Another Atheist!

Today's Atheist is a real treat. His name is Jimmy. He' s "trying my best to live my dream of making a living in the world of professional wrestling."

Furthermore, he is very good at: "getting stressed out, saying the wrong thing, spending money, making people happy!, over thinking thinks."

If I want to go to Philly and grab a cheese steak, he thinks it would be "a fucking blast."

We are a 92% match.

As Alejandro has found Awesome, and I'm on a bit of a dating hiatus, there hasn't been much to write about. However, the 12 Days of Atheists has called me to write.

The 12 Days of Atheists is a concoction of okcupid. For all the atheists on the sites (me), they send you one other atheist per day. Hilarious. Each day I forget that I am going to have an atheist hand-delivered to my mailbox so it is always a surprise.

Today's "Match" was thin (a little Edward Norton-esque), is 33 (age of Christ), is good at "making people laugh," is new to town, quotes D.H. Lawerence, and doesn't believe in god.

Missed Connection

There's nothing that gets me more turned-on that a winter runner. I noted one just this morning, sporting his Adidas athletic pants and sensible neck gaiter. He was stretching his hamstrings against a tree, his muscles taut.

I gave him the eye once.

I gave him the eye twice.

I walked past, strutting a bit, and turned--casually--to give him the eye a third time.

Of course, nothing. Perhaps my not-so-sensible hoodie caused him to take pause. Or perhaps the fact that I was staring him down at 7 in the morning. Or maybe he was just focused on giving those sexy hamstrings a nice, long stretch...

I like to think that there is a parallel universe out there, somewhere, where Winter Runner and I are busy makin' babies...and pork chops.

"Cagney and Lacey" has been canceled

Numbers were exchanged
His attraction was alleged
Even hugs were shared

Alejandro drives
Genius mix of pop music
Bumps on the speakers

Like the apostles
Three days Alejandro waits
Rules and Resurrections

Lo, the call is made
Lo, now he must play it cool
Lo is Lauren's friend

Return call never comes
The message falls on deaf ears
Too meh to notice

And the prior girl
Was already forgotten
He's back to square one

The synchro swimmer
Cuter than any button
Returns, well sort of

Irons in the fire
They are fewer, but still hot
This dater abides

Do you like apples?

No, I haven't been holding out on you dear readers, I've just been crazy busy. But not too busy to go on a date!

I went out last Thursday with Lacey. We went to a bar I am fond of and had drinks. It was good, but not quite great. A couple things of note:

(1) I did find myself wanting to impress her, which is a great sign during a date

(2) She didn't necessarily find me as hilarious as I find me (which is ridiculous - I'm hilarious), but I was struck by some of the things she did find funny. For instance, I told me the amazing story about when I sang the National Anthem at a high school volleyball game, and the part of the story she most strongly responded to was when I began the story by saying "In high school, I was the announcer for our volleyball team." (Seriously, it's an awesome story)

(3) She refuses to watch 30 Rock because she hates Alec Baldwin. I don't know how I feel about this. I agree that Baldwin is probably a terrible human being, but he's just so damned funny.

The date ended, as I had to head to tutoring, but I did ask if I could call her, and she gave me her number (and it's her real number, which is great). We then hugged, and I gave her a smooch on the cheek. CHEEKED! BAM!

In the days since, I did call her last night and left a message. I hope she calls back. I wasn't, at the end of the date, super crazy about her, but I think it's possible that something will develop there over a couple dates. Some relationships are like pan-seared scallops: they don't take long to achieve awesomeness. Others, however, are like braised pork: they need time and some simmering before they reach their potential. But I love braised pork as much as (if not more than) I love pan-seared scallops, and so I'm happy to put in some time to see if this works.

First date: Cagney

Sunday night, Alejandro had a date with Cagney – and on the whole, I would say it went well. We met up for drinks at a bar in her neighborhood. It wasn’t too busy, it being a Sunday night, so we had an attentive waitress and almost an entire section to ourselves. After some good conversation, featuring only a few awkward pauses, I walked her back to her apartment and said the standard “I had a great time, I’d like to see you again” blah blah blah. Being the cad that I am, I of course went in for the smooch – but I got cheeked. CHEEKED! BAM! Well played, Cagney.

All told, we spent about two hours together, and on the whole I had a good time. However, Alejandro was not feeling any serious chemistry. She’s nice, she’s intelligent, she’s witty, and these are all important factors. Indeed, further items in the “pro” column include our shared love of Britney Spears and The Hills. Yet there are serious negatives as well, mainly that she’s not on the Christian/Catholic spectrum (which is important for Alejandro) and she’s a vegetarian. And anyone who has heard Alejandro extol the sublimity of bacon or the joys and travails of making pulled pork at home knows that vegetarianism, though not a deal-breaker, is at least a red flag.

I did, in the end, make it home in time for Mad Men, if barely. Did I cut the date a little short to make it home in town? Possibly. Not because it was crashing and burning, mind you, but because first dates are tricky. Chemistry isn’t always obvious on a first date – sometimes it is only there as a kernel. And in that situation, if the two spend too much time together, then it can erase some of the mystery and excitement of what might happen in a second date. Some relationships might be on fire from the get go, but others need to be stoked and encouraged a little more slowly. And a little more than an hour and a half in, I knew that this risk was real.

So then the question remains: will I in fact see Cagney again? I don’t know. I clearly indicated I would be interested in doing so while simultaneously mentioning that my schedule for the next two weeks would be crazy busy. And indeed, she seemed receptive to the idea of seeing me again, despite the blatant cheeking. So it’s a possibility.

But then again, this Thursday, I have a date with Lacey. That date is at one of Alejandro’s most favorite bars, which means there will be some major mojo in play. And moreover, I was definitely a little more interested in Lacey than in Cagney during our “intimate messaging” phases, so I am sanguine about the possibilities.

So cut to the chase kid

An urgent update
Alejandro has great news
Date tomorrow night

Yep, Cagney and I are going to a bar tomorrow night at 7:30. This has required some light shuffling of Alejandro's already busy plans for Sunday. Also, it unfortunately provides an incentive for the date to go sour - Mad Men is on at 10. Then again, they show an encore presentation at 11, so the date wouldn't need to bomb quickly.

The State of the Alejandro

Yes blog friends, I have been away. You might think it was because I was in Denver, celebrating the birthday of a dear friend (and esteemed reader of this blog). You might think it was because I'm still reeling from the bizarre, Eyes Wide Shut experience of meeting Midget Fonda. You might even think it had to do with the 7000+ students that I tutor (all of whom are taking the October SAT), or because I'm allegedly writing a dissertation/book/novel/collection of haikus. Or maybe it's because my Monopoly dream came true and I won second prize in a beauty contest - and collected ten dollars.

