Sorry for the lack of updates. Match.com is an exhausting process. The winks, the messages, the horrible first dates, the attempt to squelch feelings for someone who is
so wrong for you on paper and yet makes the corners of your mouth curl upward whenever you think of him. Oh my.
So I've been sending and receiving a hefty amount of emails on good ol' Match. Most of them are painful. Let me back track and explain my method. I know I said I'd give everyone a fair chance, but in reality if I did that, I would spend countless hours in cheesy restaurants listening to men yammer on while I long for my house shoes and bag of peanut butter M&Ms I have stashed in my desk drawer. Therefore, some standards had to be set. Basically, if anyone winks at me, they are not guaranteed an email. It's basically the lazy and cowardly way of saying hi, so I really don't feel obligated to respond to any of them. However, if they're at all dreamy or if I automatically assign them a nickname, they get an email from me (which usually leads to a date and an entertaining post for you to read). Everyone that sends an email, however, gets one back. This has been the difficult part as these boys have absolutely no social skills. I can't tell you how many times I've sent a well thought out email full of intelligent quips and witty questions about their lives only to receive a one sentence response answering all my questions; asking none in return. Those fellows do not get a response. I can only imagine what a date with them would be like.
So with this new system in place I've been busily typing away correspondence and effectively avoiding my homework altogether. But it's a social experiment, damn it. It's worth it.
Last night I hopped offline and actually went out with one of these young hooligans. The Man in the Plaid Shirt. I was so excited about this one. His emails were entertaining, he seemed intelligent and witty, he owned his own successful business in the music industry. I had built the date up so much in my mind that prior to the meet up I was sure I was going to throw up. But Genevieve gave me a pep talk, I swallowed down the impending vomit, and walked into the coffee shop confidently (ok, sorta confidently). First of all, not only did I get there before him (hate that. I'm much better at making entrances), but the entire place of empty. So I stood around waiting for him and thinking about how awkward it was going to be- just me, him and the cheesy venetian decorations.
He walked in the door about a minute later, wearing a wide brimmed fedora and a long army green pea coat thing. He looked like fucking paleontologist. I decided to look past that fact and say hello anyway. He said "hi" and shook my hand, which was weird enough, but it was one of those "I really don't want to touch you so I'm going to leave a space of air between our palms and just gently touch your fingers" kind of hand shakes. Without another word, he looked to the counter and said "I need to order." He didn't say another word to me until he had done just that. He didn't even ask if I wanted anything! So I just stood there, glaring at him thinking "douche bag, douche bag, DOUCHE BAG!"
When we sat down it was time to get down to business. Literally. I felt like I was in a business meeting for the next two hours. I propped my head up on my hand as I listened to him rave about "A Mighty Wind" (and accost me for not seeing it), name drop and explain his business in gross detail. The whole time I was thinking "I cannot believe I washed my hair for this."
We parted ways around 9:30. He actually gave me a hug but it was about as pathetic as his handshake. When I finally sat down in my car I realized how hungry I was. I had run before the date and hadn't eaten anything afterwards. My hands started shaking and my head was buzzing. So I did what any logical girl-about-town would do and call The Scientist. He and I went to a cafe about a block from his house and he watched me devour a mass amount of hummus and pizza all by myself; the best part was it never felt like he was judging me for literally stuffing my face in front of him.
I'm growing fond of this fellow. I truly am. He tells me I'm like Liz Lemon but better, how can I resist? It's not a perfect match, and I'm not totally sold on the idea, but it's growing on me. Slowly.
<3,
Sarah
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