TRY NOT TO CREEP ME OUT, OKAY?
I finally tried online dating this month for the first time since Lavalife in 2003 (remember that?! Eek!)
I tried it because the writer of this blog is one of my best friends and I trust her.
I tried it because the on-and-off sad excuse for a relationship with a guy I've been in love with for almost three years imploded, again, a third time. I tried it because I spent my summer in France and came back a happier, more open (if chubbier) person.
So I thought, let's roll.
My little sister and I pulled the trigger at our local bar in Harlem one night, and quickly I had two matches that couldn't be more different: one was 41, professional, ginger, generally smokin'. The other was my age (younger than 41, thank you), tattooed all over, an avid reader, a bartender in Jersey (evidence of how open I'm feeling).
Within an hour the redhead was basically having phone sex and tattoo boy was convinced we were meant to be together.
Now, I am a pretty daring person in matters of the heart, usually able to fall in love or in lust for years or just a night at the drop of a hat. I love love.
But connections between two people are complex, and some dude(s) convincing themselves at 2am on a Saturday that we have some cosmic connection over text is just weird.
Then tattoo boy wanted to talk on the phone. I did it. It felt like middle school, kind of nice. Until he said "I love your voice and your pictures. I could fall really hard for a girl like you." EEK. In my nicest teacher-voice I told him he sounded really nice too, but I generally wait to meet people face to face to make a bet on our future together. He was crestfallen.
So am I more open to having dinner with new men but less likely to throw my heart (and body) out to them?
Then they both got mad at me. I was going out of town for a long weekend that coming week, and told them both I could meet up the following week. Redhead seemed to doubt my story and continued to text and ask about potential (weekend) date times. Tattoo boy set a date for the following Monday.
Monday rolled around and I didn't hear from tattoo boy. I was sort of relieved. He was so intense. On Wednesday I got a cranky text from the redhead, "attempting to acknowledge our previous connection." I thought, previous connection? We talked about boy shorts versus bikinis!! I didn't write back.
On Friday, tattoo boy sent me this text: "we never got together, btw." I didn't respond. Someone I actually want to spend time with would have apologized for missing the day, asked how I was, and asked nicely for a reschedule.
I feel no guilt about dropping these two without explanation.
Who gets pissy over Tinder??
In the meantime I've gone on two other dates, one with Greek Boy, who I like and will see again, and one with Smoothie boy, a no-go. I've got another date planned this week with Pennsylvania Paul, who seems to love food as much as I do. The nicknames we give them are fun. And a few new matches have surfaced. But as soon as the topics of underwear type or wedding styles come up, I'll go pet my cat.