I have a way with crazy.

So despite my earlier claim to be pausing my days of online dating, I never actually "disabled" my OKC account.  As I have absolutely zero will power, this resulted in the casual exchange of messages with several people.  Nothing led anywhere until recently when I had a date request for Thanksgiving weekend.

To start with, this guy's opening line was "why are you so awesome?"...how am I supposed to walk away from that?  Flattery in a unique format will always catch my eye, particular when it's not "u r butiful".  So we started chatting.  He wasn't my usual type - he's bald and glass-half-empty, based on his profile.  Despite my sarcasm and dash of cynicism, I tend to be fairly positive.  Classic unicorns and rainbows type.  But, I thought I should set aside my physical guidelines and try it out anyway.

We met for coffee in the afternoon the Saturday after Thanksgiving.  First of all, this was my first ever sober online date.  I was a little freaked out about it, but I pulled it together with my belly full of leftover turkey.  I actually had a pretty good time.  We chatted for a couple of hours over one cup of coffee, and while I certainly wasn't head over heels, I couldn't find anything wrong with him.  (Sidebar, I'm very aware of just how terrible a perspective that is.)

He was good on paper:  he owns his condo, works as an engineer for the government, and seemed to have a pretty tight relationship with his family.  I wasn't particularly attracted to him, but I didn't dislike him either.  There were a couple of bits of conversation that I wasn't too fond of - a slight repeat of the "I am not your Weight Watchers' support group" - but I've had worse.

So, when he texted me immediately after we parted ways, I was happy to agree to a second date.  He texted me on that Sunday to schedule the date for Wednesday.  He picked the place and set the time. All things that make me really happy.  Sunday night, I couldn't have been more excited to go out with him.

And then Monday morning, I got a "Morning!  It's not even 9am, and it's already an exciting Monday."  For the record, I'm about 90% full this was supposed to be chock full of sarcarsm; however, I had one date with you, I'm not quite ready to be texting buddies.  I was very slow to respond and truthfully didn't give him much to work with, hoping he would take the hint to leave me alone until Wednesday.  He didn't catch it and proceeded to text me all day.  All. Day.  Monday evening, after my apparent failure to respond to two texts in a row, he asked me if I was home yet.  This falls on the list of things that you, sir, do not need to know.

Tuesday morning - another text good morning.  I completely ignored it until about 3pm, at which point, I said "busy day" and not much else.  Please note, that even though I can be a bit of a pacifist and people-pleaser, I did not apologize for my lack of response.  He immediately replied "Oh, no problem.  I'm in training and thought I would bug you."  Ugh.

As I said before, I'm an only child.  I love my independence, and I've never been the girl that can jump into anything (let alone a relationship) with a total sense of abandon.  Not ever going to be me.  Toe in the water, and then I'm probably not going to fully submerge for at least 3 months.  My mother hated taking me to the water park.

Wednesday morning rolls around, and I make myself a promise.  Despite not really wanting to go on this date at this point, I swear that if he leaves me alone until the afternoon and then just confirms the date, I'll force myself to go.  Too bad he decided at 8am to text me.  I was driving to a seminar in the suburbs, so I waited until I got there to respond (PSA time - don't text and drive, at least on a smartphone; it's virtually impossible to watch the road).  He wanted to push back the time to accommodate my schedule, so I agreed to an 8pm dinner instead of the originally planned 7:30pm.  And I brushed him off with a "see you then" for the rest of the day.

All through my seminar, I was stressing out about this date.  I didn't want to go, but I also felt bullied into going at this point.  I waxed and waned for the better part of the panel discussion about whether I should cancel.  Finally, at about 4pm, I decided that I couldn't sit through dinner.  At least not tonight.  Between an exhausting day of seminars and the traffic-infested drive that would be had on the way home, I simply wasn't up to playing nice.  So, I claimed illness.

I'm not proud, and I'm aware that there are better excuses.  We do what we have to do.  I sent him a quick note that my seminar had just ended and I felt awful (frankly, all true...just not necessarily how he probably interpreted it).  I told him that I would be worthless after the drive back to the city, and apologized, but said that I needed to cancel.

