#tbt: Tales of a second-grade Laura

In honor of the holiday we’re doing this a day early. Check out this journal entry from 26 (!!!) years ago. Note the line near the bottom about how “Some people ONLY get Valentines from their parents.” This is still something I’m working through.

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A Book on Dating

I’ve tossed around a couple book ideas off and on in the past couple of years, and I really want to write one of essays just about my life because I’m funny and interesting shit occasionally happens to me. The other one is most definitely going to be about dating. I mentioned it in a post last week.

In the last year or so, especially, a couple of my friends and I have realized we have plenty of material for that one with our varied experiences.

That said, here is a sampling of our chapter titles for the book we will get around to co-authoring… I’ll let you know when the preorder is available on Amazon.

– Why long distance relationships are often a bad idea OR the time I got that tattoo

– So you’ve been cheated on OR I’m going to burn your house down, (redacted)

– Don’t date your coworkers or if you do, make sure they’re not idiots and on prescription drugs

– Things you do not ask/say on a first date (LIST)

– Does that approach actually work for you?

– No I do not like dragons

– Those we’ve and lost (and by loved we mean just used for sex)

– When you just dont give AF (making out with people you haven’t spoken to at the bar)

– An open letter to all the guys I’ve made out with who’ve since come out as gay

– Why I should have destroyed the bike and other regrets from an almost marriage

– Why not to study abroad with your ex

I’m sorry about the time I was talking shit and didn’t realize I had called you and you heard everything.

– M&Ms with your face on them and other signs you should call the police

– No I will not fuck you with a strap-on on and other dealbreakers

– 50 Shades of Grey’s popularity does not mean we are all into BDSM and other myths

– “Are you my mother?” “No, I’m Fucking Not”

And people wonder why it’s so hard to find love these days

Seriously, Dad, I warned you. Don’t read this one. Skip it.

OK. So. It’s been a while, but you know I’ve gotten on and then off and then on Bumble like 4 times since I last told you about it. Anymore, it’s almost solely for blog content. Other options are funny stories either for my eventual career in stand-up comedy or one of the books I’m going to write. (Stay tuned for next week’s blog featuring the chapter titles for that book. I’m pretty proud of them and hope nobody steals ’em before I get around to writing the thing — and Dad, don’t read that one either).

Two of those times I re-downloaded Bumble were because I was drunk. I’ll admit it. I was drunk and feeling slightly sorry for myself and lonely. One was because I hadn’t had any good blog content in a while. And the last one was simply because “Fuck it, why not?”

I still am not ready to pay for a site. I know you get what you pay for and all that but last time I paid I got a bunch of middle-aged rednecks and a former magistrate from the county I used to work in interested in me. Not my target demographic… And guess what, even if you’ve been single as long as I have, you still get to have some standards. At least that’s what my therapist says. And some magazine articles.

In all seriousness though – I am for reals, 100 percent the happiest I have been since maybe ever. I have a great life. Like, real great. It’s just that sometimes, randomly, I would like to maybe have somebody to watch shows, go to events and also makeout with. I have or have had some combination of those recently, but they’re not all coming from the same person.

So yeah. What now? Do I pay anyway? Do I settle? Do I wait? How much do I care?

It depends on the day for that last one.

I’m writing this blog post fresh off a conversation with a local cop on the app who within 4 minutes of us messaging let me know he would like to bury his face in my underwear drawer.

I wish that was the craziest thing I’ve ever heard on one of those sites, but alas… have we forgotten the dragon thing?

When I asked Officer Douchebag if he always talked to girls he’d just met that way, he unmatched me. Therefore, we are a dream that can never be and he will have to find someone else’s underwear to mess with. Good luck to that girl. I’m sure she’s out there.

Bless these apps though for giving people the balls to be able to say whatever the fuck they want right up front. From my understanding, saying what they want varies wildly between the sexes. For women that seems to mean more saying what they want out of like, the future, and for men it seems to be what they want in bed. It is efficient though at least. Thanks for only wasting 5 minutes of my time (how long it took before you told me you wanted to choke me during sex) before one or both of us was able to realize it wasn’t gonna work…

I have collected some screenshots that make me wonder what these guys’ angle is and how successful they are with it. Because, damn. And others I would have screenshotted but I swiped left too quickly because they either looked like a murderer, or their name was Gary, and I can’t date a Gary, I’m sorry Garies of the world…

(Also have bad luck with anyone’s name starting with J – there have been several – so I should probably skip those too, but I’m trying to stay open-minded.)

