online dating

Persistence is Key…to Confirm That You’re a Lunatic

I received the following message through Match.com. As usual, the fact that I received an e-mail got my attention, and once I clicked over to view the sender’s full profile, it all made sense. Imagine, if you will, someone who auditioned to play the part of a Street Fighter character, complete with a fitted faux-leather jacket and a barbed facial expression. It seems to be an attempt to look masculine, but it really just looks like he is about to sneeze. That’s what “ILuvToLaugh” looks like in his profile.


My suitor would be the one on the right, with the gun.

Let’s drift away together into his delightful prose, shall we?

Subject: Uh. No Way

Message:

You know, my friends say that it’s not good to show your hand too quickly (especially online), but after coming across your profile, I had to send you a message to concede that I am a sucker for feminine girls with polarity. I’m not ashamed to admit it!

I mean, don’t get me wrong — it’s NOT like I am some sort of mythical knight out on a quest to find the girliest girl of legends or some frat dude drooling over valley girls who look like they’re straight from the set of Clueless; it’s like that happy medium between a girl being really comfortable with her femininity and balancing the confidence to show it. And it seems like to me, that you fall into that happy medium! (there is a reason why it’s called a happy medium instead of a sad or mediocre medium right?)

Anyway, where are my manners? My name’s Tim, and if smart, funny, stylish, cute, and overall just frankly awesome guys are your thing, then don’t send me a message. Oh wait, I messed up. I mean DO send me a message. I get confused sometimes 🙂

I’m not going to lie. Once I saw the Street Fighter picture, I was kind of confused. The e-mail had me a bit more baffled. But, being the “feminine girl with polarity” that I am, I concluded that this is a canned e-mail and “Tim” doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. I certainly don’t. But there’s more!

One Month Later…

Subject: You were burglarized…?

Message:

Hey,

So I was checking my account today in utter disbelief that I didn’t hear back from you yet, and then I just realized what must have happened to you–

You must have been burglarized, and the only thing that horrible and wretched thief must have stole was your keyboard. I feel bad now you poor, poor soul… you must have been so traumatized just sitting there staring at my profile on the screen, clicking away futilely and slamming your mouse down in frustration multiple times while cursing the heavens that this had to happen to you today and that there’s no way for you respond to me.

Like I said… luckily for you, I’m an exceptionally perceptive guy. I mean how many other guys would know that is EXACTLY what happened to you with the limited information you gave me 🙂 And since I’m also in the business of solving problems, here’s some solutions to help you get in contact with me:

1. Get some matches, grab 3 garbage cans, and arrange them in a triangle formation to set them all on fire simultaneously. This will create an accurate smoke triangulation signal so I can come over and find you. I’m like a modern-day knight in shining armor.

2. Use your trusty phone to text me at 646-943-3%*$ so we can continue the conversation

Hmmm… well his first message said he certainly wasn’t a knight, so which is it? Am I dealing with a knight-like Street Fighter character or what?!? And, if I really was burglarized, why would I ever want to commit arson right after that? Would this guy really want to date both a victim and a criminal?

My point is, if you attempt to go the creative and humorous route, you should have the intelligence to back it up. Taking the time to create not one, but two canned e-mails that are sent to anyone you deem to have a heartbeat should also include some logic. Not only am I now having visions of video game characters creating online dating profiles, but I am pretty sure that “ILuvToLaugh” (aka: “Tim”) assumes that I am MacGuyver.

Me, preparing for a date.

I just can’t deal with that sort of pressure.

A Bundle of Nerves Named Lee

While she is experiencing life on the other side of the world from me, lostnChina recently wrote a great post entitled “The Sarcastic Woman’s Guide to Online Dating: The Whole Enchilada,” which I believe touches on some real issues those of us who have dared to look on the Internet for companionship have to face. She has also dated a man who is completely obsessed with Amway – which is something else we have in common. Yes, I will discuss my Amway guy in a future post – don’t you worry. Anyway, lostnChina sums everything up fairly early by saying, “Most online profiles come across as too-good-to-be-true and exaggerations abound.” She’s right about the profiles. I would like to add that e-mails and text messages that follow can have the same effect.

I was spending the night at my brother’s house after a festive Rosh Hashanah celebration and had my laptop out to look at online profiles. Honestly, is there a better way to close out a holy and blessed evening than perusing J-Date? We began instant messaging right away, and when we took those messages over to AOL, I knew our exchange was getting intense. Well, not really, I think we were both bored out of our minds and found that spending more than a few minutes on J-Date was embarrassing. In any case, we spent a few hours chatting that sacred night. One can say that our romance blossomed at the beginning of the Jewish New Year. Or not…let’s not get dramatic.

