An Online date can land you in the Ninth Gate of Hell

A tale from when i was single.

I would compare online dating to grab bags at the end of a party. you are always excited to grab the bag, but what's actually in it can be just about anything. most of the time it's nothing special, and rarely is it awesome. sometimes it totally sucks, like its stuff that you have no use for. like a pair of fake glasses with a parrot beak attached to it that smells funny.

I can safely say i have experienced the full spectrum of results, from really cool all the way down to absolutely fucking-horrible-bordering-on-psychotic-episode scary, where's-my-phone-i-need-to-call-911. of course, its the latter that i would like to describe here today, because A. it's kind of amusing, only if you are an outside observer, which you are, and B. my awesomely smart and beautiful girlfriend reads this blog. she definitely doesn't want to hear about anything regarding other women in my past that doesn't end in me considering a call to 911. so, here you go, the date that turned me off online dating FOREVER.

It was already several years ago, right after a very tumultuous relationship with a girl who had tried to move out to San Francisco from NYC to live with me. to make a looong story short and to spare the details of yet another failed coupling, i was left feeling that i had watched this person behave like she was single in front of me for over a year. while i, unbelievably, was completely devoid of any urge to flirt or make inappropriate friendships with other women. so when that fun time was finally at an end, and i was finally free to do so, i went HOG WILD. not just because i had self confidence to quickly rebuild, but because i suddenly realized how good i was at it.

I quickly discovered that a man's chances of meeting girls goes up exponentially when he is finally out of his stupid twenties (i apologize to any young men reading this who don't believe that, but you will find out for yourselves, if you're lucky enough to be single in your thirties). I also realized that it helps immensely to live in a town with a large gay population (limiting the straight male competition) and a large financial sector (limiting the "cool" male competition on the straight side). i guess my stock had gone up since being a tweaky spastic twenty-something in Manhattan.

i ended up having an advantage in that crowd simply because i was obviously straight, yet i wasn't wearing a stripey shirt. stripey shirts are the universal uniform for suit guys, they really only impressed their counter parts on the stock exchange. the women of the marina and pacific heights were all about stripeys. but in my neck of the woods, the "TenderNob", they were considered an invitation to either date rape or extreme boredom. there's even a place called R Bar, that i was a regular at, that had a whole article making fun of Stripe Shirt guys on the wall in the girl's bathroom. don't even wonder how i know that. just take my word for it.

Basically, there was no real reason for me to turn to online dating except for the fact that it was recommended to me by close family members who had experienced success themselves. Plus i was already testing the online "thing" by having social site profiles. i guess that it was very easy for me to try because i work on computers all day. what i do at work can often take a while for even the fastest computer to figure out, so i often have moments when i can deviate from work, without affecting my efficiency.

i ended up "deviating" all the live long day. flirting with dozens of cyber profiles a day and netting a rather busy nightly schedule of random and ultimately expensive dates. I look back at that hectic time and realize that it was SO much energy that by the time i met somebody i liked, it was actually a relief to just stand down. the war was over, and my casualties were all over the city. making my next relationship a little tricky since San Francisco is so small.

but i digress, this particular memory started off with a very innocent and innocuous exchange of banter between me and a rather attractive, and very successful woman about my age. she presented herself as creative, witty, and exotic due to the fact that she was from Iran and had a a job that allowed her a personal relationship with powerful people in city hall.

anyhoo, one thing led to another and i felt like it was the right time to set up a date. she agreed and asked me if i would meet her at her favorite wine bar in Russian Hill. i liked the sound of that as it just seemed to support my assessment that she was a normal, "classy" woman(i LOVE that word, classy, when utilized it has the magnificent effect of turning on its user, thereby lowering MY classiness).

We met on the early side, which usually means that its either going to go sour before drunkenness occurs or that it will be a long interesting date. She turned out to be fluent in french and very good friends with the whole staff at the wine bar. so, yet again, her character was buttressed by actual hard evidence. my guard was lowering quickly. the coast, as they say, seemed to be clear of peril.

we ordered a glass of red wine each and proceeded to have a very interesting conversation. she had moved as a teenager to California, leaving behind a very repressive life in her native country. she was intrigued to learn that i was half Jewish (fully so, if you want to count a pre-birth conversion) and from New York City, where she had yet to go visit. she also loved my job, which i always appreciate. concerning what i do, either women got it instantly, or they completely didn't. some think that animators are weird geeky nerds who are failed starving artists. others love the animated films, and have read about how much money they make. so it can go either way depending on how open minded they are. in the marina i would get blank stares, until i drove away in my 7 series BMW :) but south of Bush street, i was a super hero.

