Online Dating at 36 - The Good, the Bad, & WTH?

If there is one thing I have always been, it is a very quick study, a good student.  Our infamous Mr. P was my instructor, so to say, when it came to the art of sexting.  Now he had his shortcomings, but still he was my first when it came to R and X-rated texts. Now, apparently, I'm the teacher.  But, I'm getting a little ahead of myself. More than once during the epic phone conversation that ended shortly before 2:00 this morning, J spoke openly and frankly about still talking with and meeting other people.  He also said that he wanted to see me again.  (I'm just recapping the previous post to set up what comes next.)  Still, part of me was not surprised when he texted when he got off work this afternoon. Cue 1.5 hour or so texting conversation.  I have to say, so far I can't complain about his communication skills. We'll get to the subject matter of the texting convo in a moment -- that would be the "facepalm" portion of the title -- although bas

When I'm on the edge of sleep deprivation, my brain sometimes goes into overdrive.  It's been two nights in a row now of about 6 hours of sleep, which is just not enough for me.  One night of that I can do; two nights and I'm looking for an IV pole full of coffee to drag around work with me.  Meanwhile, my brain continues to analyze. It's been reflecting on last night's conversation -- the 4+ hour phone call.  A lot of that conversation was intense.  Not in the excited, rapid-fire exchange of ideas kind of way, but in the let's press each other on some deep subjects kind of way.  He pushed me to articulate why I replied to his email, what I liked about his profile, how could he change and improve it.  What were my first impressions?  Why did I reply?  Those are all questions I struggled with, because the answers aren't clear and I'm extremely conscious of not wanting to crush him in any way, yet I don't want to lie to him.  He later pushed me into

Okay, sports fans.  Take out your score cards, and scratch #9, SLB.  He's being traded to another team for another yet-to-be-named player. Here's what happened.  I'd replied to his email saying, "give me your number first, and then you'll get mine."  His reply was rude and snarky.  He said things like, "If you don't want to give me your number, just say so" and "that whole 'you go first' thing is SO high school." Because 41 year old guys should say things like "SO high school." He was marginal to begin with.  His rude attitude, and the fact that he still refuses to give me his number (although he claims he would be reciprocal) has me saying, "no thank you."  I mean, really.  If a guy really wants a girl's number, should he insult and berate her?   I don't think so. Maybe I'm too uppity.  I do have a college degree.  And a masters degree.  And I've completed all the coursework for a doc

Catnip is a plant whose aroma is tantalizing to many cats.  Not all cats are affected by catnip, but enough are to give the plant its name.  Cats who are affected by catnip will drool, roll in it, and basically get stoned.  It really can be hilarious.  In my household, Tabitha goes apesh!t bonkers for catnip.  The way my apartment in Miami was set up, she'd stashed some nip in the corner behind my low TV stand.  She'd go back there, I'd hear her licking the plastic of the bag, and then she'd come out and be stoned for the next 30 minutes or so.  Simon, on the other hand, couldn't care less. Catnip is also the term my friend James gave to women who are routinely sought out by guys.  Never in my life have I ever felt like catnip.  Until this weekend, I suppose. I already mentioned the two winks I received while I was on my date with #12, J.  I reciprocated one of those winks, the one to the guy who I think was #4 but, should this go any further, will probably end

In the great and grand world of dating, every first date you go on is going to be a first of something for both parties.  Tonight's date with J was my first, believe it or not, stereotypical dinner and a movie date.  Yep.  36 years on this earth, and, as best as I can remember (and I don't have all that many first dates to sort through) this was my first time doing dinner and a movie -- out.  I've done dinner and a movie in.   But, I don't think that was a first date.  Maybe it was; that whole relationship was far from normal. But I digress. Tonight was a much bigger first for J.  It was his first date since his divorce. Lucky me. He's by nature a shy guy.  He states that upfront in his profile.  So far, I've seen little glimpses of his personality, but most of the time he stays safely in his shell.  I'm sure he's afraid to make a mistake, afraid to get shot down, rejected.  I can be such a strong personality that I'm probably a bit like an e

In 45 minutes, I'm leaving to go on a date.  So naturally, I'm blogging. No, it's not with K.  This is actually, surprisingly, with #12, J.  24 hours ago, give or take, I was replying to his message wherein he said he wasn't sure we were that much of a match, etc.  I told him I felt the same way, but as I was getting to know him I did want to keep chatting. One thing about him, he's observant of details and the little things.  I made a comment about how I'd appreciated that his email wasn't one of the typical, "Hey, you're cute/hot, wanna meet?" emails. This morning's email, sent at 1:45 a.m. from him, had the subject line "Hey, you're cute/hot, wanna meet?"  It also included his phone number, so I texted him.  In the end, I agreed to meet him, and we left it at that.  He was "really looking forward to it." A few hours later, after I got off work, I replied that I too was looking forward to it, and to him sug

