I can’t put this in the dating files, because I didn’t actually date anyone. After one month of having a seriously well written, honest profile in place with good, current pictures, I am more convinced than ever I’ve lost most of my faith in humanity. My subscription is up, and I’m working to gather my thoughts to best describe the experience. I’ll give you the ‘communication highlights’ and maybe follow this up with some in depth discussion regarding the more bat shit crazy, grown ass men I found in the expansive sea of nope online.
First off, I have about 90 unread chat requests in my account and probably half of them contain nothing more than the text ‘wink wink’. How the fuck is a girl supposed to respond to ‘wink wink’? My gut says, ‘nudge nudge, your ex-wife, was she a goer? Eh? Know what I mean?’ I’ll send a big, heartfelt thank you Eric Idle for ruining my ability to take this seriously. I laughed at every one of these.
Even better was the two letter special, ‘GM’. This translates to, ‘I’m sending chat requests to every girl in a fifty mile radius of my home who doesn’t have a third eye on her forehead or excessive, unbleached facial hair’. I mean, don’t strain yourself typing. I got so exhausted reading this I don’t even have the energy to type a reply.
Most of the chat requests, minus a few, are from people I am either not attracted to (60 is out of my age range, sorry, I’d give you a coronary), live over thirty miles away (who’s got time for that?), or didn’t make even a scant attempt to fill out the profile (if you are lazy about this, you are probably lazy about everything). Here’s to you, one blurry picture from a bad angle guy, you will be single forever. And I’ll probably be right there with you.
I did choose to text offline with four people that I had exchanged chat messages with. One requested we communicate offline after an hour and a half of chatting, texted me right away so I had his number, and dropped off the face of the earth. A city boy, but I absolutely would have met him if it had gone that far. *sigh, only because this one is smart, Vin Diesel hot, knows all the great Monty Python skits and likes to dance* Good night, Irene.
One proceeded to start sending me ‘gm beautiful’, ‘ga beautiful’, ‘gn beautiful’ texts every day until he forced me to ghost him. How does one find the time to type out the word beautiful, you ask? They abbreviate the rest of the statement. *sigh*
The third sent me a weird text one evening a week or so into communicating and when I asked for clarification, he mentioned he had eaten some mushrooms. By the texts, I’m guessing they were not morels. I told him to beware of the dragon in his kitchen and stopped getting in touch.
The last just hit me up 8:30 last night and expected I’d be available to go out. And by go out, I really think he thought I’d invite him to my home for a campfire. Um, no fucking way strange guy, the digits are one thing, the address is Nope Ass Acres.
The one thing I hate the most about dating is it’s always extremes, always all or nothing. They want to talk/be together constantly or you never see/hear from them. Find someone who appreciates some middle ground and the timing will be bad. Every. Damn. Time.
I’ve laughed and I’ve cried; I do both often anyway. I would like to thank the few crazy bastards I chose to talk to; you’ve left me quite sure I do know a good thing when I see it and I can’t just go out with anyone who might be interested, even if I’m attracted to them. Of course, I already knew this, but recent events in my social life left me questioning my own motives. The heart wants what it wants, and sometimes you can’t stop the fall, no matter how well balanced you are. Clearly, my heart remains just as fickle as ever. *wipes forehead, sighs with relief*
I’d also like to thank the last guy I dated, if we can even call it that. Our timing sucked, but you are a great man, the kind of great man I’ll wait another three years for.
And I’m quite sure it could take that long. I’m left here without much of a fuck to give about that.
Nopes with Nope, because running with scissors could get a prospective online suitor ‘accidentally’ stabbed.