In the Land of Losers: Vol 4 (in which I am still a loser, but now also a prostitute)

O Dante, was mine the life you’d foreseen when you were inspired with the title of your Divine Comedy?

So I don’t do dating sites. Or speed-dating, or group-dating, or blind-dating, or really any kind of dating these days, but that’s beside the point. (I have issues. Don’t judge.)  I’ve tried several dating sites, and they’re all the same: a place to make excellent pen-pals, but otherwise a MAJOR time-suck. However, a few months ago a friend of mine asked me to help him beta-test a site he’d created. He believed he’d cracked the Magical Dating Mystery Code by developing a new algorithm for matching compatibility. Since he’s a rocket scientist, literally, and he knows how to create algorithms, I thought he might actually know what he was talking about. (After all, I have to use spell-check every time I even type the word algorithm.) I told him okay, and copied and pasted my profile from my RFQ (which has gotten ZERO responses so far, btw – that’s another post), and signed up.

Being as my friend’s site is still in its testing stages (it won’t go live until 2018), there are as-of-now only 300 users. Not bad, for a beta-test group.

Of those 300 users, I have 21 “matches.” Of those 21 matches, no one had contacted me in the three months since I’d signed up — which was weird, but oddly refreshing.  My previous experiences, like most women, was that I was bombarded by 50 “winks” and 5 messages in the ten minutes it took me to sign up, and then went downhill from there.

Just… please stop. I can’t even tell the difference between all of your “winks” and my cursor-blinks anymore!

On my friend’s site, my first five “matches” were all dummy test-profiles (made obvious by screen-names, like “P-test”), and my only message-conversation was with my friend, to ascertain whether the chat-function was working properly. It was. (He was so elated!) I checked in on the site about once a week to see if there were any new functions, new matches, etc, but otherwise it was a peaceful, calm, risk-free zone.

Until 2 weeks ago.

[Note: My user-name on this site is “Jaded Sapphire.” This, because I like pretty shiny things, and I love the color blue, but I’ve become weary and leery of dating sites (jaded). Also, it’s the first thing that popped into my head when I was signing up.]

Him: Why so jaded, Sapphire?

Seriously? Ugh! I decided to overlook this lameness, since we were both fellow beta-testers. But I was at work when I got the message, so I quickly typed out the first, pithy, similarly lame response that came to me.

Me: Because green and blue make aqua, and I’m into aqua, ATM. How about you? What’s your favorite color?

His response, a few days later, was polite, but he said that he’d had some bad dating site experiences, and if I was “a professional,” that was cool, but it wasn’t his thing, and he wasn’t interested. I didn’t understand his message, and had to read it a few times before I got it.

He thought I was a hooker.

He apparently thought this because I’d used the term “ATM,” like I was asking for money or something. Whaaa—?!?

I’m in my late-40s, but I have teenagers. I listen to morning deejays on my way to work. I read blogs, and sometimes also Cosmo. I thought “ATM” (At The Moment) was as common as “ROFL.” I was torn between laughter, revulsion, and incredulity — we were among a small group of beta-testers on a site that wasn’t even yet live. What are the odds that one of our group would be one of “those” types of people? Plus, hadn’t he ever heard of Urban Dictionary? Or Google?

And had he even read my profile? What kind of self-respecting ‘ho puts out a dating profile that says she has eight kids and works for a construction firm?

Seriously?

I quickly disavowed his notion, whereupon he asked if I wanted to chat and possibly meet. I said no thank you. By then, I’d decided that my feelings skewed toward offended. On top of that, it was just too weird that he didn’t even google “ATM” when he didn’t know what it meant — not to mention the fact that he clearly doesn’t have teenagers. Or read Cosmo.

Besides, after something like that, it would never have worked out anyway. I’d have been too self-conscious, either (a) worrying about coming across as “too sexy,” thus leaving in question any lingering concern he might have had about whether I was lying about my “real job,” or else (b) worrying about not being sexy enough, in case he was hoping that I actually was a Woman of the Night — with an encyclopedic knowledge of sexpertise. Too much pressure.

I’ll keep you posted on the dating site, as it goes live. Not that I’ve got my fingers crossed….

 

In the Land of Losers: Vol 3

Hi everyone – did you miss me? Well, you didn’t miss much – still hanging out in the Land of Losers. Only lately the biggest Loser has been me. (For example, as evidenced by  last Tuesday….)

