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….

 

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Aziz Ansari is my dating twin (?!?)

So I went out with this guy a while back. Nice guy, I really liked him. But after our one date, he never texted me again. I tried texting him a few weeks later, like “Hey, how’s it going?” His response was tepid. So I was like, okay, guess it just didn’t work for you. Ouch, but fair enough. Never heard from him again. Until….

Flash forward another six weeks — eight weeks after our one-and-only date — and out of the blue he texts me: How’s it going? Uh, fine, how’s it going with you? Fine. Like that wasn’t weird at all. He kept texting, about nothing specific, and I kept responding politely, but the whole time I was like, What’s going on, here?

The next day, he texted me again. Same story — nothing specific to say, just wanted to shoot the breeze. The day after, same thing again.

So after three days of this how’s-the-weather business, I decide to cut to the chase. I texted him: Look, dude. I really, really liked you, but you kind of dropped me like a hot potato after that one date we went on, so I kind of don’t understand why you’re texting me now.

There was a pause. And then:

Oh, wow, I’m really sorry about the hot-potato thing. But I just really like talking to you. Is it okay if I still text you?

Huh?

Okay, I guess.

So he did. A lot. He texted me almost every single day for about the next six weeks, in a quantity of texting that I’ve never had except with guys who were interested in dating me. I was kind of okay with this, because I was still kind of into him. But it was confusing, too, because he wasn’t even close to asking me out. In fact, I could never get the conversation to go anywhere. For instance, one Saturday night I made it clear that I had no plans, and I was going to “snuggle in and watch a movie.” He wanted to know what movie. I said I didn’t know, had to check out what was on PPV, and he texted his opinions on movies I’d list. Finally, I settled on “The Martian,” and he said, Oh, that sounds good! I want to see that! So I took a chance and responded: LOL – you could just come over and watch it with me! He didn’t answer. Until the next day, when he said, Sorry I didn’t respond last night. I fell asleep.

Okay, whatever. I’d sent that text at 8:17 pm….

Another time there was a really great band I was going to see at a local venue, and he texted to ask what I was up to. So I told him and asked what he was doing. He said he was just hanging out, visiting at his parents’ house. I said he should leave and come see the band. He declined. So I all-but-begged (Come on! It’ll be fun! Besides, I need someone to rescue me from all the guys hitting on me. Just kidding – it’s not Walmart! 😉 ), and he never responded. Gee….

I figured he was lonely, or going through some sort of midlife-crisis, so I tried the raw-and-real approach to get him to open up, as a friend. Look, it’s obvious you’re going through something right now. But I’ve been through a few things, myself, and I’ve seen how dark the shadows can be, too. If you ever want to talk — really talk — I’m right here. He never responded to those texts, either.

I couldn’t figure this guy out, one way or another. I began dubbing him Ft. Knox in my head. I asked my male teammates at work what they thought of Ft. Knox’s behavior, and they were just like, “Huh? He’s texting you that much and doesn’t even ask you out? That guy makes no sense.” I asked my girlfriends; they didn’t understand it either.

Finally, one guy, who’s like a brother to me (and isn’t afraid to let me know what he’s really thinking), said, “I know what’s going on! You’re his Available-To-Text person, who makes him look good in front of other people!”

Whaaa…?

“And that’s all he wants you for! Look,” my friend said. “This:”

I watched the clip, and realized: Crap. My friend is right. I’m Available-To-Text Chick. I’m Aziz Ansarietta!

Crap!

Well, at least I’m in good company.

The Rules: #3 – Walmart

Yeah, I know. It’s sad that I have to post this. But it comes from more than one experience, lately. (I mean, Walmart? Seriously? I can’t even get a guy to hit on me at a bar – let alone buy me a drink – and you’re hitting on me in WALMART?!? And you’re not even offering to pick up the tab on my orange juice??? Ugh! Leave me alone – I’m shopping, here.)

Consider this my PSA of the day. 😉

The Rules #3 - Walmart

The Rules: #1

Welcome to my “new,” now semi-anonymous website. What you need to know is that I’m a 47 year-old, divorced mom, and once again navigating the “single” waters. “The Rules” are based on a few things I’ve learned — mostly about myself. But let me know if you agree. 😉

The Rules #1