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In his photos, Lee had really dark hair and eyes, looked to be in decent shape and wore dark framed glasses. Lee was the first (and only, now that I think about it) divorced guy I chatted with online extensively. It sounded like he had gotten married when he was very young to a girl who was from another country. As they both grew up, and she became acclimated to life in the US, they grew apart and their marriage ended. That detail is neither here nor there, but I was curious after meeting him how he was ever a married man, and I figure you might be as well by the time you finish reading this.

Once we used similar phrases to describe what we do for a living, we both realized that we worked in the same industry and as it turned out, knew many of the same people. Lee had a really dry sense of humor and we enjoyed making each other laugh through our quirky one-liners and stories of past experience. We e-mailed and texted back and forth for a few weeks to continue our intricate comedy show. He told the most entertaining stories and was as charming as can be. I loved the way he “spoke” during this time. It was both self-deprecating and sexy, since he had the confidence to say anything. And then it became time to meet in person.

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I shakily approached the guy who looked pretty much like Lee’s photos and was standing outside the bar-restaurant we decided on for our first date. I gave him a big smile and told him it was great to finally meet him in person. He looked up from his phone long enough to make eye contact with me for about 2 seconds and mumbled a greeting, looking either like he thought I wasn’t the person he’d been texting for weeks, or he was absolutely terrified. It seemed to be the latter, since he did open the door for me to the restaurant and I lead the way to our table.

Once we sat down, we actually started communicating as though we had, in fact, been in touch for a while. However, he was really nervous. I asked him more than once if I had something on my face or in my teeth because he was now staring at me very intensely. Some stutters also came out of his mouth, but I was glad we were speaking. I ordered a vodka tonic from the waitress, and Lee did the same. And then his was gone within 5 minutes. He ordered another one, and then that one disappeared in pretty much the same fashion. After that happened I jokingly said, “Thirsty?” and he put his head down, and said he was nervous. I tried to explain that there is no need to be shy or anxious and that I met up with him because he seemed like great guy and we got along well thusfar. To give him a bit more confidence, I told him that I was glad he actually looked like his profile pictures. That didn’t help him much, and he told me that I was even more beautiful than mine. Aww, yes, that was nice to hear, but the compliments, and nervousness did not end throughout the entire date. After my second drink, I ordered an appetizer, which Lee said he was too shaky to eat but ordered another drink. We talked about some work things, and other general topics, but it didn’t seem like he was really listening to anything and just kept staring at me in that weird, creeper way. I was wearing work clothes – pants and a button-down shirt – and you would have thought I had on a negligee. I felt dirty.

The date lasted a bit less than two hours and Lee had ordered and drank a total of five cocktails. We parted with him still being shy, and me feeling like a supermodel. I had no idea what the hell had just happened, but he definitely was not the person I thought I had been e-mailing and texting with all the intimate details of my life with earlier. I have zero issues with anyone having as many drinks as they would like, but the lack of personality and creepy anxiety combined with the superfluous cocktail guzzling just confused me.

As I stroked my lustrous supermodel hair at my desk the next morning, I received an e-mail from Lee explaining that he had a great time. The only sign that I got that ‘electronic Lee’ was the same person as ‘date Lee’ was that he apologized at the end of his e-mail for being so nervous.

Then he asked me out again. And I had to refuse. That might sound really harsh, but you have to understand that when someone is nervous, to the point that they are borderline sinister, that doesn’t sit well with me. Confidence, and a clear speaking voice, are key.

If you feel bad for Lee, don’t. Facebook suggested that I become friends with him a year or so later, and his main photo included him smiling with a female, who I assumed was his latest love interest. Maybe she went shot for shot with him on their first date, made the first move and beat the anxiety out of him. Or maybe he read this:

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And even after the Facebook suggestion, I made a huge social media faux pas and hit the wrong key on my LinkedIn profile. I ended up sending a bulk message to every person that the site thought I might know and invited them to be a connection. Lee was one of them. Being such an open and boisterous technological personality, he actually responded to my erroneous message, explaining in a lengthy manner that while my name and company sounded familiar to him, he had no recollection of ever meeting me. Tempted to remind him of his evening of creepdom, I started drafting a reply, recounting our courtship, and eventually decided against it.

