The Impregnator

I'm sure a large number of you out there use or have at least tried internet dating. Either way you would have learnt very quickly that dating sites could serve as a public health warning regarding a little epidemic I like to call Batshit Fucking Crazy!

Unfortunately this illness does not discriminate. It can strike any age and gender. However, men will tell you that woman are affected more by this disorder but I would like to contest this claim with Exhibit A: The Impregnator.

Usually on these sites men like to be very original in how they make contact (sarcasm). There's the delightful first email with the "lets shag" request. Then there is the surprise attack dick pic which is obviously designed to make your day more fulfilled (eye roll). Its fair to say I've had a decent amount of interesting experiences on dating sites and have dealt with varying degrees of BFC. But my latest experience takes the award for Ultimate BFC Champion.

I received an email several days ago from a young chap who was based in Christchurch. Now for those of you that are non New Zealanders that's quite a distance from where I live in Kapiti. You'd either have to take a plane or a 3 hour ferry ride plus a 4 hour drive. Anyway I'm sure you get the drift.

So we email back and forth a few times and the conversation is completely normal. There was nothing alerting my female spidey senses that this could be a class A weirdo who wants to steal your children and sacrifice them to the god of custard squares or some crazy shit. But my perception of this guy changed with one simple question.....Do you want kids?

A simple question for most and one that I've asked in order to determine if its worthwhile going any further in a relationship but usually that comes down the track. My response was pretty straight forward that yes I'd like kids if the universe decides to play along. I'm old enough to realise that nothing is ever promised and I'm a realist.

His next question was how soon did I want kids...again whenever it happens. I forgot to pick up a crystal ball at the last witches yard sale so I can't really put a date on it. AND this is where it reeeeeaaally started to get a little bit fubar.

Apparently he was not a patient man when it came to procreating and expressed his need to start attempting to sire his offspring within the next month. Now I was never a fan of geography at school but even I could see how the logistics of distance could hinder the process of procreation. And I was pretty certain his wanger wasn't going to reach that far and risk putting Ron Jeremy out of business.

I went on to point out the fact that we were so far away from each other to which he responded that if I fell pregnant he would move up here (cue creepy potential bunny boiler music). Call me crazy but in a perfect world I'd like to know my future baby daddy a bit better than "Hi my names Dave...Can I knock you up?" I did mention this concern with him and apparently it would be fine because he would get to know me when he came to scans for the baby........(cue crickets)

It was at this moment that I had to check my back to see if anyone had placed a sticker on it advertising my baby making bits as a rent a space. Like he was going to use my womb to host his spawn and in 9 months time we'd reenact the scene from Alien except it will be a baby exploding from my uterus howling like a miniature banshee.

I politely went on to decline the offer and ended the conversation. But now I am left wondering if there are any women out there that would take him up on his generous offer of impregnation. For every BFC male there has to be his perfect BFC female counterpart....right?

God help the world if there is!

Until next time xo