For those out of the loop, know this... I don't date. My old boss deemed me a "serial monogamist", I stayed diligently coupled from 16-31. A series of three lovely men whose company and friendship I enjoy to this day. I am now working on almost 4 years of being single, various entanglements not being considered as relationships. Quite some time ago, a very good friend suggested that I utilize the internet to schedule dates, and tell her the stories for entertainment value. I began a half hearted attempt to do so, joining Yahoo personals and accepting the occasional invitation when it seemed prudent. I have blogged secretively about these dalliances, gaining much admonishment from those not on my preferred list for having so many blocked entries. Lately, my own coyness has served to annoy me and I am weary of the constant encouragement to "write". I toyed with the idea of sharing my experiences with everyone, I am now about to do so. For the friends that I am about to lose, I am regretful.... Ha.
Ages ago, I had a personals account. I signed up to allow conversation with someone whose profile I found exceptionally amusing. What can I say, put a camel in your default picture and I will try to make friendly with you. At that time, I was still with SB (struggling, but still with him.) My headline was "Bitter with baggage" and somehow this entertaining man felt capable of interacting with someone that dubbed herself so accurately. My introduction to online personals gained me a dear friend, and I will always see the good in such advertisement for that very reason. The T Guy is a quality man.
My second foray was much more direct. I posted a reasonably attractive photo, and a very direct paragraph stating what I was seeking. As I considered this all to be a social experiment, I was very honest. Do not be too young, too old, have children or ex wives lurking about the perimeters of your life. Amazing how many men either don't or cannot read these minor requirements. Eventually, a likely enough fella happened along. I invited him to meet me at the crime scene. He was instantly deemed a "pretty boy" by my friends. Pretty boy was mildly interested in me. I was on edge, not used to the dynamics of dating. I practically ignored him as I flitted from friend to friend, drinking beer and neglecting the niceities of being on a date. Pretty Boy took it all in stride, even the fact that he was not invited home with me. A week later, I invited him over for dinner. An atypical dinner in my kitchen, pasta tossed with olive oil, black olive, sun dried tomatos, artichoke hearts... I realized the poor guy was puzzled. Eh, uh... The ex always knew better than to expect meat in his meals. I made the explanations, and we ate. Then popped in a movie, and Pretty Boy seemed to have more hands than an indian goddess. I was uneasy, trying to determine how to calm this boy down, whilst not making a scene. Like manna from heaven, my phone began to chirp in the other room. Froot Loops, all up on my phone. I had a very special place in my heart for Froot Loops, and I sequestered myself in my bedroom for more than an hour, smiling at the sound of his voice. Pretty Boy popped his head in to say goodnight, and that's the last I have seen of him. He occasionally arises on the messenger, suggests getting together (he now lives in Richmond) and recently asked what may have happened if he had not left that night. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I was on the phone for hours, and his being here would not have changed that. dating, fail. Double fail, as I could not tell you the last time I spoke with Froot Loops.
My first foray, and I was still alone and baffled by the entire ritual. Oh well. The seal had been broken, and there were plenty of messages in my inbox. It was simply time to choose another likely soul for my ongoing experiment.
