Reviewing Past Relationships and What Went Wrong (Me?)

The following is a revised version of the text, with improvements to grammar, flow, and clarity.

The Mormon Conundrum

I'll start by saying that Mormons are, in many ways, much better people than I am. They're kind, polite, don't drink, and are generally nice to others. Sure, they have the stigma of "magic underwear," but honestly, if you had to be surrounded by a group of people different from yourself, you could do considerably worse than the Mormon population.

That said, they can be a bit of a drag. When I say "drag," I mean it in the nicest way possible. They don't drink, gamble, swear, or have premarital sex—all things I happen to enjoy. This isn't a problem until you realize you live in a city that has more Mormon residents per capita than Salt Lake City, Utah. For someone like me, who lacks a moral compass and a general sense of right and wrong, the fit just isn't there.

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A Dating Retrospective

So, how does this apply to my dating life? I've had a lot of time on my hands (see above), so I decided to map out my main relationships on a scale of 1 to 10. The scale is as follows: a 1 is someone who is completely and utterly "marriage material" but boring as hell, while a 10 is a crazy train who is a ton of fun but would never meet my mom.

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The Rankings

Destiny: 1/10 It's unfortunate that I was married to her for three years. She wasn't mean, but she also wasn't nice or affectionate. Sex was a chore, as was being married to me. She's married with a kid now, so I assume someone managed to get her drunk enough to make it work once.

Trey: 9/10 Damn, Trey was hot. I'm not, but she somehow decided to sleep with me. She was a dangerous combination of "being hot, not knowing how to have sex, and hating her life." She was also kind of mean, demanding, and not afraid to express how unhappy she was at any given moment. Did I mention she was so hot?

Barb: 4/10 Barb also hated me, and to complicate things, she disclosed an STD early on. That doesn't make her a bad person, though. Honestly, this was soon after my divorce, and I was a complete mess, so I didn't handle it well. She was a nice person. I just wish she hadn't told me about her STD over breadsticks at Olive Garden.

Heidi: 5/10 I never really figured Heidi out. She had kids and liked to have sex with me—and her ex-husband. She was beautiful and fun and continually made it clear that we were just a "thing." I think I was just a thing to her, which sounds nice in theory. I got attached, she bailed, and then she'd pop back in whenever she wanted sex again. After six short months of meaningless sex, I half-heartedly put an end to it. (See? I'm a terrible person.)

Kristen: 6/10 I liked Kristen, but she was really, really dumb—not in a "needs to experience life" kind of way, but more like a "she ate paint chips as a kid" way. Kristen adored me but was too similar to my ex-wife. She didn't have an original thought in her head, did what her parents told her well into her late 20s, and had no ambition. But she was fun, and if I weren't me, it might have worked. But I'm me, and it didn't. She married a 300-pound truck driver and seems happy, and that's not a joke—it's a fact.

Jessica: 8/10 Things got intense fast with Jessica, which I mistook for the real thing. She loved drama and cheating on her husband with me. In a different world and time, it might have worked out with Jessica. (Update: I recently tried again with Jessica and remembered that she majored in drama. When things are exciting and scary, you tend to ignore those red flags. Did I mention I'd probably never trust her?)

Jill: 9/10 Jill got me, which scared the living hell out of me. She was funny, beautiful, and a hell of a lot smarter than I was. I attribute our failure to bad timing and me being an emotional post-divorce disaster. I liked Jill a lot, and my mom would have, too. But Jill moved across the country, and we never spoke again. It was probably for the best.

Shannon: 10/10 Shannon was a badass. Fun, sexy, smart, and she could read me like a book—which absolutely terrified me. I loved Shannon, and she loved me back. We were going to be together. So what happened? I guess I happened. This one still causes a little pain in my stomach. She's married now, and I truly hope she's happy.

The problem with Shannon wasn't her; it was the pathetic guy who writes blog posts ranking his exes.

Match.com Date Review: Tierney

Re-entering the Dating World

For reasons I don't fully understand, I decided to re-up my Match.com membership. I had been feeling a bit down on the site lately, mostly because I hadn't had much success, but I realized I was holding a grudge against them for something that wasn't their fault. So, I decided to cast my line out there and try again.

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A Promising Start

Within the first few days, I began exchanging emails with a woman named T (not Mister...God know we would've gotten along better). We were the same age, had no kids, similar education, and the same sense of humor and religious beliefs. After about a week, we began texting and made plans to meet for drinks. We met last Thursday night, and to my surprise, she looked exactly like her pictures, and conversation came easily! As a veteran of online dating, I know these two attributes on a first date are a rarity.

The night progressed, and everything went well. We laughed and talked about what we would do on our next date. We both had a few drinks, but neither of us was sloppy drunk—just slightly buzzed. As the night ended, I walked her to her car, and she leaned in for a kiss, which promptly turned into a full-blown make-out session. Finally, we pried ourselves apart and called it a night.

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An Unexpected End

We texted on Friday and Saturday, and everything seemed to be going well. But on Sunday, I received a text that said, "I hope this isn't awkward, but I went out on a date with someone else, and it is going to progress. You are a nice guy. Take care."

I know people date multiple people and that things don't always work out when they feel like they should, but I can't explain why this one bothered me as much as it did. Maybe my sense of the entire situation was off, or maybe she regretted kissing me after the date. Who knows.

All I know is this: I understand less about the dating world at 32 than at any other time in my life. And really, I don't need to understand everything. I just want to know how to make it work. More than anything, I'm just tired of the dating carousel. I'd like to get off now, please.

Calling online dating a dumpster fire is an insult... to dumpsters

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A First-Person Account of Online Dating

In the past five years, I've been on roughly 40 dates. Let that number sink in for a minute. I'm not counting the women I got drunk enough to go home with me (bless their hearts), nor am I counting the drunken, two-hour car trips in the middle of the night to get laid (Valparaiso, Indiana, is lovely at 3 a.m.). Nope, I have been on 40-ish awkward, uncomfortable, sweat-inducing first dates. And I enjoyed none of them.

It's not that these women were all ugly. Okay, some 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?

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The Online Dating Dance

I've tried every dating site: Match, eHarmony, OkCupid!, Plenty of Fish—the list goes on. The one thing they all have in common is competition. The last article I read about online dating said there's a 5:1 male-to-female ratio, which makes sense. As a man, if there is a medium by which I can get laid without ever leaving my couch, I'm in. So, you pay your money, create an account, write a witty headline, post 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? The whole dance is just ridiculous. 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 they have something interesting to say. You ask about favorite movies, music, and vacation spots, and the always popular "What do you do for fun?" More than once, I've been tempted to answer, "Orgasm. Nap."

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The Inevitable First Date

So the time comes when you decide to meet. You don't offer to pick them up—not unless you want to be labeled a rapist. You have to meet in a public place (preferably a dark alley, but they're always apprehensive about that one), and it can't be food or a movie (if you read their profile, you'd know this).

The time comes and the date is set. You start to imagine all the different scenarios: if it goes well or if it sucks. 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's because they posted a picture that was 40 pounds and five years ago. But more often than not, it's 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 rehash 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.