And now a refreshing note on Facebook Messenger from someone anyone would be lucky to know…
How’s that for a romantic introduction just in time for the snuggly holiday season?
Have I covered the Bumble phenomenon on here? Maybe not, but I certainly have used it and oh boy!
Quick and dirty: Bumble is an online dating app that has been in existence for a few years now that basically promises “normal” women that they will have more control over their flirting experience. Developed by someone who knows the struggle is “real” for women (really? just women?), here is how the Bumble experience distinguishes itself:
At Bumble, women make the first move. In heterosexual matches, the woman has 24 hours to make the first move and the man has 24 hours to respond. In same-sex matches, either person has 24 hours to make the first move, while the other individual has 24 hours to respond, or else, the connection expires. By prompting our users to be bold and make the first move we’ve seen over 3 billion messages sent to date.
The first problem I had with these rules is that it doesn’t matter if I was able to start the texting conversation with the guy I paired myself up with. I would say that the majority of the guys I wrote to did not write back to me – I guess that’s what makes them normal? Some did write back and I had some uplifting conversations where one person ended up telling me that “I was no spring chicken” while another one freaked out a few days into our chat, and told me he still loved his ex and “couldn’t do this.”
Basically, I would just position Bumble as another outlet to search for the needle in the dating haystack of madness. It’s not any better or worse than anything else out there for flirting, or finding a mate that doesn’t insult you or have a virtual emotional breakdown. But, do I group dating sites and apps with professional “networking” sites and apps? Definitely not, so I was surprised to read that Bumble has expanded into the “bizz” arena.
Would I want to use the same mechanism to find a colleague that I would to find a boyfriend? Would I want to find out that my mate has been using a dating app to “network”? Would I feel any “safer” as a female looking to professionally network using Bumble Bizz and its location-based technology versus LinkedIn or at an actual conference or event?
NO. And I don’t understand why the marketing message is that there “is a shield built into Bumble.” Like a hardcore protective barrier? Also, why should women fear men and not the other way around? There are plenty of dangerous women out there who use all sorts of technology to prey upon others. This also makes me question same-sex flirting, networking and the “rules” for finding friends online, which Bumble also claims to do with “Bumble BFF” (really?!)
As any human being with the desire to connect with another human being, my advice would be to do what feels right, and not to depend on technology as a protective “shield” from negativity or danger.
Take a page out of my cousin’s latest suitor’s book. Pay additional cash to extend the chat window, get to know the other person for weeks and then when it comes to actually meet up and make things happen, just chicken out:
Here’s a game rule that someone needs to scream often: When you are planning your first date, DO NOT “play it by ear.”
Being single when you truly don’t want to be is not fun. I don’t care what any “expert” says about the excitement or the possibilities of it. It’s traumatizing – especially if you are going the online route.
For those of you who don’t know who Patti Stanger is, I encourage you to look up her bio and even partake in some of the older episodes of her earth-shattering TV show, “Millionaire Matchmaker.” It’s no longer on the air, and she has since developed a remixed version of the original show on a new network. The older ones are the gems though. That show is where I learned such valuable lessons about dating that have stuck with me for life, including: men aren’t attracted to women with red and / or curly hair; men aren’t attracted to women who don’t wear the correct high heels; the very well-researched, poignant notion that “the penis does the picking.”
Patti also continues to share her wisdom on several different marketing channels, including her own helpful blog, with a title that I have found myself repeating internally for years: Patti Knows.
One post that I found encourages women to go on dates that they know will be bad. “I know this advice sounds weird, but trust me, it works. Go on a few dates you think will be bad and I guarantee you’ll get something valuable out them.” I almost understand the
logic shtick behind this sentiment, that you never know what you will find by putting yourself “out there” and one should be open-minded. Yet, I think that free spirit should have a cautionary footnote and an expiration date. I would then point at any of the posts that I have documented on this blog throughout the past several years as supporting evidence. And some other profiles recently discovered out there in the exciting world of dating apps:
He’s a caring and thoughtful Dom. With friendly photos!
Here’s my bare chest – or someone else’s bare chest. Anyway, wanna be my side piece?
