Uncle Johnny?

Dating as a millennial is like trying to find colors in a black in white film; frustrating and pretty impossible. Typically, you have three options:

1. You can download Tinder, POF, OkCupid, and every other dating app that is available in the app store. However, no matter how many accounts you create, times that you swipe, and matches you receive the outcome is almost inevitably the same: Friday nights alone, drinking Barefoot Moscato, and masturbating to the shittiest of Pornhub videos.
2. You can actually try and meet people at work, school, or during extracurricular activities. However, doing this usually involves prying a person’s cell phone out of their hands, and actually sitting down to have a conversation. I’m sure this works for some people, but I’m just too socially awkward to be like “Hey Jim, how the hell are you?”
3. You can go to the bar, but this is often a risky choice. This is because after three vodka sodas everyone starts looking like a tall, toned, eligible bachelor. Soon enough you’re scooting your chair next to John Doe, who seems nice enough but is actually a heroin dealer and has 34 felonies.

After attempting to meet someone using these strategies, and having no luck, I began losing faith in humanity. I remember asking myself one evening while watching Mad Men, I don’t get it. I’m moderately attractive, sweet, and have goals; what the hell is wrong with me? I became super sad, and lonely and decided to read some of the personal ads that were posted on Craigslist. Some of the posts were raunchy and asked for sexual favors. The other posts were a mix between terrible grammar and dick pics, or just plain gibberish. After ten minutes of scrolling through the ads I found one that caught my eye. The ad was relatively short but said the following:

“Older, attractive, businessman looking for a dinner companion. Let’s meet up for a glass of wine.”

I wasn’t totally sold on the idea of going on a date with someone from Craigslist, but hell I had nothing to lose. I responded to the ad, and shortly after I received a text from a man named John. He seemed nice enough and was generally interested in how my day was going. He was in his forties, but that didn’t bother me much. It wasn’t like I was having any luck finding someone my own age. After a week of talking, he asked me to go for coffee. I had the day off of work and decided to go. The date wasn’t terrible. He laughed at my jokes, bought me a latte, and smelled like Jimmy Choo. He talked about his kids, his job, and his love of traveling. We had a nice time, and he had asked me to go for dinner with him the following Wednesday. I accepted the offer.

Wednesday came around and I began getting ready. I pulled my hair back, put on a dress, and awaited his arrival. Around 6:30 P.M. he pulled into my driveway, and we headed out for dinner. This time he was different. He was tense and began complaining about his job and his wife. HIS WIFE? He had neglected to tell me he was married on our previous date. I started feeling sick and could feel my stomach churning. I instantly wanted to leave, but we were already close to the restaurant. We both got out of his car and went inside for dinner, and boy did I get the looks. Our waiter could tell that we were on a date, and looked super confused. Nevertheless, the waiter brought us our drinks. John ordered chicken parmesan and I ordered a salad. I was so uncomfortable and nervous that my stomach couldn’t probably handle anything else. He began talking about his wife again and then asked me about my day. I wasn’t enthused, and replied with “It was fine.” We ate in silence, grabbed the check, and he asked if I wanted to go home. I nodded my head and said, “I think that’s for the best.”

Upon returning home I noticed that my neighbors were sitting on our front porch. My roommate and I had just moved in a week prior and didn’t get to talk with them much. John asked why there were so many people on my porch, and I said: “Well they do live here.”

He became very uneasy, and said, “If they ask my relation to you just tell them I’m your uncle.”

Great. Let’s just create a web of lies, I thought. We both got out of the car, and I introduced John to my neighbors. “This is my uncle Johnny,” I said. My one neighbor, Natasha, looked at me with a perplexed expression.

“I know your Uncle Johnny,” she said. I looked over at John and he was visibly shaking. They knew each other. Suddenly, John went over and gave Natasha a hug and asked how her mom was doing. After a few minutes of small talk John went inside to use the restroom, and then frantically hurried out my door as soon as I came in.

I was super confused on what had just happened but decided to go outside and sit with my neighbors. As soon as I sat down, Natasha started talking about him. “That’s not your Uncle Johnny, is it?”

My face became flushed, and I couldn’t lie. I would have rather been known as the “creepy Craigslist date” neighbor then a liar.

“No, I went out with him for dinner tonight,” I said. She started laughing hysterically.

“I knew you two weren’t related, because he’s actually MY Uncle Johnny,” she said. Get the fuck out. She began telling me all about her “Uncle Johnny,” and I started getting angry.

Moral of the story? Never trust anyone you meet online, kiddos.