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.

Advertisements

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? 

 

Cubicle Neighbor Chronicles Part III

Editor’s note: This post was not written by the author of this blog. The author of this post has asked to remain anonymous on account of he/she does not want to lose his/her job. This is one post of many, however, because this person’s co-worker is kind of nuts.

Ok. Conversation between me and cubicle neighbor just a few minutes ago and let me just remind you, the woman uses a computer every single day now.

Cubicle neighbor: HI…. How do I sign up to use the conference room at a specific time for a meeting?
Me: Go to the shared drive and in the folder there is a “conference room calendar” in powerpoint and you just go to the day and write your name in and the time you want to reserve the room for. That way whenever someone else opens the document to see if it’s available they can see you’ve reserved it on a certain day and time.
Cubicle Neighbor: but how will they see it if I just change it on my computer?
Me: Um… well you save it and then anytime someone opens the document from the shared drive they’ll just see it…?
Cubicle Neighbor: What? Well… ok. How do i SAVE????
Me: Ummmmmmm…. hit “save”???
Cubicle Neighbor: Oh, just like, the save button in the top left?
Me: That would be the one!

IS SHE F-ING SERIOUS??????

Cubicle Neighbor Chronicles Part II

Editor’s note: This post was not written by the author of this blog. The author of this post has asked to remain anonymous on account of he/she does not want to lose his/her job. This is one post of many, however, because this person’s co-worker is kind of nuts.

Just taught cubicle neighbor how to create and type up tabs for binder dividers using Microsoft Word because she was convinced the only way to make tabs was to use the typewriter. So I sent her my template I use for when I have to put tabs in hundreds of folders. She thought I used a typewriter to do all that? Really?

Chalk one up for the 21st century!

Read part one here.

Cubicle Neighbor Chronicles Part I

Editor’s note: This post was not written by the author of this blog. The author of this post has asked to remain anonymous on account of he/she does not want to lose his/her job. This is likely the first post of many, however, because this person’s co-worker is kind of nuts.

So a few months after I started my current job, a “part-time” person was hired and given the cubicle right next to mine. I say “part-time” in quotations because I feel like she is here more than I am and I’m full time. I had heard all the horror stories about cubicles long before I ever got a real job but figured it couldn’t really be THAT bad. And it wasn’t, until “cubicle neighbor,” as I like to call her (or CN for short), started. I didn’t notice it at first, but slowly things began to catch my attention. Here is just a sampling of what I deal with on a regular basis.

– Her cell phone usage. The woman gets more personal phone calls while at work than anyone I have ever met. Usually it’s her dad or her kids. Mostly her kids. Who are teenagers. But they call her all day, every day. I will hear her talking with them at 10:30 on a Tuesday morning about anything and everything as I sit here and wonder, aren’t they in school? Some of the conversations I’ve overheard? Well let’s see. There was the time she was yelling at one of her kids for getting a ticket for going the wrong way on a one-way street. Another time she was yelling at one of her kids for putting his/her contacts in water because he/she was out of contact solution and so they ruined their contacts and had no extra pairs. Last week she was discussing spaghetti sauce recipes with someone.

My favorite thing she does with her cell phone? She will make about 4 or 5 phone calls and leave messages asking people to call her back, and proceed to immediately go into a meeting but leave her cell phone at her desk. And not on vibrate- no. Ringer ON. So when all of these people start calling back, her phone is ringing off the hook. One time it rang so much that I actually went in and interrupted the meeting she was in to tell her that her phone was ringing non- stop. I was hoping she’d get the hint that it was annoying the crap out of me and come silence it. Her response? “Oh it’s probably just my kids…. They’ll be ok.”

– Here is a copy of an email I sent to Laura about CN one day:
“I just walked from my desk to the copier to make a quick copy of something, and on my way to the copy area, I saw cubicle neighbor standing next to a bookshelf we have, with a huuuuuge PHONE BOOK in her hands, looking for a phone number. I have multiple problems with this.
1) It’s called the internet. You can find a phone number in a matter of 10 seconds or less using this cool thing they have now called GOOGLE. And if you don’t find it there, you can definitely find it on whitepages.com instead of wasting 20 minutes thumbing through a phone book with 500 + pages. 2) I’m pretty sure that phone book (and everything else on that book shelf) is from the early 90s. 3) It’s 2011.”

– CN uses a typewriter. An excerpt from another email to Laura: “So right now, the cubicle neighbor is not bugging me with the noise of her cell phone or desk phone or annoying laugh or questions about how to copy and paste something in a word document. She IS, however, bugging me with the sound of a typewriter. Yes. A typewriter. Two questions. 1) Why do we still have a typewriter in this office? B) What could anyone possibly need a typewriter for when they have a computer????????? Seriously. The sound of the typewriter is almost making me want to burst out laughing. I can’t get over the fact that she is actually using that right now.”

– And finally- the meanest of my rants about CN which I slightly regret but not really because come on, how can you not be annoyed by a woman who does all of these things as well as sits at her desk (when she’s not on her phone) just smiling to herself all day long. Another email to Laura:
“Sometimes when I listen to cubicle neighbor talk on the phone, I respond to things she says under my breath. I say what I would like to say to her out loud if I were the person on the other end of the phone.

Just now:

CN: “Well nothing’s ever straightforward for me! mra ha ha ha”
Me: “That’s because you’re retarded.”

Good God I’m mean. But I dare any one of you people reading this to sit in a cubicle next to this nonsense for a week straight and tell me you’re not going absolutely insane.

What’s the opposite of “all dressed up and nowhere to go?”

In about an hour I’m supposed to head to mom and dad’s to get in a limo that’s gonna take us and a few of my aunts and uncles and my sister and her boyfriend out to dinner then to Bardstown Road for the Bambi Walk.

I’m excited, it should be fun. However, I put on three different shirts trying to figure out what I wanted to wear tonight.

This always happens to me. I have somewhere to go and I have to look nice and all the sudden I hate every single part of my wardrobe. There’s the usual thoughts: I wish I had more to choose from, I wish I had that shirt I saw in that advertisement, I wish I looked good in that. Ask my friends, getting ready when we’re all together, I’m the one doing four wardrobe changes before I even start on makeup all the while asking them, “Does this look OK? Are you sure? Would you tell me if it didn’t? Did you like the other one better?” Annoying, I know. Sorry guys.

I have about four shirts I’ll wear out because everything else I’m afraid isn’t dressy enough, or I look bad in it. I haven’t had the money to go blow on clothes for myself in a while and when it comes time to do so, I can find something else I’d much rather spend it on because, let’s face it, there’s several things better than standing in a room with three mirrors looking at yourself, especially in things that may or may not fit. For example, I’d rather go to the dentist than shop for a bathing suit.

It’d help if I felt good in what I wear, but for that I think I’d need a schedule free enough to regularly hit the gym, a life coach affirming me every single morning and a personal stylist laying out what I need to wear each day/night. Not to be a Debbie Downer, I’m just…I don’t know.

As for tonight, I did find a shirt in my closet I like a lot. Too much, probably, because I wear it at least once a week to something – I told you I need to go clothes shopping. I’ll wear it tonight because I do feel good in it and I think it looks pretty good on me too. But seriously..I need some new stuff.

I won’t go shopping Black Friday because I don’t have it in me to wake up at 3 a.m. or push crazy people out of my way before the sun’s even up. But next weekend…watch out, Old Navy. I’m coming for ya.