This week\u2019s highlight in dating text exchange:<\/p>\n
Him: \u201cI saw you this weekend!\u201d<\/p>\n
Me, genuinely curious: \u201cReally? Where?!\u201d<\/p>\n
Him:\u00a0 \u201cIn my dreams. You don\u2019t remember?\u201d<\/p>\n
Me, annoyed: \u201cWas it the one where aliens ate my homework and I show up at school in my pajamas or was it the one where all my teeth fall out?”<\/p>\n
Him: …<\/p>\n
I guess two can\u2019t be the comedian, but I hate playing the straight man.<\/p>\n
I can, however, be completely serious when necessary and it is with that sentiment that I tell you after months of real, full-time effort put into online dating, that: I HATE IT.<\/p>\n
Oh, and I am certainly not alone.<\/p>\n
\u201cDepressing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWaste of time.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBullshit.\u201d<\/p>\n
Those are just some of the adjectives I\u2019ve been given by friends who are also looking.\u00a0\u201cI just feel so defeated!\u201d That was an unprovoked text I received just last week from a friend who never thought she\u2019d be looking for love after having been married some 20 years, but there she was. There I was. There WE are.<\/p>\n
Not only are we dealing with cases of incompatibility\u2014I mean that would be completely understandable, but what is emerging is something more than that, something totally unacceptable.<\/p>\n
Example.\u00a0 Let\u2019s talk about my last batch of matches. They were absolutely unbelievable. I mean, literally.<\/p>\n
A widowed Lieutenant Colonel stationed in a secret location to be revealed to me at a later date.<\/p>\n
A widowed (a theme?) surgeon from Beverly Hills who doesn\u2019t know how to spell.<\/p>\n
A jet-setter who looks just like David Beckham, so much so that I Googled images of him only to confirm that, yep, those were pics of David Fricken Beckham.<\/p>\n
The frustration is enough to make me want to go dark, and so I do. That is until my mean case of FOMO (fear of missing out) gets the best of me and I log back on. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Ridiculous.<\/p>\n
The whole experience is enough to not only callus your finger but your soul. I get a Pavlovian response of revulsion that washes over me when I come face-to-screen with a new match. Yep, the thrill of yesterday\u2019s What-Ifs have taken a back seat to today\u2019s Probably-Nots.<\/p>\n
Just picture Patty and Selma, Marge\u2019s sisters from “The Simpsons” sitting before a computer, cynically judging the prospects on the screen while blowing out cigarette smoke. OK, I exaggerate. I don\u2019t smoke, but rumor has it those two cartoon characters chose a life of celibacy.\u00a0\u00a0 Smart move gals, smart move.<\/p>\n
Coming to the conclusion my subscription to online dating sites was becoming another bad habit, I decided to delete them. I was surprised to find that this was very hard to shake. I mean, I scroll, man. It\u2019s what I do. I scroll to maneuver through my social media and peruse my friends\u2019 photos. I scroll to make purchases. I scroll to read the news and, historically, I scroll to look for Mr. Right.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s been my digital destiny and it seems the prevailing way, isn\u2019t it? I just don\u2019t know anymore. I do know one thing for sure. The lack of mutual interest has left me discouraged and bored and with that, I got off the sites.<\/p>\n
A weight was lifted and I thought perhaps that I might find some contentment in my surrender, then it happened. The very next day, whilst taking my lunchtime stroll down by the shore, I noticed a couple. They looked in the early stages of love; giggling, holding hands, being nice to each other. You know, that lovers-stagger, the zig-zag saunter; drunk in love.<\/p>\n
As they passed, I looked at my coworker and made a pretend spit noise while saying “Gross.\u201d We laughed and continued on our way when we passed another happy couple. After they passed, and I was sure they couldn\u2019t see me, I flipped them the bird. As we approached our office building I noticed, and I kid you not, another happy couple at which time, I simply said \u201cEwwww,\u201d and raised my arms to the sky in surrender. Laughter gave way to a smile. A lingering smirk suddenly sparked uninvited memories of romances gone by and it felt good.<\/p>\n
What can I say? I’m a sucker for love.<\/p>\n
And now, just around the corner is Valentine’s Day, and as a woman challenged with romantic love I know I’m supposed to hate this holiday.\u00a0 Yes, yes, it’s birthed by consumerism, it’s cheesy and dumb, but guess what? I don’t hate it. I even kind of love it.<\/p>\n
Problematic experiences in the love department will not extinguish my thirst for romance. I’m in love with love, always have been. When I was a kid I used to play Strawberry Shortcake and I remember the thrill I would get when imaginary Huckleberry Finn was coming over.\u00a0 My Barbi always had a Ken. (please note I had the cheap Barbi from Pic n Save with the hollowed plastic feet that I would inevitably chew off, but Ken loved her nonetheless). I even pretended that the banana in my lunch bag was dating the string cheese.<\/p>\n
I did that.<\/p>\n
I KNOW.<\/p>\n
Adorable, huh?<\/p>\n
Creepy, maybe?<\/p>\n
Well, that’s me and I can\u2019t stop. I won\u2019t stop searching, even if it takes me back into the bowels of the dark web.<\/p>\n
That’s right, sign me up. Again.<\/p>\n
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