Within 5 minutes, I got back a "Are you sure?  We could get something closer to the neighborhood and just chill together".  Again, not wanting to endanger all drivers on I-90, I waited until I got home to respond.  It's an hour drive in traffic, but apparently a twenty-minute commute would have been more than this kid could handle.  Because within 15 minutes of the first text, I got one saying "flaking 3 hours prior to the date is pretty bad, I have to say."

Oooooookay.  And he sealed the deal that I was not going to reschedule.  One date, two hours, and he was clinging like a cotton skirt to tights.  Whoa.  I ignored it.  I don't like confrontation, and I find it particularly useless with someone I will never encounter again.  So, I left it alone.

Fast forward two hours later - another text.  This one can be summarized as me = villain who toys with men. He chastised me and told me I was a terrible person.  Okay, fine...think what you want.  And I'll acquiesce that my behavior wasn't perfect - but I did plan to go out with him again originally.  He just overwhelmed me with useless conversation.  I was drowning in text messages.

I deleted his number and all the texts, and as I set my phone down, one last message came through. A lovely send off with my first and last name, title, and company that I work for.  All followed by the phrase, "your Pinterest is a leaky faucet of information".

Apparently, someone can internet stalk.  Big freakin' deal.  I don't care who you are, I strongly recommend researching every date you go on.  As you may know, I've had some bad luck with this, so I do think the more you know, the better.  One minor caveat - PRETEND YOU DON'T KNOW!  Common courtesy demands that we all act completely oblivious of any information we learned through our internet travels.  This guy, however, felt like he could use my name and job to scare me.  And that, my friends, is truly crazy.

I won't pretend I'm all big and bad...I was definitely freaked.  I still am half-expecting him to show up at my office at some point (note that he did not today).  I don't like someone using who I am as if it is a weapon against me.  I'm certainly no one famous, but I don't appreciate a total stranger acting like he has some kind of power to destroy my life.  I can't imagine how celebrities feel.  I may have to start carrying a giant umbrella a la Crazy Britney Spears to defend myself against this potential stalker.

As a result of this creepy encounter, I changed the privacy settings on my Pinterest (which, thanks for divulging your source), truly disabled my OKC account, and revisited the privacy settings on my Twitter page.  I can officially say that I am taking time off from online dating for real now.  My theory that everyone comes into our lives for a reason holds true - I really am meant to give this up for a while, and dragging my feet called for an intervention arriving on the express train from Crazy Town.

So, for my one loyal reader (here's looking at you, Mom), this is certainly not the end.  Just a new beginning. I'm still dating, but we're going back to a simpler time.  Let's see what I can pull off of a bar stool...

Off the Wagon

Yep, I did it.  I fell off the wagon again.  I'm not talking about booze - I never got ON that wagon.  This whole dating thing is like a full time job.  I already have one of those, and I don't know that I'm necessarily in the market for another one that doesn't pay.

So this is where we are.  Single, with cuddle season fast approaching.  But, I have to say that I don't necessarily regret it or mind it.  I'm still getting the occasional "U Beautiful, gurl" OKC message, so that can hold me over for now.  Excuses excuses, I know.  I think at this point in the year, it's not unreasonable for me to ask Santa for a boyfriend. 

Next weekend my parents are in town for that dinner at Frontera.  My mom had felt the need to add an optimistic fourth to that reservation (see: Dinner for Four), and I emailed her this week and told her my best friend was coming instead.  I am a firm believer that you can't force anything.  It has to come naturally, so maybe this looming meet-the-parents dinner prevented me from actually meeting anyone I liked?  Maybe?

Either way, I'm going to take a dating detox and enjoy my life as it is.  I've been hitting the gym (my biceps are rippling as I type right now) and focusing more on me.  When I manage to be selfless enough to take the time to date someone, I'll let you know.  For now, my short-lived experiment with online dating is on pause.  For now. 

I hate the Beach Boys.

This was my week of dates.  For whatever reason, the stars aligned and I had 2 planned back to back.  I seem to have an amazing skill of planning these random influxes of men during my busiest work weeks, but I suppose there are worse things to complain about.  So, here is the run down.

First, I met up with Linguini on Wednesday.  We met at a typical happy hour spot in the Loop which was lovely.  It was easy to get to, and I was already pretty familiar with the specials.  He's a tall guy, 6'2", and when I strategically wear flats, I look short-ish.  He is bearded (yes, I was excited) and not bad looking by any means.  We chatted for about an hour and a half before I had to leave for bowling practice.  Of course my bowling league takes precedence over my dating life - and I wonder why I'm single.