Remember… Patti Knows*
*What exactly does she know?!?
Happy Valentine’s Day to everyone! Whether you are actually getting some fun attention today or want to scratch everyone’s eyeballs out, I just want you to know that you will get through it.
I once dated a guy I met on the magical land that is okcupid from late December until the beginning of February. He conveniently ended things with me over the phone by telling me he had met someone else who was 10 years younger than me, with whom he had a major connection. “It’s not fair to her to keep things going with you,” he told me. I was at my hair salon in the middle of getting my highlights done while he shared this amazing news with me. Running away in tears from the salon chair to the bathroom in a robe and foils all over my head was one of the less graceful moments of my life. “Not a big deal,” you say? “What does it have to do with Valentine’s Day?” you might ask. The same guy did have the wherewithal to hang out with me long enough to pass his strep throat along. So after I got my highlights perfected, I was able to go on antibiotics and lay in bed on Valentine’s Day while he swept his new young love off her feet.
There was another Valentine’s Day that I had been looking forward to for months several years before strep boy. I was actually in a relationship and couldn’t wait to go out for dinner and give each other cute gifts. I had only waited my entire life to experience that. You can imagine my excitement when I want back to my boyfriend’s apartment after dinner so he can give me my gift. We were sitting down and the next thing I knew, there was a Maglite on my lap. I looked up and heard the words, “you said you didn’t have a flashlight.” Well, he was right…and I still have that same sturdy flashlight to this day, thoughtful as it was.
Those are two mere examples of some great personal Valentine history. Stay strong, my fellow not-so-smitteners.
I promise you, it can always be worse.
It’s been well over half of a year since I posted anything to this award-winning platform, and for that I feel like a let-down. I never meant to ghost any readers or quietly fade away. The lack of posts is due to the fact that I have run out of my own dating stories. Lame, I know. With that, I have been contemplating different directions to steer this ship o’ bitterness over the past several months and have yet to decide on anything.
I have, however, listened to multiple online dating stories from friends that would entertain the masses. Maybe in the coming year, I can relay them back to my readers in an organized way that everyone can enjoy.
In the meantime, I have found some really interesting posts on the interwebs that explain to the world just how connected the end of December holidays are with the act of people looking for companionship / attention. Let me know if any of these amazing works of genius have truly made a difference in your lives the way they have for mine (<sarcasm font).
Here we have some info from Men’s Fitness, geared toward the minds of those with peni…or so they think. As a non-man, my #1 takeaway from this post is that single men should go to any and all holiday parties they can find in order to meet women. “It’s not a great idea to try to hook up with someone at your own corporate holiday party,” the writer points out. No shit!? If someone honestly avoids getting drunk and hooking up with a co-worker because of this post, I want to speak to them. From what I remember of my 20s, it was full of experiences like this and while I remained single, no real harm was done.
It’s also written by a female, for males…so the suggestion to go to “tree lightings, pop-up ice skating rinks, and holiday festivals” makes a lot of delusional sense.
I’m not sure if any of the videos on this page actually work, but I really enjoy the grammatically incorrect and misspelled pushes from yet another female writer to stay physical in one’s relationship. She says to “Spend time together. Make out.. A touch on the check, shoulder, tush. With a tender pressure. When you kiss, let your foreheads touch afterwards, which is a tender moment. Get close.” I feel icky. Uggh.
For those who are single and not attending pop-up ice rinks or drunkenly hoping for a relationship with a co-worker, just keep in mind that this is the time of year that dating sites and apps go insane to get you hooked. I personally notice a lot more TV commercials and online ads for “finding someone special when it counts.” So if you feel like no one else is vying for your attention, at least Tinder and Match.com are. “Advertisers are doing whatever they can to gain visibility and organic installs.” In plain English, this means that these companies are experts at taking advantage of holiday loneliness.
Additionally…and most importantly: I also have the cutest dog on the face of the planet that I’ve already exploited in numerous places. Why not here?
Sean traveled to Manhattan from the middle of the New Jersey suburbs to meet me for our first blind date at a little Italian restaurant that I had chosen. And I know I say this about so many other people, but Sean really and truly was (and maybe still is?) a good guy. It was definitely me who kept him away after our second date.
