Everyone has some sort of summer fling when they’re growing up, mine was just ostensibly late in my life. It occurred last summer with a guy named Joe. He was the friend of a friend and he had just broken up with his fiancé. Naturally, I was attracted to that wounded puppy quality he had going for him. I knew it was a doomed relationship that would go nowhere but he was funny and smart and I enjoyed hanging out with him.
Almost a year has lapsed since I saw Joe and being that he was no great love of my life, I hadn’t really thought about him. This Saturday happened to be the first time since then that I was able to talk to our mutual friend. In curiosity, I asked how he was doing since he broke up with his fiance.
“It has been a long time since I’ve seen you! Didn’t I tell you about Joe?”
No, she hadn’t.
She shook her head and proceeded to tell me the tale of Joe, and his double life.
Apparently my fling was part of a much bigger story in which he had two quasi-live-in girlfriends. It was something out of a Lifetime movie. Everything he did revolved around keeping these secrets from everyone, including his friends. He had plotted the day-to-day down to the smallest detail, which included changing pictures off the walls to be sure the appropriate girlfriend was represented.
When the truth finally came out to his friends and both girlfriends (one of which he was indeed engaged to), Joe was not regretful, but rather tired.
“He was said he put a lot of effort into his double life,” my friend said. “He had no shame at all. I was a little disgusted.”
Yes, I am too. Now I can add nearly polygamist sociopath to my dating ledger.
Lesson learned: Seriously, my life is a Lifetime movie waiting to happen.
I’ve been on eHarmony for two months, and as of yet, I’ve had absolutely no luck. They’ve run out of people in my area to match me with, so I’m now being paired with guys that are considered “flex matches,” as in they no longer meet my specified requirements of being employed and walking upright. It’s disheartening.
So after no real consideration and several cocktails, I filled out a profile for OK Cupid over the weekend. It’s free, so I figured, what have I got to lose except several hours or my life?
The real answer is several hours and my faith in humanity.
Creating your profile takes longer than I expected. There are a series of “matching” questions which I thought would be a finite list. Nope, there are hundreds of them and they are way more personal than I was comfortable with. (ex: what’s your favorite position? Is this something people are supposed to share with complete strangers on the internet these days?) There are also far too many of them to answer so when you get matched with a person, chances are you haven’t answered the same questions.
Side note: One question I answered is “which is bigger, the earth or the sun?” You can elect which answer(s) you’ll accept from the people you meet. I would only accept the correct answer since even if a guy doesn’t know (and anyone I date absolutely should), at least have the intelligence to use the Internet to find out. Not one guy who contacted me could (or would) answer this question.
When I finally gave up answering questions (at number 80-something) I posted a photo and I started browsing. Within half an hour I had four emails. Color me flattered! I opened them, thinking there would be at least one salvageable guy in there somewhere.
No. Well, at least no one normal was talking to me.
I received an overwhelming response, and all of them I found exceedingly disturbing.
A 21-year-old asked me if I was willing to “cougar-it-up” and suggested I would be surprised at how adept he is with his manhood.
A 45-year-old said he thought he was too old to be my “lover” but we should be friends because I look interesting. (I’m cringing on the inside.)
Another guy said that I had an “infectious smile” and posted a series of blurry photos of himself that made him look like he had never left his mother’s basement and that OK Cupid was what he did when he was on break from World of Warcraft.
A lot of “hey sexy,” “you look hot,” and my personal favorite “cup size?”
Approximately 24 hours and 45 messages later, (not one of which I felt comfortable returning), I deactivated my page.
Maybe I’m a prude. I’m OK with that. Personally, I’d like someone who starts out with “what’s your favorite color?”
Lesson learned: In the land of Internet dating, you get what you pay for.
A friend of mine asked my opinion yesterday about a guy who emailed her. She lives in Texas. He lives in Louisiana. Her aunt thought they would hit it off and set them up via modern technology. (Amendment: my friend let me know that she was not set up by her aunt, it was her great aunt. Her 85-year-old great aunt.)
This guy lives 436 miles away from her. So how on earth are they supposed to cultivate a relationship? I’ve seen Catfish. I know what could happen!
“It’s not like he lives in China,” my friend reminded me.
But for me, the whole reason to date is to have someone who can enjoy a beer with you after work, grab a late dinner spur of the moment and go with me to work events so people stop giving me those pitiful looks that say “you must have something wrong with you since you’re 31 and single.”
I think I just want a trophy boyfriend.
Anyway, this morning I got the first even hint of interest on eHarmony in over a month from a guy in Laguna Niguel. That is approximately 55 miles from my house. And I consider 55 miles to be long distance.
Do I blow him off because of the distance? It’s not China.
It made me think that, gasp, I might have to leave the 10 mile radius in which I travel in order to meet someone. Perhaps the future Mr. Amanda does not live in the family-filled suburb that surrounds me.
On the other hand, gas is really expensive and I’m not sure I can afford long distance love at this time.
It’s a conundrum.