That's what #8, K, called me via text message today. It has been an interesting day in my world of dating so far, that's for sure.  Don't get too excited; I'm still in my flannel pj pants and oversized t, sans bra and makeup, and I plan on staying in this fetching get up until I go to bed.  I seriously doubt my plans will change at all, and that's okay.  Really, truly. I've come to a certain acceptance about #11, D, who I still haven't heard from.  Yesterday I read an article on Match that actually addressed that issue.  Written by a freelance author whose work has shown up in most of the major magazines, it had some great reminders about dating in general.  The author, based on her picture and brief magazine resume, is a beautiful, intelligent, and successful woman.  And, based on her article, she's had essentially the exact same issues I've had. She told the story of "meeting" a guy on an online dating site, exchanging emails, then

I know I've said it before.  I'm sure I'll say it again, many times. I just don't get men. They are supposedly simple creatures.  According to friends, advice websites, even their own profiles, they are supposed to be pretty straight-forward.  Man sees girl he finds attractive, he makes some sort of advance.  Woman either responds positively or negatively.  Positive response, and the man continues his advances.  Negative response... and either the man goes away wounded, goes away indifferent, or still tries to make advances.  Otherwise, feed them, water them, give them a warm place to sleep, let them play, and they're good. But apparently I live in "Bizarro World." Here is today's update on the various bachelors, and perhaps you all  can make some sense.  If so, please drop me a comment or message somewhere, somehow! #8, K.  I texted him yesterday, and finally got a reply late this morning.  I gotta say, he's someone who sends longer text

Before we get to Bachelor #12, J, an update on 8, 9, 10, and 11. *wipes brow* #8, K.  Still haven't heard from him.  I plan to zip him a text tonight saying, "I'm beginning to think I'm never going to actually hear from you" and see what happens.  If nothing, no loss. #9, SLB.  I previously misstated Shorty Latino Boy's age.  He's in his mid-40s -- perhaps that is why Match thought I should email P because I emailed SLB??  Well, he replied last night as I was online replying to #12, J.  The email from SLB was a list of questions to answer.  Remember a couple years ago, when everyone on Facebook was posting notes with their answers to questions like, "Twilight or Harry Potter?"  "Chocolate or vanilla?"  That's what I got from SLB.  Interesting.  Still haven't exchanged names. #10, EGS.  This is the cutie with a great smile but fairly thin profile, who has "favorited" me and "liked" one of my pics, but

Okay, not really.  Maybe a spreadsheet or something to keep the gentlemen straight is what I really need. "Oh, really?" you say. "Hey, I can be a scatterbrained soprano," is my excuse. So here's the current list and updates -- or, in one case, introduction -- to the various bachelors. Bachelor #8, K.  This is the one who has texted, saying he'll probably call but hasn't.  45 year old analytical chemist. Bachelor #9, SLB.  SLB stands for shorty Latino boy, since we haven't exchanged names yet.  This is the 5'4" blue collar worker.  I replied to his email last night but haven't received a reply yet.  I'm becoming less interested, but no reason to cut him off just yet. Bachelor #10, EGS.  EGS stands for enigmatic (with a) great smile.  He didn't reply to my email, at least not yet.  But, he did go and "like" one of my pictures.  After I sent the email.  I'm not sure if he's shy or actually a creepy stal

I suppose that title is more dramatic than this post really is, but we all know by now my propensity for overreacting.  I had been drafting in my head while taking my post-workout shower a blog post covering the interesting communications and developments I have ongoing via Match.  Before coming here, I logged onto Match with the intention of replying to an email, sending another one, and going through my Daily Matches. It was after the first thing on that list that I got the unexpected stab. Remember that I decided, for some unknown and irrational reason, to 'favorite' P?  Well apparently Match's algorithms decided that this guy I was replying to and P were sufficiently similar that upon my sending this reply it popped up a suggestion that I also email P, complete with his current profile picture. That was completely unexpected, as was my reaction to it.  I literally had an adrenaline shot run through my chest upon seeing his picture.  Believe me, I thought I was wel

