Talking for Hours

For those of you who think I've been too busy to write because of my crazy online-dating schedule, you are sort-of right. But mostly wrong.

I received an abundance of response to my post about online dating. Not many on here, but friends that read it sent me emails, texts, and a choice few actually picked up the phone to say “DO IT! DO IT NOW!”. I mean, it's the computer. What is the worst that can happen? I didn't have to actually follow through with anything. And it could provide plenty for future blogs at the very least, right? Right. So I did it.

I got plenty of response once I actually put up my list. As it was on this blog.

So, for the weak at heart, maybe scroll down. Past the next part. It is a short summary of some of the responses I got. It's gonna get raunchy up in here. The part in parentheses are my own comments to their comments. (I did not directly comment to any of these freakazoids. So the parentheses are my thoughts. No one's feelings or egos were smashed due to my sarcasm. For once.)

Please feel free to add your own comments to this absurdity below...

But...if can handle the heat, feel free to stay in the kitchen. (Not that I cook. I just have always wanted to use that phrase...)

“Hey. Like your face.” (Um, wow, did you read any of what I wrote?”)

"You look very f*ckable." (Wow, how do I look that way?  If I do, it's an accident.) (p.s. he didn't put an asterik in there...)

“Hello.” (“...and I say good-bye.”)

“Hit me up. I kan make you sqirt.” (First, you can't spell. Second, not up to you.”)

"You look interesting."  (That is not a compliment.)

“Like what you have to say. I have custody of my kids, is that a problem?” (UM...YES, it is a problem.)

“Wanna hook up?” (No.  Not with you.)

"Where's a good place for you?" (Good place for...?  Sleep? In my room.  Food? Anywhere that has good mashed potatoes.  Reading? Starbucks.  For you to meet me? In hell.)

“How bout we meet up. I think I could love you.” (If you meant about, as in you can't spell or, when using slang, cannot use apostrophes correctly, then no. If you meant bout as in a bout of illness, then, well, still no.)

"Sex?" (Female.)

“Hey. Your profile is great. How about you get in your car and meet me up here?” (YOU ARE OVER 2 HOURS AWAY IN ALABAMA!)

“I could make you scream!” (Are you an axe murderer?)

“Do you like to travel?” (Not with strangers.)

"I'd like to go hiking in the woods with you."  (Ok, because that isn't just creepy and asking me to walk to my death in my hiking shoes...)

“Cum over.” (Either this is a play on words or you really can't spell. Either way, not interested.)

OK, that's enough for now. I mean, I need to have some more blogs in the future, right?

There's some good news, though. An interesting tid-bit of information. The completely unexpected happened. I met someone! I actually got out from behind the computer screen and went to Starbucks to meet someone. And it has not only been one of the bravest moves of my entire life, but also the best decision yet.

His particular listing was a list. Everything on his list matched what was on my list. After about four days of constant emailing back and forth, we ventured into the world to see each other in person.

Let me stop here to tell you, I really had no intentions of meeting anyone. I had no hopes or dreams or fantasies about this actually happening. I honestly did this to prove to myself and everyone else that the world is full of scuzzes and I will, undoubtedly, end up alone or settling. (read: alone) So, imagine my surprise, I found a list that matched mine.

Starbucks. On my turf. Safe. A Starbucks I frequent, so they know my face. And it isn't unusual for me to randomly run into a friend from time to time there. I knew that meant I couldn't be alone. And I know there are three ways out of that parking lot, so if it went really bad, I could jump out of there and he wouldn't be able to find me.

Turns out, I didn't need a safe turf. I didn't need a friend to rescue me. I didn't need an exit plan (or three). We sat there and talked for FOUR HOURS. I'm not exaggerating. FOUR HOURS. And it felt like fifteen minutes. We have loads in common. We make each other laugh. We could finish each others' sentences almost immediately.

We had coffee on the Wednesday before Memorial Day, and made plans for a short day hike at Vickery Creek for that Monday. It didn't end up being short - we had a ten-hour date. I don't think I have ever had a date that lasted so long. It was an amazing day.

So, yes, we are dating. Yes, the list worked. Yes. Yes. Yes. To everything. As time passes, he learns more about my list and how he fits into it. And I learn more about his and how I fit into it. What a nice fit for both of us. Now both our profiles are down from the dating site, we are committed to each other.

Here's the weird thing. He lives and works less than twenty minutes from me. We have probably seen each other tons of times. I have a whole different perspective on fate now. Meeting people is timing, not circumstance. We are ready for each other - in ways we might not have been a year or two ago. Being super picky has led me to him, and him to me. By putting my OCD, my musical-spirituality, and teeth-obsessed self out into the open, I have found a man that can relate to me and understand everything without a word. A man with whom I can have a conversation with for ten hours or more. A man who enables me feel comfortable being me.

For the record, he flosses as much, if not more, than I do. Amazing how you get exactly what you ask for, when you're not too shy to put it out there.

In order to see me, you must...

...floss.  At least once.  EVERYDAY.
...bathe.  At least once.  EVERYDAY.
...like music.  On the regular.  And live.
...be responsible for yourself.
...read.  Not just know how, but enjoy it.

