By: Tony Tripoli
Lately, I’ve been dating a lot.
And, I will tell you why. I just joined Facebook.
Okay, I swore I would go to my grave without being a part of that phenomenon, but when I recently mounted the production of my solo show, TONY TRIPOLI : I SHIT MY PANTS (an evening of sophisticated theater), I had to get an account because it’s valuable promotion, and it’s FREE.
3 months later, I have reached the limit of 500 friends! Crazy. The shows were sold out, so….mission accomplished! But, I hadn’t anticipated the number of guys who would just hit on me through Facebook. And, I mean “Hi, here’s my wiener” kind of hitting. Turns out, dicks ARE like snowflakes….who knew?
Anyway, the attention is flattering- at first. But, honey, there’s a dark side.
After getting a shout out from the guy, I always go to their page, and look for RELATIONSHIP STATUS. I am not kidding here, more than half are listed as “Married” or “In A Relationship”.
Not to judge, but, I’m trying to find MY husband, not yours.
And, then there are the ones that say “It’s Complicated”.
No it’s not. You’re shady. See how easy that was?
Still, I have managed to go on more than a few dates. Or, I should say: schedule dates. One weekend, I planned coffee dates to meet 9 guys, from Friday evening to Sunday. It sounds like a lot, but hear me out.
The Friday night guy cancelled, and rescheduled for Monday night. Then, he cancelled that, too. My Saturday at 6 cancelled and rescheduled for Sunday at Noon, then cancelled and rescheduled for Sunday at 7, then just plain cancelled.
2 others no-showed, and never replied to my texts asking where the hell they were.
Of the 2 men I actually met, one sat down, and said “Before we start, you should know I have AIDS, and just started my crystal meth recovery. So, if that’s an issue, it’s your problem.”
Really? Cause from this side of the table, I’m pretty sure it’s YOUR problem, unless we share needles during lattes.
The other guy had no age listed on his page, so one of my first questions for him was, naturally “How old are you?”, cause I’m 40, and I want a husband, not a pet. He said he was 23, so, what could I do? I exhaled. Loudly.
He then asked “is it weird that you’re exactly twice my age?”, and though I’m not usually one to split hairs, I don’t like being 40, so 46 is out of the fucking question.
Off my raised eyebrows, he rethought it, and said “Oh, duh, not TWICE. That would be….45?”
Yes, folks. WITH the question mark.
So, I won’t be seeing him again, in spite of how hot the sex was.
Oh, stop judging. I paid 9 bucks to park.
And, THAT is why my Facebook profile says “SINGLE”.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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