During our first date, I vaguely remember suggesting several different appetizers for us to share – including mozzarella cheese, stuffed mushrooms, and possibly something seafood-related. He looked at me like I was crazy for each suggestion, and I believe we ended up sharing an order of fried calamari. His entree was a fairly simple pasta dish and he ate it very slowly. As he examined every morsel that went into his mouth, I started to ask him about food that he actually enjoys. I mentioned different types of cuisines to see if he would have any sort of positive reaction:
Me: Mexican? Tacos? Burritos?
Sean: (tongue sticks out, appalled) Oh man – definitely not.
Me: Any type of seafood, besides calamari?
Sean: Ew, gross!
Sean: Yeah, that’s what I eat pretty much every day. But nothing on them.
Me: Not even condiments? Ketchup?
Sean: ABSOLUTELY NO KETCHUP – I hate it. And nothing else.
Me: So just a plain burger on a bun…do you like cheese?
Sean likes plain burgers, plain pasta and possibly some calamari (although I probably devoured that by myself).
At some point, he mentioned that he was a very simple “meat and potatoes kind of guy” so when he asked to see me again in Manhattan, I suggested Keens – a very well-known steakhouse that I had wanted to try for a long time. He seemed okay with Keens. He wasn’t over-the-moon like I was to be anywhere that was considered a classic. Yet he seemed content enough to order a steak. Like any nice meal, his steak had some random vegetables on it and I pointed out that the cherry tomatoes looked good. At that point, I think he was really trying to make me happy. He put the tiny tomato in his mouth and immediately spit it out. He was mortified. Flushed and tearing, shaking his head and sticking his tongue out, he glanced at me and I’m pretty sure I saw a little contempt in his eyes. I guess he wasn’t ready for a tomato.
Once I licked my plate clean of whatever I had been gratefully served, we exited the restaurant. Sean texted me later that night to let me know he had made it home (to the burbs) safely. I thanked him for a lovely time, and he said, “Yeah, I enjoyed it. But you made me eat a tomato.” It was like I committed murder and it was confusing to actually experience some guilt about something so ridiculously insignificant.
I have no idea why Sean asked me to hang out again. I had to turn him down. I love food too much for that sort of anxiety and trepidation to be repeated.
As you know, I often skip around the timelines of my illustrious dating life to talk about some of my experiences when I feel most capable of explaining every detail. Lately, I’ve been in a deep funk of frustration and it seems that no one on the other end of my Wifi can figure out how to keep a conversation going…if they are capable of even starting one. It has come to the point that when someone messages me and says, “What kind of dog do you have?” as their introduction, my go-to answer is now “Oh, he’s a Go f*ck yourself… EVER HEAR OF THAT breed!!!??” I know…it’s mean…but look what I have to deal with:
Check out this sultry intro:
Then there’s…Mister Mr. Oh, you did read that correctly. I enjoyed this guy’s inflated ego almost as much as his screen name. Unfortunately, I think the irony goes unnoticed by him. It also pains me to think that he had to steal jokes from everyone under the sun to put together his uninspired bio:
The hot dog reference is from one of the best scenes of “Father of the Bride” and needs to remain there. He also messed up the numbers of hot dogs and buns in the joke, but I’m not really surprised about that. I hope you know what I mean. It’s like when a crappy cover band performs one of your favorite songs of all time and does it horribly. Don’t mess with classic feature film comedy, dude.
So, as I was thinking fondly about the actual movie (“Who’s George Banks?!?”), Mister Mr noticed that I checked out said bio and sent me this “message”:
Oh yeah…totally making it happen. I don’t know how he’d fit me into his busy schedule of “having sex” and “finding Waldo.” I bet he does make it happen with some women who think he’s a charming, direct New Yorker, and those women have even less of a clue than I do. That’s why I don’t feel guilty about telling you he’s a comedic thief.
I hope you, my fair readers, at least remember the amazing 80s band by an almost identical name: Mr. Mister. They created this work of genius:
“Broken Wings” stuck in your head now? Good, it is a classic. You are welcome.