...love dogs.  They will always be around.

...NOT have small children.  Or an ex-wife who has been an ex- for less than two years.

...NOT drink to the point of stupidity. 

...like to hike.  But I do not camp.

...not be some psycho-jealous-everyone-I-hug-or-kiss-on-the-cheek-is-a-threat-to-you type. 

...be goal-oriented.

...like to socialize.  With my friends, your friends, all people.

...like to just hang out in silence.

...be smart.

...eat healthy.

...enjoy junkfood.  Sporatically.

...like sports.  Playing and watching.

...be an adult. In actions.

...enjoy goofing off.

...like adventure.
...respect my independence. 

I'm making this list.  This is the beginning of it.  I've decided that it would be a fun little experiment to join a dating site.  Instead of filling out the "About Me" section, I'm going to make it "About You".  About all the things YOU, potential dater, should be.  And if YOU happen to be all these things (and more, of course!), I may consider going to meet you for coffee.  Oh, there's another thing...Must respect and enjoy coffee.  Both inside and outside of the home.  Because I am fiercly addicted to Starbucks.

I think this could be a fun time.  I will first ask the potential (as that is what I have decided to term these un-named, faceless men) to read this list.  If they find a few things on here that are them, they can move on.  If they find themself in every line, then, yes, definitely contact me.  I am tired of wasting my time with people who I want to change, who want me to change them, who are in no way compatible with me, who believe that flossing is not important (notice where it is on the list?  It is important!).

I haven't decided which dating site to attack yet, but that's my next step.  For now, I'm trying to add to this list, I want it to be as complete as possible, I am not wasting anymore time. 

On a sidebar, I am not negative or bitter.  I am just completely at a loss as to why there are so many great guys out there that are great for other people.  I am intensely picky.  And I spend a lot of time in relationships trying to fix things I knew about going into the relationship, and that should not be the case.  I want flaws to be cute and small.  Not big and glaring. 

Whether this works or not, we shall see.  But I'm going to give it a go.  I think the best part of all this is knowing that I'll know if they are lying right away and can get up and leave.  And if they aren't lying, I'll meet some cool people who I have a lot in common with.

Dating 101...or How NOT to get a second date with me

So I recently went on a "date".  Many of you who know me know that I do not use "quotes" often.  (I especially hate them, except when they are there for actual "quotes" as in, something someone said. And I extra-especially hate “finger quotes”. But this post isn't about my grammar-superstar status. We'll talk about that another time.) But I use “quotes” here because, well, I'm trying to convince you that though it was technically a date, I would hope I never have a date like that again.
So, back to my evening of, um, my evening of...
I don't even know where to begin here. So I'll just make a list of key pointers, in the event that potential future daters read this and want a leg up in my book.

1. Do NOT tell me about your sword collection. It is not a good way to start off. It does not impress the ladies. It would be better to ask me to join your D&D squad or whatever D&D groups are called. At least that is fictional violence.  I do not like violence.  Of any kind.  Even if it is hanging on the wall.  Or is a collection.  (It seems to me that the word collection should have been in quotes.)
Estimated time of second date: The year 2063.  (I'll be 87, and probably won't remember you have them.)

2. Do NOT tell me that you believe animals were meant to be outside. We live in the city.
Oh, and don't try to explain to me about farm animals, farm dogs, and small town dogs. Don't tell me about living in that life, I'm from a town of 300 people in Nebraska. I get it. I don't need your expertise. I have my own. 
We live in the city. Dogs, cats, pets do NOT belong outside here. Oh, on this note, do NOT tell me that you are a cat person. Date. Over.
Estimated time till second date: The year 2064.  (I'll be 88 and incapable of taking myself to the bathroom, much less a dog.)

3. Do NOT ask me if I have/want kids on the first date. And when I tell you no, I do not have them, do NOT answer “That's impressive.” Based on that statement, these are my questions for you (in no particular order):

* Is it impressive because I am know this about myself and do not care what people think about it?

* Is it impressive that I have a brain that knows how to accomplish what I want (i.e. no kids)?

* Is it impressive that I am this old and have yet to succumb to the tick of some inner-time-bomb-type noise that is in all women, except, apparently, me?
No, none of these points are impressive.  They are facts.  They are the way responsible women who do NOT want kids avoid such a fate. 

And when I tell you I do not want them, do NOT answer “I want a lot of kids.”  Estimated time till second date: The year 2065.  (I'll be 89 and probably incapable of child-bearing.  Therefore, no longer an issue.)


4. Do NOT be an adult and not have a driver's license. I am not a chauffeur or a soccer mom. I will not be dragging your ass around.
Estimated time till second date: The year 2066.  (I'll hit the big 9-0 that year, and probably be too blind to drive.  We'll hire that nice teenager down the street to drive us to the pharmacy and to various doctor appointments, and say embarrassing things to him, such as, "When I was your age, car backseats were bigger and easier to make out in!")

These are just pointers, of course. If you'll excuse me, I must go home and peacefully protest, let the inside dog out, and count my birth control as I praise Jesus for the freedom of being an independent woman in the 21st Century.