Well friends, in fact some of these things are true. I have been busy with what the ancient Greeks called "life." But, out of concern for your ability to waste time reading blogs while getting paid by "The Man," I have also been putting in intense labor to find NEW dates for Alejandro. Yes, I have been flogging OkCupid (which significantly raised my "kinkier/less kinky" rating) for new ladies with whom to have awkward/awesome dates.

And what has this flogging created, besides a touch of tennis elbow? Two leads. Yes, two. But I am sanguine about both of them, as one seems to share my goofy, lackadaisical attitude towards what the ancient Greeks called "life," and the other shares my taste in crappy television. Since I haven't met them yet, I don't have obvious nicknames for them...but since there are two, let's call the first one Cagney and the second one Lacey.

Cagney and I are already into the "let's go on a date" phase of online conversation, and it's just a matter of picking a neighborhood, a bar, and a time. The risk with her is I haven't actually seen a picture yet. I know, it means there's a reasonable possibility of murder or whatever, but I really liked her profile. And if she's not cute, she's probably still more attractive than the Penguin.

Lacey I have seen pictures of, and she's a cutie. In my most recent message with her, I dropped the "let's go out for drinks or dinner" bomb. Let's hope it explodes in a positive way.

So that's the state of the Alejandro, at least in its broad outlines. There are a few other feelers out there, plus some lingering things from the past, but at the moment all eyes are focused on Cagney and Lacey. Tyne Daly would be pleased.

Epic Okcupid Fail

You find a nice-looking guy on okcupid. You write and rewrite a coy message, give a compliment, and--in short--open the lines of communication. Although you can never "really" know what a guy is like from a silly on-line dating profile, you decide this guy has potential. You hit send.

Immediately, you note a little check next to his profile name. What does this check mean? You place your cursor over the check and it tells you that you have contacted this particular gent about a week ago, probably whilst drunk.

Epic fail.

Get. Hot.

In this blog post by okcupid, the writer explores the relationship between attractiveness and amount of messages received by admirers. Clearly, the more attractive users get more messages. I learned this in first grade. 2/3 of male messages go to the top 1/3 women. What I did find interesting is that women tend to rate men in the bottom 80%. I can tell you from personal experience, this is true. I'm always giving guys a 1 or 2 (out of 5) without even reading the profile (please note, the recipient of the "rating" does not learn of it, unless you rate him a 4 or above). I tend to do this mostly when I am drunk and angry or after a bad date. Regardless, I def. rate more men very lowly than high--or even in the middle. What's interesting is that even though women rate lower, we still message men that are lower on the "attractive spectrum." So, we think they are not good enough, yet we message them more than attractive men. Once again, I can say this is probably true for me as well. I tend to message guys in the average spectrum.

In short, what I learned from this article is that we're all fucked and I have to miraculously get more attractive (top 1/3) in order to get more traffic.

Those shoes are definitely bi-curious

This past week has featured some uncharted territory for Alejandro. In the wake of Houdini’s betrayal, I have gone on a binge of messaging nearly any woman on OkCupid in my local metro area, seeking anyone that might be more than 75% compatible with me. Most of them have ignored these overtures of love, but a few have responded. One of them in particular. Let’s call her Midget Fonda.

She replied to my initial message with some miscellaneous details about her dog, and then asked if I wanted to chat sometime. This was the first deviation from my usual patterns with the ladies of OkCupid; normally we exchange messages, then maybe emails, then meet in person, and finally never talk to each other again. But the day after my initial message, there we were, chatting in real time over the series of tubes.

Believe me when I tell you, dear readers, that her chat comments did not take long to get racy. You see, one of the questions that OkCupid asks is “Which is more important, cuddling or sex?” For users of this website, this question further associates these two ideas in the brain. Thus, for instance, our generally innocuous conversation about cuddling turned suddenly to her talking about sex. When you’re chatting online with a potential date whom you’ve never met, it’s a little awkward.

But, Alejandro is trying to broaden his horizons, so he was game. And the conversation might have gotten a little heated. We might have decided that Sunday evening, we would meet up for coffee. There was a strong hint that Midget Fonda would not be satisfied by coffee alone.

So the next evening, as Alejandro was at work making the world a better place, Midget Fonda started again with the online chatting. She had decided she was lonely, and really wanted Alejandro to come over to her apartment, THAT VERY NIGHT, and stay over. She wanted to be held, to cuddle, and so forth. Alejandro made it clear that (a) he does not bang on a first date (another question on OkCupid, by the by) and (b) he did not particularly feel comfortable agreeing to meet a woman whom he has never met after getting off work at midnight and then sleeping over with her. Lola can vouch for the fact that Alejandro took the sheer intensity of Midget Fonda’s interest as a possible sign that she was only luring me over so she could murder me. And Alejandro did not join OkCupid in order to get murdered.

So I talked her down, she pouted in a virtual fashion, and we agreed to meet the next morning over coffee instead. We met at one of those ubiquitous interchangeable coffee factories. Midget Fonda was certainly cute, with nice blonde hair, a beautiful smile, and a voice with the subtle intonations of the Bay Area. Also, she’s 4’10” (hence the nickname).

The actual date was, quite literally, anti-climactic. We spent an hour or so at coffee, took a little walk, sat on a bench, and then concluded there was nothing there. So, for those of you doing the math, in about fifteen hours, Midget Fonda went from reeeeeallly wanted Alejandro to come over, late at night, and agree to stay the night in the apartment of a total stranger to having no interest in even a little daytime smooch with yours truly.

And while, it’s true, we are not particularly compatible, I still could have gone for a good smooching. You see, Alejandro’s second deviation is that Midget Fonda is bisexual. Now, this is not a problem for me (you’ll understand why momentarily), it’s just different from the women I usually message on OkCupid. And, had Alejandro and Midget Fonda made out, then the ratio of women whom Alejandro has made out with who have had long term relationships with women (whether before or after their rendez-vous with Alejandro) and the women whom Alejandro has made out with who have not had long term relationships with women would be perfectly balanced. 50-50. Alas, it was not to be.

Fuck Buddies? We Say YES!

Fuck buddies can be a great source of company for the single gal/guy.

You find yourself in the situation of having someone that you like, but not enough to date. What do you do? Fuck 'em. That's what you do. You meet up, chat a bit, perhaps joke about your status as fuck buddies, and then get to it. No drama. No waiting by the phone. No wondering if he's your boyfriend, or if the second date will be as good as the first. You are there for one thing and one thing only: some action.

What's nice about your Fuck Buddy is that he is on-call. 8 am, horny? Call your Fuck Buddy. 3 pm, avoiding work? Call your Fuck Buddy. Fuck Buddy doesn't take up much of your time. You don't have to remember his birthday, or even his last name. Chances are, you won't fight. Want to try something kinky in bed? A fantasy? A toy? Fuck Buddy is there. He swoops in when you need him, and leaves when you're done.

But, be careful not to get attached. Do not become accustom to his particular brand of man-smell, or that charming laugh. Remember, in reality, your Fuck Buddy is merely a mirage in your desert of loneliness.