Lesson learned. Always talk to your possible love interest on the phone before you meet in person. There is a lot you can learn from a person’s tone of voice that any amount of text and two dimensional photos cannot exude.

Oh, and don’t send bulk e-mails to strangers. You might end up reaching out to a blind date from the past.

Ladies and Gentleman, I give you Roger and the Clichés!

So I have a profile on a free dating site. While you may think that placing my photos and bio into an unrestricted pool of insanity and misplaced ego is ridiculous, then… well, you are right. However, there are some relatively normal folks on this site that haven’t accosted me with a chainsaw just yet.

I got a message from Roger the other day, which inspired me to visit his online profile. Both of these wonderful pieces of writing deserve to be displayed and critically analyzed for obvious reasons. So let’s do just that:

[THE PROFILE, ABRIDGED]

Self-Summary

Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and turn around sometimes, you might miss it.(1) We get one chance at this life thing and really my intention is to make the most of it. I’ve been truly blessed to have had the ability to retire from one job at young age and now have the ability to smell the roses (2) before I embark on the next career. My glass is half full (3) and I intend on taking full advantage of the gifts that I have. No one knows when that taxi cab is going to jump the curb and take us out (4). So I try to live each day like it is my last, though responsibly.

What I’m doing with my life

I just finished one career and now I’m taking my stab (5) as a building manager and aspiring writer (6).

I’m really good at

Making someone laugh (7). I have a dry wit about me. I like making someone feel like the most important person in the room.

I spend a lot of time thinking about

How full my cup is (8) and the road that I’ve traveled to get here. Life has been a journey(9) and being at the point I’m at now makes me appreciate where I’ve been.

(1) First of all, there is one and will only ever be ONLY ONE Ferris Bueller. You don’t get to quote one of the greatest movie characters of all time, and make it the first sentence about you. If you are that much of a tool, the correct way of stealing someone else’s quote is by inserting “quotation marks” around it!

(2) Uh, “smell the roses”? I think of an 85 year old woman and a bathroom when I hear that.

(3) Half full of what? Stolen quotations?

(4) What taxi cab? Where is it taking us? What the hell are you talking about?!?

(5) “my stab” – which would be different from “his” or “her” stab. Any of those pronouns would still make the “stab” sound just as cryptic as the taxi murder reference.

(6) I think you mean “reaching for the stars.” And you’re really good at creating written content thus far. Thumbs up!

(7) Nothing he has written is purposely amusing in any way. And by the by, when someone says they will make you laugh, that typically means they will stare at you uncomfortably each time they make a corny remark about nothing you care about.

(8) Is the “cup” a euphemism for something?

[THE E-MAIL, UNABRIDGED]

“Hey there,
I’m Roger. I’m a New York native that recently moved back and am loving re-acquainting myself to NYC. I’m in a great place in my life and am just looking for someone to share my half full glass with, though I’m not in a rush to get there. I’d love to talk to you sometime if you are game.
Roger”

Grammatical errors and the obvious fact that this is a canned, generic e-mail that was most likely sent to a list of people aside, there’s nothing inherently wrong with it. However, there is absolutely no excuse for the superfluous platitude. All I really know about him is that he feels lucky and extremely positive about something – but I have no idea what that is.

You may say that I can always respond to him to find out more. And then I would tell you that in his pictures, he’s wearing a giant set of rhinestones in his ears.

Simple equation I often have to repeat:
Hideous jewelry + excessive use of clichés = all bets are off.

And we move on…

Carlo and the Pussy Cat

From the second I saw him standing in the middle of the sidewalk turning in every direction, looking as though he was begging to get accosted, I knew it wasn’t going to work out. I was on the phone with my mother as I stood a few feet away explaining my discontent in his proverbial lack of height and masculinity that he accentuated in his profile pictures on match.com. “Oh stop whining and give the guy a chance,” Mom said, and hung up.

I approached Carlo and we made our awkward introductions. Away we went to a small café he knew of a few blocks away. It was a really nice place with a good menu and a pretty quiet atmosphere. Once we sat down and had a drink, I remembered that I did like the way he carried on a conversation, how open and comfortable he was. Well, perhaps he was a little too comfortable. Since it was an Italian café, most of the staff seemed to be from Italy, and our waiter spoke in broken English. I had ordered the buffalo mozzarella salad, and offered Carlo some of it. Behind his glasses, I saw his eyes open up really wide and before I knew it, he screamed on the top of his lungs, “MY COMPLIMENTS TO THE BUFFALO!!!” across the room. I guess he really liked it. While I turned bright red from embarrassment and the Italian waiters all looked at each other trying to figure out what happened, Carlo went back to his own plate.

