Tag Archives: danger

a story about bad dates but not so funny


My adventures in bad online dating haven’t been limited to the men I’ve met in person.  No, no.  Remember I mentioned the chat option in one of the previous entries?  This feature is an effective way to flush out the ones who really should go down the toilet.

If it were so easy!

I learned that there are guys out there that hide their profile from everyone else; in other words they can see you but you can’t see them.  I know this because many times guys ask to chat and when I go to find them in the “Online Now” window, they aren’t there.  You can, however, still check out their profile.  You can never see when they are online though unless you and he happen to exchange emails on the site.

Another advantage for this sort of sneaky behaviour is to bypass any parameters you may have set in your email options.  My parameters give a lot of restrictions so it’s not so easy to send me an email first.  Once I send the guy an email then the parameters are off.  This resorts to some people to try to chat with me.  If they don’t have a picture, I tell them to email it to me on the site.  Believe me, the majority don’t because they can’t get through.  Some use really lame excuses about why they can’t upload it onto my email on the site but, hey there sweetness, I can send it to your private email no problem.

I only allowed that to happen twice.  The first guy was fine and it was no problem.  He was a nice guy with whom I became friends with, never meeting each other in person.  He’s a man with many problems and difficulties in his life and appreciates the fact that I am not going to fix him.

The second guy caused me so much grief in a 48 hour period.  He wanted to chat and I said it wasn’t fair unless I knew who I was talking to.  I always want more than one picture just so I can see the guy has more than one picture of himself and not of a model on Google.  So the odds would be that he was more real than not.  It’s not foolproof but it’s better than what the site offers.

So yadda, yadda he didn’t know how to upload the pictures to the dating site and asked for my email.  I checked his profile.  I gave it to him and he gave me his.  We chatted for a few more minutes and I thought I would just clarify something in his profile with him and went to click on it again.  It was gone.  So was he.  I frantically tried to find him, remembering his profile name.  Nothing.

It was so weird.  I stressed about that for a bit and updated all my virus protectors and such.  A while later an email came through:

Hello dear friend how are you doing .? Hope everything is going on well with you, I am Maxwell from blahblah.com hope you remember right.I am just trying to see if the email address you gave me is working so please drop me a line as soon as you receive this message okay. Bye for now and please take good care of yourself..
                                                          Maxwell

I quickly emailed him back:

Hi Maxwell.  Not sure what you’re up to but suddenly your profile does not exist.

As soon as I hit send, I realized what I’d done.

The day turned into night and I couldn’t stop thinking about what this guy could do with the information he could get from my simple email.  My IP address would tell him where my computer was.

He could come here.  I put my daughter and I in grave danger.

I didn’t sleep that night at all, barricaded the door, watching out the windows.  Full paranoia mode had hit me.  I knew this was happening but there was nothing I could do.  I got my daughter up for school as soon as I saw her moving, wanting like mad to get her out of the apartment.  I went back home and walked around and around the apartment.  I debated calling the police.  Nothing had happened so I knew they could do nothing.  Soon it was time for me to pick up my girl.  I kept us out of the apartment for as long as I could.  She became suspicious and asked me what was wrong.  I just said I was creeped out.  I wanted Carly to stay at a friend’s place that night.  She agreed, but not after feeling creeped out herself.  I couldn’t tell her what happened. I didn’t want to go home. I knew he would be waiting for us.

We got to the apartment and I made her stay away from the door while I went in first to check it out.  She was really becoming alarmed.  She kept asking me what happened.  I just told her it was part of my illness and it will pass.  I would feel better with her staying at her friend’s place for tonight.  She packed her bag and I took her to a safer place; at least to me it was safer.

I finally fell asleep from exhaustion.  I slept for hours and hours.  When I woke up I felt better.  I went to the computer planning to do the whole search thing and agonized over my mistake again.

There was another email:

Hello Marie how are you doing this morning .? Hope everything is well with you, sorry for not answering your message earlier ok i also can’t find my profile too and very surprise i think there was a technical problem.. Please send me a message and ask me anything that you want to know about me and i will tell you ok. This is my picture and i hope it’s not going to scare you away (smiling).. Bye for now and have a nice day..

