Evolution of online dating

It’s funny how my online dating experiences have evolved and I also see it in other profiles.

There’s that guy that is so possessive of himself that he gives off this giant “chip on the shoulder” attitude in his profile. He’s so adamant about a woman not “changing” him that he just puts it all out there. He’s the “I burp, I fart, I don’t have a job, I live with my mother and I don’t care what the fuck you think” kind of guy. I’m glad he’s confident in himself but I can’t imagine him ever giving a shit about me enough to even go on a date with that kind of attitude. What’s the point of even having a profile if you just want to be with yourself?

I consistently see folks that write “no drama and no games” in their profiles. How realistic and likely is this? Just because they met someone and fell for them hard and then got their heart broken they have now labeled it as a “game”? Perhaps the other person just didn’t see the world like they do and was unable to return the same feelings, emotions or physical connection. What is wrong with that?

Why would you WANT to be with someone that did not feel the same about you? Breaking up is hard but a necessity at that point – hearts mend over time. Don’t get mad because someone isn’t “right” for you.

The most boring clichés of online profiles:
– I’m laid back
– I’m easy-going
– I work hard and play hard too
– I don’t want drama or games
– I have a great sense of humor
– I’ve never done this before and I’m “just looking”

And then there’s the quintessential bathroom self-portrait … those just kill me. At least meeting people in bars was social interaction, with this online stuff I feel like I’m only getting lucky with my computer screen.

~ Globe Trotter in Lingerie

the first and last date

I’ve been the queen of One Hit Wonders and they are so frustrating. Even in my supreme efforts to vet each and every man prior to that first meeting I’ve been striking out lately. It all started with a guy I met about a year ago at a bar …

My coworker and I decided to bring our laptops to a local pub since our building lost power in a storm. Why not work and drink, right? We were chatting it up and I decided to ask her feedback on my online dating profile. A few beers later we were sending sassy messages to men and laughing very loudly at the bar. A rather cute man sat down next to me and asked what was so funny. I showed him our drunken shenanigans and he joined in too.

A few hours later I’d completely hit it off with this guy at the bar! It turned out that we were in the same career and had a lot in common. He was well-spoken, my age and from outside appearances, a GREAT guy. We met up a few times at the same bar over the next week and got to know each other more. We busily exchanged text messages and silly things via Facebook. But then I had to get my running shoes on …

One night in a drunken stupor [a week after we met] he proclaimed his love for me via text message at 2 AM. I actually said out loud “Are you fucking kidding me?” and ignored it. His perpetual “you are so beautiful” and “you have a perfect life” comments had already started wearing thin on me. I graciously accepted his compliments but yet held on to my imperfect sensibility and humble immortality – I’m not Barbie!

When I confronted the “love text” the next morning he had plenty of excuses for the behavior. I think then he realized he just created the opposite of what he intended. I’m not quite sure that I’d say I’m monogamy-impaired but I sure don’t want that noose squeezing me after a week of knowing the guy.

It happened again last week! I’m talking to a man and we get along GREAT. Yet before we even meet, he’s talking about how amazing I am and that he can’t believe I’m single … and how he wants to take a trip with me in October.  What the fuck dude?! What happened to dating and the elusive chase? The physical gestures and “I’m fucking you tonight” looks? He killed the first date before it even happened. I can’t fall for someone I’ve never met – just can’t do it.

Where have all the great guys gone?  Oh yeah, they are taken… or too far away … or just plain old American.

~ Globe Trotter in Lingerie

The Faux wine snob needs a cork in his …

Sex Kitten is still courting The Storyteller like he’s a babe in a stroller. I’m having a hard time getting over the fact that I was having sex with my first boyfriend and he was in diapers – it’s creepy.  I made dinner for the three of us and proceeded to down a bottle of Ménage à Trois at the dinner table. Fucking irony in a bottle!

One of my pet peeves is “faux snobs” that think they know everything about quality wines and beers and yet they pour themselves a Bud Light or a Sutter Home White Zinfandel. Classy, real classy. Does your mobile home have “rims” buddy? And he was desperately trying to convince me that Guinness is a great beer … after I already agreed on that fact. He must be Sherlock Fucking Holmes.

One of the first things in the dinner conversation was The Storyteller‘s previous endeavors as a “stripper”. I almost spit my wine out of my nose. He’s the furthest thing I’ve seen from stripper material I’ve ever seen in my lifetime. Do they work for pennies here? Half pennies? He did mention he hated tomatoes … now I know why. I would be throwing them at him for sure.

After that crazy dinner I lamented the fact that I have 4 married men that would fuck me, but yet no real promising single men waiting in the shadows. It’s getting a bit frustrating now. I desperately logged into my online dating accounts and returned some messages tonight. I guess I’ll see where that goes – they are all normal looking Americans.

