One month into online dating and I am already feeling bored, frustrated and a little sad. Even with the best intentions of viewing this only as a social experiment and a project to fill my time, I can't help but allow feelings of loneliness and fear to creep in. That silent and pounding thought of "being alone forever" hums in my heart if I am not consciously batting it away.
I am about 97% certain I won't meet the man of my dreams or even a 3 month boyfriend online. Ok, that I can handle. The flip side...WHERE will I meet him? The last time I met a boy I even remotely considered as a potential interest was months ago while I was in the midst of a nervous breakdown in Minnesota after the supposed love of my life dumped me in the most brutal way possible. But I met this beautiful and interesting boy in a bar around 2am (I think). This was after I sat alone at a dingy bar literally crying in my beer in the corner for about 4 hours. We spent some time together that weekend and I still think about him. Too bad I was such a disaster and he lives a million miles away. And let's not forget, I met him in a BAR.
It is absurd to hope to meet him at work. My office environment gives very few opportunities of meeting anyone other than the delivery guys. So this really leaves only one other option. Yoga.
I have been religiously attending yoga for a few months now. Ever since evil farm boy dropped me like a hot potato and ran like the wind, I was having these night terrors trying to fall asleep at night. Wicked panic attacks that would last until I drank mouth fulls of codeine cough syrup. This seemed like a good solution at the time ok! I knew I needed to find a better solution though. The next morning my head would feel like I slept in the dryer (set to permanent press) the night before. So in lieu of begging my doctor for cases of Xanax and probably overdosing due to my sleep eating disorder, I listened to my mom and ex-therapist and joined a yoga class.
I was so nervous the first time I went. Panicked is putting it mildly. My entire body was vibrating and sweating. I walked into class looking like a human sprinkler and vomited my story of heartbreak and psychiatric issues to the yoga instructor. He was kind and calm and cute and told me some bullshit about how thoughts aren't real, blah, blah, blah. I was just trying not to pass out from fear. After a few classes I began to notice my strength and flexibility increasing and realized I wasn't having any trouble falling asleep. In so many ways, I feel like yoga saved me from going off the deep end. I made it through one of the toughest times in my life without breaking into a million pieces. I am forever grateful for that.
Fast forward a few months to last Thursday as I was driving home from work I saw the most perfect rainbow. It was a complete arc and every color was so distinct. It looked like it was going to rain again but I walked to yoga anyway. I was drenched by the time I got there and I was alone with the yoga instructor. We talked for awhile and it seemed nobody else was going to show up so I said we can forget class...it's just too weird to do yoga alone at the gym. He said "we could go grab a beer and watch the football game." Be still my heart. I looked at him and fully recognized I have developed a massive crush on this man. It didn't really occur to me at first and I probably put it out of my mind because I didn't want anything to ruin yoga for me. But this is the first time in years I have met someone in the light of day, became friendly with first and felt my heart go pitter patter. Unfortunately some other people showed up for class. He helped me into an arm stand and as I was standing on my head, trusting he wouldn't let me fall, I wondered if he was looking down and liking me too. Concentrate woman...not breaking my neck should really take precedence. He gave me a ride home that night. It was still raining. So now what do I do? I keep (ironically) repeating a mantra in my head. "I will not become romantically involved with my yoga instructor. I will not become romantically involved with my yoga instructor. I will not become romantically involved with my yoga instructor." Every time I have tried this attempt at resistance in the past I have failed miserably. I tend to the exact opposite of what is "right."
So tomorrow is a big day. I move into my new "corner" office and I go to yoga class with my heart filled with all the hope and expectation of a 16 year old girl.
I have an online date scheduled for Wednesday so hopefully I will be off this tangent and back on track with my next blog. My heart will thank me for playing it safe right?
Monday, September 14, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Dates #2 & 3 aka Sick Cyclist and Nice Guy
By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, I started to get excited for my second date. We made plans to go to dinner and then a comedy club. I was leaning towards going to see the local production of “Guys and Dolls” but he bought tickets for D.L. Hughley. Going to see an African American sitcom star turned political pundit is an interesting choice for a first date but I am always down for new experiences.
