Texts from Douchebags: “My friend is in the hospital” Edition

I’ll admit it: I have sometimes been known to cancel dates at the last minute.  One of my favorite excuses in these cases is to blame it on a “girlfriend emergency”–i.e., one of the girls has just gotten her heart broken and it’s all hands on deck!  Guys never question this excuse.  Since I have a huge network of single girlfriends, and none of us is terribly lucky in love, it’s a pretty good excuse.  I end up looking like a loyal, caring friend (instead of a flake), and the guy never suspects that I canceled the date simply because I just didn’t really feel like seeing him.

Well, karma finally caught up with me (as it always does), and last week a guy canceled a date with me at the last minute by blaming his friends.  Luckily, I wasn’t overly excited about seeing this guy anyway, since he had sort of seemed like a douche at Liberty Hotel when he approached me.  (And there are a lot of douches at Liberty).  Also, there was the clue provided by the very first text he sent:

“Hey girl nice to meet you – Brad aka MIT douche”

At least he’s a self-aware douche.  Anyway, cut to the evening of our date, and I have a nagging suspicion that he has possibly forgotten, since I haven’t heard from him all day.  We had agreed to meet at 8:15.  At 8:20, I’m still at home and pretty sure I’m getting stood up, but I decide to send him a “Sorry running late” message, just in case he is waiting for me at the bar.

You have to give Brad credit for creativity here.  Instead of admitting that he completely forgot the date, he first tries to act like he’s on his way, stuck in traffic.  Then, 2 seconds later, the cancellation.  His friend’s in the hospital.  Yeah, right.

To no one’s surprise, Brad did not text back to let me know how his friend had fared.  I simply never heard from him again.  Two weeks later, I decided to have a little fun with Brad, so I texted him to ask about his friend’s condition.

So, there you have it.  Brad admits the whole “friend in the hospital” story was a complete fabrication.  And THEN he has the audacity to ask me out again.  Naturally, I do not respond.  Brad persists.

That’s right, Brad: I do think you’re a douche.  And, no, I’m not going to go out with you.

July 9, 2012. Texts from Douchebags. Leave a comment.

Texts from Douchebags: Los Angeles edition

by Daphne Reese

After all my talk about using Vonage to make boys call instead of text, have I given up texting entirely? Hardly. And since I’m still texting boys, I’m still getting a lot of texts from douchebags. And so today begins a new recurring series at Stilettos: Texts from Douchebags! Today we have quite the text conversation for you, courtesy of Matt-Steve.

Matt-Steve is a native Bostonian-turned-LA-transplant whom I met while he was home over the holidays. I’m pretty sure he originally introduced himself as Matt, but then it turned out his name was Steve, hence the double moniker. People in LA are known for being superficial, but Matt-Steve really takes it to the next level. He claimed to be in the “music industry,” which I’m sure helps him bang lots of bimbos in LA desperate to get their bands discovered. But he is clearly out of practice when it comes to courting respectable Boston women.

I met him at a bar, yes, but then he proceeded to ask me out twice—both times for late-night drinks where he was already hammered and obviously angling for a booty call. Tired of his antics, I bailed out early on the second night, gathered up my girlfriends and said we were going home. In truth, we just walked down the block to the next bar.

Dec. 24, 1:17am
Matt-Steve: Not sure how the wheels fell off but I continually love hanging out with you.

Meanwhile, at Bar #2, I had already met a new guy and was shamelessly making out with him. Right about then Matt-Steve, looking for a change of scenery, comes walking into the bar and discovers me mid-makeout session with Guy #2.

Dec. 24, 1:58am
Matt-Steve: Lose my number

Daphne: Will do. Just bc I’m feeling generous, an explanation: you remind me of my ex-boyfriend. Also, you would have done better inviting me out to dinner instead of out for drinks twice in a row. That is all.

Matt-Steve: I’m sorry you are just being you and I saw it and this is me telling you I’m disappointed. Very. Also, I live in LA where girls in Boston that are “hot” are very average. So, physically, that wasn’t the draw.

Wow, so I’m not “LA hot?” Ouch. I wasn’t even going to respond, but then my friends convinced me we should have some fun with Matt-Steve. So, we decided to see how outrageously shallow we could get before Matt-Steve realized we were joking (apparently, it took him a while!). All “Daphne” texts from this point on are 100% bullshit just to mess with him.

Dec. 24, 3:51am
Daphne: I’m disappointed that you are disappointed (very) in me, it’s truly worse than you being mad at me for making out with that other guy, but he had nice jeans. Also, I consider myself in a range of 7.5 to 9 (Chicago Ranking) and I think of you as like an 8, so I thought we matched up quite well. BTW is your name Matt or Steve?

Matt-Steve: I don’t do “number” rankings and make out with people because of their jeans. I’m an adult. Physically I found you attractive but it was more chemistry because “looks” only go so far and unfortunately I believe this may be as far as we go for now because I leave Tuesday.

