Why I Can't Online Date

Let me first preface this post by saying that this isn't my chance to rail on the online dating community.

It's just me blathering on about why it doesn't work for me.

It works for a shit-ton of people, but just because I don't like to do origami, it doesn't mean I want it banished from existence.

This is just my honest experience with my attempt at dating the Internet.

It started relatively early in my singledom, and I guess these days it's an honest evolution in the world of being single. You're depressed, you go out too much, get more depressed, experiment in various levels of promiscuity searching for the filling in the void you've made for yourself and it eventually ends in moments where you're searching for an answer/solution.

I've had friends and family that have been very successful finding themselves somebody online, and after a bit of prodding and encouragement I decided to take a stab at it. I lasted 10 minutes.

I guess it started as any online experience does; Name, username, age, blah, blah, profile...STOP! That was it. Profile.

I wrote the first few paragraphs, then re-read it, deleted most of it, then wrote it again. Got through what I thought was a decent synopsis of who I might be, then went back for a few minor edits...and that was the point I stopped in my tracks and deleted the whole account.

See, what occurred to me is that when you meet somebody, you can't edit yourself. You can't start off with a few lines and then stop, un-do what you just said/did and try again to make it sound like you really wanted it to sound like.

And I don't want you to either. That's what makes me like people. Its not that we both like tennis or the same music or eggplants or whatever. It's the other stuff. See, thats what separates friends from all the other people out there. You put up with the un-edited version of them.

The reality is we're all just a mish-mash of false starts and bad takes. That's what makes us not robots. That's what I love about people and what I love about myself. And thats what I want to see and hear.

You want to know the life that I want everybody to think I lead is? Go to facebook, cuz that's what its for.

But real connections for me start with the real you. And the real me. Maybe people prefer to ease into the weirdness that we all possess. I disagree. Gimme the you. Gimme the awkward first date you, because that's you. Give me the shy doesn't-want-to-ask-for-my number you. Because that's you.

I guess I am inherently a people person. Through to my core. If you want to know me, you gotta meet me.

That's the only accurate way I can express to you who I am. And it unfortunately doesn't translate into text the way I would like it to. Maybe if they started making computers in 3D that shot fireworks and beer out of them.

Too bad tho, because my current strategy kind of blows.

Another One Bites The Dust

They always tell me to stop looking and I will find it.

I think that's dumb. It's like saying: "stop eating and you'll get full".

See, how do you not look? If you want to play basketball, you don't NOT play basketball! Argh.

I think its all part of the giant conspiracy to attempt and make those of us that would rather not be single ok with not being single.

I'm not all shitty and depressed, but I do realize what I actually want and what I don't have.

But it's sometimes a difficult balance, being bombarded with advice from coupled-up people on how they found  all their happiness (barf) and trying to do your best to just be you.

I think all of this advice and crap that we all try to shovel through kind of caught up to me over the last few months. To the point that I think it screwed up my brain a bit.

This is the scenario: Friends of friends have friends. I meet one of the friends. She's cool as hell. Likes the crap outta me. Saved by The Bell Zack Morris Pause - I don't have many "rules" about dating and my single life, but there are guidelines. A big one is meeting people that are newly single from medium to long term relationships. There is a pretty lengthly "buffer" you need to have before you can realistically expect to achieve a meaningful foundation to another long term relationship. This is something that people will tell you, that you will read and that you will experience. Pretty much, we're pretty screwed up for a while after these things go south, and though it may feel right, you're not getting that "real" person for a while. un-pause.


This was one of those scenarios. Well, it might not have been - but that's how I treated it. I believed the hype a bit too much. A stayed cautious, at arms length, believing whole-heartedly that it was the smart thing to do and that without question, this person just went through a break-up and clearly, obviously must be a complete basket-case.

And this is the sheer fucked-upedness of this whole single life.

That searching for "guidelines" or "rules" or something remotely constant that you can at least rely on as a stable leaning-post to let you know you are at least partially on the right track is completely and utterly wrong. NOTHING is constant in this. There is no rulebook or anything to let you know you're on track.
One second, it's awesome, the next; kaboom.

Every scenario is different and crazy and stupid and awesome in and of itself.

In this particular instance, she wasn't "messed" up at all. Sure, there needed to be time - but not time for me to be terrified of somebody awesome that was liking me. Just time to get to know one another. Time to let something happen.

And when I realized that. When I sat there one day looking at this person and said to myself, "Holy shit! she's actually good!" It was too late.