Is paranormal investigator a legit thing besides for the guys that do TV shows on it? How much money is in that line of work?

George, nobody believes that’s a picture of you.

Michael, I’m open to learning about your personality but when your only photo is an X-ray I can’t.

This one sneaks in his sexual preferences. Oh, I’m shy and like UofL and want to DOMINATE YOU IN BED.

This one too. “I enjoy bourbon, hiking, hanging out with my dog, and I WANT TO HAVE ALL THE THREESOMES”

Speaking of, there are also always the couples looking for a third and good luck to them. That’s a no thank you from me. And also who cheated? Because you share a Facebook account so someone did.

The second I don’t have a sense of humor about it all, I’ll sign off all the sites and apps for good. But for now, they’re at least goldmines in the story department. And that book won’t write itself.

In case you’re curious as to how my dating life is going…

I had this metaphor in mind for how online dating was like Pokemon Go, but not in a good way, because you catch all of the crazies and you don’t want to and then I realized I may not understand Pokemon Go and it all fell apart. But I also don’t really understand dating these days either, so maybe it does work? #fullcircle #inception

I know what you’re thinking – L, you are SUCH a catch. How on EARTH are you not spoken for yet? And to that I say – I guess this screen on my Bumble account speaks to that.

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Dating is exhausting. Or at least, thinking about dating is. Movies and TV shows where you just run into each other at the grocery or something are bullshit. I go to the grocery on the reg and have yet to be hit on. Even on days I don’t wear my yoga pants.

I just looked and it’s been over a year since I’ve updated you on my dating life. I’ve been on a good amount (in my mind anyway) of dates in that time. So I haven’t given up ALL hope. But you guys.

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I made the mistake of staying on Tinder until earlier this summer. Because I guess I needed attention.

About this time last year, I met a guy, Jared, through there who was in town for the week from work from Pennsylvania and I figured we’d get a drink, why not.

A drink turned into much more – including him continuing to text me once he went back to Pennsylvania and making plans to meet up when I went up to see my cousins because he was only a couple hours away. OH. And he managed to finagle his way onto another work trip down here a couple months after we originally met. He picked me up from the airport when I got back to Louisville, yes there was distance but we were seeing what happened because we’d had such good chemistry and conversation and stuff.

Example text, and in case you want to know my flirting style:

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Until he went back to Pennsylvania after that second visit and CEASED EXISTING BASICALLY.

The fuck?!

Aside – Will we ever be past ghosting? I hate it. So much. It’s a common theme these days. Because why actually tell someone how you feel when you can just disappear? HA. Feelings.

If only that was the end, y’all. But it wasn’t.

Earlier this summer, he apparently needed to feel better about himself and his shittiness so he messaged me on Facebook and acknowledged that he was an asshole and what he did was wrong. And that he regretted it because he liked me and he fucked up.

To all of that I said… Yup. You’re right. He asked if he could text me again and I allowed it because I wanted to see how far he would take the apology and try and figure out why he even bothered. We talked for about a week before, to nobody’s surprise, he disappeared again. I wrote a strongly worded message in response to that one and then sent three middle finger emojis the next time I got drunk. Because I am a classy lady that way.

Then I had this exchange and was done.

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In the winter, I changed it up and tried Bumble – a novel concept in that it’s basically Tinder but the girl has to initiate the conversation. No problem. I’m a feminist. Within a few weeks, I’d re-met someone from my high school who I kind of knew back in the day and he asked me out after a few days of talking.

We had an awesome first date – one of the best I’ve had in a while. Great conversation, a lot in common, he was really smart and I liked making out with him. Here’s the catch – he was unemployed. And living at home. I get extenuating circumstances and stuff, but the way he made it sound, he’d gotten fired. And he had no idea what he wanted out of a new job, his future, anything really.

