Rana May is on OK Cupid, and she's a woman.
This combination of facts means she's received a lot of filthy messages. Despite that program's reputation as being a serious dating service, as opposed to straight hook-up apps like Tinder, May has found guys can still be pretty eager to sex-calate matters into something more overtly physical.
"I've been on [OK Cupid] for about five years," May says. "I've lost count of the number of times it's happened. It's in the hundreds."
Often, her interactions on OK Cupid fall along one of two arcs. Either:
May: [No response.]
Guy: Fuck you.
May: [No response.]
Guy: Wanna fuck?
This second version, more horny than thorny, recurred recently for May, a standup comedian who spent the past weekend in Los Angeles for a series of gigs. On Saturday, she checked to see if she'd received any promising messages on the dating site. One of them certainly promised... something.
"I want to deep dick you long and hard," read the message, sent at 1:02 p.m. on a Friday.
The line's vulgarity wasn't what caught May's attention. It was what had preceeded it. The man offering himself to May had previously contacted her multiple times back in the summer of 2015, some 20 months ago. At that time, his approach was much more serious.
Maybe, for May's taste, a little too serious, too fast, given that they'd never met each other.
"The first two were 'I want to put in the time on a relationship with you,' which, that's sort of silly to me, to be that intimate up front," May says. "You haven't met me, so why would you want to put in the time? And then compared to the third, I thought, 'Oh, my gosh, this is a different approach.'"
Turns out he wasn't done trying. May was just about to screenshot the incongruous series of messages and send them to a friend when she received yet another appeal from this fellow. This one was less relationship-hungry as the first two, and less porn-y than the third. Frankly, it's more like the kind of message May might respond to.
"It’s definitely going in more of the right direction," May says. "Like, 'Hey, we’re in this together, shit’s crazy right now.' More in the building community, or some sort of shared dismay, shared feelings about what’s going on. I assume he was referring to Donald Trump's election. For all I know he was really upset at last episode of The Walking Dead."
No, she didn't respond to this last one, either.
As for the third message, the one about a "deep dicking," May says she's not even mad at the guy for sounding a little thirsty.
"I don’t fault anyone for wanting to engage in that sort of unsolicited message," she says. "That was just not going to get me."
Usually when someone kicks up the conversation to that level without any encouragement from May, she lets it pass without comment. No need to be making enemies in the city where she lives and has a high-profile job.
"Minneapolis, it’s small. Eventually I'll run into somebody who I do something like that to. I'm also a comedian, so it's easy to find me. I don’t want to become a target for anything if I’m a dick to somebody."
May says she's had roughly "zero success" using OK Cupid in five years -- "I don't try very hard," she admits -- though she's gotten a few laughs out of it. She went on "one-and-a-half" dates with one man. After the half-date, the man messaged her "Hi," over and over again, for "like two years" after it. May never messaged him back, and he never wrote anything else.
Eventually, he started doing the same thing to May's friend, never breaking from this pattern of sporadic "Hi"s, like some sort of robot whose programming malfunctioned.
"No, he was a human guy," May says. "I went on dates with him."
These days May keeps her jokes about potential suitors private, or semi-private. Mr. "Wanna fuck? Or talk politics?" probably won't become part of her act; jokes about online dating are a little played out these days.
But they weren't in 2013, when May recorded this standup set at the Joke Joint comedy club in Lilydale. There's a story in there about writing a poem for someone on OK Cupid. That starts at about the 6:40 mark.
But watch everything leading up to it, too. It's all funny. And we owe May at least the courtesy we'd want to give someone else: Listening to her, following her cues. And laughing when it gets too ridiculous.Previously, in Dear God, Minneapolis: