Terry Moffle, from Dating Twitter -- a place for spambots to meet, and fall in love.
"I'll admit it, Terry, I thought you were going to be a woman. I know, I know: I really should've nailed this down before agreeing to the date, but I guess I just figured that, since I didn't understand you, you had to be female."
"RT IS THE WAY TO BE," he spouted, with that same unfocused, glass-eyed stare he'd had since I found him wandering the park outside the pizza place where we agreed to meet.
"I mean, listen, you've got girlish cheekbones and I've got whiskey, so I'm not saying that's a deal breaker. But you have to look at me before we do it. You have to look at me in the eyes, Terry. I'm not a whore."
But he couldn't seem to keep eye contact; he just kept screaming the names of websites at squirrels.
"YOUR BRAND IS YOU: BRAND YOURSELF," he screeched, tearing open his shirt and revealing a series of painful decals burned into his flesh. I recognized the Virgin Airlines and Skechers logos emblazoned beneath each nipple, but the rest were unfamiliar, and I didn't feel like they engaged me socially, so I didn't pay any attention to them.
When I left Terry, he was clawing keywords into the bark of a tree with his bloody fingertips. VIDEO GAMES, the trunk read: SEX SALVIA CALL OF DUTY CHARLIE SHEEN POT MARIJUANA BARELY LEGAL SKYRIM.
To my amazement, I'd actually found a dating site that was beneath me. If you'd told me that was possible a few days ago, I would've spit in your face and stole your car, because that's what I do to liars and people with faces and cars. But here I stand, too socially inept for Match, too poor for Sugar Daddy For Me, too brutal for the Atlasphere and (inexplicably) too literate for Twitter Date. So what happens to people like me? Is there nowhere on the Internet for a man to meet like-minded people with no morals, no potential and very little concern for their own well-being or the well-being of others?
Oh. Shit. Oh, no. There is a place like that. A dark and abyssal place, which I'd swore to never tread again ...
Jennifer Chow, from Craigslist Personal Ads -- a place to find love and a lightly used couch with only moderate bloodstaining, at the same time.
Surprisingly, the date with Jennifer went swimmingly. You would've loved her. We discussed all the things you like at length, and none of the things that you don't. I found her to be intelligent, sexy, successful, generous, giving and above all, absolutely not a first-world dental pirate. We shared scintillating conversation, fine wines and a night of passionate love making doing all those positions you want to do but haven't done yet. What we did not share was a plan to trick perverts with good dental hygiene into the alleyway off of Ocean Street in order to dose them with Nitrous Oxide and pull their canines out to sell to Chinese men with erectile dysfunction. That is a ridiculous assumption, and I really don't understand why people keep saying it.
Sadly, I had to break it off with Jennifer, because she was just too damn nubile and willing to experiment for me (she had some really nice things to say about you, though; you should definitely not call her at all before you agree to meet at that new club without a name that you can't find on Google Maps).
So it looks like this whole online dating didn't pan out.
I guess that's ultimately because, when you get right down to it, dating is all about connecting with another person, empathizing with their troubles and learning to care about them as a human being. And every single one of those things is the exact opposite of everybody on the Internet.
Although, really, it's probably because my wife found out about it.
You can buy Robert's book, Everything is Going to Kill Everybody: The Terrifyingly Real Ways the World Wants You Dead, or follow him on Twitter, Facebook and Google+. Or you could go visit the Atlasphere instead, and try to sneak Bioshock-themed profiles past the moderators there. That sounds like way more fun.
For more from Robert, check out The 5 Least Sexy Products Money Can Buy=One Terrifying Date and 5 Steps to Having The Most Badass Funeral Ever.