I’m sure many women join an online dating site hoping that behind every cute nickname, every sweet message, Mr Right will be waiting. But because a) I live in Latvia which means that b) the vast majority of men are Latvian, I was just hoping to meet Mr Alright for Now or Mr Maybe 65% Right in the Head.
To be honest, I wasn’t really expecting that many guys to get in touch with me at all. My Latvian language skills are questionable at best and my profile picture was really very sedate in comparison to most of the ‘ladies
of the night’ on there. So when the first messages started coming in, I was, I admit, a little excited.
I was very polite, read all of them, sent a message back in whatever language they’d messaged me… but then the messages kept coming, and coming, and coming. The site only allows you to keep 100 messages at a time so I was deleting messages, forgetting who I’d messaged, forgetting what they’d messaged me, answering the same questions over and over again, getting repetitive strain injury from clicking from oHO to Google Translate and back again. It was overwhelming.
Clearly, I needed a better system. I started to get ruthless. Messages from the following were instantly deleted:
- anyone with forest in their nickname
- tubby Russians in tracksuits – clearly the only thing he’d ever done in that tracksuit was lie on his sofa
- anyone wearing a silver suit and holding wellies
- anyone with tractor in their nickname – and no, spelling it in the Latvian way with a ‘k’ doesn’t make it any more exotic or sexy
- anyone wearing a ‘crazy’ wig – no, it does not give you personality
- anyone with no photo – let’s face it, you’re married, aren’t you?
- anyone who thinks this – 😉 – is a conversation starter. It isn’t. Delete.
- any LATVIAN who asked ‘But why Latvia?’ more than 3 times in as many minutes. Seriously, if a Latvian can’t understand why I live here, how can I expect anyone else to?
- anyone who said ‘1.54m? Seriously?’
- anyone who is 19 or 83.
So there were some guys on there who weren’t exactly what you would call ‘keepers’. I expected that. What I didn’t expect was just how forward Latvian guys could be. Given that it takes them around 3 weeks to look you in the eye when you meet them in person, the number of horny little devils out there kind of took me by surprise. And, like I said, I had chosen not to go down the Latvian style route…
…so it was all the more bizarre when I got messages like:
“Perhaps a sweet gentle intimacy?”
And one of my favourites:
Horny dude: Are you a hot woman?
Me: I dunno. You can see my picture. You tell me.
Horny dude: I can see but I have to taste you to be sure.
However, the All-time Loser Award goes not to a Latvian, but to an Italian who lives here. Picture this guy..
Pauly: Do you like muscle big n*****s?
Me: What? I have a serious problem with that word.
Pauly: Sorry, do you like big muscle black guys?
Me: You’re not black.
Pauly: No, but I have some black friends here. (God knows where he found a bunch of black guys in Latvia) Would you like to have group sex with me and my black friends?
Me: Not so much. Good luck finding someone.
Thinking that that was the end of it, I deleted him and promptly forgot his nickname. I opened up my inbox the next morning to a ‘hello’, a ‘winky smiley’ and a picture of a naked black guy spreadeagled in an armchair, with his rather sizable manhood on display in all its glory.
Now why this guy thought I would like a picture of this is one thing, why he has a stash of pictures like this is another. It seems that he has a much bigger hard-on for black guys than I do. So, what would have been my role in this group sex shindig? Camerawoman? Did he just contact me because I was the smallest person he could find, perhaps thinking that I could get shots from angles that other people couldn’t? Who knows. I hope I never find out.
But it’s not all doom, gloom and dick pics. A couple of guys have made it past the cull and into what might become ‘busy-cafe-in-daylight-territory’. So watch this space – will I find the one Jānis to rule them all???