So, she seemed to be of the south of Bush street flavor and i was getting excited about the date. but something started happening when she made it about halfway through her glass of wine. she started getting a bit racy. like giving me the up-and-down look where she is clearly checking out my body down to my feet and then back up again. then she started to caress my arm. i was a bit surprised by that because i had assumed she would be on the conservative side, considering her background and her job. but of course, i wasn't alarmed in a bad way, yet.

then by the time she got to the bottom of her glass she was starting to talk kind of dirty. like telling me she usually doesn't get immediately attracted to men and that she was to me. before i was even considering ordering a second round, she asked me how far away my apartment was. i was shocked, but, like a big dumb guy with an Id the size of France, i was all like "around the corner!" which it was, i lived right in the center of San Francisco near Union Square. i was just about always walking distance from my place. I just couldn't believe how quickly this was moving, even for SF.

She looks at me, then at her glass, then at her friends behind the bar and suddenly says "Alors, bon soir mes amies!" and she grabs my arm and leads me out of the wine bar. so there i was, 20 minutes after meeting this woman, being pulled towards my apartment. i think if i had half a brain at that moment, or if i could have left my body, just by about 5 feet and taken a good gander at what was happening WITHOUT the usual fog of war all around, I would have seen what followed coming from a mile away. but nooo. i haven't as of yet mastered the art of bodily transcendence.

It wasn't until we were actually IN my apartment that events took a decidedly scary turn. during the two block walk and the elevator ride, she started speaking as if she was on some kind of drug, like Ecstasy. she was WAY too into me, and my 100 year old elevator. so into it that she was caressing the buttons in a somewhat ludicrous fashion. like i felt like my elevator was being molested.

then when we got into my apartment, she started running around, pulling me behind her, going through each one of my rooms. i did have a nice two bedroom, but the way she was talking about it was scary. comments like "Oh my god, i LOVE it here. I want to stay here for sure! Oh my god look at your cat, he's perfect, i LOVE you cat. Cat, do you know how much i LOVE you?!" at this point i was like, UH OH. what just happened?

She then looked at me and grabbed my shoulders and said very intensely "I will LOVE living here". well, any sense of attraction, or even any sense of my manhood just flew out the window. i was suddenly as sexual as a carrot. i wanted to be somewhere else. i wanted to be Night Crawler of the X-men and just BAMFFF the fuck out of there. Instant teleportation wouldn't have gotten me out of there fast enough. the only problem was. WE WERE IN MY HOUSE. i had no where to escape too. i was trapped like a mouse. this is where i learned that my girlfriend's favorite theory is true. Crazy beats strong every time.

Her craziness got worse. I don't remember what i said, but i think it was something really lame like "wow, that's..." and then just stood there nodding my head trying to think of a word. but the only word that was coming to the type of my tongue was "HAAAALP!!". so she suddenly seemed a bit off balance, like she detected my shifted attitude towards her. what happened next was even more bizarre. she started to cry. at this point i could tell that she was sloppy drunk or messed up on something. i had heard about people who can't handle even a drop of alcohol and quickly wondered if i had inadvertently come across one of those.

her crying got more intense and suddenly i had images of my neighbor hearing this and people thinking that i had done something bad to her. my evening was spinning wildly out of control. it was some kind of crazy spiral, gaining momentum. she started telling me about how i thought she was a Muslim slut and that her dad thought the same thing. her voice was going up in tone and volume at the same time. now i thought it was possible that the dorms across the street would also hear her screaming. plus Mao, a normally friendly cat, had decided to give her some distance and had retreated to my second bedroom, something he only did when a strange dog entered the apartment. even he knew i was in trouble.

so there i was, trying desperately to diffuse the situation with sentences like "of course i don't think you're a slut! of course your father was wrong! i am your friend, remember me?" it was really really bad. i felt like the front man of the bomb squad faced with possible annihilation if i made the slightest error in judgement. it was a "delicate" situation. i also could tell, that if the shit really hit the fan, and police showed up from all the noise, this crazy loon would likely say something that could get me in trouble. and add the fact that she was friends with powerful people, and i was straight up, SCURRED. shook to my bones. i have NEVER been this scared of a man. only the fairer sex can scare me like this. the psychosis combined with really being trapped in my hole was almost enough to get me to flee my own apartment and leave my poor cat Mao to fend for himself. but i couldn't do that to Mao. i had to stay and protect my domain.

