People, People, People: On-line Dating


My screening process is relatively simple:

  • No to the guy whose profile includes a mirror-reflection-you-can-see-the-camera picture. If he doesn’t have any friends who want to hang out with him who can take his picture then I certainly don’t want to hang out with him.
  • No to the guy whose profile includes a picture of his flexed bicep in profile. I guarantee, I don’t like protein shakes enough for him.
  • No to the guy whose profile includes a picture with his shirt off. Hello, line between cocky and conceit, you’ve just been crossed.
  • No to the guy who can’t manage to find a picture without part (or all) of his ex-girlfriend. If he doesn’t know why this is inappropriate he’s too stupid for me.
  • No to the guy over 40 or under 31. I’m too old for bullshit and too young to be a widow.
  • No to the guy with a porno ‘stach. Needs no explanation
  • No to the guy with a large crucifix over his bed. If he has any relationship with God he will be disappointed in my lack thereof.
  • No to the guy who lists his interests as “hittin’ the bars with [his] boys.” I will just disappoint him.
  • No to the guy willing to mention his preferred sexual positions in his “about me” section. Can’t we just be a little mysterious.
  • No to the guy shorter than 5’10” (shut it, Caroline). No other reason than I’m a snob, a 5 foot 4.5 inch snob.
  • No to the guy who loves my dogs because he spent the last decade in a correctional facility. I’m trying to move away from the stereotype thank-you-very-much.

I’m on-line the other day looking through my daily matches, clearing out the messages from guys I’m potentially interested in and guys suffering from one or all the above and up on the screen pops a message:

(insert douchey screen name) wants to chat with you

I click on the box to see what DoucheyScreenname has to say and wait for the chat window to connect properly. He messages that he thinks I’m pretty, likes my profile, thinks I should message him back if I’m interested but also if I’m not interested so he doesn’t waste his time. All of this being perfectly reasonable, I continue to wait for the connection.

Connection Failure

Oh. Hm. Well, I can’t write him back to thank him for his message and also let him know that as he has a porno ‘stach he can move right along. But in the grand scheme of things it’s a small message in a chat window so he will survive the lack of reply.

Boy, was I wrong. Before my computer even had time to tell me the connection failed he wrote again. This time to tell me that he thought I was pretty shitty for not being mature enough to send him a message and let him know that I wasn’t interested. I’m just another stuck up broad and it is “sooooooo rude” to ignore him.

Connection (still) Failure

Coward

Connect already, computer!! I was frantic to reply to this guy.

Toilet

Now that does it, Asshole…I found his profile and sent him a private message.

Dear Tragic and Desperate,

On the off-chance that I were interested in entertaining you as a potential match your persistent douchebaggery made me reconsider. I can not apologize that the delay in contacting you was related to my computer failing to properly connect as it saved me the trouble of rejecting you by doing it for me.

I am contacting you now to let you know that I am concerned about your quest for a love-match. It is obvious that you do not know how to speak to a lady in whom you are interested and I worry that you may attract the wrong type of woman with this approach. I do not think you should communicate with human beings until such time as you learn how to be one yourself. Best of luck.

Very truly yours, Toilet

I worry about that guy and his chances of finding love. But later he apologized for calling me a toilet, he’s bipolar and was having a mood swing. He really thought I was great for getting in touch even if I wasn’t interested and he was heading off to watch porn and cry because I thought he was repulsive. So, I think he’s going to make it.

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Bonnie Raitt Taught Me Everything I Need to Know About Love


I may have mentioned a time or two before that my father took me to see the New Kids on the Block for my birthday when I was in the 4th grade. It was the coolest thing ever. I wore my lavender sweatshirt that had each of the boys faces in a metallic screen print across the front. I can’t imagine that I looked anything less than cool.

Sometime shortly thereafter my musically inclined father took matters into his own hands and started introducing me to real music by real musicians. By the 6th grade, Bonnie Raitt had taught me everything I would need to know about falling in love, being in love, and knowing when to let it go.

