I just never learn, do I?

Okay, I was trying to keep this a secret but it's giving me so much material I feel that my temporary embarassment is worth the sheer entertainment value of the thing: I put an ad online a couple of months ago to meet people where I'm moving.

Don't worry, I've hidden the profile now so you stalkers can't find it. And yes, there were pictures on it. Lots of them. One involving a spiked dog collar and leather...

So here's the deal with internet dating: women who post pictures and appear to have at least six teeth, weigh less than 200 lbs, and have two or more limbs, get responses. Lots of them. Strange ones. Short ones. Long ones. I-love-you-will-you-marry-me ones. Didn't-know-you-could-live-past-12-with-that-disorder ones. I-paid-for-a-glam-shot-just-for-this ones. And occassionally, seemingly normal ones. It's kind of like shopping at Ross - you have a lot of seconds, overstocks, and irregulars with an occassional good find that seems like it won't fall apart at the seams until you've tossed in the spin cycle a few times.

I posted my ad a couple of months ago and have been contacted by a number of candidates. Actually, more likely every single man in Kern County that can search the internet. Being a nice girl (sometimes) and realizing people are putting themselves out there to respond, it's my policy to attempt to reply to anyone who takes the time to actually write me a note. The problem is that so few men get responses, when you do respond to their note, they immediately fall in love and start building their world around you. God forbid you have a few e-mails and then allow for a phone call before choosing chocolate or vanilla for the wedding cake. And if you don't respond they'll send you a nasty e-mail breaking up with you and telling you what a b**** you are. Seriously, I can't believe how many times I've been broken up with by men I've never met.

So a couple of weeks ago I exchanged phone numbers with G, a private pilot with a house on the local runway that has a hangar instead of a garage. He has traveled the world as a bush pilot, cargo pilot, and probably less-than-legal-stuff pilot. Now he's settled in the high desert to be closer to his son. We spoke on the phone and had a great conversation - about the military (having both been in), places in Mexico we've been to, earth-moving equipment (men are fascinated by my equipment operator past), and life in general. He sounded active, adventurous, and fun. It was a nice conversation and I looked forward to meeting him.

We had another phone conversation at some point and discussed my crazy family and their zoo. He mentioned that his son loves animals and he'd love to take him out there if possible, date or no date. So I told him the next time I was in town I would take him and his son out to see the animals. The next time was set to be Saturday and he just happened to have his son that weekend. Perfect, it was set up.

It was after this second phone call when the first sign of crazy appeared. Last Monday to be exact. I came home to one message from G on my home phone, then four hang ups on the machine. My cell phone, which I rarely turn on, had 6 missed calls from him! This was all in a span of about two hours. No messages but the one, and a bunch of hang ups. No sooner had I cleared the messages on both phones than my home phone rang. I did not pick up. Another hang up, presumably from G. Then the cell phone rang. Again, I did not pick up. In fact, I switched both phones off, made a mental note of G's propensity for phone stalking, and called it a night. The call log on Tuesday showed four more calls to the cell. Remember, we hadn't met yet.

The next evening G called my cell and I picked up. One has to deal with these things eventually, right? I answered the phone, "Is this my stalker?" He fumbled with words and excuses: the gist of it was that he had been 45 minutes from Ventura attending his court-ordered anger management class and thought we could meet in the middle somewhere that night for dinner and that's why he kept calling. Impressed as I was by the excuse, I told him I didn't think we should meet. Then he played the son card. Yep, the old, "But you promised you would take him and it's all he's talking about and we'll just go see the animals and that will be it."

So Saturday came and I called G from the road. What can I say? I'm a sucker for kids and it's not the poor son's fault his dad is crazy. The plan was to meet in the middle between my parents' place and his, then have them follow me out to the ranch. We ended up meeting at McDonald's in town. Keep in mind that the guy had a picture on the internet and he looked average.

I arrive at McDonald's and what do I see? An old black Jeep CJ-5 with camouflage seat covers, airplane insignia and a Semper Fi bumper sticker that I just know is his. Something inside my head tells me to put my truck in reverse and skip the meeting - 3 year olds get over stuff, right?

Still, I've been to war, felt poo bags, and seen worse in the form of Batmobiles so I go inside. I scan the room for someone who looks like a familiar stranger and see no one who even remotely resembles the guy in the picture online. In fact, the only single guy I see with a young kid is fat and extremely unattractive. Wouldn't you know it? He recognizes me and attempts to unwedge himself from the plastic booth while balancing his extra large milkshake in one hand and shoving a fistful of fries into his mouth. And there he is, in all his Hoo-Rah glory, wearing the largest pair of camo pants ever made (could they have been converted from an old field tent?), a black turtleneck (not to be worn by men with the physique of Boss Hogg), and a camo hunting cap.

I realize I am sometimes prone to exaggeration, purely for effect, but in this case, I need not lie. The man had to weigh over 300 lbs. And to be dressed in fatigues and driving that Jeep - it was comical. I did my best to hide the shock and focused on his son - a cute kid whose father had no clue. The son was eating a Happy Meal so I sat down to wait for him to finish. And then, in case you couldn't possibly imagine things getting worse, they did.

G started quizzing his son about military aircraft. He would ask him what kind of plane flew 6537 mph, which one had specific rotors, etc., and then sternly correct the 3 year old who cared more about pickles on his cheeseburger than Osprey landing gear. G also told me more than I ever care to know about aircraft. Finally, we headed to the ranch where the fiasco continued.

My father, a Marine drill instructor, did not like the guy one bit. He commented that no Marine would ever let himself got to hell like G had. My mother thought he needed to get a life and we pondered what aircraft cockpit was weight rated for such a behemoth. It was unpleasant and, thankfully, my folks feigned a need for my services once the boy had seen an touched all the animals and gotten his Christmas card shot with the reindeer. I breathed a sigh of relief as G took off down the dirt road and looked forward to never communicating with him again.

Later that afternoon, as I was on my way up to the mountain estate, G called my cell phone. He sheepishly inquired, "You're not interested are you?"

What could I say? I was hungover, had just met a man in camouflage with anger issues at McDonald's to be lectured on military aircraft capabilites, and, oh, he compeletely misrepresented himself in his personal ad?

So I asked him if he would ever date someone who lied about themselves and was 150 lbs overweight? He said no. I replied, then what makes you think I would?

Note to men: 1. Don't lie about your looks - if you ever meet she'll find out. Better yet, lie about stuff she won't figure out for a few dates - like anger management classes; 2. No matter how much you are into planes, trains, or cars, she isn't - just like you aren't into the Hollywood gossip scene - so don't discuss it if she's not asking; 3. Never meet a date a McDonald's; 4. Camouflage is only appropriate as a costume or uniform.