I’m not nitpicky, but you gotta have some direction.

We went out a couple more times – had a conversation about how he was a horrible texter/communicator which should have tipped me off – and then he decided he didn’t want anything more serious than a hookup. Which I had to get him tell me after much prodding because he again, didn’t have his shit together in any way, really.

I deleted the app. Then re-added it.

Got some shit like this…

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I’m all about flirting but I’m not gonna play a game with you. Especially when I’m not entirely sure that it’s not gonna end in an unwelcome and unrequested dick pic.

A couple months ago I went on a couple dates and was talking fairly seriously – and fairly long, actually – with a guy from Indiana. That right there goes against everything in me, because Indiana.

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Long story short since hopefully you’re seeing the theme here… all was good until it wasn’t. Meaning three dates in he suddenly “didn’t have time to date right now.” Which is funny cause he was on an alleged dating site trying to meet people. To date. Allegedly.

So. In conclusion. I have trust issues. And need a break. And am taking one. I’m not going looking. A relationship can come find me. Maybe in the grocery.

The Tinder Chronicles Pt. 2

You guys, it’s hard to date these days. Anyone who says otherwise, well, send them my way then, because I obviously need a coach. Where’s Hitch when you need him?

I don’t remember exactly when I got it but I have been on Tinder, I believe, for about 10 months now. And it’s been an adventure.

I’m definitely learning a lot about what I like and don’t like (even more so than I already knew). And it’s simultaneously done wonders for my self-esteem while confusing the ever-loving shit out of me.

A few trends I’ve noticed/questions I have:

– Why have a Tinder profile if it has 0 pictures on it? This app begins (and ends sometimes unfortunately) with looks.

– Why have all of your pictures be of groups of three or more guys? I cannot tell which one is you, nor do I want to try because you have no bio information either.

– Your dogs are cute, but that’s not what’s gonna get me to swipe right.

– Are you trying to get more followers or a hookup? Because really, your Snapchat, Kik and Instagram info in your bio? What’s your angle?

– At least 40 percent of you look like serial killers.

– There are SO MANY COUPLES looking for a third. No thanks.

– It says you have four pictures, yet they are ALL THE SAME PICTURE.

– If you have a newborn in your picture, I’m assuming your wife/gf doesn’t know about your Tinder account, or she does and you all want a third, or you JUST HAD A BABY AND YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A HOOKUP.

– There are definitely 15-year-olds who made a fake account saying they’re 30.

– Why are all your pics in bathroom mirrors?

– Why is your shirt off in every one? Save something for later – be a little mysterious.

– Stop using memes as your profile pic.

– That’s so not your real name.

Now. About the all the “fun” I’ve had. I’m still too poor for Match, because unemployed. And I’m not all that worried about meeting someone at the moment, because getting a job again is priority numero uno. The bills don’t stop comin’, y’all.

There was the guy I swiped right despite only having one pic of himself and it was from far away. I liked his bio – we had a lot of similar interests. He messages me, starting a regular conversation….for about 3 minutes. Then, wouldn’t ya know it? He’s just here from out of town for the week for work and he’s at his hotel and lonely. Oh, and he added another pic, closer up, and his teeth are jacked.

Pause. I am not shallow. Personality is most important for me, for real. Because there have been really attractive guys who I could be with who have the worst personality so it didn’t happen. And I don’t have a type. But I have one requirement: Have good teeth.

They don’t have to be perfect. But if it looks like you’ve done meth/are related to a horse/been in a lot of fights where you got punched in the mouth, then I’m sorry. I can’t.

Anyways. Back to hotel boy. He would NOT let up. “Wish you were here babe.” Dude – all you know about me is my name and the limited info in my bio. You have not earned calling me anything but my first name and really? For all you know I could be a serial killer…providing that you aren’t already (see list above).

UNMATCHED.

Then there was Snapchat Boy. He seemed normal enough long enough for me to be OK with exchanging Snapchat names but no phone number yet, which was so dumb on my part because despite me sending a couple pics of myself sitting on the couch (FULLY CLOTHED), it took 2.5 seconds for him to send me a naked pic.

BLOCKED AND UNMATCHED.