Saying he tried to find his profile was the kicker.  You can’t find a profile unless you already have one.  The email had 3 pictures attached.  Needless to say I did NOT open them nor did I reply.  I systematically blocked him and reported him as a scam to my Hotmail account.  There was nothing I could do on the dating site as he deleted everything he had on it.  This won’t stop him from opening other accounts on the same site.

Maybe he didn’t mean to be malicious. I felt vulnerable enough, though, to have a full-fledged paranoid episode which only happened to me one other time in my life.  Believe me, they are beyond anxiety.

So that ended better than better.  I never gave my email out again.  So, if my readers are on the dating sites please remember this safety tip; don’t give your personal email address to anyone until your third date or you’re getting married or something.

I do have some nice stories to tell and I think I will tell you one in my next installment.  So please stay tuned.  For some of you?  Please don’t read it while walking.

You know who you are.  😛

about bad dates and funny stories continues


I’ve had good feedback for the first installment of my online dating experiences.  There were a few private messages concerning my conduct and how I should be more careful.  I totally agree with my friends about that.  Never, never should I have had someone pick me up at my home.  Never ever should I give out my phone number so fast.  Never, ever, NEVER get into a stranger’s van no matter how much I think I can take him.  I really did learn my lessons and haven’t done it again.  Lucky for me, there was no harm done and I won’t risk a next time.

So let’s talk about Bobby; a piece of work for sure.  Again, a man who’s older than I; 62 to my 50.  Charming on the phone and online.  Musician, articulate, educated. He had an incredible speaking voice.  We talked for at least a week before I agreed to meet him. There must have been warning signals that I missed or ignored.

I met him at the casino where we were going to have tea at the restaurant.  I made it first and sat down in the lobby to wait for him.  A nice looking man came up to me and, after saying my name, held out his hand for me to take.  His hair was dyed jet black and he was balding on top, confirming my original suspicion that the picture he sent me was more than 10 years old.  We walked into the restaurant already laughing with each other and happy to finally meet in person.  That lasted 2 minutes.  We approached the hostess.

Bobby explained, rather loudly and in an almost threatening voice he wanted a quiet table as he was fixing to seduce his woman.  Uh oh.  The other waitresses thought he was charming and giggled at him while the hostess looked for just the right table while he nattered about seclusion and time alone.  She seemed to have spotted one and led us to it.  Right away Bobby didn’t like it.  He felt it was in a potentially busy area.

He kept complaining about the table especially when a group sat down at a booth 2 tables away.  He was so angry and wanted to leave the place altogether.  I wouldn’t go though.  He demanded the waiter move us to a better table.  He gave the poor guy so much flack.  He pointed out several areas to Bobby.  None would work for him.  It was all a conspiracy of some kind.  At this point I was dying inside.  I haven’t even had any tea yet!

The waiter finally let Bobby decide where to sit.  He looked carefully around the restaurant and chose one in an area that looked closed off.  Again they bickered.  Finally, the manager came over and said to just go ahead and sit there.  Behind Bobby’s back, the manager gave me a very solemn nod.  I knew he was keeping his eye on Bobby.  Our tea finally arrived.

I was not impressed by how badly he treated everyone; how loud and belligerent he was when he didn’t get his way.  More than one person there rolled their eyes and ground their teeth.  I couldn’t wait for this to end.

I asked  him questions about his kids who were all grown and about his grandkids.  It was easy to tell he did not want to talk about them.  Meanwhile, he wanted to know all about my illness and what some of the symptoms were.

In no time, of course, he got around to talking about sex.

His feet, sans shoes, ran up and down my legs.  He complained endlessly about the people around us, convinced they were hovering just to listen to our conversation.  I explained to him that he parked us on the other side of the half-wall where the buffet was.  He also suspected that the waitresses, who were busing tables near us, were only doing so to listen in and spy on us. He gave anyone who passed within 12 feet of our table the evil eye and I think he even growled once or twice.  I know he did shout at  someone to mind their own business and move along.

