I'm Miss M. Here are some of my Online Dating tips, backed up by my sometimes hilarious, and often disconcerting stories…
So let’s get your expectations as high as mine were for my first ever Internet date.
His name was Mr Smiley (not really, but I don’t want to be sued, so we’re calling him Mr Smiley). His profile was funny, articulate and honest. His pictures showed him sitting behind a drum kit, smashing away and laughing as he did so. Pretty sexy, huh? You see, he came from the land of the Muso… A mysterious land, where creative and ambitious people dare to dream of being an artist.
I find this highly admirable. So, one thing led to another, and our email communication became constant texting. We’d created our own little “in” jokes and couldn’t go to bed without texting “Good night,” which soon became “Good night,” with an “xx”. Excited about how things were progressing, we decided to take our relationship to the next level and finally meet up.
As a sidenote – it’s probably not the best idea to “xx” someone you’ve never met. Just sayin’… Your kisses are precious. Even the virtual ones.
On the morning of the date (the day after my bestie’s engagement party) I woke up as hungover as the doormat of a seedy bar. Is that an expression? Probably not.
But I told myself everything will be okay. You see, after a few flirty texts, I’d decided Mr Smiley must be the man for me. I’ll arrive to the date, we’ll laugh about the bags under my eyes, we’ll drink until the hair of the dog kicks in. We’ll probably even share a cute little first kiss. Then of course, we’ll have an engagement party of our own where we’ll tell the glorious story of our first date.
Is this how it happened? No.
Arriving to the venue (a funky bar in the city) it hit me that I was about to share a drink with a complete stranger. What if he doesn’t like me? What if I still smell like booze? What if he doesn’t laugh at my jokes. And the worst thought of all… What if he thinks I’m UGLY?!
I was so overtaken by these terrible thoughts that I’d failed to realise I was trying to enter the bar through the side door. It was locked. But I just kept banging and pushing. Suddenly I stopped and saw Mr Smiley sitting on the other side of the door, watching me.
I finally got my shit together and made it inside the venue. I was certain he’d find my little mishap endearing. Instead, he struggled to crack a smile and simply stated, “That was awkward.” I was disheartened, but I refused to give up and went straight for the bar (because he was already downing a pint). Charming.
My first impression of him wasn’t great. He was kind of attractive, but nothing like his pictures. This isn’t me being shallow, it’s just that I found him cute because of his smile. But in person, he seemed very serious. And his tone of voice was kind of depressing.
The date progressed and I realised Mr Smiley was a fraud. Not only did he never smile, he also wasn’t really a Muso. He hadn’t played in years, and was so bitter about it that he shuddered every time I mentioned “drums.” He’d found a day job that he hated, and when I chirpily asked him what it entailed he replied, “It’s too shit to tell you.” Okay, mate. No worries.
He obviously didn’t like talking about himself, so I did what I do best – talk about me! I gave him a quick rundown of my writing aspirations, and rather than being impressed he simply asked, “What’s your back-up plan?” When I told him I didn’t have one, he looked at me like I was the biggest fool going around. Needless to say, this is the point I realised a kiss or an “xx” was SO not going to happen.
My heart was screaming – Go Home! Sleep would be more fulfilling than spending time with this drainer. But did I? No.
The date became an example of when optimism is a curse. I hung in there for as long as I could. And then HE said he should get going. We’d sat through a couple of drinks, so it’s not like he was cutting it short. But I couldn’t help but feel like I’d lost some kind of pride duel. Not only did I feel sad that I didn’t like him. I felt double sad because a drainer had rejected me.
I thought he might walk me to a cab, but instead he went the other way. Okay, no worries. It’s not like I’m not capable of walking a few blocks. But what bamboozled me most were his parting words, “I had heaps of fun. We should grab a drink on the weekend.”
WTF?! Was he sitting at the same table as me? I was confused as hell, but I learnt something really important. Want to hear what it is? Stay tuned for Tip #2…