ATTN: Single Ladies

One thing that I am wholeheartedly unashamed about is just how much of a fan of romance I am. I will see Katherine Heigl and Jennifer Anniston movies on opening weekend, I will read novels that include phrases such as “my loins were warm with my lust for her” and “I knew she was the one when we both reached for the same tomato purée tube in Sainsbury’s”, I will take an active interest in the love lives of everybody I know and a few people I don’t, I may have already planned almost every detail of my wedding (I’m not yet engaged), and there is nobody alive who “AWWW”s louder than I do when I see a couple of OAPs hobbling around hand in hand.

There are very few times when I’ll mock somebody for being a brave enough person to put themselves out there and make the first move when they are interested in a person, no matter how cringeworthy they come across, but I’m about to. I don’t even need to say anything really (but I will, obviously) as this audio says it all for me.

LOLWUT?

Enticing, amirite? No, no. Not at all. I laughed, I gasped, I exclaimed and I cut myself a bit.

Transcript to message one:

Hey Olga, it’s Dimitri.

Sorry I had to leave such a rushed message with you when we met the other day. I just wanted to quickly give you my phone number, and needed to get the heck out of the area. In any event, I thought I had better leave you a more detailed message and explain why I approached you. I am single. I have no trouble meeting women; I mean, women approach me six or seven times a day. But I’m extremely particular about what I like. You’re an extremely elegant woman. I couldn’t take my eyes off you, and your friends were very jealous — even if they say they weren’t, they were envious of the fact that I approached you, and I was very taken by you. Elegant women are very rare. I’m Greek and I’m extremely particular about what I like. So I’m giving you an opportunity here. I don’t know if you picked up the message on the weekend but I’m working on a movie script so I’ll be doing that all weekend…

This looks like a land line, and if it is you may not get the message till Monday. But when you do, call me and we’ll get together for coffee or drinks, and let the romance begin. You looked very taken aback by my approach, and I hope that wasn’t timidness, I hope it was just shock at being approached so directly. Because I don’t really date timid women, because I’m a very direct, very passionate, very assertive man, and I want a woman who is very independent and strong. So… we’ll talk about that, but I just wanted to formally introduce myself. I leave the ball in your court. You call me as soon as you have the courage to. Okay, Olga? Talk to you soon, bye.

What this translates to me, as a woman.

Hey Olga, it’s Dimitri.

Sorry I had to leave such a rushed message with you when we met the other day. I just wanted to quickly give you my phone number, and I needed to get home because Mum called and dinner was on the table; chicken in white wine sauce is my favourite. I like the sound of my own voice, so I’m just going to talk for a bit. I am single. I have no trouble walking among women in my day-to-day life but not a lot seem to approach me or appreciate my advances. I’m getting particularly desperate at this stage of my life and I’ve taken to accosting every person with boobs I encounter. I can’t quite remember which one you are but, if I could, I’d probably compliment you. All your friends were too fat for me to look twice at and I’m sure they were very jealous – even if they say there were actually laughing at me, they were envious of the fact that I approached you, and I was very taken with how (I think) you weren’t ginger, chubby or wearing espradrilles like your friends were. Thin women are becoming rare. I’m going to tell you I’m Greek to appear exotic. Please call me. I’ll be sat at home in my sweatpants all weekend waiting to hear from you.

Is this a real number you gave me? I’ll wait and see. PLEASE CALL ME. You looked disgusted by me coming on to you, I hope that was just surprise. I once leafed through a Cosmopolitan in my dentist’s surgery and read that women like men to be direct, passionate and assertive so I’m going to pretend to be all of those things for you. So… yeah. PLEASE CALL ME. Please call me. Okay, Olga? Talk to you soon, hopefully. PLEASE CALL ME. Bye.

My skin is crawling. But message two is where Dimitri gets so, so, so much better (and yet less appealing than any man could ever be. Less appealing than Wayne Rooney with his cock stuck in an octogenarian beckoning you from across the room to come over and lick out his arsehole).

Transcript to message two:

Hi there, Olga it’s Dimitri calling again, the guy from the street.

