Wednesday, October 29, 2003
How depressing...
Today I started checking out Match.com again. And all I can think is, my G-d, do I have to go through this again?
I'm not a dater. I've rarely dated in my life, lucky enough to fall into relationships with friends. The only man I was ever seriously involved with that wasn't previously a friend or acquaintance was a man I clicked with the first time we met, at a Halloween party eleven years ago this week.
Back in the late fall of 1997 was the first time I really started dating the way most people, the way normal people date. One toad at a time. There were a few guys I went out with for a month at a time, but either they disappeared without a word or I realized that one of my requirements was missing. Two of the guys that disappeared without a word - well, I was okay with that. We had fun, but I wasn't emotionally invested. I was just ticked off that they were cowards about it, even when I flat out told them to be honest.
The third guy that disappeared? My feelings ran deeper, which was interesting because, unlike the first two, he and I hadn't had sex, though we did make out a little. And he wasn't a toad at all. Still, I was hurt, but in the end I just gave it up. After all, it seemed that was just the way men were wired, at least the men that I knew at that time in my life.
During April of '98 I dated two men at the same time, but there was a connection missing for me with each of them. I wasn't physically attracted to either one, though I gave it time to see if the attraction would develop. Unfortunately, no. That was a shame because I think one of them would have otherwise been a good match for me. But in the end I told them, "Thanks, but no thanks."
Between April '98 to June '03, I had exactly one date. Yeah, I know. Depressing, no? Again a nice guy with whom I had a lot in common, speaking for hours, but no physical attraction on my end. Near the beginning of the date I was greeted by a guy with whom I had had an intense flirtation the previous summer, but hadn't seen since. Despite the obvious sparks that still flew between myself and the interloper, who, as he left, threw out a "You look great, Carol" in front of my semi-blind date, the evening with NiceGuy went well. Except for that pesky physical chemistry, which is a must for me. It's not the only thing I look for, or even the main thing. But it does have to exist.
And my dating this year? Has pretty much been dominated by CuteNerdBoy. Now that I know, at this time, that's not going any further than its current position, I know it's time to cast my net wide again. Which I suppose wouldn't be a big deal, except that most of the men who have sent me winks and messages since I joined Match.com in May are, again, men I just don't find attractive - like the Stephen King clone. Or they're unable to type an intelligible sentence without tons of superfluous punctuation marks or misspelled words (a few are okay - we all make mistakes). I know I'm probably coming across as a bit of a snob, but I think if the primary mode of communication is the written word, then the person with whom I'm corresponding should have some idea about how to convey thoughts in an intelligent manner via e-mail.
Or they just want to be my house-boy.
Actually, that offer is starting to look rather attractive.
Nah.
I'm not a dater. I've rarely dated in my life, lucky enough to fall into relationships with friends. The only man I was ever seriously involved with that wasn't previously a friend or acquaintance was a man I clicked with the first time we met, at a Halloween party eleven years ago this week.
Back in the late fall of 1997 was the first time I really started dating the way most people, the way normal people date. One toad at a time. There were a few guys I went out with for a month at a time, but either they disappeared without a word or I realized that one of my requirements was missing. Two of the guys that disappeared without a word - well, I was okay with that. We had fun, but I wasn't emotionally invested. I was just ticked off that they were cowards about it, even when I flat out told them to be honest.
The third guy that disappeared? My feelings ran deeper, which was interesting because, unlike the first two, he and I hadn't had sex, though we did make out a little. And he wasn't a toad at all. Still, I was hurt, but in the end I just gave it up. After all, it seemed that was just the way men were wired, at least the men that I knew at that time in my life.
During April of '98 I dated two men at the same time, but there was a connection missing for me with each of them. I wasn't physically attracted to either one, though I gave it time to see if the attraction would develop. Unfortunately, no. That was a shame because I think one of them would have otherwise been a good match for me. But in the end I told them, "Thanks, but no thanks."
Between April '98 to June '03, I had exactly one date. Yeah, I know. Depressing, no? Again a nice guy with whom I had a lot in common, speaking for hours, but no physical attraction on my end. Near the beginning of the date I was greeted by a guy with whom I had had an intense flirtation the previous summer, but hadn't seen since. Despite the obvious sparks that still flew between myself and the interloper, who, as he left, threw out a "You look great, Carol" in front of my semi-blind date, the evening with NiceGuy went well. Except for that pesky physical chemistry, which is a must for me. It's not the only thing I look for, or even the main thing. But it does have to exist.
And my dating this year? Has pretty much been dominated by CuteNerdBoy. Now that I know, at this time, that's not going any further than its current position, I know it's time to cast my net wide again. Which I suppose wouldn't be a big deal, except that most of the men who have sent me winks and messages since I joined Match.com in May are, again, men I just don't find attractive - like the Stephen King clone. Or they're unable to type an intelligible sentence without tons of superfluous punctuation marks or misspelled words (a few are okay - we all make mistakes). I know I'm probably coming across as a bit of a snob, but I think if the primary mode of communication is the written word, then the person with whom I'm corresponding should have some idea about how to convey thoughts in an intelligent manner via e-mail.
Or they just want to be my house-boy.
Actually, that offer is starting to look rather attractive.
Nah.
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United States, California, Los Angeles, San Fernando Valley, English, Carol, Female, 36-40.
