Online dating - the saga continues

So, this is day what in the online dating chronicles? I don’t even know.

I haven’t spent much time at all researching matches or browsing through profiles. I haven’t had to. That’s not an ego thing, it’s just a fact. I’ve been bombarded with messages since day one, hour one. I think this has less to do with them finding me attractive and more to do with the fact that I’m young. I can just see the wheels turning in the brains of these older men that are so gung ho about meeting me. “She’d fetch my beer and make me sandwiches a hell of a lot faster than those older broads. And she’d put out more too.”

During the first two weeks I received some pretty unfortunate messages. (I shared a few of them already here.) I was sorely disappointed in the quality of the site I chose to try first. The only decent candidate stood me up last weekend. Well technically we had no concrete plans, but we’d discussed doing something and then after Wednesday of last week, he never messaged me again. I was a little let down, but I had a feeling that he wasn’t as interested when he realized I had a daughter. Apparently he didn’t read my profile very clearly.

The other weekend, after the millionth request for sexual favors, I decided to try a different website. And I was immediately reassured. The matches were much, much better. Though, of course, there’s no keeping away all of the strange, disturbing, and borderline illiterate. There are also a lot of different features that make finding matches easier.

The neat part is seeing who looks at your profile. I’ve come across some interesting people – an English teacher, a Marine, and a man that prefers to live his life on the go, selling things out of his trunk. Anybody need a watch? But the most interesting by far is a 40 year old married man. All of his pictures are taken from the back, waist down, and he’s wearing women’s lingerie – black stockings, garters, high heels, and a thong. When I first saw it I simply stared with open mouthed horror, but before long I was laughing so hard tears were streaming down my face. His entire ass is covered in black hair.

I’ve never been a fan of hairy men to begin with, but really? It’s bad enough that your profile picture is of you wearing heels and stockings, meaning that the thumbnail is unavoidable, but why would you put up a picture of your ass when it looks like the face of a particularly ugly gorilla? Not cool, dude. No wonder he’s out seeking another playmate. His wife is probably in intensive care with the only 3rd degree rug burn on record.

He’s viewed my profile approximately 7 times now and has marked me as someone he’d like to “get to know”. The scary part is that he lives in this city. I keep looking around as I walk downtown, wondering if one of the suits passing by is hiding his hairy ass. See, my face is on my profile. His isn’t. Freaky.

But, like I said, it’s not all bad. This past week I started talking to a seemingly perfect candidate. We were matched by the site and both happened to read the other’s profile and rate each other highly.

He’s 32, divorced with two kids, and runs his own business. Though I’m not a huge fan of kids in general, I can’t rule out other parents. It would just be hypocritical. Not only that, but if they have their own kids they’ll probably be less likely to want another one...which makes my uterus breathe a sigh of relief. I really don’t want to have to explain to a man that pregnancy and childbirth is on my “never do again” list, right along with anal sex and the cha-cha slide.

Anyway, we’ve started emailing and recently progressed to text messages. And he’s funny. Not just funny, but my kind of funny. He’s witty, inappropriate, and smart. He reads as much as I do. And he writes. Not anything big, he says it’s just a journal, but c’mon...he writes! Finding a man that reads (things other than Field and Stream or Reader’s Digest because it’s on the back of the ‘shitter’) and writes around here is like winning the lottery.

We have plans to go out this Saturday night for drinks, dinner, and maybe some live music and I’m incredibly, uncommonly nervous. I think it’s because, unlike the first guy I was supposed to go out with, this one has most of the qualities that I’m looking for. I went into this with low expectations and I wasn’t disappointed, I was having a good laugh. Now, who knows? This shit might work after all.

He’s been trying to nail me down all week for a lunch date or a walk in the park, but I’ve been too busy. And I also kind of want to wait until Saturday. It gives me more time to plan, you know. Anyway, if we don’t click in person it won’t be the end of the world, but I find myself hoping that we do. Even at the risk of losing the opportunity to write a hilarious post about a horrible date. Yep, I said it.

Surprisingly, Mr. 39 year old that sort of stood me up sent me a message a few nights ago. He wanted to know if I wanted to go grab some dinner. I’d chalked him up as gone. I said no, of course. Last minute plans are not something I often agree to, or even that I’m able to agree to because of the kid. He said, “No worries, there’s always next time :).” And after thinking about it for a minute I said, “Yes, there is.” Because if he ever asks me a few days in advance and sticks to it, I may consider it. At least for the experience, right?

There’s one other possible interest in the pipeline, but so far it hasn’t gone further than a few emails – which is fine because I don’t know how people have time for all of this business. It’s one thing to juggle a few booty calls – you don’t have to necessarily do any talking there. This getting to know people stuff is a little like work. Not that I’m complaining...yet.

Coincidentally, how many dates do you think it’s appropriate to have before you throw caution to the wind and do the horizontal mambo? And by throw caution to the wind, I mean make it as far as the car. Not like going for it without protection or anything. I’m no maverick when it comes to that. I know all about the pullout method – it just turned 5 in April and answers to the name of “PUT THAT DOWN”. Not that I plan on sleeping with any of them. Ever. I’m doing this the right way. I’m just curious is all.

So...I’ve got the dress. I’ve got the shoes. I’ve got the date. Now all I need to do is relax and try not to get drunk accidentally on purpose and fuck it all up. Stay tuned.