Chapter 52: I Should Have Jumped Out The Bathroom Window

I. AM. TERRIFIED.

They all want to talk to me.

Hello. Hi. How are you doing today. Whatcha up to.

All 178 of them, some holding a fish, some sitting on a motorcycle (is that supposed to attract or repel me?), some hugging their dog, some selfies under a bare lightbulb… have you guessed yet?

Online dating, yayy! So, how’d I wind up here?

I had been with Prepdude for a couple of years. Was I in love with him? Absolutely. Was there chemistry? Oh my, yes! Yet though I view chemistry as essential to any intimate relationship, otherwise they’re just a roommate, I am discovering that relying on chemistry alone is baking bread with flour as the only ingredient. The flour is essential, but pretty bad by itself. I went into dating like a blind man at a strip show, and as I gain my sea legs, I’m realizing this is going to be more difficult than I thought.

Prepdude was so not present I wound up calling him my insignificant other. He just really wasn’t all that involved… did you notice he wasn’t around much through these alone chapters? I finally bowed out after a weekend of broken commitments in which I finally realized he wasn’t ever really going to be there for me. Absentee boyfriend. My friends pointed this out, but it took me only forever to catch on to the very obvious fact that he was not going to change, and if I wanted someone more involved, I was going to have to exit and find someone else.

It was extremely painful to leave Prepdude. I was totally in love. I had my own stupid motives as well, though. I think I stayed an extra six months just because his eyes were so blue. During the time I was dating him, I kept having this feeling…I would hear this little voice (Listen to the little voice, it’s usually right. Unless you’re Ted Bundy. Then, please don’t.) and the little voice would say you will leave when you’re strong enough. I loved him, but it really was very one sided. I would give him 100% attention while he played on his phone. His friends would even apologize to me for his behavior at times, but I was so fresh out of 23 years of training in submission and obedience, I allowed it to continue. I finally had a wake-up call when I became extremely sick, and he became extremely absent. I had been there for him for everything, anything he wanted, and there I sat, alone in a hospital bed with my daughter, who was worried sick. It was a dump of icy cold water over my head that woke me up to the fact that he was never going to be involved, and would probably complain the whole time if-God forbid-he ever had to push my wheelchair. So, although it hurt, and cost me my friendships with his friends, I finally ended it.

Square one, alone again.

I’m in Big Suburb and know very few people.

But my laptop saves the day by broadcasting there are Hot Singles Near Me! captioned underneath a hot guy who most definitely does not exist. I’m going to go meet some awesome people! My dream guy is just a click away…right??

Enter the three-ring circus that is online dating. Holy shitshow. I decide to throw myself out there, and boyohboy you better have your full metal armor on, because you’re going to have to dodge some serious shrapnel. I signed up, hopped on, and started rifling through hundreds of profiles chosen for me, none of whom look anywhere near an appropriate match, all while fielding my inbox and feeling bad that I’m not messaging everyone back promptly or nicely enough. Their algorithms are bullshit. Somewhere in a basement, a morbidly obese software engineer is cackling his ass off at all of us fools as he mismatches away with his Cheeto fingers, I’m sure of it.

Help.

As I swipe miles to the left, I notice men weirdly always have some sort of prop in their profile picture. A boat, a fish, a motorcycle, a car, a dog… my observation being that they often have put more time into their hobby than they have into themselves. Women’s profiles tend to have beautiful pictures that may or may not accurately represent the actual person, but men’s tend to simply be… well, bad. Someone is missing out on a business opportunity by not having a service that improves men’s profile pictures. I have seen filthy shirts, lying inappropriately on stained sheets, mugshot-worthy expressions, bathroom selfies in which you can see the toilet (HAWT!) and shirtless bodies that should have remained shirted. I have seen them crack fart jokes and say totally obscene things in their profile. I have seen usernames like seekingsoulmate69 and goodtimesXXX.

Sooo many opportunities to say no, so little time. And LOTS of them get pissed at you no matter how gently or nicely you try to tell them you’re not interested. If you get past the initial conversation, and decide you’d like to meet, it’s on to CCapp, which not every state has, but tells you their state court record. CCapp makes for some great bedtime stories, some of them downright scary. But some make it through my hack filtering system, and I’m down to a guy who sounds like a gem. I’ve struck gold!!

It’s My First Online Date!

I should have known something was wrong when I couldn’t find a single solitary picture of him other than his profile pic. I searched all over the corners of the internet, not a single picture. LinkedIn, Google, whatever. This guy doesn’t exist.

And I, being the complete dumbass at this that I am, sign up for dinner with this guy. DINNER. With someone I’ve never met. I choose an Italian restaurant I love, and am all excited, his profile is sooo interesting, and I carefully put myself together and get ready to go. I am dressed to the nines and have great expectations.

The minute I see him, I know this is going to be a loooooong night. Not only does he not look anything like his profile pic (HOW?!) but there is an immediate repel that I would call the opposite of chemistry.

And I’m in for dinner.

My mind scrambles to figure out how in OKCupid Hell I’m going to survive the next two hours.

WHYYYYY oh WHYYY did I sign up for dinner?!

and right then and there, I design a new app in my head, ParkBenchDate.com. Here’s how it works. You meet at a parkbench, walk by and decide if you even want to sit down next to the person, and if you like you can sit down and know within thirty seconds if you want to share any space with them at all.

If you have never online dated, this sounds cruel. If you have, you are already searching to see if this app exists.

We go through the full Monty of awkward dinner, apps, wine for me (he doesn’t drink, and I wonder if he thinks I’m a lush for doing so, but honestly if I had something stronger at this point I probably would have taken it. Like strychnine, perhaps.) and he has loooong tales about his fabulous online role playing game experiences. This guy is 55 and he spends his evenings online gaming with kids half his age. He knows more about his characters than he does about actual social interaction, and I start seeing why this gem is yet to be claimed. It occurs to me the right woman for this guy is probably RPG’ing another character in his game. He should date there. Oh, wait, I forgot about the half his age bit. Oops. Never mind. Or at least mention in his profile that this is his main outlet for having fun, because I, a gregarious extrovert, would be gnawing my limbs off to get out of this conversation, except that this is a really great Italian restaurant and I’m not giving up on this red sauce and Chianti just yet. There’s a reason the guy in the Godfather took the cannoli. This food is the only thing keeping me from sticking my fork in my brain. Red sauce indeed.

Internally, I have a growing panic. Oh my GOD what if he tries to kiss me? I don’t want to hurt his feelings… what do I say to him? The level of awkward is hanging steadily between 8.5 and 9, and I am beginning to understand why people complain so much about dating.

Mercifully, time passes and the evening ends. He merely hugs me, dodged that bullet. We exchange messages later, and he isn’t feeling it either. Pshew. And now I know not to sign up for a full dinner with someone I haven’t already met.

I am alone and discouraged. I sort through my Inbox. left, left, left…RIGHT.

Helllooooooo, GIDude.