Those of us still banished outchea know the dating pool is full of piss. I contend it’s full of floaters. (Gross? Yeah, well, wait until you read about the guy’s home that was so disgusting it gave her breathing problems during her one and only visit.) Somehow, J.R. (and I) still have the audacity of hope. There even seems to be a small glimmer at the end…
I stared in awe at its beauty, not daring to power it on. I did everything except turn it on. I cleaned up, put the batteries in the remote, took pictures, texted my family. I even had a short crying session. Everything I’ve ever wanted, I’ve always had to make happen myself.
Online dating. The assumption that anyone who goes through the trouble of signing up, creating a profile, uploading pictures, and in some cases, paying a fee, said person is interested in making connections. With another person. As in, a fellow human being. And since none of us are telepathic, we need to communicate.
There should be a warning before reading profiles. Warning: scrolling through these profiles may induce eye-rolling and headshaking. There should also be a warning to manage expectations when going through photo galleries.
I’m ready to get back into the dating game. I purposely called it a game because that’s exactly what it feels like. I’ve been on and off dating apps since my twenties. These men claim they want relationships, but their behavior says otherwise. I don’t want to go back to an app, but there’s no other way for me to put myself out there. Even when we were allowed to roam about freely, I had to resort to apps. I was not meeting The One at the grocery store, subway, bookstore, movies, concerts, book signings, plays, comedy shows, Brooklyn Bridge, doctor/dentist office, work, Greyhound, Amtrak, Lyft share, JFK airport or other places.
At no point while I was cooking, packing the food, searching for an outfit, taking a shower, exfoliating, shaving my legs, drying off, moisturizing, sponging my hair, getting dressed, packing an overnight bag, or calling a Lyft did I think it was a bad idea to head over there.
We were still in the early stages of dating when I found out he was in the Reserves. Army Reserves. There had been no mention in his profile or pictures. He believed it was corny for men to use their service as a way to hook women. Points for him, I guess.