Online Dating is Fucked Up

It appears that last night I was all hopped up on Ambien and Miller Lite and I drafted an entire post about my life. Other than the fact that: 1) I have no memory of it 2) It made no fucking sense; it was literary gold. So let's try this again. In the event that someone does choose to date rape me (fingers crossed), the secret formula is listed above.

In the past five years, I've been on roughly 40 dates. Let that number sink in for a minute. I don't count the chicks I got drunk enough to go home with me (bless their hearts), nor do I count the drunken two-hour car trips in the middle of the night to get laid (Valparaiso, Indiana is lovely at 3am). Nope, I have been on 40-ish awkward, uncomfortable, ass-sweat inducing first dates. And I enjoyed none of them. Not that these women were ugly. Ok, some of them were ugly. And fat. And kind of bitchy. But the rest of them were nice and attractive. So where did it all go so wrong?

Name a dating site and I have tried it: Match, eHarmony, OkCupid!, Plenty of Fish...the list goes on. The one thing they all have in common: competition. The last article I read about online dating said there is a 5:1 male to female ratio, which makes sense. As a man, if there is a medium by which I can get laid while never having to leave my couch, I am in. So you pay your money, create an account, write a witty headline, post the three pictures of yourself where you aren't hungover, exaggerate your income, make up some fake interests, and hope for the best.

Did I mention the "Winks" sent to express interest? Or the random emails to strangers?

So the retarded dance begins...while some women are kind enough to completely ignore your interest, others have the audacity to tell you they aren't interested. Doesn't anyone have the common decency to lie to someone, or at the very least; pretend they never existed? Anyway, in the event someone is interested, you begin exchanging emails and hope to fuck they have something interesting to say. You ask about favorite movies, music, vacation spots, and the always popular "What do you do for fun?" More than once I've been tempted to answer "Orgasm. Nap." 

So the time comes where you decide to meet. Fuck no you don't offer to pick them up, rapist. You have to meet in a public place (preferably a dark alley but they're always apprehensive on that one) and it can't be food or a movie (if you read their profile, you'd know this). So the time comes and the date is set. You start to imagine all the different scenarios: if it goes well if it sucks...ok, those are pretty much the two options. Finally, the time has come and you wait, trying not to compare every woman who walks through the door to the one in the pictures you've seen. 

Then, she appears. And for whatever reason, good or bad, you both know. Sometimes it is because they posted a picture that was 40 pounds and five years ago. But more often than not, it is something unexplainable. All the time, emails and texts where it all seems to be right...and in an instant, you both know. You politely make conversation, sip your drinks, and re-hash conversations already had...but it's been decided. You share an awkward hug and go your separate ways...likely to never speak again. 

And the dance goes on...

Day One...

Honestly, I had forgotten that I had a blog. Four years ago I posted a few funny observations, sure that no one would read them, and I was right. In fairness to you, there was no reason to read them, as they weren't actually funny. So close to five years later, I've decided to go another direction with this, hear me out:

I spend most days full of anxious, nervous energy. Oddly, it generally manifests itself into apathy and avoidance of work. Unless of course that work involves masturbation, in which case I have reaching new levels of achievement. It has become clear that I need an outlet for all things rattling around in my mind. I don't know if anyone will read this but I hope so. I saw 61 people actually read what I had previously written...61! And a few from Vietnam, which tells me they have fuck-else to do there.

So I decided to blog about dating and my life as a 30-something in that world. Maybe it'll be funny, or interesting, hopefully not depressing. Anyway, if nothing else I hope it'll be fun to read.

Briefly about me: 30 year old male, divorced, no kids or pets. I'm college educated but I have the sense of humor of a derelict high school sophomore. Most of my stories will be crude, long and with marginal use of correct punctuation.

So this is Day One.