Some of you might know that I am a huge fan of match.com, especially because I live in a big city (small towns where you’re set up with your cousins and high school classmates= kinda weird). In LA or NY, it’s great! You can stalk an individual’s pictures, find out what they like/dislike, where they work, etc. before wasting a bunch of time chatting with some idiot at a bar. In fact, I met my current boyfriend on match (he tells everyone we met at a backyard barbeque…yet we have no friends in common. Really believable). Before I met my man, there were plenty of mismatches along the way.
Two of my very favorite stories:
I met Brian* in NY. He sent me a lovely message and I was instantly interested. He said he was a lawyer by day, music producer by night. (How perfect! Money to survive, but creative as well… plus I have a thing for music guys.) He invited me to The Peninsula Hotel for dinner and drinks. It looked gorgeous online, so obviously, I went out and bought a brand new outfit. This guy was the ONE! Upon arriving, a short dude with funky teeth greeted me as Brian. Wait? You look nothing like your picture. He had a slight lisp and was extremely nervous. (I know I am sounding a bit vain here, but I was expecting Prince Charming!) We sat down for some pre-dinner drinks in this old cigar room/ wine bar. Next to us were two 90 yr old men, each with a blonde, twenty something “lady of the night” by their side. They had several bottles of champagne at their table and were quite drunk. My date and I were still doing the awkward introductions, nervous chatting, etc. About 20 minutes into our dull conversation, the events really started heating up next door. Champagne glasses were breaking left and right, one blonde threw up in the bathroom, and then came back to tell everyone about it, and the old men were extremely loud and excited. Meanwhile, Brian is yapping on and on about Yale or whatever Ivy League he went to, and I am half paying attention. Next thing I know, one blonde (not the puker) stands up too quickly, passes out, hits her head on our MARBLE table, and collapses on the floor at my feet. A CALL GIRL IS LYING ON MY FEET! Brian does not move the table and does not try to help this girl up. Instead, he looks at me totally serious and says, “So, Cassie…Tell me about your college experience.” I was speechless. I helped up Blondie #2, complained of a migraine, and ran the hell out of there!
I met Jake* in NY as well. He worked in finance and was brilliant. We actually went on a couple of dates, and I thought he was sweet. After moving to LA, I decided to visit NY, and Jake was on my list of people to visit. Since it was a special occasion, I got us tickets to a Broadway show, and we were to meet at the theatre after he got off work. I was feeling rather happy, being in NYC and all, so I did what I do best…went shopping for a new outfit, got my hair and makeup done, and pretty much was feeling on top of the world! At the theatre, Jake started to really slam down the drinks. I was so enthralled with the show, I barely noticed. Afterwards, he was dying to go to this trendy club, which I had mentioned my friends were going to later. I told him it was 9:30 and they wouldn’t be heading out til at least midnight. He was mad. Instead, we went to Eataly, an Italian supermarket/restaurant where there are different stations that serve pretty much everything Italian. It was closing at 10 and they wouldn’t seat us. Jake, hungry and inebriated, starts begging the workers for left over sandwiches like a crazy person. He practically grabbed a sandwich from one worker’s mouth. I said, “There are tons of restaurants in this area, in fact, I know a great one down the street.” He looked at me with deranged eyes and said, “I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE.” Then he stormed out of the restaurant, hailed a cab, and jumped in without a word. All because of a sandwich.
*names changed for confidentiality/stalker purposes
A Mismatched Girl:
Cassie’s Match Made in Heaven Look: Shoes by Tory Burch, Socks by Urban Outfitters, Sweater by Millau, Shorts by Sparkle and Fade, Belt by Abercrombie & Fitch, Glasses vintage from Ray’s Ragtime, Portland.