There was this dude from the Navy who I actually saw out in the world a few days after we’d talked but didn’t go up to him because that felt weird plus I was working at the Derby at the time. He lived a couple hours away and wanted Derby booty though.

UNMATCHED.

I went to get coffee with this guy named Charlie… and solidified that not only can I not date someone who has the same name as the dog I had, but that when your gut tells you they’re weird, a coffee date will not change that.

UNMATCHED.

While we’re naming names, there was Seth, who seemed really cool for like a week (a record in Tinder world – though there is one I have talked to still on occasion for a few months now but nothing more). Seth was complimentary, actually wanted to know more about me than wanted to see pictures (usually it’s the opposite). We talked about some serious stuff that had happened to both of us – he was a recovering addict, he said.

We got to the point of asking last names (SERIOUS) and did a bit of Facebook stalking of each other, admittedly. So far so good, still. Until two days later when I guess he forgot to hide the latest post he was tagged in WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND.

BLOCKED and UNMATCHED.

There was Channing (not Tatum) and a few others who started out well enough but wanted me to come over within 10 minutes of saying hi so they all got unmatched real quick.

One I mentioned above – we went on a couple lunch dates and kissed in his car but that was that really. And another turned into texting for a bit but just kinda fizzled out.

And then, there was this next guy. I wish so much that I was making this up, but unfortunately, I’m not.

I don’t even remember his name because I am still trying to block the experience from memory.

He was cute, and a musician, according to his bio. We had some similar interests and he had a friend in common with me allegedly, from Facebook.

Oh, he was a musician alright, I realized when we began talking. A CIRCUS musician. In fact, according to him, he was on the train right now, feeling lonely.

PAUSE. Do they really travel on trains like in Dumbo and children’s books? I am not a fan of the circus or anything about it so I may be dumb here. But in my mind I’m assuming this guy is going to murder me on a train.

I asked him if he was full of shit – was he really a traveling circus musician? Is that really a thing? And you live on a train? No way.

He says yep to all of the above and, oh, how’s this for proof, his “neighbor” on the train is an actual CLOWN.

Him: “How does that sound?”

Me: “FUCKING TERRIFYING.”

He unmatched me when I asked if this scenario has worked for him often.

I deleted the app from my phone for a bit because I was tired of weirdos. Then went back because it is true what they say, it can be good for your self-esteem, plus when I’m on there, these blogs write themselves.

I need to be taking screenshots of some of these for Tinder Nightmares, which you should be following on Instagram because it’s awesome.

I’m not holding my breath on meeting anyone from there but you never know. Maybe one day I’ll be telling my grandkids the story of how their grandpa and I both swiped right and he didn’t bring up dragons, clowns, or ask for a pic exchange.

One can dream, right?

(Getting out of) my own way

There’s an underrated movie – the sequel to “Get Shorty.” It’s called “Be Cool” and if you haven’t watched it, you should. Even though he’s extra creepy now, John Travolta does alright in it – but the better parts in it are any featuring Vince Vaughn, The Rock or Andre 3000. Best parts (in my opinion) are in the video below (very best is right about the 6:15 mark).

Anyways. Be Cool. The phrase, not the movie, has been on my mind lately. Because, wouldn’t ya know it, one of the hardest things someone with anxiety can try to do or be told to do is “be cool.”

I wish I could tell you that after my last long post – you know, the one about Tinder and being single and finding love and all that – I’ve been MIA because that boy who asked me the trivia question and I fell in love and were living happily ever after.

Not quite.

We hung out, a couple of times. Until it became apparent (which it should have earlier) that he had different ideas about what we were than I did. Which is fine. If it weren’t for the games it took to get to that point. And some other things I won’t add here. And part of it, I will admit, was my own fault, because, silly me, I expected him to want to talk to me and get to know me more than he actually did.

So back to it, right?

Yes, but with stipulations. This next time, no games. And if they say some weird stuff up front, THAT IS A SIGN, LAURA. That meant weeding out guys like the dude who messaged me and asked me to do something I hope no one ever asks me to again because that’s the SECOND time in my life that’s happened and, REALLY?? No thank you.