Tuesday night I went to a singles-meetup after work at a golf clubhouse. The small room was pretty packed (50-80 people), and we were all seated at tables of various sizes — either at smaller, round tables or longer rectangular ones. I was at one of the small round tables in a corner of the room. Seated there also were two other women I’d just met (they knew each other from work) and 2 other guys. A sixth seat was empty. Then, because it was a “singles-mixer,” the event organizer came around and started the Icebreaker game. He gave us all a topic to discuss (“If you could jump on a plane right now and go anywhere, where would you go, and why?”). Ten minutes later he told all of the guys to stand and rotate clockwise around the room. Or, as clockwise as the table-configuration would allow. The two guys at our table got up and left… and NONE of the other guys came to sit down. They all went to the other tables. (???)

What, are we all dogs or something?

A few, awkward moments passed, during which one of the other women at my table suggested that she was too intimidating, and that’s why the guys had avoided us. I laughed and told her she was not intimidating. (She had a power-job, but she seemed like a nice person.) Her pretty, blonde friend laughed too and piped up, “Yeah, you’re intimidating” – she pointed at her friend – “and I’ve been married too many times, and you talk too much.” She looked at me as she said this last bit. “I talk too much?” I asked, surprised and a bit miffed. (I mean, someone had to lead the table through the icebreaker question.) “Well,” she said, “I don’t know you that well, so I have to make up something for our story, here.” I smiled, but started to feel out of place. Just then, two straggler guys, one of whom was very good-looking, showed up and took two of the available seats at our table. We started chatting with them, and it quickly turned out that good-looking guy was building a house in the same neighborhood where intimidating-woman lived. Score for her, right? Wrong! The time was up, and the guys had to rotate again. And once again, no guys came to sit at our table!

Another awkward moment ensued, and then a woman wandered over. “Is this seat taken?” she asked. “No, it’s yours!” we chorused, seeming to be collectively relieved that at least someone wanted to join us. “Oh, thanks! I’ve just run into an old friend,” she replied. And she picked up the chair and hauled it away. (OMg!!! Seriously?!?)

When time was almost up again, two guys sauntered over and sat down at our table, ostensibly out of pity. One of them was the organizer-guy, who hadn’t actually sat down at a table that evening, but I read the look on his face as, “You poor things!”

By the fourth round, we were again magically avoided by the male populace. One of the guys who’d been sitting with us during the first round came over to say goodbye as he was heading out the door, but at that point any “attention” just felt humiliating. I took my cue and followed suit soon after.

I felt like such a GIANT LOSER!!!!

It didn’t help that when I got home I found out I’d had a wad of green spinach from my lunch-salad stuck between my teeth all evening….

I’m soooo glamorous….

In the Land of Losers: Vol 2

Yup, there are more of these guys out there. So now it’s mid-February and, due to kid-weekends, plus spending a “free” (non-kid) weekend with the Flu, it’s my first weekend out since the night involving Ass Grab Loser (from my last post). And it’s Girls’ Night Out. (*For those of you who’ve been following my story, my annulment had just come through. I got the letter in the mail on Monday, January 30. By the following Friday night I was sick as a dog. I watched the Superbowl that weekend, popping Tamiflu. I never get sick. I think – and my therapist agrees – that I was so relieved to have the annulment come through that I “relaxed” all my defenses… and got sick. Also, I’ve had a bit of a life-change, due to the fact that my 20 y.o. son began living with me, full-time, in January. I love him with all my heart, but it’s been a bit of an adjustment. More on all this in another post. Back to February….)

A new gf had invited a bunch of us to karaoke night at a local dive bar. As long as I don’t have to sing, I’m in. (GNO! Woohoo!) There are pool tables at this place, and I learn that my gf is a bit of a shark. Now, I’m no shark, but I enjoy pool, so I’m down for a game or two. Despite having recently been sick, I’ve managed to “clean up” decently – black tee, skinny jeans, black moto jacket, black boots, messy hair. I’m totally ready for a fun night with the girls. Early on, my gf points out a guy who she thinks is kind of hot – the one in the red shirt. He’s playing shuffleboard at a table adjacent to our pool table, and she’s flirting with him when she’s down there, taking a shot from that side. I check him out – he is totally not my type. For starters, he’s a bit too old for me – maybe in his late 50s, early 60s. And he has a beard. But she’s into him. C’est la vie, c’est l’amour. Okay, cool – I will totally be her wing-chick. But first, I need a drink. I go to the bar, wait five minutes in line, get a drink, and return. The game begins.

According to a recent study, most women seem to prefer men with facial hair. I am not one of those women.

