I recently lived in Seattle for a year, but had to move back to Denver due to the lack of jobs in my field. That's not my problem. This is: My girlfriend of three months claims she's pregnant. I think (not sure) she cheated on me with her ex, so if she is pregnant, I'm not sure whose it is. Do I have to wait until she has the child to do a paternity test? If it isn't mine, what do I do? I like this girl and don't want to end this before I see where it goes, but I'm not into being a floor mat if she's just some scandalous tramp! HELP ME DATEGIRL! You are my only island of sanity in an ocean of stupid drama!
If I'm your island of sanity, I suggest you bind some twigs together and build an escape raft. I'll skip the condom lecture, but to paraphrase Baretta, if you're gonna do the crime, be prepared to do the time. In your case, that could be the next 18 years.
I always discourage readers from asking questions that involve any actual research, but you seemed desperate, so I made an exception. I sauntered over to my iBook and Googled, "prenatal paternity test." Within seconds I found out that yes indeedy, you can determine paternity prior to birth. But it appears to be a bigger risk to the fetus, as well as a bigger hit to your pocketbook. If she's insistent on going through with the pregnancy, you should probably wait it out. And while you're cooling your heels, try to be a gentleman. This scandalous tramp might be your kid's mom.
I loved your article on online dating [Dategirl, Aug. 22], though I haven't had a lot of experience at it as everyone I chat with lives elsewhere. I find that most women want a sugar daddy—like a Bill Gates or something. Do these women actually think that a millionaire would be online chatting for a date or in a dating service? How did they ever get through college? That's amazing as they are for sure dumb as dirt. I am a nice guy, handsome, own my own home, and am going to school to further my education. I just don't have millions of dollars (unless you count 15,000 shares of Microsoft).
Online dating is an experience, and 95 percent of men and women that you meet are "phony." But if I can find one out of 100, then I have done good for myself.
Looking for Love
You're complaining about a couple gold diggers?! That's nothing compared to the myriad pervs and weirdos your average broad has to sift through. This week two guys answered my ad just to inform me that although we had nothing in common and they had no interest in dating me, I sure had nice tits. Mind you, it cost them about a buck apiece to give me the online equivalent of a wolf whistle. Charming.
Another gent answered with a whiny letter moping that none of the women he wanted ever answered his ad, and sure, he knew he was severely fucked up, but medication and therapy were going a long way toward helping him. In fact, he hardly ever felt like using his gun anymore. Delete!
I was all set to go out with yet another fellow when he let drop that he had a foot fetish. Given my predilection for wildly uncomfortable stilettos with 4-inch heels, I figured a foot rub might be a nice way to end an evening out and so said yes. Suddenly Se�Toe Sucker started getting hinky. He wanted to see another photo. I sent him one that he was unable to open. Instead of questioning his obviously questionable computer skills and asking me to resend, he decided I was trying to pull some elaborate scam. I came home at midnight to two increasingly hysterical phone messages and three e-mails. Apparently the voices in his head told him that I was a hideously deformed, wildly obese woman who wanted to cloak her true identity until we met! Huh? Why would anyone do that! Like he wouldn't notice an extra 200 pounds? As I curled my lip in disbelief, the phone rang again! It was him, demanding to know exactly how much I weighed. Click.
Final score: Psychos 4, Dategirl 0.
Problems with pervs? Write Dategirl at dategirl @seattleweekly.com or c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.