There is this one though. We’ve texted for a while now. And have attempted to go out three times, two of which were on the days where we got the most snow we’ve gotten in years because OF COURSE WE DID. Thanks, Universe. First time I get a date in a while and you dump a foot of snow on us. Twice. Point taken.

Anyways. So far so good, which means that’s when it gets harder to be cool. And harder to stop worrying so damn much. And harder to stop getting in my own way – second guessing texts or words or as sometimes can happen, lack thereof. I have to remind myself, out loud sometimes, that I am good enough, that I am worth pursuing and being with and stuff like that because this thing that I have – my mind – is doubting me and second guessing me at every turn. By the way, if I don’t remind myself, I have others that are doing it for me, my unofficial life coaches, if you will.

I haven’t had the best luck in relationships. When I got to a point not too long ago where I thought I had, I was wrong, yet again. I guard myself quite fiercely anymore, so when someone gets in, they’re in. Which makes them deciding to leave that much harder.

I’m not punishing people going forward for what others did to me in the past. That’s a new rule. As is the one about being yourself and if they don’t like it they’re not gonna be worth your time anyway.

The fact that I’m writing an entire blog post about it may show I’m thinking about it too much which is breaking the cardinal rule of being cool. But it’s because I want to do things right. I’ve waited a long time for good things in the relationship department, and if I can stay out of my own way, maybe I’ll get them.

Can I blame the weather, partially, for this too? This winter has been miserable, and when you live with already heightened (or lowered, I guess) emotions, it can take even more of a toll. When you only want to stay in bed or on the couch (which is basically your default anyway) because it’s too cold or gross to go out, you have too much time to think. Thus the analyzing and “should I have said this and that” and “I wonder if that was stupid” or dumb things like that.

And then sometimes you drink a 45-ounce margarita and it gets worse.

Long story short – I am trying to be cool. Some days it works better than others. Some days the lies my subconscious tells me are quieter than others.

Dating is hard, kids. Dating in the social media age and when everyone communicates mainly by typed out words is harder. Dating when you have an anxiety issue is hardest.

I refuse to be a hot mess though. And I refuse to rush into anything or settle for the sake of being with someone/anyone.

So. Baby steps. And reminding myself to be cool.

Tinderella

Once upon a time, like in any fairy tale, your heroine had had just about enough of trying to date the regular way. Fresh off the latest situation that had started out great and ended horribly (as they all do in these stories), she decided to try something new, because what the hell.

And by new, I mean free.

I’ve tried online dating a time or two before. And got frustrated. Mainly because I was having to PAY to be frustrated. No thank you.

Then I heard about Tinder. Free, and you only got a message (or the ability to message), if you both clicked that you liked the other person. Perfect, especially since in a fit of loneliness and too much rum I signed up for Plenty of Fish and was immediately sent four messages by two guys in their mid-50s (I do have an age limit) as well as one former magistrate, of a city I used to cover who obviously didn’t remember me and hit on me and he looks like a fat Hitler and I’m pretty sure has a felony record/is on the run from the law.

I made a profile, picked my best pictures (because it’s all about looks here, folks, ultimately and unfortunately). I reminded myself to be open-minded and picky but not PICKY. I tried to come up with the best short description of myself as I could and off we went.

For all its craziness I’ve encountered thus far, I will say Tinder can be awfully good for the self-esteem. Within minutes, guys I’d swiped right (that’s 2014/15 speak for liked/approved of) had apparently done the same for me because I had about 5 matches.

“Oh this’ll be good,” I thought to myself, trying to figure out if I wanted to message any of them first or if I’d wait and for once, not be the one doing any chasing.

Lo and behold, I got one.

Here’s how romantic it was…

Him: “Do you like dragons?”
Me: “Sure, I suppose.”
Him: “Good, because I’ll be dragon these balls across your face later.”

And then we got married and lived happily ever after.

PSYCHE.

There were the two separate military guys that each wanted me to drive down to meet them at a hotel outside Ft. Knox. We talked some, but nothing ever came of either one.

(New rule after too many long-distance things… wait for the one that wants to come to YOU.)

There was one that was looking for a dominatrix, basically, that I had to pass on as well.