Dec. 24, 11:21am
Matt-Steve: Haha just read through all these texts. How do you come up with a “Chicago” number ranking and is that weighed differently than Boston?

Daphne: Listen, Frank, after being called “average” I felt the need to give you my most recent “Hot or Not” (national) score. (It’s an 8.7, nbd) And speaking of chemistry, slight correction from last text: he had nice “genes” not “jeans” (autocorrect). Do you have a Hot or Not score? Seriously is your name Matt or Steve?

Matt-Steve: (evidently googled “Hot or Not” and discovered the website for the first time): Holy shit, there is a website that you submitted a picture to be judged by a score? This is unreal, learning so much, who needs dinner.

Daphne: So you don’t have a Hot or Not profile?

Matt-Steve: Never heard of it. Send me your profile I have to check it out. You thinking I’m an 8 and the women accosting me after you left is all the validation I need.

(Because I do not actually have a Hot or Not profile, I send him nothing).

Dec. 24, 10:48pm
Matt-Steve: No way you are a real blonde.

(Trying to insult me, I suppose. Is questioning one’s blondeness the ultimate insult in LA?)

Daphne: And no way you are a real ginger.

Matt-Steve: Gingers are red heads. I’m dirty blonde.

(This is hilarious because Matt-Steve is obviously in denial. His hair is red, his face is freckled, and he is a textbook ginger).

Since Matt-Steve clearly is not getting that this is all a joke, I decide to clue him in.

Dec. 24, 11:20pm
Daphne: Obviously I’m hilarious and 100% messing with you. Maybe you would have found that out sooner if you had showed some interest in getting to know me rather than grinding my ass. I think you’d best return to LA where girls might be stupid enough to go for your “take me home” line.

Matt-Steve: It’s obvious we’re both messing around. Hilarious is an overstatement but you are kind of funny and personable. I’m not in the market for anything deeper than a little fun, so you should actually respect the fact that I didn’t pretend to be interested in more. You should have seen my moves after you left.

Daphne: Yeah yeah, and all the girls were hitting on you, coincidentally just as soon as we left. Well, this has been fun. I am going to refer back to the original “lose my #” text and do just that.

Matt-Steve: You’re mean

Daphne: You’re median

Matt-Steve: So I’m average as well 🙂

Matt-Steve just doesn’t want to let this go. He texts again the following day.

Dec. 25, 1:37pm
Matt-Steve: Merry Christmas Scrooge McHighmaintanence

Daphne: Thanks! You too, Nightmare Before Christmas.

Dec. 25, 5:56pm
Matt-Steve: Too bad hot or not doesn’t have a personality ranking. You’d move up a few points. Had I known you could keep up with the humor I would have willingly hung out with you sober.

I’ve stopped responding in the hope that Matt-Steve will go away. But the next day, another text comes in.

Dec. 26, 8:23pm
Matt-Steve: I’m leaving tomorrow, do you want me to lose your number or text you next time around? I forgive you for making out with that mongoloid human after me.

Daphne: Wait, I thought I was supposed to lose your number. I’m confused.

Matt-Steve: Initially I was disappointed because I tend to put women on an unachievable pedestal and while I don’t have confidence that you wouldn’t leave me in a second to go make out with another dude… You are interesting enough to keep in the rotation. I’m sure it was because you felt disrespected with my antics of not getting your number or asking you on a date.

Yes, Matt-Steve, that’s partly it. Also, you’re a complete douchebag.

At this point, you might expect Matt-Steve to stop texting. But clearly I have gotten under his skin somehow. Probably he’s not used to dating intelligent women who will stand up to him and call him out on his BS.

Dec. 30, 11:45pm

Matt-Steve: I tell women that are rude in Boston that I see hotter girls working at Trader Joes out here. It’s part of my charm. You have a better personality than most girls at Trader Joes. That work?

Daphne: Ha. I’m never quite sure if you’re joking, or the most shallow man on earth. I guess that’s just part of your charm.

Matt-Steve: Says the girl who couldn’t remember my name… I’ll keep you on your toes but I keep it real. I’ve thrown compliments your way and “pumped your tires”

Jan 5, 11:46am
Matt-Steve: 80 and sunny again. There’s a reason women out here have the personality of a grapefruit.

Is the dating scene in LA truly this awful? I decided to ask Chopstick’s opinion, since he moved to LA last year from Boston.

Daphne: Are people in LA really as superficial and stupid as the stereotype makes them out to be?

Chopstick: Oh yes. Yes they are are. Disappointingly so. Matt-Steve does strike me as a native. On average, the cute girl in Boston on the subway in a hoodie ends up being a Harvard law student or something who has her shit ridiculously together. On average, the stunner in LA ends up trying to impress you with the last Victoria’s Secret event she went to, so she can disguise her dead-end cocktail waitress career and thinly veiled upbringing issues.

Yikes! As hopeless as the Boston dating scene sometimes seems to be, at least we can all be thankful we’re not in LA.

January 11, 2012. Tags: , , , . Texts from Douchebags. 2 comments.