~Globe Trotter in Lingerie

p.s. I forgot to give Sex Kitten the Bad Decision Tiara (BDT) back … she’s surely earned it on this one. Interesting that she can’t come up with a blog post but yet I’ve never heard a kind word spoken about him. Hmmmm?

It must be the red hair

If you’ve ever visited our Facebook page, you know that I like to have fun once in a while and do a “Red Head Sunday”. I’m working on one right now while I write this. I just love being a Ginger, but it took me quite a few years to grow into that love. I used to be “made fun of” for my white skin and freckles, and my typical sunburned skin in the summer months. Now I treasure my “different” look like no other.

I was eating lunch with a friend the other day and she commented on how men glance and sometimes stare when I’m around or pass them by. Even her husband noticed at the last event we attended. He said “does she know everyone is staring at her?” For some reason I never notice this unless someone points it out to me. If men are that visually attracted to me then why don’t they approach me?  Do I give off this “unapproachable vixen” vibe as well? I sure hope not! Even Sex Kitten thinks I’m a “Force of Nature” as she put it.

I have a birthday coming up this week and I was thoughtfully looking back on my dating life over the years. One simple fact is that I’ve NEVER asked a man on a date. That’s hilarious considering how many men I’ve dated minus the years with my ex-husband. I’m honestly not even sure how to pull it off … do I have the balls to do this?

So that’s my goal this year, I need to start “asking” instead of just going along with the hottie that approaches me. I don’t think it’s an insecurity issue or lack of self esteem, I think I just have terrible timing and I’m rather un-assuming about people’s opinions of me. I need to come to terms with how others see me and how I see myself. I don’t think I’m painfully lacking in self-awareness but it does throw me off a bit.

I think I might start by talking to the security guard at my office building. He’s a tall, dark and handsome type that always says “hi” and asks how my day is going. I’ve overheard the cleaning lady say “She’s so pretty!” to him as I leave the building so maybe she has him convinced and I’ll have bonus points for trying. I wonder if a redheaded tattooed sassy woman is his type … I’ll keep ya posted.

~Globe Trotter in Lingerie

Guys that Can’t Take the Hint

Globe Trotter in Lingerie told me that Airport Man just sent her an e-mail (maybe she’ll let you in on what it said, don’t ask me, I don’t know!). Last week Geocacher invited me to a work party after minimal contact by text message since our date on Halloween. What is up with these guys that won’t take a hint?

I went on a date with a Nice Guy this June. He was a One Date Wonder but so into me after the first date that he sent me one text a week for the following SIX WEEKS just checking to see if I wanted to reconsider. Let me think about it… are you still spineless? Do you still live an hour away? Do you still have no car? Do you still have three kids AND A WIFE THAT YOU LIED ABOUT WHEN I AGREED TO MEET YOU? Yeah… the answer’s still no thanks, Pal.

But this guy takes the fucking cake. This e-mail was posted on The Stir. See the original post.

Hi Lauren,

I’m disappointed in you. I’m disappointed that I haven’t gotten a response to my voicemail and text messages. FYI, I suggest that you keep in mind that emails sound more impersonal, harsher, and are easier to misinterpret than in-person or phone communication. After all, people can’t see someone’s body language or tone of voice in an email. I’m not trying to be harsh, patronizing, or insulting in this email. I’m honest and direct by nature, and I’m going to be that way in this email. By the way, I did a google search, so that’s how I came across your email.

I assume that you no longer want to go out with me. (If you do want to go out with me, then you should let me know.) I suggest that you make a sincere apology to me for giving me mixed signals. I feel led on by you.

Things that happened during our date include, but are not limited to, the following:

-You played with your hair a lot. A woman playing with her hair is a common sign of flirtation. You can even do a google search on it. When a woman plays with her hair, she is preening. I’ve never had a date where a woman played with her hair as much as you did. In addition, it didn’t look like you were playing with your hair out of nervousness.

-We had lots of eye contact during our date. On a per-minute basis, I’ve never had as much eye contact during a date as I did with you.

-You said, “It was nice to meet you.” at the end of our date. A woman could say this statement as a way to show that she isn’t interested in seeing a man again or she could mean what she said–that it was nice to meet you. The statement, by itself, is inconclusive.

-We had a nice conversation over dinner. I don’t think I’m being delusional in saying this statement.

In my opinion, leading someone on (i.e., giving mixed signals) is impolite and immature. It’s bad to do that.