Oh, and the one that after being normal for an hour and a half got my number and asked if I wanted to hook up, THAT NIGHT no less, and unmatched me immediately after on the site when I said that I was fine with just talking for now.

There’ve been a few high points – I’ve texted with a few, some for several weeks. But nothing so far has become anything more than that. But the stories and potential blog material are enough to keep me going.

Like this exchange with one:

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Yeah, why is his name like that in my phone? Well, because those are the three words that described him. He shares a Tinder account with two of the other guys who (in their mid-30s) dress like Ghostbusters all the time and often just go out to bars like that.

I’m all for cosplay, first of all, but this was a bit much, when he LITERALLY could not talk about anything else. And if I saw GB (Ghostbusters, duh) one more time I was going to scream. So I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. I gently (which is hard for me, Queen of Bluntness), asked him to tell me some NON-GB stuff about himself.

Outside of the dressing up regularly as a movie character and going to the bars in town I despise, he seemed like a pretty decent guy. I was reaching, I know, but I gave him a chance. EVEN when he said he didn’t wanna have kids, ever, as seen above, which is a huge thing for me (because I want them. Multiple ones).

Obviously, however, as all good love stories do, it ended (for him anyway, it had ended for me a while before) when he randomly texted me two weeks after we hadn’t talked. In the text he told me he was getting back with his ex, because “People keep telling me to.” Well, that’s as good a reason as any, buddy, have a good one. Also please lose my number. And now I can never watch Ghostbusters again.

As I said before, I’ve tried to be open-minded. And I still am..haven’t given up completely. But these guys aren’t making it easy.

I’ve seen FOUR (count ‘em) guys I graduated high school with and three more that I knew in high school but were in grades above or below mine. I’ve seen 2 ex-boyfriends/hookups and four people I am friends with and see regularly or semi-regularly. So there’s that.

And I’ve noticed some trends.

— There are some 13-year-olds posting their age as 27 but then posting their actual pictures and blowing their own cover.
— There are a lot of weird names out there. Or definitely made up. And I don’t think I’ll date a white redneck boy named Trae, sorry. There are names I can’t get past.
— If you have four pics but they’re all the same picture – swipe left (means no for the uninitiated/uninformed).
— If your pic is a close-up of your eye I will think you are a serial killer.
— There are a ridiculous amount of open relationships (alleged, anyway) and couples looking for threesomes. Swipe left.
— I like tattoos, a lot. But if the only one you have is one on your back saying “Powder” and you can’t explain it, that’s a turn off.

So. We’ll see how it goes and what happens next. Will I find love? Stay tuned. For now, I have to go respond to the message I just got saying “What’s the square footage of Amazon?” Because that’s what happens if your bio says you know a lot of mindless trivia.

Wish me luck.

I came, I saw, I winked. And then I moved on.

One month. That’s how long it took me to decide.

It was a month when my insomnia came back full-force, when my anxiety moved from threat level yellow (where it stays most of the time) to red-orange or orange-red or whatever that crayon color is.

It was a month when I had paid $35 and all I was getting for my money was added stress. And that’s something I definitely don’t need.

Also, do you know how many drinks you can buy at the bar for that much? Like 6, if you tip a buck or so on each one. More if you’re buying beer.

So yeah, so I quit Match.

When my month I paid for runs out at the end of this week, I’m dunzo.

I cancelled my subscription last night and afterwards? Got the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a month.

It’s not for money reasons. It’s not because I got too impatient trying to find the “love of my life.” It’s because I didn’t like how it made me feel.

Now. I’m not knocking the process. I think there are some people that do well with that option when it comes to dating. And obviously, it works for them, because I know people that have met good people and have great relationships that started with an online dating site. But it’s just not for me.

In this past month, I have cared more about what strangers think of me than I have in a long, long, long, long time. And I let it determine how I felt about myself.

When I was in high school, and silly about relationships as high schoolers can sometimes be, I cared so much about what other people thought. My mood was often determined by one specific boy’s feelings – or lack thereof – about me. I worried about everything I said or did when it came to him because one wrong word, one wrong action would mean the end. It would mean something was wrong with me, never him. (When in reality, looking back, it was SO him. Always. Weirdo.)

