Apparently, Karma reads my blog. She still has yet to take my advice though. Opting instead to continue her masquerade on systematically ruining my life. I’m once again reminded that she also has a fantastic sense of humor. Only I’m not laughing.

Here’s how I know she reads my stuff. If you all (yes, all four of you) will remember, in my 2nd ever blog posting titled “Dear Karma” I made my disappointment in the country of Nigeria known. Yes, I agree, perhaps I’d been a little hasty and somewhat generalized in my blaming of the entire country. Maybe I should have looked at the bright side being as Nigerian scammers seem to be the only ones even responding to my futile attempts at trying to find employment. But, I watch Chris Hanson’s Dateline on NBC and he says it’s Nigeria’s fault. And whatever Chris Hanson says I believe whole heartedly. Haven’t you watched “To Catch a Predator”? That show is brilliant! Those 49 year old men were just trying to meet up with those 13 year old girls to talk…

So, no more than two days after posting “Dear Karma” I heard from a gentleman on Plentyoffish.com. I may be tall, white and blonde but I can definitely appreciate a fine looking black man. Actually preferring me some Reggie Bush to Antonio Sabato Jr. given the choice. Wait, strike that. Given the choice I’d gladly take both with a little side of Josh Holloway (aka Sawyer from “LOST”) but I digress…

We chatted over Instant Message for a little while as his phone was broken and he wasn’t getting it replaced for another week or so. A week? That red flag I hid behind his biceps. I noticed, even through IM that English was not his native tongue so I asked where he was from. You guessed it. Nigeria. In all my years of online dating this was my first Nigerian and the timing seemed somewhat suspect. At this I almost logged off and crawled back into bed. Had Nigeria infiltrated Plenty of Fish? Not only was I being inundated with email responses to my resume but now there was a flesh and blood person asking me to meet him for a date! Was he going to take me out to dinner, give me a second party, out of state check, ask me to keep 10% as my commission and then give him the difference in cash to pay for it? Was he going to steal my credit card, buy electronics and then have me ship them to his business in Nigeria? How had Nigeria found me??? A million scam scenarios went through my head. I may have actually made a few up in my over exaggerated, paranoid mind also. But, I’m a woman that happens to be a complete sucker for abs and pecks so I hid that red flag behind his well chiseled abs and 6’4” height.

Having not been in the best mood lately I wasn’t keen on meeting anybody new that evening. But, it was a lovely night and I felt like going for a walk at the nearby park. I figured he could meet me there. I’d make sure not to bring anything with any of my information on it. Even though, at this point I was pretty sure that Nigeria was infiltrating my life and probably already knew my bank pin codes. Since they already had my resume, I knew they had my address, phone number and email. Now they had one of their representatives trying to steal my heart too. Either way, I asked him to meet me at the park. But, oh no, he didn’t have a car. Supposedly his brother had borrowed it to go to the beach. At this point, I had enough flags to make my bed but I shoved this one behind my dreams of him having a 10” cock. So? What? I’ve been having a dry spell and I’m somewhat of a size queen. Don’t judge me unless you’re fucking me.

Against my better judgment and having not even spoken on the phone with Mr. Nigeria I drove to meet him at Griffith Park to go for a walk. Luckily, it was close by and early enough in the evening where I didn’t have to worry about being raped or stumbling upon gay prostitutes in the bushes. When I first saw him standing outside he looked pretty much like his picture, only thinner. Whereas most men complain about meeting women from the internet that are 20 lbs heavier than their photos, I have the opposite problem. The men I meet are all thinner than their pictures. That’s not necessarily bad but I typically like my men to look like linebackers. I’m a large girl myself and 5’9” tall. I’m going to look awkward standing next to a guy the size of Prince. Or is he still formally known as?

We got to walking. The topic of what we did for our livings came up. Or rather my lack of. I quickly turned the conversation back to him. What did Mr. Nigeria do for a living you ask? Import / Export. Of course. I should have known. I was on a walk with a fucking cliché. Import what? Humans? Export what? Playstations and DVD players? I never got the specifics and it took everything in my power not to ask him. I survived the walk and he was a gentleman the whole time. We ended up going for coffee and I left unscathed with all 49 cents left in my wallet. My emails have not increased nor my spam so maybe he wasn’t a Nigerian spy out to steal my identity after all.

A week after that walk, Karma sent me another Nigerian…swear to God…

P.S. Got an Instant Message today from “The Fireman”. I asked how he was doing. His response? That he “was having a bad week but he could still shoot a full load! LOL” So glad he told me. I’ll sleep much better tonight knowing that…Moron.