Well, it’s officially one month since I’ve joined the world of online dating. I have received messages from–and I am not making this number up–198 men. Their ages ranged from 20 to (gulp) 60. Nine men I carried on conversations with, five materialized as far as some sort of meet-up in person. One resulted in me receiving a photo in which the guy was not wearing pants (eek). And this is what I have to say about it:
I have no idea what the hell I am doing.
The best way I can describe this is to say that I feel like I am standing alone in the middle of a football field at night. There is a deafening noise of the lights kicking on; yet the stands are empty. It’s so dark, and so chilly, but so bright. I’m blinded by the cold white light.
And while I may be on a football field, I am wearing a baseball uniform. But instead of carrying a bat and catching mitt, I’m equipped with a hockey stick and a bowling ball. Instead of a field goal at the end of the field, there’s a basketball hoop. The scoreboard is lit up, and the score reads:
But I don’t know if I’m the home team, or the visiting. Hell, I don’t even know who the competition is, for Chrissakes. What game is this? What are the rules? What the hell am I supposed to even do? And every single time you talk to a new guy, it changes. You talk too much, you talk too little. You text too much, you text too little. You open up too much, you’re a complete mystery. You offer to pay your way, you’ve offended him; another looks as if he expects you to. You offer to pay tip; one declines, another accepts. At the end of the date you hear, “Let’s do this again sometime,” but you’re not sure if it is just a formality or if it’s truly meant that–really!–let’s do this again sometime. Should you text? Or do you wait for him to?
It’s all so very confusing.
However, there are a couple of common themes I’ve noticed on these get-togethers. One is how much water I drink. I never knew so many people noticed it. I drink a lot of H2O, I’ll admit. Running does that to you. But it’s worse when I’m nervous. I even drink like a gallon before I go out with someone. It is one thing I really wish no one mentioned, because I’ve got no cover for it. I mean, who wants to admit they are so nervous about a coffee date?
Another seems to be teasing me. My height is fairly common target. And I’m not sure why. 5’3″ doesn’t seem to be all that short, I don’t think. It’s not like any of these guys were freakishly tall… well, one guy was 6’2″, but this exchange made me laugh:
ME: You know, I almost didn’t message you.
MY DATE: Really? How come?
ME: Because you’re tall. I’m intimidated by tall men.
MY DATE: Wait a minute… aren’t you 5’3″?
ME: You remembered that from my profile?
MY DATE: Yes.
ME: But yeah, I am though.
MY DATE: Well then… isn’t everyone taller than you?
That one… I gotta give it up. It was pretty funny. I liked that guy. I like a man that can make me laugh. And who knows what I did on that one, because I would have liked to have seen him again. Maybe I came out the gate too fast. Maybe there was a better competitor. Maybe I should have played it cool better. Maybe I was a gigantic pain in the ass from the get-go. Maybe this, maybe that. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Who knows? I liked the guy I went out with tonight, but I couldn’t tell if he was interested or couldn’t wait to get the hell away from me.
I could sit here and analyze this. I really could. I am female. And, as my friend Mallory so eloquently put it, “We all do that! That’s why we’re girls.”
And she’s right. But I’m not going to. Instead, I’m going to crack open another beer, and gear up to enjoy the Bears game tomorrow. I’m kind of into Jay Cutler and his sexy neck beard. That light brown hair, his sideburns, those pretty blue eyes…
And I like the idea of watching a game that has rules, a game that I can follow. And that doesn’t include me being a contributing member. I’m more than okay just sitting in the stands for this one. Because I’m happy to just chill with a beer in hand and eat some nachos.
And besides… 5’3″ is too short to be a football player, anyway.