Bobby seemed to have some kind of personality disorder.  I may even guess it’s not regulated by medication of any kind.

After barely an hour, I explained I had to go cook supper for my family and thank you for the lovely time.  He wanted me to pay for the tea but ended up doing it himself.  He started walking with me to the door of the casino.  I told him it was only 5:00 and I could find my car fine.  He insisted he wanted to make sure I got there safely (ha!) and he wanted to spend some more time with me.  On the way to my car he asked if he could call me for a second date.  I hemmed and hawed a bit and said sure, thinking I would just turn him down when he called.  I didn’t want to see what happened to him if he was rejected in public.

As we walked, he yelled at cars to get out of our way, made rude noises at people and generally was a humongous embarrassment.  He held fast to my hand and literally steered me everywhere.  I finally found my car while fending off his questions of what was the biggest penis I ever saw, how many times have I had an orgasm and do I really have a 6 date rule.

At my car I thought to dump my purse in the car right away, figuring I would need both arms to defend myself.  I hung on to my keys though. Bobby tenderly asked me if he could have a hug.  I said sure and gave him a very sisterly hug.

Not so bad.

As I pulled away and started to say goodbye there was his tongue straight down my throat without any preliminaries whatsoever.  He slammed me up against my car with his hands on my backside, grinding against me.  I fought him off pretty easily.  He finally let go of my teeth long enough for me to say “noseconddatenotonyourlife” at which point there was his tongue again.  I just couldn’t believe it.

I finally got him off me and far enough away for me to get into my car and lock it.  He was knocking on the window, grinning and concerned at the same time.  “Can I call you tonight?  I’d like us to do something tonight. I really like you Marie.  C’mon!”

Unfrickinbelievable

No I didn’t hear from him again and I’m so grateful. I decided then and there that I’m going to be the one to seek out someone next time instead of me being “selected”.  It’s funny too, how I always thought I liked it when somebody picked me first.

Part 3 will be coming on soon.  I hope one of these segments will have a happy ending!

Peace…


I know what I’ve written may read rather all over the place.  I’ve edited as much as I’m able to.  I’m satisfied though, that my message is clear.  I ask not to be judged and appreciate your support.

When will this ridiculous disorder decide what it’s going to do already?  I’ve had enough of new or exaggerated symptoms.  I want a way out of this prison that is holding my brain hostage and my life in limbo.

I’ve experienced the deep, dark blue of depression where it was all I could do to hold on to my life.  I’ve even lived through the highs: racing thoughts, reckless abandon with money, big ideas.    What I was not prepared for was the all encompassing consumption of this disease, even while on meds.

Consumed.

I’ve been consumed with various things for weeks, none being productive nor good for me.  I mentioned my racing mind.  That’s a huge symptom and the springboard for the others.

The worst times are the nights.

I stay up until 3 or 4 in the morning.  Every day.  Not easy getting up at 7:30.  Not good either, considering I’ve been going to a wonderful program and working at my contract part-time job.  The job was only for 2 weeks and I did lousy at it.  I’ll be lucky if they call me again.  Both the program and the job ended this past weekend.

What do I do during the night?  Why, I’m right here.  For weeks not writing in my blog  as some of you may have noticed.  Not researching jobs I should be applying for.

No.

I’m on dating sites.  Talking to strangers who really aren’t pretending to want to know me except in the carnal sense of the word.  I could think of nothing else but to see whether anyone had messaged me.  I even checked my phone while at work, taking more breaks than allowed.  Even as I write this I’m peeking at the other page to see who’s on.

Men messaged me, saying all the nice things I wanted to hear.  Good thing there was SOME judgement left in me where I made sure to talk to them for quite a while before meeting them.  I even had a safe plan if I was to meet anyone.   One guy went ballistic when I gave my view on porn after he asked.  A real bully and potential emotional terrorist.  Didn’t meet that one, but it was close.