So at this point I knew he was a little animated and random. That’s not the end of the world. We soon started discussing past relationships. Yep – one of the topics you’re never supposed to talk about on a first date. That’s how we rolled. It started getting interesting when Carlo mentioned a few details about his most recent relationship. He proceeded to tell me that his last girlfriend, that he dated for over two years, was divorced, a mother of 3 and was 42 years old. Carlo and I were about 25 at the time, so I was very curious about his long relationship with a woman nearly two decades his senior. As it turned out, the woman was not too mentally stable and Carlo spent much of his time in the relationship trying to make her happy. I started comparing this ex-girlfriend in my young and naïve head to myself and was baffled. I couldn’t even begin to understand how someone would be interested in a mother of 3 and then want to date a child such as myself. We talked a little bit more about it and with no real cause, Carlos declared that his ex was the “GREATEST, STRONGEST WOMAN [HE HAD] EVER KNOWN!” There were tears in his eyes, and he was using the same volume in his voice that he used for his buffalo outburst, but this was a lot more … um…emotional.

So with the nonsensical screams in the café out of the way, Carlo then asked if I wanted to walk around a little bit and maybe get a drink before parting. I figured there was no danger in that, but once again, I was wrong. During our stroll, we were chatting like friends and trading sarcastic comments back and forth so when we were about to pass a store called the Pink Pussy Cat, Carlo thought it was a good idea to go in. I guess I didn’t want to look like a prude and probably thought it would provide some good laughs. The problem I had was that we ended up looking like an established couple to the Pink Pussy Cat employee. And Carlo was more than happy to comply with that assumption. She ended up showing us some “devices” that were kept behind lock and key and while I must admit, she definitely knew her stuff, I wanted to die. After the word “stimulation” was mentioned to us for the third time in a 2 minute period, I was ready to go. And Carlo wanted to know why I was so uncomfortable.

Carlo really was (probably still is) a very nice guy. I hope he found someone who can keep up with his free spirit and extreme volume.

Dave from Philly – Part 2: Nobody’s Perfect

Continued from Dave from Philly – Part 1….

After the weekend we first met up, Dave* and I kept in touch and texted daily. Most of the texts coming from his end included self-portraits of him doing exciting things like driving to work, or coming off of the treadmill, which got old after about 3 consecutive days. I did ask him at one point why his hair was so different than it was in his profile pictures. He explained that since his mother had passed away from cancer, he had decided to grow it out to cut and donate to chemotherapy patients. Obviously, that is a very sensitive and caring move to make… but I still think he could have posted more recent pictures online. This was several months of growth – the difference between a bald head and an anchorwoman’s haircut.

When we spoke on the phone, I tried so hard to somehow impair my hearing so that Dave sounded masculine, but I just couldn’t avoid squirming every time his falsetto voice squeaked during a particular animated story or strong comment. I figured I could somehow get used to it, especially if we got to see each other in person more often. We started planning on the next time we would meet up. It went something like this:

Dave: I was thinking that maybe you can come here next time and we can go for dinner.

Me: That sounds good.

Dave: Yeah, I got a gift card to the Cheesecake Factory a few months ago.

Me: Oh…so you’re going to use it soon?

Dave: Yeah, silly, for when we go to dinner.

So if you can imagine that phone conversation with two female voices, and a lot of awkward silences, that’s pretty much how it went. I now had the long hair, high voice, the aversion to drinking, the incessant photo sending, the obsession with sale searching and the extreme frugality well-noted.

With all of that, I still thought I should see Dave again just to make sure we had no hope. In a fit of ridiculous decision-making, I had confirmed with him that I would come to Pennsylvania the next weekend and stay over his house. Luckily, two very well-balanced friends talked me out of that choice. They feared that I would have no way of getting out of a stranger’s house outside of the metropolitan area if and when he pulled his machete out. They definitely had a point, so I told Dave that I couldn’t stay by his house quite yet. I offered to simply come to his area and we could spend the day together. His reaction was not very positive. While I stated my position very gently in the hopes that we can move slowly and I was not ready for any overnight dates just yet, he felt that I had accused him of being a bad person. I received a two page e-mail that declared that while “nobody’s perfect” (just like his profile headline), he is a good person and doesn’t deserve to be treated the way I was treating him. It was quite detailed and a bit dramatic and accusatory, considering we were just getting to know one another. I had no reason to feel guilty and to this day, I really don’t know why I did this, but I ended up apologizing for upsetting him and asked if he would want to spend the day with me.