I had a few butterflies in my stomach as I was getting ready for him to pick me up. I actually spent more than 5 minutes on my hair and felt cute in my short, purple hippy dress. His pictures looked good. 42 years old, in great shape, almost an innocence to his eyes. His emails and phone calls had a smooth, positive tone, if not a little high pitched. There was probable hope. Until I walked outside.
He pulled up to my apartment building in his cherry red Audi and he looked great from a distance. Nice clothes, shoes and (obviously) car but as I got close enough for a hug I began to guesstimate how many hours until the date would be over. He looked sick, as in ill, as in he has cancer and took a break from an intense round of chemo to take me out for a few hours. Seeing what he ordered for dinner, which looked like parakeet food next to my sea bass and baked potato, I started to wonder if he was anorexic. He said he rides his bike a lot. A lot being very subjective. Ish.
Dinner went fine and the comedy club was well dark, in more ways than one. I felt very white and blond and didn’t quite get the jokes especially the ones about giving his daughter a bath and having to put lotion on rashes in unmentionable places. I took cues from the lady across from me who was laughing so hard with her entire body that the table would shake. I tried to fit in.
My date never turned around and looked at me except to ask if I wanted something more to drink. I think he was disappointed my hair wasn’t curly as it is in ONE of my pictures online. No, that’s not true, I know he was disappointed because he said so. Ouch. He also made a couple more underhanded remarks that I smiled thru at the time but seemed to insinuate that he thought I was a little boring and weird.
I happily survived the rest of the evening by looking at the back of his bald head instead of his gaunt face with sunken in eyes. I was pretending to pay attention to the show but mostly I was trying to decipher why it smelled (reeked) like Doritos in that room. I will forever now associate D.L. Hughley with the smell of nacho cheese corn chips. What the frick happened to smoky, alcohol laden, sticky floored bars!
He dropped me off at home, opened the car door and gave me a hug, never to be seen again. I think we both drew a sigh of relief when we parted ways.
My lunch on Sunday with Date #3 went remarkably well. He was cute, showed up 10 minutes late and we talked for almost three hours. Yeah, I dunno. He was normal and I could imagine myself kissing him so that says a lot. He did make a weird gagging noise when I ordered fish tacos but my best friend does the same thing. Bitchface.
Other than that I enjoyed his company. He likes animals, cares about the environment and laughed at some of my jokes. Amazing! He is probably too nice of a guy and I would chew him up and spit him out after a couple of dates but at least he gave me some hope. I apologize in advance.
Back to work to find my next victim to take me out this weekend.
I had a few butterflies in my stomach as I was getting ready for him to pick me up. I actually spent more than 5 minutes on my hair and felt cute in my short, purple hippy dress. His pictures looked good. 42 years old, in great shape, almost an innocence to his eyes. His emails and phone calls had a smooth, positive tone, if not a little high pitched. There was probable hope. Until I walked outside.
He pulled up to my apartment building in his cherry red Audi and he looked great from a distance. Nice clothes, shoes and (obviously) car but as I got close enough for a hug I began to guesstimate how many hours until the date would be over. He looked sick, as in ill, as in he has cancer and took a break from an intense round of chemo to take me out for a few hours. Seeing what he ordered for dinner, which looked like parakeet food next to my sea bass and baked potato, I started to wonder if he was anorexic. He said he rides his bike a lot. A lot being very subjective. Ish.
Dinner went fine and the comedy club was well dark, in more ways than one. I felt very white and blond and didn’t quite get the jokes especially the ones about giving his daughter a bath and having to put lotion on rashes in unmentionable places. I took cues from the lady across from me who was laughing so hard with her entire body that the table would shake. I tried to fit in.
My date never turned around and looked at me except to ask if I wanted something more to drink. I think he was disappointed my hair wasn’t curly as it is in ONE of my pictures online. No, that’s not true, I know he was disappointed because he said so. Ouch. He also made a couple more underhanded remarks that I smiled thru at the time but seemed to insinuate that he thought I was a little boring and weird.
I happily survived the rest of the evening by looking at the back of his bald head instead of his gaunt face with sunken in eyes. I was pretending to pay attention to the show but mostly I was trying to decipher why it smelled (reeked) like Doritos in that room. I will forever now associate D.L. Hughley with the smell of nacho cheese corn chips. What the frick happened to smoky, alcohol laden, sticky floored bars!