Make sure expectations are clear. Just as you don't want to grow attached, you don't want Fuck Buddy to suddenly start sending you roses.Keep the lines of communication open. Tell him what you want out of the relationship. Tell him what you want in bed. Don't act too eager. If Fuck Buddy calls you on Tuesday, go over. But if he calls again, on say, Thursday, make him wait a bit. Say you're not available until Saturday. The anticipation will drive him mad.

Remember to rotate your Fuck Buddies. Ideally, you want to keep at least 2 around, though this may be hard to do for the busy working gal.

Of course, any Fuck Buddy will never take you to a fancy dinner or bring you chicken soup when you're sick. Your Fuck Buddy will not snuggle you while watching D2: The Quack is Back on a Friday night. In short, he's a temporary solution. You know eventually you will grow bored of Fuck Buddy. And, that's okay...that's what he's there for.

Stuff White People Like

OkCupid has a blog that I love. It selects trends and analyzes them. Here's the latest:

Stuff Black People Like

Disappointing Guy of the Day

The 29 year old guy that doesn't know how to kiss...

Date Local

So, I can't really throw stones at Eyebrow Guy (see last post) as Friday night I had a stellar line of my own: "How old are you?" Yes, Lola in Ireland thought that this line was the perfect way to meet hot, young Dubliners.

Although this line didn't particularly "work," I did meet a young, Irish man that night. At the bar, he used some line about my American accent, and that was that...I was his for the night.

For about 1.5 to 2 hours we made out on the dance floor, chatting periodically. To be honest, it was rather filthy. I'm surprised we didn't get arrested for public indecency. Something I noted about Irish bars was the excess of PDA. People making out everywhere! Granted, there are clubs and pubs in American where this happens, but I tend not to frequent those establishments (maybe I should?). However, it does seem that most pubs in Dublin lend themselves to this type of, um, overt sexual behavior. Not a criticism. Merely, an observation.

Irish Bloke asks me on a date for the following night. I decline, as I will be going to a birthday party at a pub and--though I don't know it yet--I will be making out with Colin Farrell (see previous post). We decide to go to out on Monday.

And it is lovely. As it is my last day in Dublin, I pick what we do. In a surge of romanticism, I ask him to take me to the former jail, Kilmainham Gaol. Despite the fact we are touring a jail, somehow, Irish Bloke makes it a wee bit romantic. After the jail, we walk and talk in the rain, grab lunch, and scope out some professional photography. The conversation is easy. I am ridiculously happy. At the end of the day, he has not-so-sneakily steered me to St. Stephen's Park, where we make out like teenagers. Once again, I am concerned we will be arrested for public indecency. Irish Bloke reassures me that "it is just a park" and no one cares. I walk him to his car, and we say a sad forever farewell.

It was the best date I've been on in a long, long time. Clearly, it was enhanced by the fact that I was on vacation, leaving, and we didn't know each other long enough to piss each other off. All of this seems ideal. The sad part is that I actually liked him. But, as Alejandro and Slate point out: long distance romances are not good for the environment. Date local.

We write. It is still lovely.

Two Girls, One Line

As you know, I was recently in Dublin for a week staying with a friend--I shall refer to her as Dublin Friend.

Saturday night, we go to a pub/dance club. The night starts out slow, with some witty banter and Dublin Friend and me launching into a vigorous debate about the title of D2: The Might Ducks. At first, it appears like it will be a slow, uneventful evening. After many drinks and some dancing a nice looking gent calls my friend over (she's gorgeous btw). I force her to put her heels back on and stroll across the bar. I talk to his friend.

Dublin Friend went off with the dude and he used the following lines:

-You're gorgeous.

-You have the best eyebrows in the bar.

-You look like Marilynn Monroe.

-You look like Ingrid Bergmen.

-You're Jackie Kennedy.

-Let's get married.

Awesome lines, dude.

Later, they stroll over to me, arm around her shoulders and he pulls the EXACT SAME LINES on me--in rapid succession. Literally, I get all these lines tossed at me in one blow. I do, however, not receive the last line. Apparently, I am not marriage material; rather, I--like all American girls--look like past American sweethearts.

I don't mind him using the same lines on both Dublin Friend and myself. In fact, it is hilarious. However, I was slightly upset about the eyebrow line. I am very self-conscious about my eyebrows and to be told "they are the best in the bar" is delightful. And to learn that this line is just that, a line, took my eyebrows down a notch.

Dublin Friend makes out with Eyebrow Guy. He sings her "Man in the Mirror." I continue to chat up (and kiss) his decent looking friend. In order to indulge my own pathetic Irish fantasies, I will call him Colin Farrell. Note: He doesn't really look like C.F.

The excessive amount of alcohol clouds my judgement, and I contemplate actually going home with Colin Farrell. Bad idea, Drunk Lola. Bad idea. I decide not to, and later my friend tells me that Eyebrow Guy had told her that Colin has chlamydia. Another friend of Colin's also came up to Dublin Friend and tells her, "There's no way your friend isn't going home with my friend. But you should stop her, because he has chlamydia." That's not one, but two reports of chlamydia...

Question: Did Colin Farrell really have The Big C? Or, was this another line? Some sort of orchestrated line to either cock block (or save?) their friend...

I'm glad I didn't find out...

Utmost in your mind is success!

On OkCupid, I always check to see who has "visited" my profile. Keep in mind, visiting does not necessarily signal interest - sometimes people will look because they're curious, or because you've looked at them, or because OkCupid tells them to.

Most of my visitors are from the gigantic metro region in which I live. But recently, my reputation for awesomeness spread all the way to Bucharest, Romania. Now, on account of a recent Slate article on the environmental impact of long distance relationships, clearly I could never be serious about my little Ceaucescette.

Yet that's almost too bad, as her profile indicated she was looking for the following:

"Utmost in your mind is success!
...
You are receptive to anything new, modern or intriguing.
...
Your interests are many and you are likely to expand your fields of activities.
...
You are optimistic about the future and you deserve every success because deep down you are a 'winner'"

In fact, utmost in my mind IS success.

questions

For those readers not familiar with OkCupid, I'd like to explain the question system on the site.

Like most other sites, it has both a short answer and a stats section. The short answers are things like "Introduce Yourself," "Six Things I Couldn't Live Without," "What I'm Looking For," "My Typical Friday Night," etc. The stats are things like height, body type, age, religion, sign, whether or not you own dogs.

The real meat is in the questions. OkCupid is riddled with questions that you give your multiple choice answer to, what you would like a potential partner to answer, and how important that question is for you. There is also space to explain your answer, and you can decide whether or not to let your answers be viewed publicly.

Based on the answers and ratings and such for these questions, OkCupid assigns a % Match, % Friend, and % Enemy rating for you and any potential match you view.

All that is a mere prelude. The real goal of this post was to share my favorite question I've come across thus far: "If you were out on a dinner date with your partner and some friends, would you allow your partner to covertly play with your genitals under the table?"