Apparently, he got over the pain of my insulting actions, and agreed to a daytime date. I took the 2 hour train ride to New Jersey to meet Dave, who lived about 40 minutes from the station. The plan was to (you guessed it) go shopping at a well-known mall and see what the day brought for us. Well, here are a few things that day brought for me:

– Someone that looked very much like Dave showed up at the station to pick me up. He had his trademark feathered-hair, now a bit longer, along with his periwinkle shorts on. Yet, he also had grown a beard, let more than a few hairs between his eyebrows collect and seemed to have stolen Sally Jessy Raphael’s eyeglasses. He said something about his contact lenses when we first greeted one another, but I was too busy wiping my face where his beard had stabbed me and wondering if the giant red frames on his face could get any bigger.

– I learned that Dave drives a giant, beat-up royal blue mini-van. While we were supposed to go to some places in Pennsylvania that day, he opted to stay in New Jersey, where he picked me up, to “save miles.” He also pays for his gas with change. All change.

– I got to experience not one but three different malls of New Jersey. We went to every Macy’s to look for the same Affliction-brand t-shirt to see which one had it at the best price. If you guessed that he didn’t buy it at all, you would be right.

– I got to buy my own soda, as well as his. However, he did spring to pay for lunch at Charlie Brown’s Steakhouse – where he couldn’t rave enough about their free salad bar. The 75 year old woman next to us who couldn’t stop sneezing seemed to agree. It was a good thing we went there, he told me, because we had enough left over for his dinner that night. I know what you’re thinking. I was a bit torn up about not being part of that Cheesecake Factory gift card at the time as well.

– I also learned that if any man with the voice of a 5-year-old female rabbi who wears accessories that Bruce Valanch could have easily lent to him tries to touch me in any sort of friendly manner, I start laughing uncontrollably.

– To make up for the dismay I endured throughout most of the day, I did take advantage of Dave’s keen sense of deal-finding and coupon clipping and ended up with a great summer wardrobe.

– Most importantly, I had concluded that Dave was definitely not the guy for me. But apparently he didn’t get the hint.

I received another photo of him on my blackberry the very next day, taken from the now familiar-looking front seat of his mini-van. He asked how I was doing, and I told him it just wasn’t working between us, which couldn’t have been more obvious to me, or anyone else on the planet.

His reply: “Well, don’t expect me not to be surprised by that.”

Okay, I won’t.

*His full name is David Berkowitz. He assured me when we first mentioned our last names in person that he was not the Son of Sam, but I am pretty sure that there might be a crime spree documented about him some time soon.

I am Necklace

Just the other day, I received an e-mail from my match.com account from a virtual suitor with the screen name “Nicholas2334.” (I changed the numbers in his exact name a bit so you don’t try to steal him). The e-mail read as follows:

“You are very attractive. I am Necklace.”

And that was it. I’m going to assume that his real name is “Nicholas” and either his phone or another device he was writing from had auto-corrected. That’s no excuse – even if you find me attractive.

Am I putting too much emphasis on an error made in an introductory e-mail before I even know the person? Nope. You know why? In my opinion, anyone that doesn’t read a 7 word e-mail to a stranger before they hit “send” is not all there. I might be missing out on some good date stories with “Necklace” but I suppose that is my loss.

Get Away from my Chair: Creepy Phone Conversation

A few years back, during one of my J-date subscriptions, I came upon Ryan’s profile. I don’t really remember who reached out to whom first, but I do remember that he lived in the tri-state area, was reasonably good-looking and everything was spelled correctly in his profile. This was probably at the point in my life when those three characteristics were all I needed to see a future with anyone.

One thing led to another, and Ryan called me for the first time. Being a white boy from Queens that worked in the financial industry, I didn’t expect him to speak like he had grandiose swagger. It was like his thuggish-ego grew as the conversation progressed. And then…this happened:

Ryan: So yeh…u wanna chill on Saturday afternoon?

Me: That could work, what time were you thinking?

Ryan: Well I got practice in Queens at 2…so…

Me: What kind of practice?

Ryan: Oh, I do music…kind of like a hip hop spoken word thing over these tight-ass beats…

Me: Wow, that’s cool…

Ryan: Yeah, Imma make ya listen to it and you’re gonna need to put a towel on the seat of your chair, you’ll like it so much…

Me: ….towel? Oh.

Ryan: Yeah, it’s hot, yo…So I’ll text ya after 4 on Saturday, aight?

