I met someone through the internet recently I met someone ...
I met someone through the internet recently. We saw each other's pics and agreed to meet a week or so after our initial contact. When we did meet, we hit it off very well, conversation-wise. One thing led to another, and we wound up going back to her place.
Here's where the problem starts. When her clothes came off, I was extremely disappointed at how flabby and saggy her body was. I mean, she was all cellulite. I was not expecting perfection?I actually don't mind a few extra pounds?but she was way below my expectations. Because I had a very nice time talking to her, now she continues to call and wonders when we will see each other again.
How do I tell her I am no longer interested without hurting her feelings?
?At a Loss for Words
When women meet men online, we (rightly) worry that the guy will turn out to be married and/or a homicidal maniac. We fret that he's going to show up for our date out of his mind on heroin, or drunk, or toothless, or that he'll stalk us if it doesn't work out.
Men, for their part, worry only that we're going to be fat.
Pretty much every woman I know thinks they could lose a few pounds, which is why your letter made my blood run cold. If the reactions of the Official Dategirl Focus Group are any indicator, I am not alone. Your letter is every woman's worst nightmare.
Francesca was immediately convinced her Nerve.com-gotten boyfriend drafted it. Never mind that they've been dating for months?I had to show her your email address to allay her fears. Emily merely gasped in horror, her eyes saying what her mouth could not. Me, I went into paroxysms of paranoia, immediately suspecting the whippersnapper I'd been seeing of sending it from a fake domain. It took a verbal bitch slap from a sane friend to calm my ass down. I can guarantee with confidence that there are at least 800 to 1200 other women in the tri-state area right now wondering if the guy they had that one great date with wrote it. You have single-handedly quadrupled the paranoia rate among single, internet-trawling broads in New York City. We thank you.
Of course my first instinct is to lay into you for being a shallow piece of shit. But that would be counterproductive (though vaguely satisfying on a personal level). I've certainly had my share of nasty surprises upon embarkation on the act. It's never pretty to go home with someone only to find they're hung like a shrimp or prone to making mewling noises during sex. If I'm otherwise enamored, I can deal with a tiny dick and/or the occasional coo, but if I'm not 100 percent, these quirks can quickly move into deal-breaker territory.
But really, kitten noises and teeny wieners are something you generally don't discover until the deed is being done. Unless she's wearing some serious foundation garments, chub is fairly detectable to the naked eye. Couldn't you have figured out that she wasn't your body type before you fucked her? Was she wearing a burqa? Didn't you do the street/bar/alley make-out/feel-up prior to going back to her place? Me, I'm a big fan of the scandalous public make-out; nothing says "oh yeah!" like a cute stranger's hand up my shirt and tongue down my throat while the bartender looks on in horror.
For whatever reason (I'm guessing liquor), you weren't able to complete an accurate body reading before you got back to her place. If it was such a turn-off once the clothes came off, you shouldn't have gone through with it. There are myriad ways to extricate oneself from any situation?tearful confessions of the wife back home, myriad virulent social diseases?you get the idea. But no. Despite the cellulite that's bumming you out so hard today, that day you just wanted to get your dick wet. So you pulled that ol' chestnut?the fuck 'n' dump. Nice.
What's done is done, and so now you must lie.
Tell her you've been seeing someone else and that you two have gone exclusive. Or you've gotten back together with an ex. Or you're gay or dying or under a doctor's care for sex addiction. Believe me, I've heard a million lies and told two million more. They are, invariably, preferable to the truth in a situation such as this.
Above all, lie well and then lay low. Don't blow your fib by updating your personal ad or scamming on her friends. All this subterfuge may seem like a pain in the ass just to spare some fat girl's feelings, but you've been a jerk. Repair that karma as best you can. Under no circumstances are you to tell her the truth. That is an order.
Oh, and another thing?you're not allowed to date me or any of my friends. That is also an order.