Over the course of a few months we hung out from time to time, and when I eventually realized that this was not only a safe path, but probably a pretty damn awesome one, I took a week or so to kind of reassess what I had been thinking and why. It was actually quite a therapeutic time for me. And when I emerged from my little self re-awesomization, I turned my attention back to this girl...and received the text message: "I'm sort of seeing somebody now."

I snoozed. I lost.

I listened to people, and my own assessment of how I do these things and got roasted. It was a bit of a gut punch, and as I write this and think how I should end this story - with some lesson or magical chunk of advice all I can think of is that the only rule is that there are no rules. And the only way you'll be able to not get an elbow drop to your heart and ego is to embrace the uncertainty and buy a round of shots for chaos.

I'm still trying to figure this out.

Yacht Girl Part 4.5

Okay, I guess I gypped y'all a bit on the Yacht girl story (Read Yacht Girl Part 1, Part 2 & Part 3). To be honest, it doesn't totally suck due to anything conventional, I'll just say that it didn't exactly work out as amazingly as it began. And the juicy details of exactly what happened is something I just don't feel the urge to share so much.

What I will add is that over the last few months I've contemplated the "lesson" or "message" I was supposed to learn from it.

Through any single experience, we all get bombarded with the same cliche advice about what has happened. The "it wasn't meant to be's" and the "things happen for a reason's".

To which I like to reply: "Suck it".

I can't find the lesson I was supposed to learn, or what I am supposed to have discovered about myself, all that I've concluded is that girls are dumb, and maybe I should just be a gay.

I often say that I don't believe in "fate" or some omnipotent plan that leads us all to where we end up. Call it cynical or jaded, I just think that sometimes cool stuff happens, and sometimes it doesn't. 

I guess thats a glimpse into my lack of spiritualism or something, but the way I see it, "Fate", "The Universe" and "Timing" are three dudes sitting around doing shots of tequila one-upping each other on just how crazily they can eff with me.

And those three guys are actually hilarious, and if it wasn't me it was happening to, I'd probably be laughing alongside them. But it is happening to me. And If I saw all three of them walking down the street, I would kick them all in the junk. Repeatedly.

I've tried my best to not act like a pathetic heartbroken dweeb during the whole time, but even as I write this and think about what happened...that so much aligned so perfectly, that it seemed like The Universe and Fate and Timing had all collaborated to send me a message saying "Hey, we were just screwing with you, this is what its really supposed to be like, no hard feelings"...it still stings on a very strange level.

Sometimes things end for a reason. I reflect back on my last long term relationship and its very blatant as to why we shouldn't be together. It didn't make the break up easier at all, that shit hurts no matter what, but you can connect the dots. I can with all of my past relationships. Most of us can.

But this one was different. There are no dots. It just is what it is, which frankly is the most mind-bending thing to wrap your brain and heart around. When the answer isn't there. When maybe there is no answer. When I constantly have this conversation with people:

Them: Hey what happened to that girl you were all excited about?

Me: Ya, ummm...it didn't work out.

Them: Oh really, thats too bad, what happened?

Me: Ummm...I don't know really.

Them: Well, I guess it just wasn't meant to be.

Me: Go fuck yourself.

It's been a little while now, and I'm doing well, but there's still this strange itch that cant be scratched. 

Like that cut on the roof of your mouth you can't stop messing with with your tongue.

They say time heals all wounds, but for me, "Time" is "Timing's" cousin, and I want to punch that sunovabitch in the face.

O hai. If you've just run across this blog, check out my first post, it might explain this a bit more.

Yacht Girl Part 4

I don't even wanna talk about it.

(Read Yacht Girl Part 1, Part 2 & Part 3)

O hai. If you've just run across this blog, check out my first post, it might explain this a bit more.

Facebiter?

O hai. If you've just run across this blog, check out my first post, it might explain this a bit more.

Ya thats right. Facebiter. Bit my face. On the cheek. Is this a story? Not really, but my face still hurts. 

But who does that? Is that a whole other level of crazy? Or have I just been out of the loop that long?

Heres the scenario. Out, hanging with peeps, having cocktails. A friend of a friend shows up, she's a babe, we hit it off. (Though she seems a biiit aggro as she proceeds to drink, but nothing I can't handle or think is too bonkers.)

The night progresses, at some point on the dance floor a smooch occurs, and finishes with a lip nibble on her part. Ok, cool....some people dig that.