I have many faults.  This, I know.  I dislike confrontation and hurting people, even if only in a little way.  I also dislike unanswered things, things hanging over my head. Hence, the new (to me) art of rejecting interested bachelors. In the past few days, I've received some new winks and a couple of emails.  First, a quick update on #8, K. He's been out of town -- out of state, actually -- volunteering.  He said on Friday he might call me, but he didn't.  I texted him yesterday afternoon, and didn't hear back, not that I'm surprised.  Although he implored me via email earlier to "not give up on him," I'm not going to stress over this one. Some of the new winks will continue to go unanswered.  Frankly, I need to update my profile and add a line similar to many other folks, something about winks are nice but if you actually want a response, email me.  See, I do reply to every initial email in some way.  When I was still seeing P, I would use

Text messages can be good.  Text messages can be bad.  Text messages can fall into the "neither" category. Early morning texts are often a category of their own. First, what is "early morning?"  I am not a morning person.  As I once read on the internet, "all the coffee in Columbia couldn't make me a morning person."  But "early morning" depends on many factors.  Generally, anything before about 5:00 a.m. is still "middle of the night."  This includes having to leave for the airport at 4:30 a.m.  Starting around 5:00 a.m. would be "early morning" for me, but how long that runs depends on the day.  Basically, "early morning" is between 5:00 a.m. and my second or third cup of coffee.  Some mornings, that's all of 7:30 because I'm already at work by then, nursing my travel mug and complaining about the hour.  Some mornings, that's 9:00 a.m. Thursday is one of the few days I get to sleep in.  On some

Quick update, blogosphere. I got a reply from K, Bachelor #8.  He included his phone number and an invitation to "call or text."  For a second email, this might be a little quick.  However, I'm becoming increasingly cynical and at the same time savvy about this whole Match thing, and for whatever reason I trust him.  So, I replied and included my own phone number. I haven't texted him yet.  Maybe tomorrow.  We'll see if he texts first.  No need whatsoever to rush this. Meanwhile, I'm still wrestling with the spectre of P.  I've drafted a blog post about it, about how we were only dating in reality a short time and we were never exclusive, yet certain things are just tainted because of conversations or experiences I had with him.  If I ever have a real boyfriend, if and when that goes south I'm going to be a true hot mess. Still, every day the spectre gets less and less.  Having a new interest who is truly funny and seems very sincere, one who i

After going through my "Daily Matches" today, I noticed an unusual trend in profiles.  Three in a row -- three! -- all made a point of saying that they "had all their teeth." I didn't realize this was such an important point these days.  Apparently I'm out of it. Seriously.  One guy mentioned it in his profile and in a photo caption.  Another prefaced it by saying, "and just to answer the question, yes, I have all my teeth."  The third said, "No, I don't have all my teeth but dentists can work miracles." Based on mutual search criteria, we are all middle-class, middle-aged people living in a large metropolitan area with more than reasonable access to health and dental care.  We live in a first world country.  In the hundreds of profiles I've been through already, I can't remember a single one that didn't have all their teeth. But apparently, at least among a group of women on Match, having all of one's teeth is

Since returning to being "active" on Match, I've been getting about one "wink" or email per day, which isn't too shabby, all things considered.  The fact that there's been no mutual interest makes it a little discouraging.  I've set it up so when I get a "wink" or an email on Match, I get a text message.  Today's highlight was my phone sending me two messages at basically the same time: one a wink and one an email. The wink... will go without a reply, just like every other wink I've received in the past couple of weeks.  I hate sounding shallow, but I know what I want and what I don't.  I don't want to date someone who is 21+ years older than me -- been there, done that.  And no offense to a couple of my friends, but handlebar mustaches I just don't find attractive.  Those two elements alone are not going to encourage me to dig further through your profile to try to find the "good."  Not when Match is sending

Yep.  It's Friday night, a little after 9:00 p.m.  I got home around 5:30, and proceeded to see how quickly I could free myself of my bra and pinned-up hair and be in sweats.  For the past couple of months, I wouldn't have done this because of the possibility of hearing from P. No more. See, now is when some of the reality is starting to set in.  I really realized it last night, as I was heading home from having subbed a bootcamp class at one of the gyms I teach at.  The desire to grab the phone and send him a text of some sort was really crazy, and that's when I had to come to terms with certain things.  Primarily, even though we weren't exclusive and two months isn't that long of a period, we had still settled into some familiar patterns.  And even though it was only two months, I had gotten a taste of what it was like to share parts of my life with someone in a more intimate and meaningful way than say, via Facebook. No more. I don't regret a damn thi