That’s when I was 17. And here we are, 11 years later, and I’m back in that mindset. I was letting what was happening – or not happening, actually – on that site determine how I felt about myself.

“Oh, I sent him a message and he hit the ‘no thanks’ button. Something must be seriously wrong with me. Bet he thinks my picture is bad and I’m not pretty.”

I’m not proud of these thoughts, people, but they’re there. They’d been down to a very dull roar for such a long time, but within the last few weeks, there they were, clear as day.

And I debated all day about writing those thoughts above. Because I’m not looking for reassurance or to be built back up. I know the good things about myself. I know the bad things about myself. I know that I more than likely think there are many, many more bad things than others do. But this online dating thing brought all of these feelings back up.

It’s a different world on there. The regular way of meeting people, if there is one – through a friend, through a group you’re in, through work, at a bar – is taken away. This method is strictly based on looks and how well you sell yourself in a profile with limited words and pre-determined questions.

By looking at my profile, guys aren’t going to get that I’m funny. That I am a great friend, that I take care of those I love, that I have pretty eyes when you get up close and what I’m like in a relationship.

Instead they’ll get a few pictures of me I think actually turned out well and answers to questions like “Do you smoke? How often do you drink? What sports do you enjoy? Which of these five animals do you like?”

And then they determine if they want to email me more or cut me off completely? And I’m paying people to help me with this?

No thanks.

My shrink said if I decided to quit Match I should write about being an Online Dating Survivor. And I guess that’s what I’m doing right now.

Because I survived the experience. I got out before the anxiety and frustration and depression it brought on swallowed me whole.

Thank God.

So many matches, so little to like about this process

Wanna know what goes through my head as I review the “matches” pre-selected for me by a company I am paying by the month to find me love?

OF COURSE YOU DO.

So, here goes.

 OK. Starting with my Singled Out Match of the Day! Oh boy! 

Singled Out was a good show. When I was in middle school we played it in the band room one day when we had a sub. I was the contestant.  Winner. 

Why is he my singled out one? OH. Because we are both interested in bowling. And don’t smoke. SOUL.MATES.

Moving on.

Bachelor #2.  

Pretty cute. Let’s read his profile. OK, he puts it out there..”I am not a normal person.” Good to know. 

“I love emoticons, 80s music and dominos pizza.” Really? Those are the three you’re going with? Good to know. WTF. 

He wants to do nothing but watch football all day Saturdays for four months out of the year. Nothing else. “Outside of those 12 days a year I’m cool with whatever.” Wow.. 

He’s looking for an athletic/toned, slender girl. Aren’t they all?

Moving on. 

Bachelor #3. He looks tall. Cute though. He works out five days a week and plays sports all week. He’s hearing impaired. Interesting. 

“My ideal match likes to dress to impress.” So a fashionista? I don’t think that’s me.. Also, who says that? 

I “Yes”-ed him anyway. Doesn’t mean anything. No winks or emails. But he’s bookmarked.

Next one? Everything I dislike about the photo side of this game. He has two pictures, both from the same night, one of which I really can’t tell which one is him in because it’s a group of guys at a wedding. Lots of spelling problems.  34. Nope.

Next one’s a military boy. Kind of a sucker for those here lately. Maybe ’cause that’s who keeps popping up on here? Cute though. I said hi in an e-mail. Spittin’ that game. 

Next one has three kids. Not ready for all that yet. Two is my limit right now. Moving on.

Next one was Hawaiian. Looked cute, profile was interesting, why not. You get a “Hi.” 

Next one – maybe let’s not lead off with the picture that makes you look like a conjoined twin. Secondly, I will not be attempting to pursue anything with someone whose relationship status is “currently separated.” REALLY? It ain’t even legal yet! I’m not looking for adultery! Also, damn! Wait a few to get back in the game. 

NEXT.

You look like a serial killer. NOPE.

And we’re done for the day. Join us tomorrow for another crop of misfits that might catch your eye. All the while you are showing up on someone else’s list, where they are looking at your piddly little profile and pictures and saying similar things. However, I doubt they are saying I look like a serial killer. Because I totally don’t. 

Have I mentioned that this is frustrating?