When it’s my turn to go down to that side of the pool table to take my shot, the red-shirted guy says hey, and then comments on my pool-stance in a friendly/flirty way. I laugh and tell him that’s because I have no idea what I’m doing – but she does (I point at my gf). Then I focus, take my shot, miss (of course), and go back to the other side of the table. About five minutes (and two of her sunk-balls) later, I go back down the table to take another shot. Again, Red Shirt comments on my “sexy” pool-stance. (I’m wearing boots and have to lean over the table to take my shot.) His comments make me uncomfortable, as (a) I’m not trying to be sexy (I’m trying to win!), and (b) he seems to be flirting with me, and I haven’t “put anything out there” toward him – my gf has. So I take my shot, straighten up, and loudly declare how I don’t really know what I’m doing, but my friend is such an amazing player. “In fact,” I say to him, “she’s our queen!” I feel good about this, and the game goes forward in this fashion, with me continuing to “throw sunshine” (opposite of throwing shade, right?) at my gf, and she sinking all of her balls, plus the 8-ball shortly thereafter. Game over.

I take a break to go to the bar. I wait another five minutes in line, finally get a drink, and return. A pair of younger guys (late-20s/early 30s) approach us and want to play. My gf says sure, but let’s do doubles, so she splits us up into partner-teams. (“Um, hello? I’m not that good…?”) The game starts.

The young guys are relaxed and funny, and I’m actually playing well. Fortunately, I’m paired with the guy who is the better player of the two, and we’re having a lot of fun (i.e. winning). About halfway through the game, I’m down on the shuffleboard side of the table, and Red Shirt guy saunters over. He leans over while I’m taking a shot.

“Must be a real feather in your cap to have those younger guys hitting on you, eh?”

Huh?!?

Sooooo many things wrong with that, dude…!

It’s one of those WTF moments, where several answers are sparring in my brain to get to be said: everything from defensive: “They’re not actually hitting on us, we’re all just having fun,” to condescending: “Oh, sugar, you  have no idea – I get hit on by 20-somethings all the time, in the most obnoxious ways!” to defensive (again): “I’m not actually into younger guys. In fact, they’re a turnoff for me, because I’m a mom,” to angry/offensive: “‘Must be a real feather in my cap?’ Oh, really? Must it? Because you know what’s in my head?!?” to incredulous/affronted: “Are you seriously going to sit here and give me passive-aggressive attitude, and pout about how I’m not flirting back with you, and in the meantime pass up the chance to get to be with my beautiful-fun-feisty gf, who, for God-knows-what reason, actually likes you?” I run the gamut from wanting to explode to wanting to smack this guy. Instead, I take a breath, decide this guy’s not worth it, and go the least-incendiary route with my response:

“It’s the mom-vibe. Younger guys pick up on it and feel comfortable around me.”

Oh, snap! I’ve just been modest and put him in his place at the same time. Double-snap! (Maybe that’s not hip anymore, but it fits.)

I walk away and don’t even know if the guy exists for the rest of the evening. The next night I tell my gf what he said, and she is then sooooo glad she didn’t waste extra energy on him, either. Hey, Red Shirt Loser Guy: if this were a Star Trek episode, you’d have died off with no one to mourn you. Maybe consider revamping your attitude – on life, and on women.

Strange and Weird Conversations I’ve Had in Online Datingland (Part 4)

Here are some actual messages guys have sent me. (Don’t be like them.)

————

From Zoosk, 2 days ago
Setup: One last one for the road. I’d just joined Zoosk last Wednesday, and received the following, message from a guy on Friday:

Him: You have 8 kids? Your unit must be all stretched to hell and gone!!!!

It was a first-contact email. I’d never “approached” him previously, had never “met” or “seen” him before. It was completely out of the blue. He was good-looking, 51 years old, lives reasonably nearby, and had a decent profile. I was dumbfounded. Part of me wanted to respond with a snide remark (“Shocker, that you’ve never been married,” or something like that), but instead I took the high road:

Me: Wow – you could’ve just clicked away. Didn’t have to be mean. I hope you are able to find healing from whoever hurt you. Peace.

(Of course, I’d declined him from being able to interact with me just before I decided to respond to him at all, so I don’t know if he got my response.)

I know that people say mean and nasty things as a result of having been hurt. But this psychology-insight didn’t stop the onslaught of negative thoughts I had about myself that night – things I’d worked very hard to put to rest – especially that exact thing he’d said about me: that my body was destroyed, that I was damaged goods, undesirable, and unlovable, etc.

