Example of a message to which I would never respond

You're beyond gorgeous. If you are not the best looking girl on jdate...then you are tied for 1st !

Not sure how you can be single. Do you stutter or are you super clumsy? :) Tell you parents they have super jewish genes !

:) Okay - so maybe I am a fan. So sue me :)

I figured that since I provided what appeared to be an acceptable message from The Lisper, I should provide an example of a message I would never respond to, like this one. Let’s analyze it.

“If you are not the best looking girl on jdate…then you are tied for 1st!”

This could be construed as a compliment, if the majority of Jewish girls on JDate were actually decent looking, rather than that special breed that thinks wearing ill-fitting spandex and a cut up sweatshirt with their hair on the side of their head and huge sunglasses is acceptable to society. I think the Mike Posen Song “Cooler than Me” was written for the Jewish girls that attended the University of Maryland, or really any other large state school that houses large amounts of my people. They do wear “designer shades just to hide [their] face.” So I guess the bottom line of why this first line of the e-mail is open to criticism is that by calling me the “best looking girl on jdate” he has ultimately told me I am like the smartest kid with down syndrome. I want him to send me a picture of who I am “tied” with, just to verify whether or not this is a genuine compliment.

“Not sure how you can be single.”

Neither am I, to be honest. Let’s chalk that one up to my fetish with “damaged goods.” I’m like the Statue of Liberty. I take the poor huddled masses (read: people with low self esteem and other problems, like glasses or a peg leg) and give them entry to my golden door (this can be interpreted however you please) so they feel better about themselves. Once they realize that I am spoiling them, they begin to take the situation for granted and slack off in effort. I am actually a pretty awesome girlfriend, or so I’ve been told. It was actually G’s favorite phrase about me: “You are so AMAZING and DESERVE someone who can make you HAPPY.” The aforementioned capitalized words were used so many times over the course of our relationship that I have stricken them from my vocabulary. G, despite his Ivy League pedigree, needs a lesson on complimentary adjectives that surpass the fourth grade level. Anyway, I digress.

“Do you stutter or are you super clumsy? :)”

Stutter? No, but I have banged a guy who did (damaged goods). Super clumsy? A lot of the time. Why must people assume that since I am on JDate that I have problems (even though I pretty much assume that they do)? One in five relationships begins online today—well, according to that match.com commercial. I don’t have a problem meeting guys, but they typically aren’t the kind of guys who want to actually date me. Then again, I’m not exactly looking for a relationship right now, so when I say “date” it’s more in reference to being fed and a conversation that extends beyond “holy boobs!.” One of my bosses always told me: “You don’t date people you meet at a bar. You just don’t.” It’s something I have always taken to heart. Plus, you can’t find damaged goods at the bars, unless they are alcoholics, and those are not the endearing kind of damaged goods to which I am usually attracted to (chronic twitch > vomiting on my shoes).

“Tell you parents they have super jewish genes !”

Sure, Tony Soprano, I will tell “you parents” they have good genes. Then I’ll whip out my pistol and whack you down by the Hudson River. It’s called spell check asshole. Or even a second read, which you would have done if you really cared about impressing me. As for the “super jewish genes!”, I have a feeling this kid would be slightly upset if I told him that my mom is actually Italian. It’s like cheating. Italian mixed with anything makes you better looking than you would have been otherwise. I may have red hair, but because I am half Italian, I was able to escape the ginger blight of paleness. So it’s probably her you can thank for me not turning out like a complete troll. Well, her and the plastic surgeon. It’s my dad you can thank for my ability to malign you on this blog.

:) Okay - so maybe I am a fan. So sue me :)

Sue you? Who says that phrase, “So sue me” anymore? I think I actually want to sue you, if for nothing else but because you have used a total of three smiley faces over the course of this message like a seventh grader who just got their AOL 4.0 privileges back (credit for the AOL reference must be given to my friend Justine). Your profile says you are 32, but I am convinced you are actually closer to 80. I think I should set you up on a male date with The Lisper so you can trade clutch phrases from the early twenties and screw people over at your food cart together. Plus your photo is completely blurry, which might be worse than the chin up move that really fucked me over last week.