Punk’d by Cupid

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It’s only necessary for a blogger to discuss the topic of dating at least once, right? Well, after my ONE dating experience in Los Angeles, I assure you that this will be the ONLY dating post for a long time.

I would just like to start off by saying, my friends are great. They always have my best interests at heart, including men… Unless they were just so sick of me ranting about my non-existent love life, that they decided to take matters into their own hands and create an online dating account for me. Yeah, that was probably the case.
So after they created my account and added my best head shots (duck-face selfies) to my profile as I sat across the room in utter disbelief, we spent a decent amount of time “shopping” for men. Thank God we all have similar taste in guys, because every so often, we would unanimously yell in excitement, “Oh my gosh, he’s cute!”

After a couple weeks of aggressively clicking the “No, I don’t want to meet you” button, I was just about to give up on finding my dream guy… until… McHunky popped on my screen out of nowhere.

Male
Fitness Model
Age 23
Athletic Build (uh, you think?!)

SOLD!
Let’s just say, the amount of time it took me to click the “YES, I WANT TO MEET YOU” button was record-breaking.

After waiting anxiously for McHunky to chat me, I got a friendly notification that read “1 New Message” at the top of my screen. I may have done a little happy dance around my kitchen… Ok, my entire house.
Before I even chatted him back, I thought to myself, “OK, there’s gotta be something wrong with him… he’s an online dating subscriber, for Christ’s sake.” Oh, wait… so are you, Alex. So are you.
So I decided to reply. We got to talking… a lot. This guy was flawless. Seriously, what the heck is wrong with him? I had to get to the bottom of it.

When it came time to meet him in person, I forced my best friend to be there with me, just in case he was some 54-year-old chubby, bald escaped prisoner. OK that might be a little over-the-top, but you never know.

My first thought when I first met him: “Nice work, Cupid!”
We went out with my friends, had a great time, all that jazz. I decided he was safe and that I can pursue him a little bit more.

After we had been talking and hanging out for a little while, he informed me he had a modeling gig in LA coming up and that he wanted to take me to dinner after (which was fine with me, hoping he would come over with leftover oil still streaming down his beautiful abs). It was a win-win. Dinner AND a nice view? Again, SOLD.

We were at dinner, having a great conversation, when all of a sudden the topic of babies/kids came up. Before you get all weirded out, the topic was NOT about McHunky and I having kids (although they would probably have turned out beautiful). Just then, the six words that NO girl wants to ever hear came out of his mouth: “I should probably tell you something.”
My initial thought: ABORT! ABORT! GET OUT NOW! MAN WITH CHILD.
I decided to not be too quick to judge and hesitantly asked, “What is it…?”
“I kind of have a child.” Shit. Called it. But wait, he kind of has a child? Are some limbs missing or something? He then proceeded to tell me that he is, in fact, a sperm donor. Ha. Ha. Ha. You know those nervous laughs you didn’t even know you had, and that you just can’t control, when something so awkward occurs? Yeah, about ten minutes later, I was finally able to control myself. Apparently the woman who selected his sperm is pregnant. So, yes, he kind of has a child.

After thinking this was probably the last time I would see McHunky, we got back to my house to get settled in. As he unpacked his bag from his modeling gig, I think I hallucinated for a quick sec. Laying on my bed was a pair of brand-spankin’ new “tidy-whitey” underwear AND a few compacts of MAC makeup. “Cupid, am I being Punk’d?”
One part of me was quickly thinking of a way to fake an illness. The other part of me was thinking, “Is that my shade of makeup?” Snap out of it, Alex. There is nothing “normal” about a “straight” man who owns better makeup products than a woman.

After this ridiculous night, it’s safe to say, I haven’t spoken to the male-model-tidy-white-wearing-sperm-donor again. Oh, AND I also deleted my online dating account. For now, I am going to cherish my solitude and keep entertaining with my wild experiences. My Mr. Right will come out of nowhere… and he won’t share his sperm with the rest of the world. Too far? Sorry, mom and dad.

Good one, Cupid. Good one.

Lesson of the day: Don’t trust anyone who takes half-naked bathroom selfies with a dirty mirror.

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