He dropped me off at home, opened the car door and gave me a hug, never to be seen again. I think we both drew a sigh of relief when we parted ways.
My lunch on Sunday with Date #3 went remarkably well. He was cute, showed up 10 minutes late and we talked for almost three hours. Yeah, I dunno. He was normal and I could imagine myself kissing him so that says a lot. He did make a weird gagging noise when I ordered fish tacos but my best friend does the same thing. Bitchface.
Other than that I enjoyed his company. He likes animals, cares about the environment and laughed at some of my jokes. Amazing! He is probably too nice of a guy and I would chew him up and spit him out after a couple of dates but at least he gave me some hope. I apologize in advance.
Back to work to find my next victim to take me out this weekend.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Vintage Online Dating Story #1 aka Marine Biologist in my Pink Dress
This isn’t my first attempt at online dating. I tried the first time about 8 years ago when I moved to a new city far from home. It was lonely, I was bored and I still believed in true love. After what transpired, I know I must be insane to subject myself to this again.
Because this was the prehistoric era of online dating, most people did not post photos. Looking back it is bizarre to think I would actually decide to meet boys without having ANY idea what they looked like. But I went ahead and plugged my computer into the phone jack and began to “surf the web.”
The first guy I met was…how do I put this…a bible thumping stalker? I guess that is pretty accurate. He actually took me to see Pat Green before Pat Green was popular so I will give him props for that. (I had just moved to Texas and I remember seeing all the 20 year old boys in Wranglers and cowboy hats. Heavenly.) I am agnostic with my beliefs bordering on atheism so continuous talk about Jesus ain’t gonna cut it with me. I possibly could have overlooked his Christianity if I wouldn’t have come home from work one day and found him sitting outside my apartment in between the bushes and the sidewalk. Sigh. Do I REALLY need to call the police again?
The second guy I met was nice. He liked my cats, gave me rides to the airport, and bought me diamond earrings for Christmas. This was slightly creepy because I only went out with him 2 or 3 times. Keep in mind I was 22 and didn’t have a care in the world when it came to breaking hearts. So I broke his when I met the next one who was quite a snooze so I stole his carpet cleaner to entertain myself. I should have stayed with Diamond Earrings boy a little longer.
Then comes the fourth guy aka Marine Biologist in my Pink Dress.
Now, this is one of the most fucked up things that has ever happened to me and I have a God given gift for bringing fucked up shit into my life. I think he cooked dinner for me on our first date. He was cute little blond boy getting his masters degree in marine biology. He was nice and really liked me so I let him hang out with me a few times. I would have been more excited about him but he didn’t really like to drink. I was 22, all I did was DRINK! We would go out to a bar and after 3 beers he would become mute and refuse to move. You know, that type of drunk. B-O-R-I-N-G!
I was just beginning to tire of his refusal to hang from chandeliers and/or wear a lampshade when IT happened. My car was having issues so he spent the night at my apartment. The next morning he wakes me up by knocking on my bedroom door. My bathroom and clothes closet were separate from the bedroom area. He said he had a surprise for me. Breakfast in bed? How nauseatingly sweet is that! Too bad I almost barfed for a much more disturbing reason.
He sloooowly opens the door and I almost go blind. He is wearing my pink dress, high heeled sling backs and is holding a tray of scrambled eggs, juice and bacon. He sits on the bed and pulls the dress up and says “look! I even have your panties on.” I want to die. I want him to leave. I don’t want eggs. I possibly don’t want eggs ever again. I dare myself to look at him and he has makeup on. My makeup! Lipstick, mascara, the whole nine yards! I need to get this guy out of my house NOW. This isn’t funny. Or cute. Nobody belongs rummaging thru my underwear drawer. I feel violated. So I jump up and run outside on the balcony to smoke a cigarette. It is February so he throws a hoody on over the dress and comes out with me. Sitting in the chair with his legs crossed lady like style, swinging my high heeled shoe, I almost began to cry. He was upset I didn’t understand his humor. I told him it is only ok to dress up like a woman on Halloween.