No I didn't answer it...or DID I?

Dear Alejandro

Three dates and I'm out.

Seriously. I leave town for a little bit, I come back, I move into a new domicile. We make plans for her to come over the evening after I move in and help me unpack. Seems like a great opportunity to (a) hang out, (b) demonstrate my openness to her by letting her rifle through my decades of collected crap, and (c) possibly smooch. She says she'll play it by ear, but generally she's looking forward to seeing me.

I hear nothing from her all day. I'm frustrated, but I also had bowel problems that day, so I thought maybe it's for the best. The next morning I email her, with the catchy subject title "What the hell?" I try to go back to sleep.

An hour or so later, she replies, admits to being a jerk, and then says "I'm not certain I can make this work." She says she "really really enjoys hanging out with me, but she has apparently just gotten out of a serious relationship and wasn't expecting something good to happen. She says again that I'm pretty awesome, that she "despises" herself for writing a cliched email, and then says she hopes the move went well.

Some thoughts:
(1) Maybe you shouldn't be on a dating site if you don't want to date.
(1b) Maybe you shouldn't have contacted me first if you don't want to date.
(2) Apologizing for the contrived and cliched tone of the email doesn't make it any less contrived and cliched.
(3) I am really goddamn awesome, and don't want to waste my time on girls who don't recognize that - or worse, girls who do recognize that and still decide that they don't have time for me.

So she's clearly out of the picture. It's interesting, I had forgotten what impotent rage felt like - that desire, that need, to just scream at someone and make them realize what a moron they're being - but now I remember.

As per Lola's and my rules, since this relationship had been going well, I wasn't really writing about it, and certainly hadn't nicknamed her. But now I have. Say goodnight, Houdini: you disappeared on me a couple times when things were good; now I hope you disappear entirely.

It does not impress me...

that you have recently purchased a brand new BMW and are transporting it across the world from Germany to Seattle...

Pay Attention

Alright ladies of OkCupid, if you decide to message me based on my profile, here are some pointers.

(1) As the title of this blog indicates, both Lola and I are searching for someone awesome. This is largely because we are, ourselves, awesome. Thus maybe, when you contact one of us, you should not open your email with the line "i dont think your as awesome as i am !" Setting aside the (at least) five spelling/grammatical errors in this sentence, you sound like a douche. Also, by down-playing my (obvious) awesomeness, you make me wonder why you are contacting me at all.

(2) If, despite the above advice, you do decide to open with that line, do not follow it up with "lol". I can understand the obvious temptation - you have started with a jibe, and you want me to know that you're kidding. Yet, if you really did like my profile, you might have discovered that under the heading "The most private thing I'm willing to admit" I wrote "If you excessively use "lol", I will probably stop talking to you (I will definitely judge you)." Yes, I wrote excessively, so you can probably get away with a single "lol." But why push it? Why?

(3) Wrapping it all up with "hey im stephanie your very handsome" is a solid move. I am very handsome. Your continued rejection of the apostrophe is troubling, but at least you have recognized hotness when it is staring you in the (virtual) face.

I hope these few pointers will be helpful in your future attempts to "intimate message" me on OkCupid.

Ode to Douchebags

I'm not impressed that you play intramural sports four nights a week, or that you know every Red Sox baseball stat. I'm not impressed when you talk about your musical compositions. Or when make me split a $20 check, or talk about your dead grandpa. Not impressed that you hate cats, that your faux-hawk is perfectly symmetrical, or that you ride your bike everywhere.

I'm not impressed that you're in a band.

It doesn't impress me when you bust out your i-phone to show me a movie trailer, or that picture of you and a small child on your on-line dating profile. I'm not impressed that you once set couches on fire back when you were in a frat, or when you say you'll allow me to pick up the check, so as not to stifle my "female equality."

It doesn't impress me that you don't drink alcohol or eat chocolate. Or that you own two cars--one for the winter, one for the summer.

It doesn't impress me that you had a serious girlfriend in New York that you recently broke up with, that you are "still friends" with your ex's, or when you ask me if "I do this often?"

Not impressed that you're divorced, that you don't eat at chain restaurants, or that you claim to admire Kandinsky.

I'm not impressed when you drop me off at the T instead of offering me a ride home, or that your parents have money. Or when you nudge me into a debate about authentic versus inauthentic travel. Nor am I impressed that you love to "try new recipes" and are "adventurous," or that you are fashionably late.

I'm not impressed when you tell me your underwear is from Express, especially after I've just spent five minutes making fun of Express for Men. I'm not impressed by words like Marxism or dialectical or fastidious. Or puns. Or you.

just saw eclipse OR why are vampires so sexy?

I just saw Eclipse. I'm on the train going home and I'm in a tizzy. A tizzy! Love triangles. Bare-chests. Almost sex that might be so far from sex it's sex!

my left big toe was bleeding during the film (accident with door) and it made me want to be a teenage girl and have a sexy vamp suck my toe.


yea, that's right. I went there.

The Zit

Ever seen that episode of My So Called Life were Angela gets the giant zit and all she can think about is making-out with Jordan Catalano and the zit that is slowly consuming her face?

Yea, that's me right now.

the waiting is the hardest part

It's tough. I'm out of town, away from my potential lady friend. I last saw her about a week ago, and have had some limited contact since then. It frustrates me to be away, as I skipped town only two weeks into our "relationship." This should be prime smooching, cuddling, quality time. Clearly, my timing is atrocious.

A few texts have been exchanged, but it's been pretty limited. I really want to talk to her, but the near universal advice I keep getting is "play it cool."

Well, playing it cool sucks. It sucks. I know if I overdo it, I'll blow the whole thing, blah blah blah. I just sit here, in an incredibly comfortable chair, periodically checking my phone to see if I've received a message, or looking at the photo I took of her with my phone. I fawn over it. It's true. I feel like such a pansy.

huzzah

I went on an AWESOME date the other night. No one I've written about so far. A new dude. He's, in short, (prepare yourselves for a string of adjectives): funny, intelligent, attractive, a sweetheart, quirky, and passionate. He talks more than I do, which is just insane and awesome.



We went out. Had a great time. We didn't kiss, but held hands. (awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww)



I'm still going to go out with a couple of the guys I've met "in real life," so that I don't get too excited (I'm very excitable) and put all my eggs in one basket, so to speak. New dude is taking me out again early next week!!! Embarrassingly, I want to see him as much as possible before I leave for my 2 week trip. I want to get to know him better.

End. It.

The Lola Ultimate Dating Playoffs are, officially, over. I am exhausted! And, I am choosing none of the contestants. Tiger never got back in touch with me, so I'm done with his flightiness. I could go out with Patchy again, but I think I might have to kill myself before drinking more of his precious mineral water. Bean, clearly, was a flop. And Face Guy hated me.

So, onto bigger and better things...