Finally, she seemed to calm a bit, at least enough to lower her voice. so i suggested that maybe she wasn't feeling so well and that i could get her a taxi, or even drive her home. she went bat shits again and yelled that i can't kick her out after ruining her reputation with her friends at the wine bar. WOW. what do you say at this point?! i was at a complete loss. the idea of being trapped with her was really making me consider what would happen if I called the police. i knew i couldn't threaten her, or even let her know how scared i was of her at that point. so what i offered next was kind of weird but in retrospect probably helped.

i told her that i had a very relaxing bathtub, and that maybe she should use it to wash up and catch her breath, since she was now a mess of running mascara and her hair had gone a bit fraggle rocks on her. it was a ploy that was beget by the fact that she had gone on and on about Turkish baths in her old country during those 20 minutes of normal conversation. well, it worked. she agreed and disappeared into my bathroom while i sat there, in my living room, mind racing about my possible options. how to escape or get rid of her was TOP priority.

I could hear her sobbing in the bathroom which added to my panic. then i heard something even more horrible. i heard farting noises. and then i heard more then farting noises, i heard pooping noises. she was so out of control that she was taking a dump in my bathroom. i don't know much about the general rules for women on a date, but i am POSITIVE that pooping at the house of your date is a big NO NO. at least i wouldn't do it unless i had just drank a cup of Ex-Lax thinking it was hot coca. and even then i might try some trickery where i say i need to get some wine and use a local restaurants bathroom. anything to avoid sharing that much info with a strange woman.

the noises passed, and then i heard splashing again. first thing that occured to me: i hadn't heard any flush yet. so that's when i knew where i was. i had achieved the ninth gate of hell. and this women was my tour guide.

a few minutes later she came stumbling out of the bathroom, she was stumbling because she was obviously inebriated, and also because she had forgotten to pull her pants all the way up. a sight that managed to really freak me out. once pretty has turned crazy, naked becomes AHHHHH. she turns to me, at this point i was just wide eyed and frozen to my couch, no doubt my mouth was wide open in shock. well she turns to me and says "I knew you were with the Israeli military, you bastard. think you can fool me?" then she called me a few more names, while i stared in astonishment. i didn't even have the where-with-all to deny being in any military organization at all. i couldn't even think besides wondering if jumping out the window was a possibility, with my cat.

I know my cat wouldn't go there because once i was sitting watching tv and i felt an earthquake. i jumped up and scooped up my astonished cat and ran with him under my arm into the closet to stand in what i had deemed to be the safest spot for disaster. well, he wasn't going to fall for the quick grab again. so that was also out of the question.

she slurred one or two things more about how i was trying to ruin her womanhood and some other crazy shit, and then she turned to my bedroom and basically lurched at my bed. i couldn't see what was happening but i knew my cat was safely in the other bedroom and i was alone in my living room. i just sat there, silent. hoping not to hear any noise coming out of my bedroom. after what seemed like the longest hour in history i tipped toed up to my doorway and peered in. she was fast asleep on her face.

i ended up grabbing Mao, because i was scared if i left him she might EAT him or sacrifice him to the god of Crazy, putting him in his case and then going to the only place where i could go at that hour that didn't involve a long drawn out explanation to a work friend. at that time i really didn't have any other options for crashing. so i went to my favorite bar R Bar, where i knew the guys would find my story both funny and maybe they would have experience or some kind of advice to help me deal with my current "infestation". well, they didn't. they laughed a bunch. but nobody really offered me a way out besides getting a hotel room.

well, that's what i did. i got a hotel room. i had to buy a bunch of cat supplies and sneak everything into the room at 2 am. but i managed to pull it off for a measly 200 dollars. thankfully, by the time i had to go to work the next day, she had left. there was a note on the coffee table that read, simply "sorry about last night". and there was an evil looking turd in my toilet. if anybody wants to know the name of the website i found her through, or actually, i think she found me, well i can tell you if you ask. its one of the big ones that guarantees happiness or your money back. let's just say that they fucking owe me.