Here's the latest update... because, as we know, when I get back to seriously being active on Match, I tend to blog obsessively for a few days, and then I quiet down until I get a wink or email from someone I'm actually reciprocally interested in. 1. P.  Haven't heard back at all.  Screw him.  (Figuratively.)   2. The hot doc.  Also haven't heard back from him, which I think is a little weird.  According to Match, he's been active within the time I've sent the email, but then again, as I've said, it'll say you're online if you most recently checked from your phone's web browser and have simply closed that without changing pages.  But why do I think it's weird?  Because he "favorited" my profile.  So, yeah, I think it odd that if the roles were reversed -- if I got a message from someone I'd "favorited" -- I'd be somewhat happy or at least respond.  Whatever. 3. The hot pilot.  Yet another I haven't h

That's a saying that goes both ways. It's the primary reason why I'm cutting P loose.  He would say all the right things, but never act upon them.  He would say "Yes, we need to spend more time together" and "Yes, let's find time this weekend" but when it came to actually acting upon them... nothing.  Not just the past week or so, but for the majority of our "relationship."  It's much easier to see, now that the rose-colored glasses are off. Of course, I too have to actually act and not just speak.  Or, in my case, blog.  So I'm here to say that I actually did it.   I sent the text message.  Technically, text message s.   The first read: "I'm going to be blunt: I'm moving on & I'm perfectly happy to only be 'friends with benefits' until one of us is seeing someone exclusively. No strings attached sex.  Sound ok?  LMK, even if your answer is "no/go away." The second, which I sent about 1

At least, I need to. I've been saying over and over that I need to move on from P, blah blah blah... this record has been played so many times you all could probably write the next several blog posts for me.  I admit it.  But a couple of conversations over the past 24 hours have helped guide my pathetic brain. One in particular affirmed why I was having such a hard time letting go.  It isn't the fear of the unknown; God knows I've been single for so long that should be my comfort zone.  It's because it's hard to move on when there's nothing to move on to.   Being an only child, I've always had a very rich imagination.  I had lots of imaginary friends growing up, and between them and sticking my nose in a book, losing myself in a fantasy world has always been my primary means of escapism.  I have learned -- and this is a challenge to admit on the interwebz -- that even now as an adult I'm happiest when my escapism fantasies include a man to have a &qu

Over the past 24-48 hours, I think I've gone through most every emotion imaginable.  I've been stressed, relieved, concerned, peaceful, happy, sad, depressed, ambivalent, and all over my so-called love life.  This morning, I was ready to send P an ultimatum text: a "If you want me gone, just f*cking say so" kind of text.  But, I didn't.  Even I still have enough functioning and rational brain cells to know I'm overreacting. Then I went and taught my adorable "Active Older Adults Strength and Fitness" class.  Those two 70-something ladies are a hoot.  I work them out while they give me advice on dating.  They are my real-life Dowager Countesses of Grantham.  By the end of the class, they had me feeling pretty good -- well, at least laughing about -- my "relationship" with P. Swing swing swing goes the pendulum.  Up and down goes the rollercoaster.  Clang clang clang goes the trolley.  Oh, wait. There are a few things that I sometimes f

After yesterday afternoon's "Hey there, are you still talking to me?" text, silence.  Around 9:30, I sent another text.  This one said, "Have I screwed up somehow? Can I make amends?" What I heard was, as Simon & Garfunkel would say, was the sounds of silence. I did hear from friends who were concerned.  I'm, once again, very lucky with my friends.  Sometimes, the concern comes from surprising places, but that just goes to show how thoroughly blessed I am.  Being someone who is not a stranger to being blue, I know how hard it is to find those moments of happiness, those moments where I know that God is still there when everything seems so dark. Yesterday morning, I woke up in a mood .  This was after the invitation picture/text, and no reply.  On my way to work, I was driving down a fairly major street in a rough urban area.  One thing about KC, though, is no matter how urban the area, trees, creeks, and small ravines are not far away.  I saw up ah

UPDATED at 8:45 central time.  Update at the end. Let's just get the buzz words out of the way now: perspective, time, perspective, time, perspective, time... and while we're dealing with the obvious, I'll just say it.  Obviously I'm not taking much of a hiatus from this blog.  It's hard to take a hiatus when apparently things aren't as rosy as I thought. The long and the short is that, once again, I haven't heard from P in over 2 days.  No response to my invitation to dinner, nothing. I want off this rollercoaster.  The emotional one.  But, it is a rollercoaster of my own design.  I have no one to blame but myself.  The swings from elated to low are more than I want to deal with right now.  24, 36 hours ago listening to romantic songs made me all amorous.  Now those same songs make me want to cry. I may have been obsessively listening to Kurt Elling's "Live in Chicago" album in the car lately.  Never before has his ending to "Smok