A new sort of bracket! Recently, friend sent me this: Who is the Sexist Beast of All Time dating bracket. I think I am going to put all my energy into completing it, possibly in the form of some sort of drinking game.

Accidental Date?

So, I met this boy when I was out and about--two weeks ago. I was very drunk (damn you makers mark!). I screamed at him--loudly--that we should be friends. We exchanged digits. I meant nothing more by this transaction, than to acquire a new friend.

Second Part Digression: As depicted in THE RAM, I am a rather aggressive gal. But not only in dating, in everything. So, when I meet a new person that I really want to be friends with I can come on a little strong. Two examples. When I wanted to be friends with one of Alejandro's friend (and first follower of this blog), I vaguelly recall drunkenly screaming (once again. pattern?) that we should be bffs. Gladly, this person is really awesome, and played along and now we're friends!

Another example: Accidental Lesbian Date. I went to a lesbian block party during Pride Week. I've been known to check out the ladies, and many of my friends are lesbians and I thought it would be fun. It was super fun. However, my lesbian friends and I met a chic. I was not in any way attracted to her, but thought she was awesome. Went out of town for awhile and, upon my return, I promptly contacted Potential New Friend (PNF) because she seemed cool. PNF wanted to hang out that Sat. I said sure, whatcha wanna do? She said a late night stroll around the neighborhood. I said, why don't we do something more exciting (ie. drink). She countered with...mini-golf. It was not until this moment that I realized I had walked into a date. In retrospect, I was pretty dense. Clearly, we met at LESBIAN BLOCK PARTY and I came on strong to be her friend (calling right when I got back from vacation) and, well, in short I blame myself. I called off the "date," and we have not spoken since.

So, in short, I am overly aggressive and often naive. But in this following situation, I feel like I didn't come on too strong, etc. Check it out:

So, met this guy. Exchanged digits. He was cool and I'd consider going on a date with him, but he's probably not gonna be the love of my life. So, last night I get a text from him that says, "Wanna go to yoga with me tomorrow?" Do I want to go to yoga with a potential new friend? Of course! I love yoga! I love PNFs! Early this morning (7am) I respond: "I teach then. Another time?" Him: There is another class with that teacher on thurs from 6:15 to 7:15 (pm). also...if not let me know your teaching schedule and we'll work our date in around that!" Half-asleep, I do not read this text closely and see yoga on Thursday and think yes. Respond with: "Perfect." I fall back asleep. Why we were texting at 7 am is beyond me...

I wake up a couple hours later and re-read the text. I notice the our date part. Does this mean he thinks it is a date? Or, am I overthinking this shit? I'm okay if it is a date, but it is weird because I didn't consent to a date. So, am I in another accidental date situation? Thoughts?

Disappointing Guy of the Day

The Switch is a dating blog my friend writes. Honestly, it is one of the wittiest, well-written blogs I've come across. The Disappointing Guy of the Day posts are fucking hilarious. In high school, this friend once announced in AP English that "love is as messy as chicken wings." Enough said...

I am visiting my friend for 9 days at the end of August. Shenanigans will, inevitably, ensue. There will be guest posts on both blogs, kinda like an Angel/Buffy crossover episode. There will be disappointing guys. There will be drunkenness. There will be chaos. And, then, there will be awesome.

weirdest. date. ever.

So, last night I went out with Soul Patch. I didn't inform the readers (or Alejandro) because I was:

a. embarrassed to be going on two dates in a row
b. was feeling rather cursed

We had made plans to hang out on Thursday a couple days ago, but then I had the spontaneous no-good very bad date with Face, so I was planning on cancelling. However, I woke-up feeling refreshed and thought, fuck it, I have to see this guy through.

He took me to Little Italy. We walked around. He bought me a really nice dinner, and oodles of pastries. We sat outside at a picnic table and talked for a long time. I liked his sense of humor. He made me a laugh. A lot. We decided the soul patch is really just a hitler moustache in disguise. We talked about books and hating hipsters. I told him I "write about my dating life" (if he's smart, he'll figure out that I blog), and that I call him Soul Patch. He loved that.

The problem (and boy is it a problem): Soul Patch and I are exact opposites, and not in a good way. He owns businesses. I own cats. He is deathly allergic to cats; therefore, he doesn't like cats. Um, cats are awesome. He is this huge water snob that only drinks bottled water. I ordered tap, and he almost threw up, as I proceeded to drink as much tap water as possible--just to irritate him. He is a youth group leader in his church. I don't believe in god. He voted for McCain. Me: Obama. He drives everywhere. I take the T. He hasn't cooked a meal in three years. I cook almost everyday. He doesn't drink. I drink almost everyday. He doesn't eat chocolate, caffeine, red meat, or anything fun at all. I eat all of the above, and then some. Whenever I pointed out our differences--which I did about every 6.9 minutes--he reminded me of Paula Abdul's hit, "Opposites Attract." He's weird. Very weird. Pretentious (re: water) and possibly a total jerk. It was hard to tell. Weirdest. Date. Ever.

I always take it as a bad sign if the guy doesn't offer to drive me home, so maybe he didn't have as much fun as I did. However, he seemed to like me, so who knows! It will absolutely not go beyond another date or two, but if he asks me out again, I may go.

Whilst on my date with Patchy, Tiger called to make plans. I'm seeing him for dinner and DRINKS next Wed. or Thursday, thus ending the dating bracket. I was hoping to go on dates with all four in a week, just to see if I could do it, but he can't until next week. Three down. One to go...

awkward

Alrighty, so I shouldn't be so nervous about these things. It does not help.

Went out with The Face. He's extremely good-looking, but in this kinda wonky way. I saw him and got all excited. But, before you get your hopes up, I'll tell you right now, reader, it is not gonna happen. Here's why...

He was incredibly late (which isn't the end of the world, but coupled with everything else, bothered me). There were lots of awkward silences. Lots. He talked about ex-girlfriends and marriage/weddings a lot, so then I talked about ex-boyfriends and marriage/weddings a lot, leading to more awkwardness. I would talk about funny things (like my parents) and he didn't laugh. He's the musician type, and that's kinda all he wanted to talk about (reminding me of a particularly bad ex of mine). He travels all the time for "gigs," which 23 year old Lola would love, but 27 year old Lola finds annoying. He looked bored, leading me to get more and more nervous and ramble. He ordered food and didn't ask me if I was going to order anything. I talked about weird stuff. He was confident and smelled incredibly good, but didn't ask about my cats.

The date lasted less than Bean's date. The real kicker is that I would have stayed out later, just to see if maybe the awkward nerve stuff subsided, leading to awesomeness. But he def. wasn't interested, and when we parted, he was clearly anxious to get the fuck away from me. I think I was the Bean in the situation. I'm cool with it, because I don't want to see him again. But, regardless, that little bit of rejection isn't good for the self confidence, which has been wavering anyway.

