So I’ve been single pretty regularly over the past four years, and have been actively dating, or trying to, since coming out of a year-long relationship in February. Although my last few serious girlfriends were met through my social circle or school or both, I’ve had a fair amount of experience with online dating, which has resulted in innumerable dates, lots of interesting stories and unsuccessful relationships, much heartbreak on both sides, and one or two lifelong friends.
Anyway. Life’s been hectic and weird of late, and other than a couple of bizarre and bittersweet reminders that there are still women out there who can knock my socks off, I haven’t had much time to pursue anything romantic. And I miss it, especially the opening stages – there’s nothing better (for certain, inaccurate values of “nothing”) than that initial, electric flurry of mutual interest, of steadily lengthening e-mails and perfect phrases and that indescribable feeling of unexpected, vertiginous motion towards something potentially larger than yourself. Of discovering someone, to whatever extent, for however long. Until, y’know, one of you or the other, or both, come to feel that it probably isn’t going to work.
I miss all of that. So last night I went to my Match account and looked at every single profile of women in my area who fit my loose-ish criteria for age range, height range, and number of children (none). And aside from the many who I’d already e-mailed and been rebuffed by, the not-quite-as-many who had already e-mailed me and been rebuffed, and the various others who didn’t click for one reason or another, I found two more women to write to. Beyond them (and one perfectly lovely woman with whom I’ve been e-mailing since the beginning of August and, due mostly to our conflicting schedules, look to be meeting for drinks sometime in 2010, at which point we’ll probably discover that there’s no chemistry), there are officially no more women for me on this, the largest dating site in all the universe. Which clearly means that there are no more women for me on any dating site anywhere. That’s just basic logic.
So if they don’t work out (working out is also one of my criteria*), I’m going to have to hone my unfortunately unredoubtable social skills so that I can actually meet people in live (!) settings. Practice talking to pillows, or something. Or just hang around the local independent bookstore contemplatively hefting and rehefting novels that would, when glimpsed from afar, inspire feminine curiosity, appreciation, and regard. I’m sure it’ll be cake from there.
All of which is to say, it’s probably better if these women write back. They’re, like, the Last Unicorn. Or the Last of the Mohicans. Maybe one’s one and one’s the other. Maybe I’d have greater romantic success if I could parse my metaphors more coherently. Hmm.
Suggestions for contemplative hefting are greatly appreciated.
- Plus a tolerance for very bad jokes.
Note: generalizations made herein (and in the thread title) are largely tongue-in-cheek. The sentiment is sincere, but it comes with a healthy measure of amusement and a decent sense of scale. So while well-meant advice about keeping a positive attitude, being comfortable and confident in myself, involving myself in activities in order to meet people with similar interests, and changing up my expectations is definitely welcome, it’s probably nothing I haven’t already internalized (I’m kinda liable to think about this stuff in some detail; just ask Maeglin!), and it’s not the reason I started this thread.