We talked for a solid 10 minutes on the merits of Holiday Inn, which is my all-time favorite Christmas movie.  So, obviously I was more than a little smitten.  I appreciated his confidence...he mentioned a couple times that we should hang out again, and it was the first ever first date where the guy told me I looked pretty.  I appreciated the compliment as well.

Overall, I liked him.  I haven't heard from him yet, but I get the feeling he's one of those "wait 3-days" guys.  Which is fine, I'm not in a rush.  And I'm also not obsessed and feeling like I absolutely have to see him again.  I don't know if it's the stress from work or the date last night, but I'm not going to be heartbroken if he doesn't call.  I am however, keeping my fingers crossed that he does.

Date number two was slightly more eventful.  Not that we had a great time, but mainly because it was the worst date I have ever been on.  It wasn't bad in the "I am totally going to stick this out because it's hilarious" way either.  It was "I feel more awkward than when I got that bowl cut in 6th grade" bad.

Let's back up a minute.  I do not like the Beach Boys.  Specifically, I kind of hate Brian Wilson for getting out of bed.  Here's the deal - can someone explain to me what is so goddamn special about California girls?  We Midwestern girl are pretty friggin' awesome.  And no, we do NOT want to be California girls.  Seriously, Katy Perry.  I should have remembered this hatred when I found out that my date was California-bred.  Unfortunately, I pictured sexy surfer not loser stoner.

On paper, I thought this guy was perfect.  Third year law student, Jewish, and pretty cute.  I can't ask for much more than that.  He picked a pretty classy bar in Logan Square (Scofflaw - solid gin drinks and cute staff), and despite meeting up after his class at 9:30pm, I was optimistic.  To be fair, I had cancelled on him for a slightly earlier scheduled date on Tuesday, so I can't even complain about the time.

When I walked in, the doorman hit on me.  This turned out to be the highlight of the night.  My date had sat at the bar.  No cozy table or booth (of which there were easily 10 available as the bar wraps around the entire corner), we were stuck doing the "where are you from" conversation in front of the bartender.  Ooooookay.

Double bonus?  Cali is a mumbler.  So, the combination of the din of the bar plus the music plus not even having an intimate space means I can't hear anything.  I lived next to the L tracks for 2 years, so my hearing is shit anyway.  This was not shaping up to be a good experience.

I don't know where it went wrong, really.  I think it was just awkward from the beginning.  There wasn't a whole lot for us to talk about.  I tried asking about his school, work, experience in Chicago...I got nothing back.  Or, I couldn't hear what he said and awkwardly giggled or smiled with an ambiguous head nod.

He mentioned that his dad was an accountant, so he asked me a little bit about my job.  I try not to talk about work, because I know it's not particularly exciting to my dates.  After I did my usual 2 second overview, he started talking about his dad.  Who went to prison.  For embezzlement.  For 5 years.  He "just" got out about 10 years ago, and he was stripped of his license.  But, yanno...he still practices.  Ummmm, well, this certainly took a nasty turn.  Not that I particularly judge people for time-served, but I do judge people who think that it's appropriate conversation on a get-to-know-you first date.  Dear god, man!

I had already decided to have only one beverage when he decided to order a second and food.  It was by far the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me.  Who orders food alone while on a date?  I didn't even know what to do.  So, when his sandwich came, I went to the bathroom to avoid sitting there.

The pauses between spurts of conversation were so long, it was deafeningly painful.  He actually asked me if I like "different kinds of music".  No, I only listen to songs with a steel drum. 

I think the worst part was his innate need to tell pointless stories for far too long.  He kept going on and on about one of his buddies jumping off some cliff in California and hitting all the rocks on the way down.  I was over the story after that one sentence, but he easily spent 5 minutes on it (equivalent to 8% of our date as I didn't stay past 1 hour).  I also could not interject my own experience or agree with his story, as he was a watermark talker. 

What is a watermark talker?  Think about a watermark.  You usually have the option for behind the text or over the text.  He was an over the text watermark.  Meaning, he would keep talking as I was talking.  And not back down and fade behind my text. 