Alejandro was wonderful, coaxing me through from a pre-date phone call and frantic texts from the bathroom. My other best male friend, I shall call him Dr. X, was also a doll via text from Chicago.

On my way home, I decided to give up on the Bracket. It is cursed. But, after a good night's sleep and some Buffy, I decided I do kinda want to give Patchy a try. He's hilarious and once he finally stopped being flaky about contacting me, it has been good. We talked, briefly, on the phone. I learned that he's had the soul-patch since high school. I told him the soul patch makes me nervous, and then quickly ended the conversation.

I've started this bracket, and I'm gonna finish it!

I have a headache today. I think its from all the talk about music...

Don't Fuck Up

Dear Dearest Lola,

You have a date with your number one seed tonight. This occurrence happened rather quickly. You got impatient, harassed the poor boy, he said pick a time and place, you said Thursday. He countered with Friday. You said, I have plans with my ladies on Friday, countering back with tonight or Sunday. He said tonight.

So, you've bathed and shaved. Watched some Buffy the Vampire Slayer to take your mind off the impending date (drinks at 9). You watched Xander's eye get fucked up, and that was unsettling, but you've shaken it off. You've thought about The Hills and how Alejandro got weepy today when Whitney left for NYC. You've eaten a carb-heavy meal, tucked away the teddy bear that lives in your bed (jic), and have oiled your hair with Moroccan oil. You're ready. But...

You're nervous as hell. And you don't know why. Perhaps because this date has so much more potential than Bean. Perhaps because the only first date you've been on in a year was with Bean, and well, you know how well that went. Perhaps you're nervous because you've come on really strong. Perhaps because this dude calls you on your shit (already); he's a straight-shooter. Perhaps because you're not really sure what his face looks like. Perhaps because he's skinny, and you've vowed never to date thin men. Perhaps because your hair is still wet, yet you sit here writing. Perhaps because you have offered to pay because he's in grad school and has no money. Perhaps because he's smart. Perhaps because he kindly emailed you the recipe for a perfect steak.

So, remember, Self, don't call him Face Guy to his face. Don't almost call him Face Guy, like the time you almost called Sister Kendra, Sister Satan during 10th grade bio. Don't get too drunk and tell him about the dating blog. You're an open book and while that is something you like about yourself, don't shoot yourself in the foot by announcing to this kid that's he's apart of some larger social dating experiment. Don't ask too many questions. Don't forget you're not fat like you think you are. Don't put all your eggs in one basket, or chickens in the hen house, or however that saying goes. Don't call yourself an alcholic or a whore. Don't talk about your ex-boyfriends, or too much about your cats. And for god's sake, Lola, don't come call him Face Guy.

That's all. Go get 'em Tiger.

Love always,

Lola

ongoing awesome

Last night I went out for date numero dos with the current lady. As I said before, I was excited but a little cautious, a little wary, about it. We went for sushi, and I arrived early. I sat there, waiting, expectant, my foot tapping faster than hummingbird wings, looking forward to the moment she moved into view in the picture windows.

She arrived, we had delicious sushi, then delicious ice cream. We walked and held hands, we might have smooched a little, and so on. In many ways, it was a lot like our first date.

I had been concerned, after some brief flakiness, that she wasn't actually into me and was trying to send hints. Indeed, the brilliant and reliable Kat Cox assessed that to be the likely situation. But she's definitely into me. I'm definitely into her. I don't feel nervous about it like I did during and after the first date; I feel really confident.

I have to skip town for a couple weeks, which will be a good trip, but the timing is unfortunate. She was definitely sad that I'll be gone, which I take as a good sign. I do think we'll see each other later this week though.

The real issue that comes now is my role in this blog. When Lola and I started, the agreement was if you're five dates in, you could bounce. But the truth is, I see real potential with this girl. You'll notice she doesn't have a nickname on this blog - it's because I don't want to think of her that way. So if I write less and less about this relationship as it develops, be happy. Besides, I will definitely contribute in other ways.

THE RAM

As an Aries, I possess the following oft-negative characteristics of stubbornness, detrimentally strong emotions, impatience, and a wily aggressiveness. As an Aries, I love to be the chaser, not the chased. For the most part, I have been the pursuer of love. I approach. I call. I ask him out on a date. I am very comfortable in this role. This, for the most part, has worked splendidly. And, then, when I am chased by a man it makes for a nice change and I feel pretty. With my last boyfriend, he was very straightforward. I asked him out (clearly). But, when the date went well, he, promptly, called me and asked me out again. That was nice.

As of late, I have been fighting my natural instincts. Be patient, I tell myself. If he doesn't call you right away, that doesn't mean anything. Particularly in the world of on-line dating. Don't be overly aggressive and scare potential awesome dudes away. I've had a strict, "they come to me" attitude in the on-line dating world. I make them do the fucking winking or emailing or high-fiving or whatever. Then, after we chat a bit, I give my number, but wait for him to call. Well, dear readers, The Ram is getting tired of waiting.

In an age of endless communication, how do you communicate? For example, Soul Patch and I have been writing and texting. After my bad phone call with Bean, I am hesitant to call. Soul Patch asked me to hang out (via text) on Sunday. I gave him dates and times. Didn't hear back. So, last night, I texted him again (something coy, but also along the lines of wtf), and haven't heard back. Patchy, I'm not playing that game. I haven't even met the guy, so it is not worth my time to wait around for him to communicate.

I'm getting tired of waiting, guessing. Maybe I'll just have to go back to my natural inclination as an Aries. Be the aggressor. Be the chaser. Hunt.

a little help from friends

Dear readers, as you know, I have been struggling with the lady situation. I have refused to give the current lady a nickname, as I actually like her and don't wish to compare her to some sort of Batman villain (as has happened in the past with The Penguin, and before her, Catwoman).

So I've talked to nearly every friend I have about the situation, and they've given me a range of advice. I even went to friend and dating columnist Kat Cox, whom I have long recommended as someone of insight. She even took my situation as the occasion for a column.

Truth is, there was some part of me that was thinking along these lines already. Not that I wanted to, but it was the case. In my brain, this girl was either (a) super busy, (b) no longer interested, or (c) dead. None of those were good options.

So on the advice of my trivia team executive officer, I texted the lady yesterday morning, letting her know I was skipping town for a bit, and seeing if she was free for dindin. Turns out, she was busy, although the reasons for that remain to be seen. We're going to sushi tonight.

I'm excited, believe me, but I'm also a little more cautious about this. Is she flaky? Will she disappear on me regularly? I like her a lot and want this to work, but I'm a little more skeptical now.

Then again, as soon as I see her I'll probably get giddy as a schoolgirl again.

First Date

Went on my date with Bean last night. Dinner and drinks. He was a really nice guy, so I'm not gonna say too much bad about him. I'm sure he'll find a lovely lady one day. However, it was clear after about five minutes that it isn't going to work. He did, however, want to hang out all night (he said something about going to Waltham to see him friends, which I thought was weird), but I went home--not wanting to lead him on. I feel a little bad, but we just weren't on the same level. I mean, when I asked him if he reads he said, "What, like, stories?"

