E-Dating Fail

I had this great post planned for today, all about the Red Wings and the Stanley Cup, and how hockey is the only thing keeping the peace in my relationship with my dad. Then, I got this email and it totally wiped any coherent thought out of my mind.

I've been on an online dating site for the last few months, and I had some luck with it - If by luck, I mean the guy I really hit it off with and spend three months with, has to up and move to the other side of the state, but anyways. Last night's email.

Started simple enough.

Him: "hey, how goes it tonight?"

Of course, the first thing I do is go check out his profile. He's cute... uses an awful lot of hair product - he's 31, boasts about owning his own house and making all sorts of money. Looking for "that one special girl with inner beauty to share his heart with."

So I respond with, "It goes okay, just watching Bill O'Reilly. You?"

Him: "I like Billy. So, how big are those sweater melons of yours?"

Sweater.Melons.

I have never heard this term before, but it makes me laugh. Last night, it pissed me off... seriously? Sweater melons? Tweleve types of awesome, but thirty types of Asshat-ness.

Obviously, I don't respond. I delete his email. Ten minutes later, I get:

"Come on baby, come back to big daddy."

Yeah, no. THEN!

"Come on sweetcheaks, I'll make it worth your while.... $1500."

Um, what? He can't even spell sweetcheeks. Still no response for me.

"Okay, okay... I'll go as high as $2000."

I haven't responded yet, but now I'm confused. Is he offering me $2000 to tell him my bra size? Nothing else was discussed.

On, online dating. How I love to hate you.

Sometimes...

Sometimes, when given the option of watching The Passion of the Christ, Schindler's List, or What Happens in Vegas, it's okay if Ashton and Cameron win out.