Normally, I would not be asking for information if a woman and I don’t go out again after a first date. However, in our case, I’m curious because I think our date went well and that there is a lot of potential for a serious relationship. Of course, it’s difficult to predict what would happen, but I think there is a lot of potential for a serious relationship developing between us one day (or least there was before your non-response to my voicemail and text messages).

I think we should go out on a second date. In my opinion, our first date was good enough to lead to a second date.

Why am I writing you? Well, hopefully, we will go out again. Even if we don’t, I gain utility from expressing my thoughts to you. In addition, even if you don’t want to go out again, I would like to get feedback as to why you wouldn’t want to go again. Normally, I wouldn’t ask a woman for this type of feedback after a first date, but this is an exception given I think we have a lot of potential.

If you don’t want to go again, then apparently you didn’t think our first date was good enough to lead to a second date. Dating or a relationship is not a Hollywood movie. It’s good to keep that in mind. In general, I thought the date went well and was expecting that we would go out on a second date.

If you’re not interested in going out again, then I would have preferred if you hadn’t given those mixed signals. I feel led on. We have a number of things in common. I’ll name a few things: First, we’ve both very intelligent. Second, we both like classical music so much that we go to classical music performances by ourselves. In fact, the number one interest that I would want to have in common with a woman with whom I’m in a relationship is a liking of classical music. I wouldn’t be seriously involved with a woman if she didn’t like classical music. You said that you’re planning to go the NY Philharmonic more often in the future.

As I said, I go to the NY Philharmonic often. You’re very busy. It would be very convenient for you to date me because we have the same interests. We already go to classical music performances by ourselves. If we go to classical music performances together, it wouldn’t take any significant additional time on your part. According to the internet, you’re 33 or 32, so, at least from my point of view, we’re a good match in terms of age. I could name more things that we have in common, but I’ll stop here. I don’t understand why you apparently don’t want to go out with me again. We have numerous things in common. I assume that you find me physically attractive. If you didn’t find me physically attractive, then it would have been irrational for you to go out with me in the first place. After all, our first date was not a blind date. You already knew what I looked like before our date. Perhaps, you’re unimpressed that I manage my family’s investments and my own investments. Perhaps, you don’t think I have a “real” job. Well, I’ve done very well as an investment manager. I’ve made my parents several millions of dollars.

That’s real money. That’s not monopoly money. In my opinion, if I make real money, it’s a real job. Donald Trump’s children work for his company. Do they have “real” jobs? I think so. George Soros’s sons help manage their family investments. Do they have “real” jobs? I think so. In addition, I’m both a right-brain and left-brain man, given that I’m both an investment manager and a philosopher/writer. That’s a unique characteristic; most people aren’t like that. I’ve never been as disappointed and sad about having difficulty about getting a second date as I am with you. I’ve gone out with a lot of women in my life. (FYI, I’m not a serial dater. Sometimes, I’ve only gone out with a woman for one date.) People don’t grow on trees. I hope you appreciate the potential we have.

Am I sensitive person? Sure, I am. I think it’s better to be sensitive than to be insensitive. There are too many impolite, insensitive people in the world.

I suggest that we continue to go out and see what happens. Needless to say, I find you less appealing now (given that you haven’t returned my messages) than I did at our first date. However, I would be willing to go out with you again. I’m open minded and flexible and am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I wish you would give me the benefit of the doubt too. If you don’t want to go out again, in my opinion, you would be making a big mistake, perhaps one of the biggest mistakes in your life. If you don’t want to go out again, then you should have called to tell me so. Even sending a text message would have been better than nothing. In my opinion, not responding to my messages is impolite, immature, passive aggressive, and cowardly. I spent time, effort, and money meeting you for dinner. Getting back to me in response to my messages would have been a reasonable thing for you to do. In addition, you arrived about 30 minutes late for our date. I’m sure you wouldn’t like it if a man showed up thirty minutes late for a first date with you.

If you’re concerned that you will hurt my feelings by providing specific information about why you don’t want to go with me again, well, my feeling are already hurt. I’m sad and disappointed about this situation. If you give information, at least I can understand the situation better. I might even learn something that is beneficial.

If you don’t want to go out again, that I request that you call me and make a sincere apology for leading me on (i.e., giving me mixed signals). In my opinion, you shouldn’t act that way toward a man and then not go out with him again. It’s bad to play with your hair so much and make so much eye contact if you’re not interested in going out with me again. I have tried to write this email well, but it’s not perfect. Again, I’m not trying to be harsh, insulting, patronizing, etc. I’m disappointed, sad, etc. I would like to talk to you on the phone. I hope you will call me back at xxx-xxx-xxxx> (if it’s inconvenient for you to talk on the phone when you read this email, you can let me know via email that you are willing to talk on the phone and I’ll call you). If you get my voicemail, you can a leave a message and I can call you back. Even if you don’t want to go out again, I would appreciate it if you give me the courtesy of calling me and talking to me. Yes, you might say things that hurt me, but my feelings are already hurt. Sending me an email response (instead of talking on the phone) would better than no response at all, but I think it would be better to talk on the phone. Email communication has too much potential for misinterpretation, etc.

