Story Sent in by Emma:
Richard's online profile looked good at first glance. He had posted about seven photos of himself, six of which were normal, but the seventh was of him with long black hair, black nail polish, black lipstick, and white skin. It was captioned, "Me in my gothy years." He looked like a cheap Marilyn Manson Halloween costume, and as we spoke more, he explained that he used to be into such things, but wasn't anymore.
When we finally met, he showed up with long black hair, black nail polish, black lips, and very pale skin.
"Is this a joke?" I asked him, realizing that for him to have gone through the trouble to appear such, it was likely not a joke at all.
"Nah. I decided to break it out for you tonight. You said you liked the look."
"I never said that. Not once. I asked about it, but—"
"Well, one of us must have misunderstood the other, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't me. Let's take a walk."
Not wanting to be rude, but racking my brain for anything I might have said that sounded like, "It would be awesome if you showed up looking like Severus Snape," I walked alongside him in the waning daylight.
Trouble struck when we passed a family with a couple of kids. One of the children stared as we passed and remarked to her parents, "Is that a boy or a girl?"
Richard stopped, looked at me, and whispered, "Did that kid just ask if I was a boy or girl?"
I smiled, trying to make light of it, but Richard wasn't in a lighthearted mood. He turned around to face the family and announced, "I have an enormous penis, but judgment, it seems, comes in all shapes and sizes."
Horrified, I stepped back, trying to disassociate myself with him. The family hurried off and Richard turned to me. "Can you believe that shit? And that's the generation that'll be running the country someday."
I stepped away from him. "Are you nuts? Talking to little kids like that?"
"It's not my fault that they're stupid."
"They're little kids!"
He asked, "Is this your way of telling me that you think we're incompatible?"
Without hesitation, "Yes."
"All right, then."
He put out his hand, I shook it, he gave me a military salute, turned on his heels, and marched away. I spent most of the rest of the night trying to remember if I had said anything to him, ever, that he could have taken as an excuse to dress up. To this day, I've come up blank.