I left you a message several days ago you said you were interested. Now, here’s the way I work. I don’t like leaving second messages but I like you, you’re a very elegant woman, you’re very attractive, but, you know, I don’t play that game. I know your friends tell you not to return calls; you’re playing games like you see in stupid TV shows. So here’s how it’s gonna work. It is now 4:30 on Wednesday. Now I’ll assume, I’ll assume that you’ve already left work, because, you know, some people leave work early, so I’ll grant you that. But if I don’t receive a phone call back from you by 3 o’clock Thursday afternoon I’m no longer interested and I’m going to erase your number. I don’t play games like that. I’m completely single, I’m very intelligent, I’m great in bed, I make great money. Believe it or not, I’m a complete catch. I’ve only been single four months; I had a long distance relationship for about a year, it’s very tough to maintain it that; there’s nothing wrong with me. As a matter of fact I’m one of the few men in the city that has nothing wrong with him. So I’m giving you the three o’clock deadline. If I don’t hear from you by then, you lose my number — I’m erasing your number right now, so you won’t be hearing back from me.

So that’s it: three o’clock tomorrow, or you can just completely forget it.

Now I understand if you’ve got other issues, maybe you’re not playing games, I don’t know… maybe you were abused in childhood?…Maybe your mother has cancer, and you’re going to chemo…maybe you’re just a person who’s extremely frightened or has an anxiety disorder, maybe you’re on some medication for that…I don’t know, there could be another issue that I’m not aware of. But nobody says “Call me,” hands a person a business card and then doesn’t return calls. It’s extremely passive aggressive. You should actually look that up, passive-aggressive personality disorder. You let me know, if you’ve got issues, psychological issues, if you’re on any sort of medication for anxiety or depression, I’m not interested. But if you’re psychologically normal, and you haven’t called me because there’s been some horrible thing that’s happened in your life that’s prevented you from returning my calls, that’s fine. But otherwise? Don’t call me. Okay, bye.

What this translates to me, as a woman:

OLGA?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?! IT’S ME!!!!! ME, DIMITRI.

Why haven’t you called me, Olga?????????? Please don’t make me beg, Olga. Your fat friends were nasty about me, weren’t they? Fuck you, you whore. You’ve been watching Sex and the City, haven’t you? Fucking me around aren’t you, Olga? Please don’t do this to be. It’s Wednesday afternoon; are you home? I’ve been unemployed for so long, I can barely remember what time people finish work. I’m not leaving this seat opposite from telephone until this time tomorrow. If you don’t call me by then, I’m going to kill myself. I’m actually going to kill myself. I’m completely single. My Mum says I’m smarter than my brothers and I’m really good at masturbating so I must be good at the sex. My Dad still gives me an allowance, Olga. I’ve only been single four months; I had a long distance relationship for about a year before I realised I could no longer afford to ring Babestation. It’s very tough to keep the love alive when you can’t afford to phone your girlfriend and she never comes to see you. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG  WITH ME, HONEST. Please call me. I’ve carved your number into my arm with a knife.

To reiterate, please call me.

Why aren’t you calling me? Were you abused in childhood resulted in issues with trust and relationships with men? That would make me feel better. Oh, does your mum have cancer, and you’re going to chemo? Are you mental? Are you actually mental, Olga??? THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME. Are you a lesbian? What kind of girl gives me her business card and doesn’t return my calls?!?!?!?!?!? Are you ignoring me, Olga? Olga? Olga? Olga? Olga? Are you dead Olga? Olga? Olga? I love you, Olga. Olga, please pick up. Olga. Olga. Olga. Olga? FUCK YOU THEN WHORE.

This is the most repulsive, desperate, deluded and funniest attempt at picking up somebody I’ve ever read about. If I’m anything to go by, women just want a doughnut and maybe a free bus ticket. None of this bullshit.

For your further enjoyment, Dimitri has the most amazing website I’ve ever seen on the internet. It’s called Dimitri the Lover (oh but of course). Unconvinced? There are flash animations and the opening line is “IF YOU ARE A HORNY WOMAN…” listening now? “…put away your dildos and vibrators because this website introduces you to Canada’s Greatest Lover and Seducer, DIMITRI THE LOVER.” Brilliant. Which ever girl rejected Dimitri and his offer to be her date for the prom subsequently fucking up his entire romantic life, expectations and self-awareness has a lot to answer for.

Similar reading for those who like laughing at the romantically challenged: Single?

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