Shortly thereafter, she swoops in for smooch part deaux, this one ends in pain...and the faint taste of blood in my mouth. Whoooooooooooa...I'm not THAT drunk yet.

So I proceed to decline smooch three.

And am rewarded with a CHOMP on the side of my face.

Like a "wrapped her mouth around my cheekbone like she's tackling a Whopper" bite.

This is a relatively petite, pretty girl who seemed fairly normal - now standing there with this Chucky Doll smile on her face.

Just standing there. Staring at me.

Have you ever attempted to tiptoe slowly backwards out of a crowded night club? Ya, you can't. So its a standoff, Smiley Facebiter and me.

Her, perhaps expecting a return bite? Maybe I was supposed to pull her hair or something?

For what felt like an eternity she stood there with a look on her face like she was thinking stuff and that I was somehow listening to her thoughts.

Like she was having a conversation inside of her head with the inside of my head...and her head was winning.

Alas, the DJ saved my life that night, as the song faded into some top 40 mash up  (Usher I think) and the dance floor was immediately swarmed by the entire club I literrally beelined for the door...I dont even think I paid my bill.

Needless to say, its a jungle out there, and some days, when I stare at myself in the mirror and ponder why I'm still single, I'm gonna think about that night and reassure myself that finding somebody isn't about just sorting through all the single people, its avoiding the Batshit crazy ones long enough to stumble across some awesome.

Till then, Keep fit, have fun, and don't stop believin'.

-D

Yacht Girl Part 3....?

Ok, as far fetched as the original Yacht girl story was, it just gets gnarlier.

Please go check out Yacht Girl Part 1 and Yacht Girl Part 2 if you havent, its a helluva story, and will help this make a ton more sense.

So, where we left off with Yacht Girl was our weekend love affair fizzling out over time and distance.

Typical. I mean, she was a knockout, and hilarious, but how does something blossom between two very busy young professionals who live 250 miles apart? Not completely unfathomable...but difficult nonetheless.

Our texts became more and more infrequent, and eventually, we both went on with our lives.

Then. 6 months after that amazing night, I walked into my local spot. Rammed on a Saturday night, strolled up to my friends and out of the corner of my eye theres this gorgeous blonde just staring at me.

Obviously I think to myself, "What the hell is she staring at"... and then it hits me.

Fucking Yacht Girl.

Sitting with her friends, in my town for only a day shopping, and ended up at MY spot out of the literally hundreds of places they could have gone....miles away from their hotel.

Laser beams.

It took about 2 minutes of me standing there flabbergasted and yammering on like a clown for her friend to grab a chair, slide it beside her and say "Sit down".

And thats where I spent the entire night. Not with my friends. But sitting hip to hip with a bloody unicorn.

To say we started where we left off would be an understatement, it was a night of hilariocity coupled with a significant amount of rug-cutting. A perfect evening to sat the least. And to say I wasn't smitten would also be skirting the truth.

The surreal nature of how we came back together is only a testament to this single life I live. I mean, it couldn't have happened a different way to me.

Its bizarre and confusing for a boy who stopped believing in "Fate" a long time ago.

But its like the universe just dropkicked me in the neck as if to say "Hey asshole! It can happen to you too!"

So is there a fairy tale ending to this story? Well not yet, but it hasn't fizzled...yet...and hell, do I have a story to tell or what?

Holy Crap.

Texts From Last Month

O hai. If you've just run across this blog, check out my first post, it might explain this a bit more.


Your day is not just yours. You share little bits of it with people all day long. You can't help it, but you have control over it.


I got out of my apartment the other morning and there was a girl waiting for the elevator. She looked at me as I turned around to lock my door. I made it to the elevator just in time to watch the door close.


What an effing jerk store.


If we happen to get in the elevator on my floor together...I'm pushing every damn button on the way down and I'm just gonna stand there and stare.


But...it effed up my morning. Only because I was like "Who does that?" Ugh.


The experience got me thinking about a time I had an effect on somebody. It starts with an anonymous text message I received while having a beer at a pub. It just said "I'm texting you against my better judgement, but I just wanted to say Hi."


I figured I'd most likely given my number to somebody whilst lightly toasted one night and forgot. 


Typical, happens to all of us.


But I have serious anon-o-text anxiety. I HATE texting a person and getting back the "Who is this?" response. HATE it, so I tactfully responded with the ol' "Lost my phone sorry, with whom am I speaking?" reply.


This came back: "I'm a friend of a friend and you don't know me."