I had a date Friday night with a guy I’d been chatting with for a few days. I was really looking forward to the date and nervous as hell. By all conversations, I knew him to be funny, quick-witted, down to earth, active, and a dog-lover. I knew on some level we’d have a nice time regardless and we did…

…but sparks??

…nope…nada…

Old Megan would push through, try again, fit a square peg into a round hole. I would let myself feel guilty for not being able to drum up excitement about this really nice guy. I’d feel mean and shallow and force myself to continue to go out with a guy I did not like. 

*I dated the Black-hole of Happiness for 2 years doing this before*
*It was a TERRIBLE decision*

But not this time. Nosirreebob. As my Bonnie taught me:

You can’t make your heart feel something it won’t.

I could try again, go on a second date, and see if something could grow. But I’ve met people before where the connection has been immediate and electric. I owe it to myself to be free to find that. I owe it to Friday-night-guy to let him find it, too.

So really, I’m doing everyone a favor here…DAMN! I’m selfless…

Bonnie Raitt also taught me that in order for my father to sit through a concert of NKOTB with me when *this* existed – meant his love for me was absolute!

How Do I?


My climbing partner has done it again…he has *abandoned* me again for 6 weeks while he’s off to somewhere exciting to do math. He did this to me last year, too. Last year I survived by not climbing or (cringe) bouldering (cringe). Not this year, not this stinking year. It’s the eve of climbing Friday and I wonder how I’ve done this before. How do I take my life, tie it to a rope, and hand that rope to someone new and untried.

It starts with trust. You. Must. Trust.

So it does, Self, so it does.

First, I trust myself. I trust my ability and my judgement.

Next, I trust my partner. A little at a time; first where I know I can succeed then where I think I can succeed.

Finally, I trust even where I am sure I will fail and hope and pray my trust in me and my trust in him is enough to see me through.

Leading at the Gunks

I’ve done it again…I’ve decided it’s time to put myself out there, see what the world has to offer me, and soothe my lonely heart. It’s the eve of a new date with a new stranger and I wonder how I’ve done this before. How do I take my heart, put it on my sleeve, and share it with someone new and untried.

It starts with trust. You. Must. Trust.

So it does, Self, so it does.

First, I trust myself.

Next, I trust my partner.

Finally, I hope and pray my trust in me and my trust in him is enough to see us through.

photo by Emily Varisco

People, People, People: The Fudgsicle


Yeah, him again.

The goddamned Fudgsicle that wouldn’t go away. It’s like he’s not a fudgsicle at all but the gum on the bottom of my shoe.

I know the whole “fool me once…” bit. I do. So it’s pretty obviously not even his fault that he’s anywhere near my shoe.

After the climbing and the other guy thing, it was radio silent for quite a while. Then the whole Facebook + LongLostMother thing happened. People deserve a chance to right wrongs and change perceptions you have of them, don’t they? He seemed to want to do that, I clearly still had an interest in him as a person, and the choice to put him in or take him out of my life was mine. I sent him a message and told him about the happenings of my life and…well…he surprised me by his genuine happiness and excitement for me. He was, kinda, amazing. I mean, of course he was amazing, I was in love him with him for-damn-near-ever because of what an amazing person I knew him to be.

We’d been chit-chattering back and forth; encouragement about the happenings, jokes about my terrible driving, motivating peptalks to jog daily, occassional mentions that he thought we should hang out some time which I ignored because I’m still hoping for my Matthew.

Maybe it’s that the last box is unpacked; maybe it’s that I’ve been working out and the endorphins are kickin’ in; maybe it’s that I’ve enjoyed all the chit-chattering, so I say “We really should hang out!” His reply, “Yeah?! What are your plans this weekend?” “Nothing really. I’m all unpacked and settled so just hanging out with my girls.” “Great! We should go climbing. Is Saturday or Sunday good for you?” “Either work for me, afternoon is better.” “Sunday is best for me.” “Great! See you then.”

