I'm Miss M. Here are some of my Online Dating tips, backed up by my sometimes hilarious, and often disconcerting stories…
After the disappointing vomit face that was Mr Suave/ Slime, I decided to take a break from Online dating. How smart of me – take a breather, recuperate, bring back faith in humanity. That was the idea. But as always, rather than sticking to my rational self-protecting plan, I ended up doing the exact opposite.
You see, I have this extreme fear of failure. So the thought of walking away from Online Dating with my tail (and nothing else) between my legs was just too much to bear. So instead of taking a break, I went into dating overdrive.
To make the interwebs’ resources work for me, the first thing I had to do was become less picky. (AKA lower standards entirely). I stopped looking for spark, spunk, ambition, awesomeness. All these things hadn’t worked for me thus far anyway, because, guess what… Profiles lie!
So I thought f*&k it. Maybe it’s about quantity, not quality.
Of course my minimum base requirements remained:
– No more than one feline in a photo. (One cat would be passable.)
– No wanky gym selfies. (On a side note, I saw a dude taking one of these at my gym the other day…. it looks so much wankier in real life!)
– Crappy grammar. (I simply can’t deal.)
– Requests asking whether I’m DTF. (I had to google what this means and it made me sad.)
– Photos with guns. (I’m not even joking.)
And so off I went, emailing matches like there’s no tomorrow. This probably sounds really fun, and for most part it was. But a fair chunk of the conversations got really mundane. Really fast. Still, I soldiered on. And in what I can only describe as a cray cray whirlwind of insignificant proportions, this is what happened:
(Note: I’m not counting the following dates in my regular date tally. This decision isn’t practical, rather emotional. The following dates truly don’t count because there wasn’t a single moment where I actually believed one of these dudes could be my guy.)
I was approached by this guy who was fairly simple but oh so affectionate. We’d only been texting for a couple of weeks when he revealed he was heading overseas (for a week) and was going to miss me. Yikes. This should have been a warning sign, but I was so emotionally needy by that stage that I took it as a compliment.
Anyhoo, turns out he did actually miss me. Every bloody day. Because no matter where he went he’d send me a photo of himself. In front of tourist sights. Eating. Drinking. In his hotel room. Standing at a tree. Sitting on the same tree. On a ride – with his entire family. That one was particularly awkward.
A week went by and I got selfies of him at the airport. On the plane. Telling me he was “coming home to me.”
It was a tad too much, even for me. And I soon realised I could never develop actual romantic feelings for this fool. But that wouldn’t stop me from going on a date with him. (Mostly because I had to know what he was like without a camera pointing at him from a perfect 45 degree angle.)
The date was sweet, kind of. We had zero in common. So it was mostly polite banter and failed jokes on my part. Things picked up when we started talking about our loving families. Aw. He was a real family man. And not a faux family man, the stay at home to take care of grandparents type. It was admirable.
But then he started crying.
Not because he was sad, but because he was excited to have a family of his own one day… OMG. Run! Were the words that came to mind.
But I kept it together and tried to be sensitive. I was pretty damn relieved when I finally got out of there.
He tried to keep the fire going post-date by sending me a selfie of himself at his desk the next morning. And that’s when I knew it was definitely the end.
While I longed for Mr Selfie during his overseas trip (not really) I’d organised a date with Mr Smoochy. The reason for this nickname will soon become clear. I originally thought of him as ‘Mr Meh’ because there was nothing about him that stood out. He had a nice smile (kind of). He also said stuff on his profile about wanting to make the most of life blah blah blah. So he was in.
The first date, much like Mr Meh, was pretty meh. We went for a drink after work and I was an exhausted little zombie. Still, a vino later we were well on our way to bantering like semi-aquantainces. How romantic.
The date came to an end after vino #2 because I was driving and dying to get to my pillow. He seemed genuinely disappointed, which was surprising because as I mentioned, I was a zombie. Is this a boy thing? Are people more appealing if they are completely disinterested in anything you have to say? Hang on, maybe that’s just a human thing? Scary.
He insisted on walking me to my car, which was right outside the bar. That put a bit of a dampener on his attempt at chivalry. Oh well. And then as I planned to bid him a quick farewell he grabbed me and planted a big smooch on my lips. Not a pash, just a smooch, but it was pretty bold. Hello Mr Smoochy!
I didn’t hate it. But I didn’t love it either. Still, after my date with My Selfie ended in tears, I agreed to see Mr Smoochy again. We spent a while trying to line up a night, which proved difficult until I found myself without plans on a Friday night. And after downing half a bottle of vino, I agreed to have Mr Smoochy over to watch a movie.
I was so exhausted (again) that this was my ideal date. But contrary to my laziness, I’m pretty sure Mr Smoochy thought he’d get lucky.
But as he tried to get up close and personal on the couch the most amazing thing happened… My housemate’s cat attacked him! Like full on jumped on his chest and bit his face. I would normally find this hilarious, but he was being so sweet to me in the build up to the attack that I felt sorry for him. Actually no, it was still hilarious.
He played brave, and claimed he was fine. But the scratches on his neck said otherwise.
Still, he insisted on hanging out. But every time he relaxed into the couch (trying to relax into my arms) the cat would pounce him again. He was embarrassed. I was trying not to laugh. And before too long, the mood was well and truly dead. But he still managed to lay another smooch on me before leaving. And this time it was sloppy.
He tried to catch up again after that. I ummmed and ahhhed about it. But then I got a text from him saying that he’d started dating someone “more seriously” than me. I guess Mr Smoochy found Mrs Smoochy! Good on him.
After that came…
Mr Chip on the Shoulder:
He opened our communication with complaints about how difficult women are. He was particularly perturbed about chicks who didn’t respond well to his poetry. I asked him to send me an example. It was creepy. He soon suggested we meet up, but when I told him I was busy on his suggested night (I actually was) he told me I was a, “snobby bitch”. Okay, bye.
And then there was…
He was actually smoking hot and great to talk to. But he was working up in Papua New Guinea so the whole meeting up thing was going to be hard. We phone chatted for a while regardless. Until one night he called while drunk and told me he was only Online Dating until his ex took him back. Okay, bye.
So what did I learn from my little experiment?
That quality does in fact matter. Quantity is bullshit (if you’re after something meaningful). Because ten shitty dates are worse than one.
That’s right people, dating is not a numbers game. Because all it takes is one good one to make you forget all the crappy dudes before him. With this in mind, I decided the cynical desire to date for the sake of it wasn’t working for me. And so, I genuinely took time off Online Dating.
I only checked into my profile every now and then to see who was approaching me. And only dudes with spark, spunk, ambition AND awesomeness would get a look in. No one like this came along for a while.
But you’ll be pleased to know, my patience eventually paid of…