Fortunately, I’ve learned that the sensation I was experiencing was shame, and that the best way to deal with shame is to call it out. So I posted about that interaction, and my response, along with my negative self-feelings, on Facebook. Well, I may have taken the high road, but my Facebook friends did not feel the need to do so. In words that would make a sailor proud, they assured me that the guy was a jerk, and that I was beautiful, wonderful, etc. (Sometimes social media can be a very good thing!)

Yeah! Take that, Mr. Bully!

————

So I’m still trying to navigate these waters, pretty badly at times. I quit sometimes, take a break, and then dive back in. I’m admittedly being very picky, sticking to my age- and distance-parameters. But I figure there’s no need to rush. Online dating is good because you can identify people based on specific numbers… but you don’t know if there’s any chemistry until you actually meet them. Speed dating lets you know the chemistry part up-front… but, in my case, I’ve wound up meeting a lot of great guys who live too far away – like south-Denver. (They need to do speed dating for north-Denver. That would help.) But sometimes I wonder if any of it is worth it, because you’re going to some lengths to meet someone who wouldn’t naturally be on the path of your life. Sometimes I think that maybe I should just give up and let life take its natural course and see what happens…?

Strange and Weird Conversations I’ve Had in Online Datingland (Part 3)

Here are some actual messages guys have sent me. (Don’t be like them.)

————

From Match, about 3 weeks ago
Setup: He approaches me on the site. This is his initial contact / opening message to me.

Him: Hello – So I think I get your summary. You’re not perfect and looking for someone that’s not perfect. Well I am your guy. How about two imperfect people meet to see if we make a perfect match? We can do coffee, go for a drink, or dinner. Let me know your thoughts. – [Name]

 

I read this at work and wasn’t going to respond. But it grated at me, and I couldn’t help myself. So that night:

 

 

Me:  Hello [Name]- nice to meet you. Look, you seem like a nice guy – and you’re cute. But I have to say that that was about the worst email I’ve received on a dating site, ever. It was kind of like, “You think you kinda suck, I think I kinda suck, so maybe we should just hang out in Mediocre Land.” (Probably that wasn’t what you were trying to say, but maybe it was…?)

I’m sorry if the message you received from my profile was that I have a low opinion of myself. On the contrary, I realize that everyone has different expectations with regard to body-type, and I’m a realist about how I look. But I’m also proud of who I am – scars and all – and I want to be with someone who thinks I’m all-that-AND-a-bag-of-truffles. Not someone who thinks they’re settling for mediocre, with me. Because I’m not settling for “WalMart jewelry” this time around, when it comes to my second chance. I’m holding out for Harry Winston.

Probably I’m not the right person for you, since you think I’m only mediocre. I hope you decide you deserve The Best and go after it. (For future reference, when you DO find someone you think is awesome-tastic, you should probably open with telling her how beautiful she is, and how you were impressed with her profile. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to ask her a question about herself, based on something in her profile. Just saying.) Good luck in this dreadful world of online dating. I know it sucks out here, but we’ve got to figure it out, eh?

Best wishes, [Name].

Sincerely, [Mouse]

 This guy couldn’t let it go, either. But unlike the guy from Part 1 of this series, this guy was apologetic:

Him: [Mouse], Wow I was trying to be funny. Obviously I FAILED!!!! I did not mean to offend. By the way, I think you are attractive, and I totally liked you summary. I liked it because it was like, “look, I am great and I don’t have to prove it to anyone.” I am sorry if I offended you! I agree I suck at emails. By the way you are gluten free … So what restaurant do you like that has the best gluten free food? I disagree; I think we might be a good fit. One final thing: I am not settling the second time around either, and that is why I reached out to you! So my offer still stands [Mouse]. I would like to meet for coffee, drink, lunch, or dinner. – [Name] (I know I still suck at emails!)

Awwww…!

Well, that was actually a really good comeback. I had to give this guy credit. I accepted his apology, we chatted, and we actually did go out once. And he was pretty awesome – and cute! (Sadly, we realized early-on that we had opposite kid-schedules, and it wasn’t going to work. I won’t give up my own time with my kids, and he’d gotten his 17 y.o. daughter to babysit while we met. However, on our date, his kids called him twice within an hour, and he had to leave the second time. No emergency, they just weren’t used to their dad being away – his divorce is still rather new. I feel bad for him, because I know how hard this part is. But I decided to accept reality and not allow myself to become emotionally invested in what would be an exercise in futility, at this point. Sometimes the stars just don’t align. 😦 )