So he texted, and I never answered. Probably because I was scrubbing down all my chairs, still nauseated by his metaphor.

Follow-up: As I was perusing J-date for more productive dates, I noticed Ryan’s photo on more than one profile. As a matter of fact, in a period of 3 minutes, I found him listed on 3 different profiles, with different ages, occupations and vague descriptions in each one. I put in a complaint to the J-date support team to stop Ryan’s abuse of the profile system. If I put a stop to just one girl from having to speak with him, I had done my job.

Cursed Out

I don’t think I had met anyone from Yonkers before I met Tommy. He looked happy and well-balanced in his photos, with a shaved head and an earring. Tommy was a big sports fan and seemed to possess some of the traditional notions that many of my Italian-American friends did. I liked the fact that he was easy to talk to on the phone, sounded like a complete gentleman with a street-smart manner.

After a couple of phone conversations, we decided to meet for a drink. At the time, both of us were in school and I was working full-time as well, so while it is always nerve-wracking to meet someone face-to-face for the first time, it would be a fun way to break up the week.

I got to the bar first and when Tommy walked in a few minutes later, I knew it was him but my heart pretty much sank. Yes, there was a resemblance to his photos but you just never get the full idea of someone’s presence until you meet in person. His teeth were not the greatest and the Cosby sweater he was wearing didn’t help matters.

Tommy and I got along fairly well. The conversation flowed naturally, and that’s mostly because the vodka tonics kept flowing as well. I certainly was not attracted to him and since I’ve never possessed the power of flirtation, I don’t think I led him to believe that I was at all. We touched on a topic at one point that is a commonly-understood “no-no” for first dates and that was exes. Tommy said some fairly rude things about his most recent girlfriend, which led me to believe (among a few other comments) that he was of the angry persuasion. I smiled and politely continued listening and communicating. We even had a moment outside the bar where we smooched a bit. Hey, I’m only human. Things happen. But it was certainly no big deal and we eventually walked to the closest train station and said our goodbyes.

Unless it is an experience like my second ever online first date*, my feeling is that you can never know for sure how the other person felt about it and if you will ever communicate with them again.
Tommy ended up sending me a text message the evening after we met. I had just walked into a class and was settling in when he wrote, “When can I see you again?”

“Crap,” I thought. I knew we weren’t going to see one another again, and wanted to be truthful, but polite. I don’t deal very well when my feelings are ignored, so I opt to be straightforward the majority of the time in situations like these.

As my professor began the evening’s lecture, I messaged Tommy back, typing, “Hey there. It was great meeting you. I just don’t think we are a good match. Take care!” Incidentally, the last guy I had gone on a date with before Tommy had written something like that to me. I was interested in him, but he didn’t feel the same. His answer stung a little, but I appreciated the fact that he answered me honestly.

Tommy didn’t share that opinion. “Wow, are you fucking kidding me?!? You’re one crazy-ass bitch!”

Shaken a bit (and sitting in a tiny silent classroom), I responded nicely by saying, “I just don’t think it would work out. Thanks for understanding.”

Tommy: “You kiss all your dates? No wonder you’re single – you’re fucking nuts!”

Me: “You take care now.”

Tommy: “Fuck you, you crazy bitch.”

Me: “Thanks!”

Thankfully, I didn’t hear from Tommy again, but that experience definitely unnerved me. I really hope that Tommy’s future dates were attracted to him. Otherwise, these women were definitely in for a treat.

*This was one of the most amazing days of my life so far. I hope to discuss this at a later date without shedding a nostalgic tear. Fat chance.

And here we go!

Welcome to my first blog. I have decided to take the enormous amount of stories I have about blind dates I have endured during the past few years and document them for posterity. The majority of these experiences occurred with people that I met online, and I will most likely point out which site we met on, in case you are interested yourself.

Make sure you check out the “No First Date for You” section fairly often. The tales noted there are about people I am lucky enough to communicate with, but for one reason, or another, do not meet in person.

For years, I had these stories that I would only share with close friends. I never really wanted to be “that single girl” who has all the funny stories about online dating. I felt pathetic for continuously experiencing the crazy on my own. My feelings have gradually changed and I decided to share. Thus – sharing the crazy with everyone.

From time to time, I go through slumps and hide from the world, thinking that finding a good person online is an impossibility. And I always tell myself two things. For one, that is actually not true, since I have met some great people in the past. And two, like people always say,”you never know who you will find.”

That, my friends, is the understatement of the century.