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?
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."
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.
