Dear Match.com,

I’m officially breaking up with you. You’ve given me more horror stories than a Stephen King Anthology. So if you haven’t guessed by now, I’m ditching you.

Boy, do I have some doozies for you. Bet you won’t show these in the commercials!

Prospect Number One: We met two weeks into my six-month subscription. He said his name was Paul and he had a stable job as a mailman. He also had wonderful aspirations, like wanting to go back to school. To study what, he didn’t say. But that didn’t really matter. He was hot. And not just hot. I mean, really hot. H-O-T-T hot. His abs were like luscious, rugged perfection—the kind you yearned to lick melted butter from, and I’m pretty sure he was a Walmart model at some point.

Well, I was sort of right. He was a model—for Fixodent. And boy, do they really know how to choose their models because his dentures were really top notch. I felt honored when he told me I could hold them if I wanted. He also tried to pay for our date with Monopoly money.

Prospect Number Two: His name was Gerardo Rivera (yeah, it turned him on when I used both names). He loved puppies, popcorn, and porno movies. How did I find all this out? He invited me to his house…where he tried to show me a porno movie starring puppies. Then he asked if I wanted to be the lead in the next one he was making. Well, at least he made popcorn—and it was delicious.

Prospect Number Three: Sigh. His name was Greg and he was a high school math teacher who devoted his time to volunteering helping the elderly figure out ways to cheat at Bingo. I thought this was a very noble and sweet thing. So, when he asked me out, I said yes.

When I got to the restaurant, this great Italian place I’d heard was amazing but hadn’t had the opportunity to try, he was already there. Bonus: he even looked like his picture!

I approached the table and smiled. He smiled back, and passed test number one: all his teeth seemed real. He stuck out his hand and I shook it. One of those firm handshakes, the kind from a guy who likes to take charge.

I sat down and grabbed a menu. Then he placed his hand on top of it, pushing it down. “You’re adorable. I can’t wait for my mother to meet you.”

Uh—that’s cute, in a…creepy…sort of way. Definitely an original pick-up line, I’ll give him that.

I laughed nervously, hoping he was just nervous too.

“In fact, we should probably wait to order until she gets back from the bathroom—she hates when I order without her.”

Mayday! Mayday! Abort mission!

I thought he was kidding until she sat down next to him a minute later.

“I hope you remembered to wash your hands this time, Mother!” he laughed. She blushed.

I looked at my bare wrist and told them I was late to my Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, grabbing my purse and jacket before they had a chance to respond. No way in Hell I wanted to deal with Pee Hands.

Prospect Number Four: A guy named Jon who wore heels better than I did. And had legs so smooth they made me jealous.

Prospects Number Five, Six, and Seven: Rob, who smelled like bananas and Old Spice—not as great a combination as you might believe.

Prospect Number Eight: Ed, who lived with twenty cats and swore all of them told him which women he should date. Apparently, Sushi didn’t approve of me, so he had to let me go.

Prospect Number Nine: Gerardo’s brother, Ricardo, who didn’t make porno movies, but instead was looking for a woman to marry to avoid deportation to Panama.

So this is why we must part ways, Match. Ricardo and I are getting married next week.

 

                                                                                    Sincerely,

                                                                                    Jennifer—soon to be Mrs. Rivera

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