Like I said at the beginning of this diatribe, I'm not entirely sure why this date felt so terrible.  He didn't grope me or verbally assault me.  He wasn't outright rude or a dick.  But that was far and away the worst date I have ever been on.  So bad in fact that I didn't even bother with the check dance and left $10 on the bar for the gin drink.  He oddly thanked me for that too.  I seriously hope he didn't think I bought him dinner.

Oh, and true to Cali spirit - I'm about 90% sure he was stoned too.

When It Rains, It Pours...

There is a theory that all you need to get a date is to have a date.  I think it's a pretty legitimate thought.  I went from not really talking to anybody on OKC to having 2 dates back to back this week.  I haven't been particularly proactive on the website, but for whatever reason, it seems to have fallen out this way.

My date tomorrow is in law school.  It seems that he's originally from the West Coast.  I don't know too much more about him beyond that he lives in Logan Square.  I am starting to prefer this lack of information - it makes conversation so much easier when you don't know everything about the person because you've been emailing for weeks.  Oh wait...one more fact: he's Jewish. 

I am slightly obsessed with the idea of dating someone Jewish (uh, you KNOW they're circumcised and no shared holidays...obviously we're going to my parents' for Christmas and Easter).  My mom has also said to me on more than one occasion, "Why don't you date a nice Jewish boy?".  I have a feeling we're on the same wavelength about the shared holidays.  So, that was an exciting discovery today.  Fingers crossed it goes well - at a minimum, we're checking out a pretty cool looking bar in Logan Square, so I'm optimistic I'll pull something useful out of it.

The second date is on Wednesday with Linguini.  We've had mixed up schedules, and it looks like we're finally going to get it together on Wednesday for a happy hour.  I like him too, but the idea of dating someone that lives in a western suburb (with a roommate, by the way) isn't something that I can stomach that easily.

Either way, be prepared for successive posts.  This week should provide for quite a bit of writing.

How much is too much?

In the post "Let's Forget About the Past", I talk a little bit about some of my worsts.  Ever since The Offender, I've been really hesitant (and rightfully so) about going into a relationship, or on a date even, without having enough back up information.  For the record, I highly recommend googling someone before going out with them.  But, then the question becomes - where is the line?  At what point do I have too much information about someone to make a decent decision?  I've discovered the baggage without getting to know the person.  And god knows, no one's baggage is pretty.

I'm supposed to go out with Linguini (Linguist = Linguini, no?) on Wednesday next week.  I hadn't really looked at his profile since we started communicating over a week ago.  In a pre-slumber boredom, I decided to go through the "Questions" that OKC offers.  For those of you unfamiliar with the process, you are supposed to answer questions on the site to determine who would be a good match for you.  The answers are displayed publicly, and those people that are either freakishly nosey or depressingly loaded with free time (I'm the former, thank you very much) can go through them.  And that is precisely what I did.

What I found was more information than I should know.  Turns out that this guy felt the need to answer a lot of the sex questions (which is not unusual for men), and he's quite "experienced".  Now I'm no prude or Virgin Mary, so I'm not exactly sure why this is freaking me out.  It must be because he's displaying his dirty laundry on a website, but then I am too.  I guess I found the line that determines what you want to know.  I don't need to know about past experiences...especially before a first date.  Good god.

I also discovered that he was previously married.  This is clearly something that should be discussed later in the relationship...think like 4th/5th date.  This is information I'd like to know before I sleep with you, but doesn't need to be on the table immediately.  And here I am, ruining all the surprises for myself.

I'm still planning on going out with Linguini, but I'm a little less excited than I was initially.  It's kind of terrible, isn't it?  I managed to freak myself over things I shouldn't know and shouldn't even be concerned with at this point.  Never again, Questions...your content is more than I can handle.

Yes.

As I am sure that my reading public has been on the edge of their seats waiting for me to return to my perilous adventures in online dating, I am back to say that yes, I have resumed my quest.  So, to give a brief update, here's where we currently stand:

I've been emailing with a teacher/education plan writer/linguist who asked me out for drinks.  Pros - he seems smart and has a beard.  Cons - he lives in St. Charles (but will work downtown starting next week, so maybe it's doable), and he was a little quick on the draw on the drink invite.  Granted, I can't necessarily complain about that...I spent quite a few blog lines ticked about chatting for too long with no date offers.  Either way, it seems like we'll get along well enough to survive a couple hours of beverages.  I need to get back on my say-yes-to-everything mentality anyway.  It got me to see a Ladyhawke show last night (fantastic, btw) so good things clearly come from "yes".

