My two weeks as a newbie on the dating site OkCupid have
come and gone. Lots of looks at my profile, a few messages and a prolonged
never-going-anywhere date an island away.
Still single.
The profile looks and messages have dried up. I’ve already
been too long on the scene. There are newer men to ogle. I’m just another of
the hangers on, sticking around, creepily lurking after closing time.
But there aren’t any newer guys. I’ve checked. Same potential
matches. Nothing—no one—stands out. I guess I am lying in wait, along with all
the other sad-sacks.
And then it comes. A new photo. Dashing man. Looks terrific
in all four photos. Demonstrates a great fashion sense. I read his profile.
Noble profession. Extraordinarily thoughtful responses. He stands out.
Okay, he lives in Seattle and that’s four hours away (at
least) when I factor in ferry times and the border wait. But I am intrigued.
Too far. Intrigued. Too far. Really intrigued.
I message him. Must act fast. It’s 10 p.m., prime feeding
time for the lonely-hearted online. And it’s like the lottery: you never know.
I sign in again early the next morning. My profile has had
one visitor, one message.
It’s never the guy you want. Maybe a twenty-two-year-old
from a foreign country, a scam profile that will eventually lead to a request
to wire a few thousand dollars. Maybe a man a generation older than me, in “average”
shape, if average means fifty pounds overweight. (That’s fine, really. Just not
a dating match for me.) Maybe a guy with a photo from the ‘80s. The acid-washed
jeans and Steve Perry hair are a dead giveaway.
But this time it’s Seattle Man. That Seattle man. He visited my profile. And, yes, he sent a
message in reply.
I click to open it.
Thank you so much for taking the time to write me. I
don't come on here often and should really take the profile down. I'm in a bit
of life transition right now and might/hopefully be moving soon. Third job
interview coming up in a couple of weeks. I don't have the capacity for
romantic yearnings right now. I'm honored that a many like yourself found
interest in me. There is hope!
I wish you love and joy. You sound like a lovely person.
Peace
I wish you love and joy. You sound like a lovely person.
Peace
It’s the loveliest of kiss-offs.
But still it’s a kiss-off. Without the slightest of lip action. Drat.
Drat, drat, drat.
And then another message follows:
Okay, I decided. I'm taking the profile down for now.
You've provided the most thoughtful response of anyone on here.
You've provided the most thoughtful response of anyone on here.
Peace
Oh, he’s lovely, isn’t he?
But that gets me nowhere. Still
single. Still no excuse to be Sleepless in Seattle.
There’s an amused, yet negative
inner voice that says, Look what you did. You chased him away. Now no one can
have him. Man, you’ve got power.
Ah, but I am still smiling. Job
interview. A possible move. Other things on the mind. Bad timing again. That’s
how it goes. I continue to wait for my charming How We Met to come to fruition.
I have to believe that, eventually, I’ll get the timing
right. Come on, kismet. You’re needed. Stop dragging your feet.
Please?
3 comments:
Sorry for taking so long to respond, RG. Last Friday morning, I was in a cycling accident. I broke my left arm in two places, and I'm in recovery mode now.
What strikes me about this post, as compared to others you've written about unsuccessful first dates, is you didn't fall into the habit of self-deprecation (read ones from a year or so ago, and you'll see what I mean).
Yes, it's easy to poke jabs at oneself, in an attempt to get a laugh, but at the core of that habit is low self-esteem.
I'm so glad you're no longer down on yourself when dates don't go well. If they don't go well, you must believe it had nothing at all to do with you.
Remember, when you meet up with someone for coffee, the two of you are equals. What happens after that happens. That's life. Should not be a negative reflection on you. Not at all.
Yikes! Hope you're healing well, Rick. (Also hope you're right-handed although it will be a long recovery with considerable inconvenience.) Cycling sounds like a more noble accident trigger than, say, tripping over an elevated sidewalk (which I do constantly, even when no one else can see any alleged elevation).
Okay, so I do like to be self-deprecating. I will continue to express myself in that way from time to time. Often it amuses me without having anything to do with self-esteem. Shtick. (And sometimes there are hints of low self-regard.) Really, I don't think my haplessness is deserving or of my own doing. I do have an inordinate amount of bad luck, a knack for stumbling into odd situations with odd people. Life could be easier, but it might not be as interesting.
Okay, I'm ready to welcome easier. Bring it on!
Sometimes, RG, I overstep. I mean well, but...
(FYI, yes, I'm right handed. But think about not being able to do anything with your left arm/hand--scary, believe me. I'm sure there will be blog posts in there somewhere. The doctor tells me I could have long-term damage in my hand. I pray I will still be able to type. Otherwise, I'll have to find other ways to write. Thanks for your good wishes.)
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