I'm an asshole and am pretty sure I have jinxed myself through creating a dating bracket.

Dating Playoffs

In a very Ochocinco-esque move, I am making a dating playoff bracket. There are several men I've been talking to on-line and I've decided to go out with them. I've narrowed it down to 4 lucky bachelors (god i wish i could have a rose ceremony). I am going out with the first guy (and last seed) tonight. I will attempt to go on a date with all four men and then you, readers, YOU will help me narrow it down to two, and then one lucky winner. What does the winner get, you may be wondering? A second date with me.

Here is a brief summary of our contestants.

Seed 4 (Last)...BEAN

Bean and I are going out tonight. He seems like a nice enough guy, and has been very attentive via email and phone. He wrote me a sweet email, and we seem to have some in common. So, I said I would go on a date with him and then...we talked on the phone. This phone call was 40 minutes long, but--in a nutshell--boring. The most disturbing facts about Bean that I learned in this call are that he answers the phone "Buenos Diaz," which is how Alejandro answers the phone so that freaked me out because I thought I had called the wrong number, he has a weird, nervous laugh, and he has two cars. Not good, Bean, not good. Two cars?? In Boston? Really? I'm assuming this means he has money, but I'm praying there's a personality to go with the money. He works in robotics, which is a plus. He probably will not rape and murder me. I will update tonight or tomorrow about the date.

Seed 3: TIGER

Tiger is hot. Hot. Hot. Hot. Tiger contacted me first and I just about died he's so good-looking. He works as a paralegal by day, and owns some sort of photography business. Hot. Tiger and I were writing back and forth and then one day he disappeared. I waited 5 or so days and then wrote, "where did you go?" Within the hour, he wrote back that he hadn't seen the email I had last given him (with my DIGITS. MY DIGITS). I don't really buy it. Then, he told ME to call HIM. Hmmm, Tiger, I don't know about that. I don't want to have to call. I want him to want to talk to me enough that he calls me. So, we'll see. I'm gonna call him tomorrow and see if his personality matches the sexy body and boyish face.

Seed 2: SOUL-PATCH

This dude and I have been writing on and off for awhile. Short, cute emails. I contacted him because I liked his profile. Yesterday, he asked for my number and I gave it to him (Clearly, I have no problem handing out the digits, and this will probably lead to me having to get a new phone number at some point). Anyway, he texted and it was cute. He seems the most "artsy" of these guys, jeans and t-shirt, chill. Two things: He likes opera, which just seems fake and pretentious. I hate that shit. Secondly, he has a soul patch. I'm not a big fan of soul patches, but at this very moment I am watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer (the movie) and what's his name from 90210 is in it and he has a soul patch and it looks okay, so I'm taking this as a sign from god that I should give Soul Patch a chance.

Seed 1: FACE GUY

Face guy and I have only written back and forth a couple times, but man he is awesome! Great wit, intelligent, and cracks my shit up. Plus, I can tell he spends a lot of time trying to think of what to write to impress me, which I like. We were writing about meat and how I get nervous when I have to cook red meat. He sent me very detailed instructions on how to prepare the perfect steak. Cute, right? He plays trombone and is in grad school. The only thing: his pictures are a little weird. I can't really tell if his face is cute. Its that weird kind of face that could be perfect, or could just be ugly. So, I'm calling him Face Guy. I'm hoping he has a nice face to match the incredibly awesome personality.

So, are any of these 4 lucky men Mr. Awesome? Probably not. Will I have fun with them? Hopefully.

Close Encounters of the Alejandro Kind

Many of our followers might be asking, why don't Alejandro and Lola date? They both seem awesome, right? Well, in a nutshell, we have too many differences (see the Binaries post). And we're bff, which is awesome in and off itself! Awesome!

However, about once every 2 years, Alejandro and Lola get a little touchy and cuddly. This happened last night, mostly due to the bottle of gin that was shared between the two. So, for all you anxious readers, please note the every other year close encounter has past. You will have to wait two more years for the next round.

going insane

Alejandro is struggling here. He's nauseous. He's jumpy. He's easily distracted. He needs help.

See, I went on a date Monday. It was, as per the previous post, awesome. I won't go into details, but we spent hours together, had a great time, seemed very compatible, etc.

So of course, I started thinking about what to do next. I mean, if this person, this non-Penguin-y person, is indeed a possibility, things need to happen. So what would our next date be? Obviously sushi. I love sushi, and allegedly she also likes it. And one of my favorite restaurants in the city is this tiny sushi place that is super delish.

So I tried to do what I, as the man, am supposed to do. The next afternoon, I sent a brief text expressing that I had enjoyed the previous evening and was looking forward to see her again. She texted back with similar sentiments. The next evening, I called, as I had said I would, and had to leave a message. So I intimated that I would like to go out Friday (today, readers. Today). I stayed up like a nervous nelly until all hours of the night, mostly watching The Hills, but no call.

The next morning, I got an early morning text indicating we would talk soon. I texted back expressing happiness regarding this. But I did not hear from her that night. On roommate's advice, I went ahead and called that night. Left a message.

Since then, nothing. It's nearly 5pm on Friday, dear readers. 5PM! How am I to make plans for tonight? It's maddening. Not so much because I think she's not interested - I think she is - but because I want to see her. I want to spend time with her. Blerg.

breaking news...

...Alejandro may have found Awesome....more on this as it develops....

the penguin

So the first date from okcupid was last night. You might think, based on my blogging late Saturday morning that it went well. Perhaps we went out for drinks, maybe dessert, took a long stroll through scenic Boston, and then happened upon my apartment, or perhaps even hers. Maybe one of us invited the other inside for a nightcap, and with all our roommates conveniently out of the apartment, we sat on the couch, talked, and slowly inched closer to one another. Perhaps our animal instincts overwhelmed us, and we made out furiously, moved to the bedroom, and did that thing adults sometimes do.

You might think that. It makes sense. This blog is about being In Search of Awesome, and the above scenario does indeed sound awesome.

What actually happened, however, diverges from the scenario above precisely after the "we went out for drinks" part. We did in fact get drinks at a bar that was mutually convenient to both of us and had a fine beer selection. Thankfully, her posted photos online were accurate enough that I was able to pick her out of the crowd waiting outside, yet they were still very complimentary photos. She was not attractive. Obviously, this is a risk with online dating, indeed dating in general, but it need not be the marker of an unpleasant night. I have had plenty of fun with unattractive people in my life, and I hoped this would be an exception.

Sidebar: have you ever seen the movie Shallow Hal? With Jack Black? I don't ask because it's a good movie and I think you should watch it - both those claims are false. But the premise is that Jack Black's character, the titular Hal, is cursed (blessed?) by Tony Robbins to see people as who they are inside, not what they look like outside. He ends up dating an enormous woman who is a fantastic human being because he's not blinded by his titular shallowness.