<Enter Inner Monologue> What are you doing, Meg? Why did you contact him? What do you want? Are you looking for friendship? Are you hoping for more? I don’t want to be his climbing friend, I know that much, so what do I want?

But then…seemingly out of nowhere…

I’ll have to see how my finances look. I just put money into my car so I’ll have to see if I can swing it.” (It = $17 day pass which he knows I can waive for him)

Uhm, we don’t have to go climbing. We could hang out, take the dogs to a park, whatever really.

Ok. We’ll see.

Ah, yes. There is it – the dismissal.

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, shame on me.

Fool me thrice by being a supportive friend during one of the biggest life events to date only to dismiss me as soon as I return the sentiment of hoping to see you again, I need to get my freaking head examined.

PS – In case you were wondering, I know you are…I haven’t heard from him since before the weekend he asked about

PPS – Don’t feel sorry for me. I am an idiot. I am just making myself accountable to someone(s) for my idiotic behavior.

I. Met. Someone.


 

BREATHE

You may remember I got my heart broken.

You may then remember there was a guy, The Voice. He was there and I was there and we weren’t looking for a “thing” but we wanted some companionship but only when it suited and emotions never suited so it was business, strictly business…er, not in a money exchanged hands way, though. But that was fine. That was all I wanted because relationships = bad and labels = bad and marriage = stupid and all those things I thought I wanted, once upon a time, were silly.

Then you may remember the psychic and the dark object and my revelation that I was getting in my own way.

So then, remember, I got that message from the heart breaker and we met and it was nice.

Okay…now that we are all caught up…

Let’s go back to how nice it was to be apologized to for wrongs done. At the time, I didn’t know how nice or what it would all mean but that’s the way of it…things happen as they will when they will and we see the lesson when we are ready because that is how life works…

The apology crept inside to the bitter, fractured pieces of my heart that I allowed to ooze poison and it drew out the venom, I knew I’d been keeping myself from being open. Not only do I NOT think that relationships are bad, labels are bad, and marriage is stupid…they are the only things that I think this life is worth living for. They are the only things that I have ever thought this life was worth living for. Judge me how you will for thinking love is the thing we should all strive for but it is the truth. At the very least, it is my truth.

Don’t get me wrong, I am a strong, independent woman. I can, and have for a very long time, take(n) care for myself. But without someone to share life with, it just all seems so sad and hopeless.

Sad and hopeless have been done. I am ready to move on.

I looked around and took stock and realized, I had the dreaded feelings for The Voice but that was simply not going to do. In the words of Barney Beagle:

“He is not my boy. Anyone can see that!”

… … …

Caroline, let’s get dressed up and go out! I’m ready to meet people!

So, er, where do people go?

We realized that we didn’t know where to go because we are not people, we are homebodies. I don’t do clubs, I do rock gyms and dog parks and I certainly don’t need to look cute to go there.

Because I am one damn sexy climber

While nibbling on a delectable homemade pizza a few Thursdays ago the night found us…er, Caroline…creating a profile on Match.com.

No comments from the peanut gallery on the extra half-inch I claimed (Mary Jo, shut it!)

BREATHE!

There, I said it. I went to Match.com and I begged the internet Gods to go forth and find me a man who met my qualifications (tall, athletic, intelligent, loves dogs). I’ve got all the time in the world to peruse and pick and choose and find someone who works for me. Why not? I’ve spent all this time doing it wrong anyway…

The next day at noon I got an e-mail from Matt.

That Sunday we met for lunch at 2pm at a local diner. We talked and smiled and laughed so hard we cried and at 7:30 we asked the waitress for dinner menus.

…swoon…

I met someone. A pretty great someone.

And if he turns out to not be the someone for me then I will be glad for my 6-month membership and my openness to finding my match.