a local newspaper column.  Her writing reminded me of Erma Bombeck’s style.  She made me feel good by complementing my writing.  One of her online profiles said she was contacted by Playboy Magazine at nineteen to become a centerfold.

She said she declined the offer because she didn’t want her grandma to have a heart attack.

She wrote very provocatively.  She described her body type as voluptuous.  She said she loved to walk around her house either in a bra and panties or nude.  Since her photo only showed her head, I delicately asked her about the rest of the package.  She said her legs were great and never had any complaints from a man.

We exchanged email and phone calls for a few months, edging continually closer to hot phone sex.  Very provocative! 

The following week, she told me she is planning to visit friends and family in South Florida and would love to meet “for a drink” and her follow-up laughter suggested that she wanted more than a drink.

Well, after great anticipation for both of us, the day arrived that she visited me.  She asked if I looked like my photo.  I said yes, but she asked if I would make a big sign with a large arrow pointing down that I would hold over my head at the airport.  She said she was wearing a tight white sweater, white slacks and a red blazer.  I got to the airport an hour early and waited for her to appear.  I was getting tired holding that damn sign up when I saw short blonde hair, white slacks and a bright red blazer come around the security wall and there she was.  I smiled broadly, held the sign a little higher and then I noticed it.  She limped.  Badly.  The person walking in front of her moved to the side and I saw what caused the limp.  He legs were so huge that she had to swing each leg around the other to propel herself forward. 

A very old gentleman who was also waiting for arrivals was standing next to me.  I quickly asked if he would hold up the sign over his head so I could tie my shoes.  I was wearing loafers; good thing he didn’t look closely.  I made believe the loafer had lace.  He took my sign and I crouched down and started running for the exit.  I ran in the serpentine fashion Peter Falk demonstrated to Alan Arkin in the original of “The In-Laws.”

Unfortunately, she spotted the sign switch and my leaving so she shrieked out “MARTY STOP!” It was so loud and piercing that the entire terminal stopped.  People stopped breathing, babies stopped crying, dogs stopped barking and everything stopped moving…except her.  She leaned forward and gradually stared to pick up speed.  Those pulkies (thunder thighs) began rubbing against each other so rapidly that if she would have been wearing corduroy pants, she would have started a flash fire.

We greeted, smiled, hugged (or tried to hug) and she asked, “Where were you running?”  I blurted something about needing to visit the men’s room before our long drive back to my place.

Surprise #2 was in spite of having asked me to do research for “hotels on the beach” for her, she never made reservations. #3 was no friends or relations to see; it was all about us.  She expected to stay with me and have a romantic “honeymoon” together.

She walked over to me, gave me another hug and tried for a wet kiss.  I stepped back and said, “We have to talk.”  I thought, “I know this person intimately online, but who is this linebacker in my living room?”

She started putting it together – my running away in the airport, my reluctance to hug and kiss and putting her up in the guest room.  She said, “I love you,” and I responded with, “Who are you?  I know you’re the funny writer from cyberspace, but I just met you, the person.  I feel like you’re a stranger.  I said it’s difficult for me to make the leap from Internet to intercourse.  How could anybody fall in love without ever meeting?”  She said, “I fell in love with you from your writing.”  I replied, “What if I looked like the ‘Elephant Man’ – would you still feel the same?”  She said it didn’t matter.  I said, “Chemistry is very important to me and although I love your writing, I don’t feel any chemistry in person.”  I guess she looked upon this rejection as a chance to spend time together (in sunny Florida), eat well and try to develop chemistry.

The next couple of days were an enormous guilt-trip for me.  I felt responsible for her feelings towards me, felt responsible for her airfare, felt responsible/guilty for a possible broken promises lawsuit (alienation of affection -- I know it’s  a stretch), and that she cried herself to sleep every night.

Some friends spotted us at an out of town restaurant and asked me the following morning at tennis, “Who was that woman?  You didn’t introduce us to her last night.” I said, “Oh, she’s the daughter of a famous writer and she, too, is a famous writer.  She’s just a houseguest.”

Of course, they didn’t believe me.  I tried to rescue myself with a clever defense.  “What if you saw me with Earnest Hemingway?  Would you think he was a date?” I had a history of dating attractive women, but she set back my reputation almost beyond repair.

 

Understanding Personal Ad Profiles Dictionary for Decoding Women’s Personal Ads

 

40-ish……………………..49 Adventurous…………….Slept with everyone
Athletic………………….. No breasts
Average looking………  Moooo
Beautiful………………….Pathological liar
Emotionally secure……  On medication
Feminist…………………..Fat
Free spirit…………………Junkie
Friendship first…………..Former slut
New-Age………………….Body hair in the wrong places
Old-Fashioned……………No BJ’s
Open-minded…………….Desperate
Outgoing………………….Loud and embarrassing
Professional………………Bitch
Voluptuous……………….Very fat
Huge frame……………….Hugely fat
Wants soul mate………….Stalker

 

WOMEN’S ENGLISH:

 

MEN’S ENGLISH::