It all started one day when I was bored and surfing the net. There’s a limit to how long a single woman can go without testosterone seated across the table. That limit varies per female and per her appetite… for whatever. I’ve posted profiles on my fair share of dating sites. Admittedly, that “harmony” website was far too intense for me. Yes, I know. I’ve been told I should approach dating like I would approach securing a job. Well, I dress appropriately and I put my best foot forward. What more do you want? If my potential mate came with the assurance of six figures and profit sharing, I would subject myself to more of that question-answering and chemistry-badgering. The difference between a relationship and a job? Monetary income. Direct deposit that’s timely, not sporadic. Predictable. Consistent, neither subject to feelings nor attitudes or whimsical nature. Is that enough? I don’t think I’m totally off base. I mean, doesn’t everyone take a certain type of job because they know what they’re getting? Would you take a job that required extensive travel if you don’t like flying?! Seriously. Well, isn’t it pretty much the same with men? Don’t worry. That’s rhetorical.
Case in point. As I was surfing said website, not the harmony one, but another piscine one, I came across a picture of a guy. Guy referred to himself as a southern gentleman. Oooh… I like… I’m down with it. I dropped him a line and we commenced to communicate via email. I guess he liked what he saw and my grammar gave him goosebumps. We exchanged numbers and then played phonetag for two days. He was getting frustrated; I could tell. Dude. It’s the weekend. (Somebody shoulda told him. Wait. I did. My profile specifically states, I do not sit around twiddling my thumbs waiting for you. Whatever.) On Evening 3, as I snuggle up on the sofa to watch a new dvd release that I could not catch at the theater, I send him a text asking if he’s free to talk before I begin my movie. I know once the movie begins I will NOT want to be interrupted. He responds instantly, “Why don’t you come and watch the movie over here?” Wait, WHAT? I swear my fingers typed it faster than Superman changed in that damn telephone booth. Faster than Antwon Dodson was autotuned. Faster than J.Lo dropped two babies out her womb, divorced Marc Anthony and made a comeback. My eyes stared intently at the screen of my cellular device as my mind raced reminding myself that I was not crazy… I had only been communicating with old dude for three days… and I had “met” him on a dating website. See, this is where the straight-laced, judgementals break out their ‘told-ya-so’s. You told me what? That I shouldn’t meet a man for dating on a website? HOW ABOUT NOBODY SHOULD MEET ANYBODY THEY CONTACT ON A WEBSITE, MALE OR FEMALE, for the first time in a NON-PUBLIC PLACE? That’s internet 101. That’s not just me, or a thousand others who engage in internet dating, you twit. That’s also you… as you purchase something on ebay from someone who lives 10 miles from you and offers to drop it off at your house and you so stupidly incline… Don’t you dare judge me. And, yes, I am on one. When, he finally replies and says, “My house.” I have three words for him. No, they are not “Go eff yourself.” They are, “I don’t know you.” Oh wait. That’s four words. Yeah, I probably meant the first one and he probably heard it in my text-voice too. Cuz now, I’m pissed that you would even ask me to come to your place, a single female, living in L.A. that you met three days ago on the blankety-blank.com. I don’t care how “nice” I look on my pics. I could be a serial killer. I’ve already assumed you’re one. So, why not me? <Text Silence> I watch my movie and turn in for the night. Safe and sound.
The next morning my phone rings. It’s him. Albeit earlier than my sleepy eyes can adjust to the name that scrolls across the screen, I answer in my most polite voice possible. Because, of course, I misunderstood his intentions and he wants to apologize, right? He’s a southern gentleman, right? In my best Trey Songz voice: Leg-go… After the formalities of him telling me how hard it is to catch up with me (which I NEVER understand… cuz you have me now, and in ten seconds you won’t have me if you keep this ish up!) he says, “So what’d you do last night?” Problem #1: You don’t listen. Me: Uhhh… I… watched… a movie. Him: Oh, yeah. You coulda come over here and watched it. Problem #2: You’re daft. Me: Yeah… um… I don’t really know you like that. Him: What? I live in a gated community. Problem #effing 3: You’re a moron. Me: (subtext: You could live on the white house lawn…) I still don’t know you like that. Him: What do you think I’m a serial killer or something? Bingo. <Silence> Him: So can we meet for coffee? Okay! Now, you’re acting like a civilized person, not someone who hasn’t had sex in 6 months and is trying to get a stranger over to your house under the guise of “watching a movie.” Me: Sure… where would you like to meet? Him: Well, I live in such-and-such. <Silence> Me: Well, there are a million Starbucks between where I live and such-and-such. Are you suggesting that I drive to such-and-such? Him: Yeah. Me: No, thank you. Him: Well, why don’t we go to the movies? (HUH? Did you just pull the switch-up on me… cuz now it’s a bit humorous. But, I’ll humor you.) Me: Sure… which movie theater? (He suggests a movie theater near his house. Oh boy! This is even better than I thought.) Me: I live in the valley. So, can we go to this movie theater instead? Him: Well, why can’t we go to this theater? Me: Cuz that’s 25 miles from my house. Him: But, it’s half-way. Me: It’s our first date. Him: Well, I might as well meet you at a Starbucks around the corner from your house. REALLY?! Me (with a totally straight face): There’s one on such-and-such (which is literally five blocks from my house) #subtext: a**hole. <Silence> Him: Well, why can’t we just go to the movies over here? Me: THINKING – For the same reason I wouldn’t come to your house last night. SAYING – You know, this isn’t going to work. Him: Yeah, I don’t think so. Me: Best of luck to ya. *End call* <Deuces> You with me so far? Good. That’s not the best part.
Fast forward to… well… to today. I get a “wink” from the same guy on ANOTHER website. This is too hilarious to be true. So, I check out the profile. It is DEFINITELY old dude. Short memory men. (Not all, just… some.) I chuckle. At least he likes what he likes. I pulled him TWICE. I send him a message with the other website in the subject line. (Disclaimer: Names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. But, I had to let him know that I know exactly who he is.) The message went something like this… Me: Alfredo, right? We’ve spoken on the phone. Thanks for the wink. Him: Why did it not go any further? Me: Because I refused to drive to such-and-such or meet you halfway on the first date. I don’t care if you live in a gated community or on the white house lawn. I’m a southern girl. WAIT-FOR-IT. Him: Do you want me to pick you up?
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am still single. For the love of Chow Chows, French Bulldogs and Labradoodles! If I have to go through all of that to get a sane answer or a chivalrous, gentlemanly gesture from a man who claims to be a southern gentleman, no thank you. This is a bit dramatic. I completely understand. I also know that there are many women who would have not only met him halfway on the first date, but driven to his house to watch the movie the night before, and could tell you the details of the paint on his bedroom ceiling. Simply put? They make it hard for a woman like me. Literally. Oh well. Moving right along!
Persnickety Self-Adjustment: If it wasn’t for audacity, some people would have nothing.