Another man seemed to be perfect.  He was very spiritual and funny.  So amazing looking in his pictures; what could he possibly want with me?  He didn’t talk about sex at all until about a week of talking online and then it was for one evening and, charmingly,  he was filled with regret the next day.  I made the mistake of letting him read my blog.  So here is this stranger reading about the most vulnerable times in my life.  I was so anxious I did the wrong thing.  He assured me otherwise.  He felt closer to me than ever.

Then, a few days later, he stopped answering my messages and emails.  I only sent 3 as I did not want to look more pathetic.  I was devastated.  We were just about to meet in person. He played me like some kind of stringed instrument with a background of primal african drums. When I got to my Sara Riel program the next day I couldn’t focus and I cried throughout the class.  The other participants and the facilitator were so wonderful.  I stayed until the end of the day and wallowed for a couple more but went on with my life, as it was. One morning, I woke up and it was done.  But now the other symptoms were becoming more apparent.  In hindsight that is.

I only met one fellow in person and ended up hurting and confusing him with my scattered thinking and poor judgement.  I felt nothing for the guy except that he was funny, made me laugh and feel good.  As a matter of fact I felt shocked that this was the first time in my history with men that I didn’t imagine I was in love with someone I was with or even turned on with HIM.  I was clingy and paranoid.  I accused him of things that were ridiculous.

Sex had consumed me and my every thought and movement. There seemed to be no way to stop.  It was destroying my life.

This had never, ever happened to me before. “Hypersexuality” it’s called. Thank god it’s ending now. Unfortunately, that usually means a crash. I hope I’m ready for it.

I was also drinking.  Every day.  Weeks of it.  Never giving a thought as to how this fucks up my meds.  It wasn’t until tonight I realized there is something definitely wrong with me and did some research.  I found out that not only does alcohol retard the effects of the medication I take, it also can cause death, and not rarely either.  My meds affect my central nervous system and, mixed with alcohol, are lethal.

For those of you who are living with bi-polar disorder or who love someone who is, please visit this website here.  Read it, read it, read it.

Now for my plan:

  • It’s cold outside but I am going to walk at least a block every day and slowly add to it.
  • Somehow I have to limit my time on the Web.  That’s so hard to do since my life is so isolated.
  • I will read more and even watch TV.
  • I have to stay off that dating website as much as possible.
  • I will eat better and buy groceries.
  • I will NOT drink alcohol at all.

Thank you all for being here with me and making it all the way through this post.

I wasn’t sure I was going to.

Peace

Everything In It’s Place


This has been a week to end all weeks.  I’m not really sure what that means in a literal sense but I here I go.

It started off okay; I was expecting things to be nuts and it was but, as usual, mostly good.

Sunday there was a smell of paint in the house.  Nothing strong.  I found what I thought was the culprit: a paint can half filled with dried out paint that didn’t have a lid.  I found one and put it on.  Made some supper for Carly and I.  She hated it of course because it was not one of the 5 things she will eat. 

Monday at work was busy.  I finished the last of the current grant applications last week and was looking forward to planning an event for the clients I work with.  The federal grant I applied for our Multiculturalism Day was approved 2 weeks ago.  I had lots to do before June 27.  Clients are on board and doing their part which makes my heart sing.  Funny little headache all day.  Nothing major.   I wasn’t hungry (??) so didn’t eat supper.

Tuesday I put in an 11 hour day.  Our food bank had a good turnout.  People were, and usually are, well-behaved with the exception of a few who try to take food that belong to someone else.  Its food.  Of course they do.  People and food = survival.  We handle it and so do the others.  Nauseous.  Blah.  Long day.

Got home late (after 7).  Carly had come home from school early today.  She was in bed with a migraine and upset tummy.  She had a horrible cough too, one she didn’t have this morning.  My tummy was off all day.  I started coughing and my nose felt raw inside.  For the second night, I didn’t have any supper.  I made Carly eat soup.