Best, Mike

Holy shit. This guy is so crushingly oblivious and devastatingly neurotic that I actually feel sorry for him. But the pity is dulled by the equally strong desire to gouge out his fucking eyes and make him eat them. Some guys just can’t take the hint!

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)

Profile: The Bruiser

Jose was the first of my online dating exploits this year. Having never done this before I didn’t know enough to know that I should have been surprised by how easy it was. He “winked” at me, I sent him a short friendly email, he sent me his number and suggested we go out for coffee, I sent mine back, he texted me, we had a date. Done and done.

And then I panicked. Two hours before I was supposed to meet him at a fine Howard Schultz establishment, I decided that absolutely every pair of shoes that I owned was horribly unfit to wear with the new shirt and jeans I had bought for this first date. I flew to the nearest shoe store and threw myself at the dubious mercy of the fashionable girl that worked there who whipped out the five inch $200 “Fuck Me” stilettos and salivated over the potential commission without batting a fake-eyelashed eye. When I stammered that I had neither the balance nor the budget for those sort of shoes, she lost interest and left me on my own to hyperventilate over a pair of modestly heeled (and priced) short black boots.

I was surreptitiously kneading my soon-to-be blistered feet through my hot new boots when Jose appeared. If Antonio Banderas had a military haircut and a past career as a pro wrestler, this guy could have been his twin. He checked me out, too, from somewhere north of my boots up to my face and I guess I passed because he bought me an iced latte and sat down. He was friendly, interesting, and calm and I probably stopped trembling at some point. We went from the coffee shop to dinner and at my car afterward he said, “I just have one more question…. When can I see you again?” Good thing I hadn’t bought the Fuck Me stilettos, because I would not have survived the swoon.

The highlight of our second date was our first kiss, followed by witnessing a spectacular car crash. Jose’s military training showed as he took charge of the situation, barking out a 911 call and helping the drunk driver who had stumbled out of the car to sit down and take stock of his injuries (he was OK, and had only hit parked cars). I watched this cool display of leadership and authority while trying desperately not to reveal how turned on I was. Gentlemen readers, you may wish to take notes: showing a cool head in a crisis is going to get you laid even faster than driving a Porsche. My god, that is so sexy.

For our third date, Jose had me over to his apartment and cooked a fabulous Panamanian dinner for us, seduced me with a Bacchata  dance lesson, and then fucked me with a carnal energy so violent that I laid in bed shell shocked and more than a little bit sore while he hummed to himself in the shower afterward. I remember thinking then that I was in for a wild ride with this guy, and I had no idea how true that was going to be.

OK, here’s the soundtrack you need for Jose: Pain by Three Days Grace.

Over the next three weeks, I got a crash course in Advanced Sexual Practices, which was not all unpleasant. But as the dynamic went from strictly kinky and adventurous to increasingly painful and dominating, I became worried. Jose did not seem concerned with what I enjoyed, instead he seemed to have an agenda of convincing me that what he liked was what I liked. And anything I said I didn’t like was guaranteed to go to the top of his Most Wanted list.

On Valentines Day he bought me a huge bouquet of red roses, a box of chocolates, and left me a sexy voice message on my phone in Spanish. And then he pinned me down during sex and told me to try to fight my way out. Later he said if the way that he preferred for me to give him head was causing me to gag that we could move to the shower in case I threw up. What a sweetheart.

The day I suggested that he was being a little too rough, he sulked and refused to have sex with me at all. I tentatively asked him if pain was, um, “necessary for performance.” He denied it, saying all women like it rough, and that I should just admit that I do, too. I asked if the scarring on his back was from being wounded while serving in Iraq. He replied that it was from the beatings his mother gave him as a child. And my concern deepened.

Having basically made myself a  set of living room drapes out of all the red flags I was ignoring, it took him actually slapping me across the face during sex for me to finally dump him. I asked my friend Goldilocks, who has been around the block more than a few times for a reality check.

“Honey,” she said, “We’ve ALL done things in the bedroom that we might not want to think about the next day. And I’m all for a little spanky spank. But I have NEVAH been slapped across the face. If I were you, I would have slapped him right back.”

To which I replied, “That’s what I think he wanted….”

When she stopped laughing, Goldilocks guffawed, “God, you sure know how to pick ’em.”

I can not argue with that.

~ Sex Kitten (with claws)