The girl from last night, had she been in that movie, would have looked exactly the same regardless of the curse. She was a cold fish, negative, in no way funny, judgmental, and all around unpleasant. By the time I had received my beer from the always courteous waitstaff, I wanted to leave. Sadly, I had a full hour left to go. She had a tongue ring, which 24 year old me would have giggled over, but 29 year old me has (largely) moved past.

Sidebar 2: Have you ever seen Batman Returns? It was the second Tim Burton Batman film, which I think underrated. For villains, it features Michelle Pfeiffer as Catwoman and Danny DeVito as the Penguin. Last night's girl was basically the lovechild of the Penguin, both body and soul.

The only real solace from last night was the afterparty, with friends (including dearest Lola), and the satisfaction that her night went better.

first. date.

First date tonight! Of the handful of women I have been messaging on the interwebs about the possibilities of snuggling, one of them has decided it is a great idea to meet me in real life. We're meeting up for drinks at a bar nearish Fenway tonight.

I am a mix of emotions about this. One, I am not super into her. She's the one I talked to on the phone for a little bit last week, and it was ok. It was good enough that I'm open to meeting her in person, but still, I'm not convinced. Also, I have general first date nerves. I talked to a friend last night about wardrobe, and I'll be going with a simple pair of jeans and button down shirt, probably of a different shade of blue (allegedly this brings out my eyes).

Blerg

here we go here we go

Found hottie on match. Broke my "make them come to me rule" and approached with a double whammy: email and a wink. Email AND A WINK! C'mon, this has gotta work!

I Have Got No Service in the Club, Part 2

I am not excelling at this on-line dating thing. At first, I was super popular, lots of traffic, a phone number or two, asked on a date or two. However, things are slowing down.
I believe there is so sort of cruel on-line dating karma that has, as a result of my hesitance, slowed down the traffic to my profile

For example, this one dude asked me out. We've been writing back and forth, so it seemed like the logical next step. Nothing weird about it. This is, afterall, a meat-market. But, I feel like I don't want to go out with him now for silly reasons. For one, he lifts weights, and that irritates me. His name is weird. I also feel like I don't know him well enough to go out with him; however, isn't that the point?

Another guy gave me his number and told him to call, but I have not. Pussy.

I have got no service in the club

So, more or less, I have been corresponding via the interwebs with five different women. But really, I think we've narrowed down the current crop of okcupiders to two. One of them, who strikes me as refreshingly aggressive, went ahead and gave me her digits. So we talked on the phone the other night.

It was alright. I was not blown away, and it wasn't particularly fluid or easy conversation. However, it was my first time talking to someone I've never met, and there is the constant subtext of "this is someone I might want to get with."

Also, there was a strange moment where she asked me if I knew a certain person (I do). She asked me what I thought of this person (I said I was not that person's biggest fan). She told me it was a test. I asked if I passed. I did. We then agreed this person was kind of a douchebag.

No, don't get me wrong, I'm always happy to find new recruits in the "person x is a douchebag" army, but this seemed like a strange thing to bring up fifteen minutes into a conversation with someone you've only known virtually. On some level, I find this unsettling.

Clearly, we have to meet in person. (a) it's possible something could come of this, (b) it's possible it could go hilariously bad, which would be a gift to the blog, and (c) I am on a constant search for catharsis or closure. Either will do, really.

Sidebar: the other girl, I gave her my number, as we have a shared love of whiskey, and whiskey appreciation is definitely something I find attractive in a woman.

binaries

The concept of binary oppositions is fascinating, and look for them wherever I go. Theoretical opposites rule. One of the aspects of this blog that most excites me is the binaries between the two contributors. Alejandro is a Republican, Catholic male. I, in contrast, am a hard-core liberal, atheist lady.

This morning on okcupid Alejandro's little face popped up as someone I "might be interested in." This is intriguing, as I answer all the questions with the fact that political and religious compatibility is important to me. Foiled again.

Map of Love

Whilst drinking last night, I decided to team-up and do okcupid too. It is free. It might be a lot to manage 2 profiles, but I think I can hack it while I don't have a lot of work to do. On okcupid, there is this geography portion, "map of love." Which sounds stupid. And is stupid. According to the Love Map, my worst state to find a mate in is Ohio (good thing I'm from Ohio) and the best is Hawaii. My worst country to find a mate is Lebanon, and my best is Israel. Really, okcupid?? What about America?

Officially on-line

In a drunken moment, I signed up for Match.com. Let's see what happens....

spamtastic

Well, it was only a matter of time. It always happens with craigslist. It's a regular feature of my real (secret) inbox. And now it's a fact of my experiment on okcupid.com.

I have been spammed.

Thrice spammed, in fact.

These spammers think they are clever. They add my profile to their "favorites," which naturally boosts my self esteem. I like the idea that I might be someone's favorite.

They have cute names, like "Kayla," followed by a number and some junk consonants. And when I click on that name, in hopes that maybe, just maybe, "Kayla" will be my favorite too, I am told there is no such account. Nothing. She's an electronic ghost, haunting my attempt to date virtually.

Fuck you, spammers. Go back to Nigerian bank fraud. Steal my money, but don't try to steal my heart.

"Intimate" Messages

I have been on okcupid for nearly three days now. Typically, this would mean I am less than 72 hours away from giving up entirely on this set and telling it to go screw itself.

But that might not be the case this time. You see, in this short period of time, I have already "intimate" messaged two members, both of whom have responded. And those responses did not include even a subtle "go fuck yourself". Which is awesome.

In addition, two other members have independently messaged me. ME! They saw my profile and said "hey, he looks like a cool dude, I want to hear what his deal is." They want to hear my deal.

Lastly, another member winked at me. WINKED! As though we are in a bar and she wants to get on my junk! Oh online dating, what a wondrous world you are! Unfortunately, her profile did nothing for me, and a wink is not the four-on-the-floor intensity of an "intimate" message, so she's out. So it goes.

So things seem to be going well, at least so far. Hopefully soon one of these will materialize into a real date.

OK, okcupid.com

Late last night I finally caved and started an account on okcupid.com. One of my classmates found success with it, so what the hell, I'll give it a try. Most of my online dating efforts have been directed through the craigslist personals, largely due to cheapness. But really, that has only brought me spam and heartbreak.

I thought I'd made a connection with one girl, we seemed to be on the same page, but she adamantly refused to send me a picture of herself, even after we'd gotten to the text message stage. THE TEXT MESSAGE STAGE. I mean, that's a meaningful part of the online relationship, right? It means she had my phone number. She could probably have tracked me down with gps or something. I was vulnerable. Oh well. Good riddance.

So far, okcupid seems to be answering a lot of questions and trying to explain yourself. It's interesting so far. I still need to fill out some of the more "essay" type questions.