Huh?


Throughout an evening of text sleuthing this is what I figured out;


Three months earlier, at the Yacht Girl wedding I attended - an event that had me not only loving life, but being completely on fire - at some point during the reception when I was annihilating the dance floor I grabbed the hand of a girl and started dancing with her. I don't remember this.


There is a pretty robust pile of photographs documenting the weekend, and I've pieced together most of it through these visual aides, but this one moment I have absolutely no recollection of.


It probably lasted only 20 seconds, because a friend of mine immediately said, "Hey! She's got a boyfriend!" and I moved on to some other shiny object.


Apparently that moment kinda stuck with this person - who happened to be a friend of the family and was only there for a quick pop-in at the reception.


She indeed was hitched at the time but was gravitating towards single-dom, and our fleeting moment of salsa inspired connection was something that she actually thought about over the next few months.


I guess became sort of an inside joke during this very emotional time for her, between her and the mutual acquaintances we shared - completely unbeknownst to me - and as that part of her life was becoming finalized, she wanted to reach out.


For me, if there is some random, wacky way I am ever going to meet somebody, it's exactly like that. A cleverly worded attention grabbing anonymous text message. That just screams me.


Obviously, I was taken aback. Flattered beyond comprehension. So naturally, being a gobbler (I gobble up everything I want. Hamburgers. Music. Girls. Nomnomnom.) I neeeeeded to meet this person. We texted the first night, facestalked each other and talked the next and met on the third at a coffee shop at one in the morning. (She is a student/waitress so daytime doesn't exist for her).


From her facebook I knew I didnt know her. At all. Zero memory of her face. Even when she walked in to the coffee shop I was still clawing at my brain for a glimpse of her from that night. Nuthin.


She sat down in front of me and didn't say anything. She just stared at me.


It was the greatest look anyone has given me in years.


A secret about me: I know that I like somebody when I can't talk good at first, or when I realize they're rad. I am generally quite the wordsmith, I rarely get nervous or embarrassed but those few people that kind of "get" me, make me actually realize that I don't have to talk all the damn time. I think it's hilair because I stumble and stutter.


This girl had me blathering. And she smelled good.


She was also easy to talk to, liked to listen to me and we seemed to hit it off.


Also, have I mentioned how she looked at me?


This was about 4 months into being single. And though I had met many wonderful people, over the next few days I actually felt what it might be like to eventually one day maybe actually care about somebody again.


Here's my weird neurotic assessment of where I am at in my singledom:


Every once in a while I picture myself walking down the sidewalk and running into my friends with a girl, I then walk myself through an imaginary introduction of said girl. Based on what happens in my brain, I know where I'm at. To me, since my friends are so important to me, what I feel like with somebody around them validates it all for me. (I know, wiiiierd.)


One of the first girls I met, the thought of running into my friends with her on my arm made me feel barfy. With this girl, I could almost fathom the possibility of being ok with it. Big step.


And she kept getting better. She danced. (If you don't know my perspective on dancing, go here now.)


Within the first week we ended up out and drunkenly dancing until the wee hours. It was pretty damn cool.


But then, the wheels came off.


She'd mentioned quite early on that she seemed to have really poor timing.


It turned out that though she was just going through a breakup with her bf...it was more of a literally in the middle of a break up...as in, still in the same house just in different rooms middle of.


I immediately time warped to being in that exact spot when I was breaking up with my ex. And I panicked.


Why?


Because I was a FREAKING MESS. Like almost unstable. And that realization sucked....because I knew what I was...


I'd turned into the shiny object.


Crap.


Even when we are at our most normal, we are still very emotional creatures...and timing our current state of neurosis with meeting somebody compatible is a bloody crap shoot, I know this.


So no matter how flattered and intoxicating the thought of meeting a beautiful girl that thought of me as this amazing dream dude was...I knew that this was never moving anywhere. She was noooowhere near a spot where any of this was actually real. It was cool, but we all know how we are during break-ups - we're just warped, needy and troubled versions of our former selves. Usually for a while.


And (thankfully) I was right, and after a few weeks of anxiety filled contemplation and interaction...it fizzled. ILooking back, I don't regret the experience, it still makes me feel awesome that I'd had that kind of effect on somebody, and sometimes when I'm at a melancholy point in my day, thinking of this story helps a ton.


Speaking of leaving impressions though, I CANNOT WAIT to run into elevator girl again, I'm gonna leave a helluva impression.