I heard back from a tall ginger I emailed too.  I'm typically not into redheads, but for whatever reason something about this guy must have tickled my fancy 3 weeks ago.  We'll see if he writes back to me - he did enjoy my use of the Oxford comma, so I feel like this could go well.  I'm a sucker for nerd and intellectual humor.

Now for the fun part...the weird messages that I've received.  The first one came from username BaaadBooooy6 or something eerily similar and bro-tastic.  What did this douche want?  Apparently, he and his girlfriend wanted to suck titties together.  "That's it."  I think I may have given them more credit than they deserved on the quotation punctuation.  It was the most straightforward (and forward in general) message I think I've ever received.  My prudish side was very uncomfortable while the rest of me wanted to call his girlfriend a slut.  Knee jerk reaction - I'm not saying I'm proud.

And my favorite message - drumroll in your mind, please - "Will you want to be my friend?".  Now it seems innocuous, but I want to go through my initial thought process and how this all ties up in a big fancy bow. 

First of all, I read that like "Will you be my friend?".  I thought it had to be one of two things.  Either a) this person is a nutjob and is seriously asking someone with an internet dating profile to be his friend or b) he's got a good sense of humor and realizes how awkward this entire process is and thought it would be a cute introduction.  Please believe that I'm aware of how farfetched scenario "b" is, but I'm still a romantic (and sad sap optimist) at heart.

Needless to say, it was clearly option "a".  After scrolling through the profile (which used absolutely NO capital letters) and reading that he wanted a "good woman to move in with".  I was curious enough to flip through pictures...

Let's flashback two years ago.  My best friend and I are feeling stuck and decide to join a bowling league as individuals.  We drag our other friend along and sign up hoping to meet some fun new people.  On the first day, my friend K meets her team.  They're all 20-somethings.  Maybe not perfect, but a fun enough group to enjoy 3 games of bowling one night a week with.  H and I were on the same team, which we weren't initially that excited about.  How could we branch out?  We ended up being thrilled as the two other members of our team consisted of a Middle-Eastern man in his 40's who wore a lot of flannel and carried a beeper and a 20-something bowling aficionado who qualified for the Special Olympics.  Yes...to put it in the worst slurs possible, it was us, a terrorist, and the poster boy for special education.

Back to present, who is the person that wants to be my friend?  Why, it's Mikey from bowling!  The kid who road the short bus and bowled obsessively yet still managed to not be very good.  Yes, there really are mentally challenged people on OKC.  Part of me wants to report him and prevent this from happening, but a bigger part of me feels like he deserves to find someone too.  So for now, just keep watch for Mikey.  If his #1 interest is bowling, I wouldn't recommend responding.

Delayed Response?

So, I'm well aware that I've been pretty lax about posting these past few weeks.  I've been in the midst of a hunt for a condo, and work has started to consume my life (as it will through October 15th).  And it's inexcusable.

In all fairness though, I haven't had any interesting developments lately either.  All of my previous contacts have fallen off the face of the earth.  Which, while I'm disappointed to some extent, I wasn't exactly over the moon about anybody either.

The latest OKC development is that I seem to be on the short list for Indians and men under 5'9".  This has made for some fairly interesting opening messages.  I think one of the worst parts of this is getting a message from someone, being entertained, and then realizing they are 5'6".

I have nothing against short guys...in fact, I think most of them are the nicest and best in bed.  But, I'm 5'9" (minimum) and I would prefer not to be an Amazon in the relationship.  I'm not sure what I can do about it, and I'm certainly not going to be the bitchy girl that writes "you must be this tall to ride this ride" on her profile.  But, I've been dealing with a fair amount of disappointment lately.

As far as the Indian faction, I think I'm going to tone down on the tanning.

I need to resume my message assault too.  I've been so consumed with everything else in my life that this has taken a bit of a backseat.  No one to blame but myself if I can't find someone to do the Halloween couples costume with...