He pouted and finally left. I put plastic baggies over my hands, picked up the dress, shoes, panties, bra (not my favorite bra dude!) and brought them to the dumpster praying this was the last I would hear from my cross dressing ex-boyfriend. No such luck. A couple weeks later I go out to my car and there is a note on my windshield asking for a refund for the Valentine’s Day gifts he bought me. An itemized list with the costs and tax. The laugh I got from that was almost worth losing my favorite bra. Almost.
I gave up online dating for a few years.
Because this was the prehistoric era of online dating, most people did not post photos. Looking back it is bizarre to think I would actually decide to meet boys without having ANY idea what they looked like. But I went ahead and plugged my computer into the phone jack and began to “surf the web.”
The first guy I met was…how do I put this…a bible thumping stalker? I guess that is pretty accurate. He actually took me to see Pat Green before Pat Green was popular so I will give him props for that. (I had just moved to Texas and I remember seeing all the 20 year old boys in Wranglers and cowboy hats. Heavenly.) I am agnostic with my beliefs bordering on atheism so continuous talk about Jesus ain’t gonna cut it with me. I possibly could have overlooked his Christianity if I wouldn’t have come home from work one day and found him sitting outside my apartment in between the bushes and the sidewalk. Sigh. Do I REALLY need to call the police again?
The second guy I met was nice. He liked my cats, gave me rides to the airport, and bought me diamond earrings for Christmas. This was slightly creepy because I only went out with him 2 or 3 times. Keep in mind I was 22 and didn’t have a care in the world when it came to breaking hearts. So I broke his when I met the next one who was quite a snooze so I stole his carpet cleaner to entertain myself. I should have stayed with Diamond Earrings boy a little longer.
Then comes the fourth guy aka Marine Biologist in my Pink Dress.
Now, this is one of the most fucked up things that has ever happened to me and I have a God given gift for bringing fucked up shit into my life. I think he cooked dinner for me on our first date. He was cute little blond boy getting his masters degree in marine biology. He was nice and really liked me so I let him hang out with me a few times. I would have been more excited about him but he didn’t really like to drink. I was 22, all I did was DRINK! We would go out to a bar and after 3 beers he would become mute and refuse to move. You know, that type of drunk. B-O-R-I-N-G!
I was just beginning to tire of his refusal to hang from chandeliers and/or wear a lampshade when IT happened. My car was having issues so he spent the night at my apartment. The next morning he wakes me up by knocking on my bedroom door. My bathroom and clothes closet were separate from the bedroom area. He said he had a surprise for me. Breakfast in bed? How nauseatingly sweet is that! Too bad I almost barfed for a much more disturbing reason.
He sloooowly opens the door and I almost go blind. He is wearing my pink dress, high heeled sling backs and is holding a tray of scrambled eggs, juice and bacon. He sits on the bed and pulls the dress up and says “look! I even have your panties on.” I want to die. I want him to leave. I don’t want eggs. I possibly don’t want eggs ever again. I dare myself to look at him and he has makeup on. My makeup! Lipstick, mascara, the whole nine yards! I need to get this guy out of my house NOW. This isn’t funny. Or cute. Nobody belongs rummaging thru my underwear drawer. I feel violated. So I jump up and run outside on the balcony to smoke a cigarette. It is February so he throws a hoody on over the dress and comes out with me. Sitting in the chair with his legs crossed lady like style, swinging my high heeled shoe, I almost began to cry. He was upset I didn’t understand his humor. I told him it is only ok to dress up like a woman on Halloween.
He pouted and finally left. I put plastic baggies over my hands, picked up the dress, shoes, panties, bra (not my favorite bra dude!) and brought them to the dumpster praying this was the last I would hear from my cross dressing ex-boyfriend. No such luck. A couple weeks later I go out to my car and there is a note on my windshield asking for a refund for the Valentine’s Day gifts he bought me. An itemized list with the costs and tax. The laugh I got from that was almost worth losing my favorite bra. Almost.
I gave up online dating for a few years.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Date #1 aka Camp Director
So I ventured out Saturday evening on my first online date for this project. I was expecting total disaster but it ended up being only about 78% as bad as I anticipated.
I began the day dropping my mom off at the airport and getting my hair done. No, I didn't spend $200 for bleach and a hair trim for the DATE. It just needed to be done.