Wednesday was busy at work planning the event and getting the day-to-day stuff done.  Good thing I have a volunteer who comes in 3 times a week.  My co-worker, Sarah, calls my volunteer “Marie’s Personal Assistant”  and you can just hear the caps in her tone.  I think she’s just jealous.  I was having a hard time maneuvering the stairs so I stayed upstairs as much as possible.  Coughing worse and nose just hurts so much inside.  Worse in the morning and before I go to bed.

Usually Wednesday I cook dinner and my son, Jason, comes over.  He likes to eat first then torture his sister.  I had to postpone because Carly and I were to go look at a second apartment.  Jason did come over before we left to sign some papers so Carly and I could get the dream apartment we looked at last week.  He reared back when he walked in the door and said how bad it smelled in the house.  Carly was still sick and getting worse.  My stomach was rolling and my eyes were burning.  I couldn’t smell anything.  I checked the paint cans again.  Nothing to see.  My eyes were getting blurry.  Long day, I thought.

We got back from looking at the apartment (awful), both of us still not hungry and feeling really crappy.  I made her eat soup.  I was dizzy and noticed my words were slurring. I kept lurching.   I thought I could smell gas on top of the paint smell.  I got Carly out of bed, she grabbed the cat and sat on the lawn while I called 911 then joined her there, where we laid back on the cool grass with the evening breeze cooling my cheeks and feeling fresh in my nose.

The next thing I knew, a fireman was bent over me.  I must say they look a lot better when their equipment is half off; like in the calendars.  I literally staggered to my feet, I felt drunk.  I explained about the paint smell but couldn’t smell it anymore but we were both sure we could smell gas.  He went to the front door then and reeled back, much like Jason did.  There must have been 6 firetrucks on our street.  All of the firefighters were doing a job, mostly with little metres and gauges.

Meanwhile I noticed not one neighbour came out to see what was happening.  I felt so loved.  Oh wait, there was a woman from across the street, talking to a firefighter.  She spied me and scurried over, rambling about my cat and her ducks.  Apparently the ducks that were on my lawn a few weeks ago had nested in her backyard and laid eggs this very day.  She didn’t ask a thing about us or the house.  I was tired listening to her rantings and deciding not to be accommodating like I usually am.  I saw the ridiculousness of the situation and turned my back on her and went back to my daughter and cat where we huddled together on the lawn, very, very frightened. 

Weirdo.

The supervisor came out.  No gas.  He was holding a dripping container of thinner that had been in the basement.  There were six other firefighters with him and they all looked angry.  The supervisor immediately started yelling at me about the collection of  paint cans, sealers and thinner downstairs and how he should just condemn the house right now.  I calmed him down and promised it would all be gone before he came back in 2 weeks and told him the crap came with the house when I moved in.  He couldn’t understand how Carly and I lived with it the fumes for so long.  I sleep with a mask and filtered air so I didn’t get it as bad as poor Carly, who kept coming home because she was so sick and then sucking in more fumes. 

So, still sick but at my grocery store job, I continued with my week.  Got a call from the feds that they want to hire me part-time.  Bye bye grocery store.  Too old for that place.  Jason came over for his belated supper and took one look at us, sniffed the still toxic air and opened all the doors and windows with orders we were to leave them open all night and the next day.  We all ate Tacos.  MMM. 

Wrote an email to my landlord about what happened and that we needed a place to go and the cans removed by Friday.

My landlord had all the cans and containers out today, Friday.  All 209 pounds of them. There was also the offer of a hotel for us and the cat but I didn’t have money for gas with work on Sunday and all next week.   Carly is staying at her friend’s. 

In retrospect, I can see the progression of the symptoms but at the time I really was not able to function properly or think straight.  I almost had 2 car accidents and the stuff that was coming out of my mouth (I mean words) was ridiculous.  Falling over, sounding drunk, coughing, headaches.  The symptoms seem so obvious now.

by ~UmmatimniiPanik

I want all of you to please stop putting off disposing of the hazardous waste in your home.  So what if there is only one can of paint.  That thinner ate through the container it was in. Your judgement and half your senses go out the window; I could have killed my daughter and myself.

From one can of thinner.