I drove downtown to his high rise apartment directly from the hair salon. Brave to go alone to his place? Maybe. But he sounded harmless, it was daylight and his building had security guards. As I pulled up to the intercom I was silently praying that he would be cute. In my experience, online pictures only give an idea of potential attraction. The gate opened and I tried not to cringe. Not terrible but reminded me of skeletor a little bit.
We rode the elevator up to his beautiful apartment with a glorious view of downtown and as my eyes were just beginning to soak up the sites my nose began to argue with me. There was an unmistakable odor of marijuana and food. Now either this dude just smoked a bowl 3 minutes before I arrived or he smokes often enough for pot to permeate every surface of his apartment. I bent down to pet his cat, got a whiff of poor (or lucky) Gizmo and determined it was the latter. On the plus side he did give me a box of tissues and a SARS mask wrapped in a bow because I have been suffering from a cold. No joke.
He had tickets to a preseason football game at the bizarrely expensive spaceship like stadium so we headed out there. Not to sound like a bitch, well maybe a little bit, but his $350 club level seats at the 50 yard line were half the reason I was convinced to go out with him in the first place. The stadium was amazing. I was in a trance for the first half of the game. At least I pretended to be hypnotized so I didn't have to look directly at him when he smiled. If I had any doubt about quantity of pot he smokes, it quickly dissipated when I saw the deep brown stains between every single one of his teeth. Thinking about it now makes me gag.
As I stared at the dancing cheerleaders as large as airplanes on the jumbo tron, I was also able to avoid the 16 year old kid to my right who kept commenting on every screaming happy fan the camera showed on the giant television. His cruel (not at all funny) antidotes were almost as bad as his big scaly arms that he kept waving in my face. Gag again.
Towards the end of the game when most people are getting tipsy, the man in front of me was highly intoxicated and kept leaning back and almost smashing into my face. I politely tapped him and asked him to sit down. He told me to be nice and I might get what I want. Red, I saw red. So I whisper to my date...I love drunk guys especially the ones who intimate and try to scare women. Apparently alcohol gave this asshole super hearing because he turned around and told me "you better be scared." I stood up and told him I was getting security. My DATE was totally silent and just followed me out. When we got a safe distance away and he was relatively sure he wasn't going to get punched in the face Camp Director exclaims "wow, you don't take any shit do you? I am more of a pacifist." Where is my knight in fucking shining armor? Put the bong down man and stand up for your lady!
We leave the stadium and drive home into the gorgeous summer night. He tells me on the way that he had a cathartic experience taking Ecstasy a few weeks ago. It helped him get over a girl who dumped him for the third and final time. THEN he said he didn't like cheese of any kind. Not cheddar, gruyere, swiss, NONE. I don't know which is more disappointing. His drug habits or his dislike of the most perfect food known to man.
He has texted me about 5 times since then asking to see me again. Get your teeth whitened after rehab and maybe we'll talk.
I began the day dropping my mom off at the airport and getting my hair done. No, I didn't spend $200 for bleach and a hair trim for the DATE. It just needed to be done.
I drove downtown to his high rise apartment directly from the hair salon. Brave to go alone to his place? Maybe. But he sounded harmless, it was daylight and his building had security guards. As I pulled up to the intercom I was silently praying that he would be cute. In my experience, online pictures only give an idea of potential attraction. The gate opened and I tried not to cringe. Not terrible but reminded me of skeletor a little bit.
We rode the elevator up to his beautiful apartment with a glorious view of downtown and as my eyes were just beginning to soak up the sites my nose began to argue with me. There was an unmistakable odor of marijuana and food. Now either this dude just smoked a bowl 3 minutes before I arrived or he smokes often enough for pot to permeate every surface of his apartment. I bent down to pet his cat, got a whiff of poor (or lucky) Gizmo and determined it was the latter. On the plus side he did give me a box of tissues and a SARS mask wrapped in a bow because I have been suffering from a cold. No joke.
He had tickets to a preseason football game at the bizarrely expensive spaceship like stadium so we headed out there. Not to sound like a bitch, well maybe a little bit, but his $350 club level seats at the 50 yard line were half the reason I was convinced to go out with him in the first place. The stadium was amazing. I was in a trance for the first half of the game. At least I pretended to be hypnotized so I didn't have to look directly at him when he smiled. If I had any doubt about quantity of pot he smokes, it quickly dissipated when I saw the deep brown stains between every single one of his teeth. Thinking about it now makes me gag.
As I stared at the dancing cheerleaders as large as airplanes on the jumbo tron, I was also able to avoid the 16 year old kid to my right who kept commenting on every screaming happy fan the camera showed on the giant television. His cruel (not at all funny) antidotes were almost as bad as his big scaly arms that he kept waving in my face. Gag again.
Towards the end of the game when most people are getting tipsy, the man in front of me was highly intoxicated and kept leaning back and almost smashing into my face. I politely tapped him and asked him to sit down. He told me to be nice and I might get what I want. Red, I saw red. So I whisper to my date...I love drunk guys especially the ones who intimate and try to scare women. Apparently alcohol gave this asshole super hearing because he turned around and told me "you better be scared." I stood up and told him I was getting security. My DATE was totally silent and just followed me out. When we got a safe distance away and he was relatively sure he wasn't going to get punched in the face Camp Director exclaims "wow, you don't take any shit do you? I am more of a pacifist." Where is my knight in fucking shining armor? Put the bong down man and stand up for your lady!
We leave the stadium and drive home into the gorgeous summer night. He tells me on the way that he had a cathartic experience taking Ecstasy a few weeks ago. It helped him get over a girl who dumped him for the third and final time. THEN he said he didn't like cheese of any kind. Not cheddar, gruyere, swiss, NONE. I don't know which is more disappointing. His drug habits or his dislike of the most perfect food known to man.
He has texted me about 5 times since then asking to see me again. Get your teeth whitened after rehab and maybe we'll talk.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Step 1 - Posting My Profile
Plato, Aristotle, Socrates and Me. This is my social experiment of online dating.
I am a 30 year old single girl who still believes in love. But I am also one bitter and cynical bitch.
I was driving around during my "lunch" break today and an idea popped into my head like a lightening bolt. I haven't had a good idea since the 9th grade. This is huge for me.
I just finished a book called "Waiter Rant" and have seen the previews for that "Julie & Julia" movie and I got to thinking...if I was going to write a blog...what would it be about?
What am I passionate about? Good at? Something that other people would find interesting?
Well MEN of course. Duh.
But how could I make the vague idea of MEN into a blog? I had written some blogs on a social website about some nightmarish dates few years ago and received a few LMFAO's (Although I first thought that was an insult of some kind. It took me about 4 months to figure out what it meant). And then it came to me. I am going to post a profile on a well known online dating site and write about my experiences.
I have 3 rules.
1. I will go out with anyone that asks. I will need to find them somewhat attractive. Either physically or intellectually.
2. I will meet them only in public places.
3. I will only go out with them ONCE.
I just posted my profile so wish me luck. It's a jungle of ugly men out there with their hands hovering over their mouse, just waiting to wink at a seemingly sweet girl like me. If they only knew my plan.
I am a 30 year old single girl who still believes in love. But I am also one bitter and cynical bitch.
I was driving around during my "lunch" break today and an idea popped into my head like a lightening bolt. I haven't had a good idea since the 9th grade. This is huge for me.
I just finished a book called "Waiter Rant" and have seen the previews for that "Julie & Julia" movie and I got to thinking...if I was going to write a blog...what would it be about?
What am I passionate about? Good at? Something that other people would find interesting?
Well MEN of course. Duh.
But how could I make the vague idea of MEN into a blog? I had written some blogs on a social website about some nightmarish dates few years ago and received a few LMFAO's (Although I first thought that was an insult of some kind. It took me about 4 months to figure out what it meant). And then it came to me. I am going to post a profile on a well known online dating site and write about my experiences.
I have 3 rules.
1. I will go out with anyone that asks. I will need to find them somewhat attractive. Either physically or intellectually.
2. I will meet them only in public places.
3. I will only go out with them ONCE.
I just posted my profile so wish me luck. It's a jungle of ugly men out there with their hands hovering over their mouse, just waiting to wink at a seemingly sweet girl like me. If they only knew my plan.
