So the results are in, as they say, and the “interested parties” from all the dudes I speed-datified with are:
Dudes 2 and 3. Or, for those of you who really don’t feel like clicking the link and re-reading the previous, super-long, super-rambly post, “lawyer/politician, huge head, tiny teeth, maybe no eyes at all” and “Navy guy, has possible crush on Dude 2.” Winners. Really.
Someone asked me why I wondered if Dude 3 was smitten with Dude 2, and the answer was simple: that was all he talked about. Why was he doing speed dating? Because Dude 2 asked him to. What does he do? He’s a law student, just like Dude 2. Where has he lived? Here, and also in Washington state. Which, by the way did he happen to mention, is a place where Dude 2 had also lived? And didn’t I think that Dude 2 was dreamy? And couldn’t you just dive into the limpid pools of his blue eyes? Sigh… (wait, he has eyes? Are you sure?)
So I’m a little confused that those two opted to meet again. Here’s my conclusion: Dude 2 opted to talk again with ALL the women because that’s how he rolls (and because, with his squinty, possibly-non-eyed eyes and non-stop talking about the law and politics and SO DANGED INTERESTING, RIGHT?, he had no idea what any of the women looked like or said so best to paint a WIDE SWATH). And Dude 3 opted to talk to me again because he’s hoping it will be some crazy 3-way date. And I won’t show up. (know what I’m sayn?)
Really Very Extremely needless to say I’m not planning to connect w/ tiny teeth or his special man-friend. So thus endeth speed dating. Bleah.
Showing posts with label Match-game. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Match-game. Show all posts
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Danger, Will Me-binson
For a minute last night (yes, the same night!) I thought Potential Dude had ruined it. He started out pretty strong, with a clever and even pseudo-charming message and references to pop culture and such, and even with the smoking (cannot tell you what a turn-off that is, because yuck-yuck-YUUUUUUUCK!!!) and the age question I was officially intrigued. I even replied, which I’d been pretty sure would NEVER happen.
Then, about half an hour later, this weird thing happens. My browser pops up this little window without me saying “hey browser, pop up a little window won’t you?” and when it develops all the way it turns out to be some kind of magic talking box. And the talker is Potential Dude and the message is instant and says something like “send me your email address so you can tell me!” and I went “Gah!” followed immediately by “DIE INSTANT MESSAGEY BOX!!!!” and clicked it dead!
Now, were Beautiful Dreamer in my place she’d have been very excited about this additional, this spontaneous and this super-speedy contact. But for me? Too much! I just sent you an reply not more then 30 minutes ago and you’re clamoring for more? And you want my email address? Way, way too much, Mr. Potential Dude!
Here’s the thing: I LOVE me some internet, don’t get me wrong! I think it’s just about the most amazing invention of my whole life, right after Fudgicles and that powdery chemical candy that you eat with the candy stick, right? But I’m also CONSTANTLY aware of the massive population of whackadoodle nut-chiladas out there! If they did a poll of the internet to find out the ratio of doodle-bugs to non-doodle-bugs I’m sure it would be 50/50 IF THE RATIONAL PEOPLE ARE LUCKY! And OF the population of scary-freaky-odd-sad-broken-crazy-gahgahgahgah-types out on the net, I’m sure close to 200% of them are searching the online dating universe for a partner.
And at this point someone out there is all “hey, YOU’RE out there searching for a partner on the web. Are you saying there’s something wrong with you?” And I’m all “are you NEW? HELLO!!! Of course I know there’s stuff wrong with me! I’m Lady High Empress of the Whackadoodles, keeper of the scepter of RBBRRBBBRRBBRRBBRR!!!” and you’re all “what, you really think there’s something so weird about you?” and I’m all “didn’t you read this post? And this one? And pick any post you want, they all scream “Run from the crazy single lady before she snares you with her box of nasty sarcasm and pudding!” and you’re all “wha- um, I don’t… I mean I just, uh, er, I um-“ and I’m all “Woopity, whoopity, whoopidy! Lookit me, I’m all invisible! Somebody catch that giant flying turnip because it took my cheese-shoes!”…
But enough about me.
This morning there were another two messages. Twice the number of messages I was going for. 200% more messages then I’d been looking to get. And at this point I’m expecting “You’re so excellent, what should we name the first baby?, I don’t want you to spend so much time with your girlfriends anymore, does this dress make me look fat?” and I don’t even want to OPEN the messages.
Don’t worry, I finally opened them and they were fine. Lots more questions – I think this guy thinks he can take me in a pop culture challenge! – but mostly normal. So I sent another reply today. This is bordering on conversational at this point, folks.
Then, about half an hour later, this weird thing happens. My browser pops up this little window without me saying “hey browser, pop up a little window won’t you?” and when it develops all the way it turns out to be some kind of magic talking box. And the talker is Potential Dude and the message is instant and says something like “send me your email address so you can tell me
Now, were Beautiful Dreamer in my place she’d have been very excited about this additional, this spontaneous and this super-speedy contact. But for me? Too much! I just sent you an reply not more then 30 minutes ago and you’re clamoring for more? And you want my email address? Way, way too much, Mr. Potential Dude!
Here’s the thing: I LOVE me some internet, don’t get me wrong! I think it’s just about the most amazing invention of my whole life, right after Fudgicles and that powdery chemical candy that you eat with the candy stick, right? But I’m also CONSTANTLY aware of the massive population of whackadoodle nut-chiladas out there! If they did a poll of the internet to find out the ratio of doodle-bugs to non-doodle-bugs I’m sure it would be 50/50 IF THE RATIONAL PEOPLE ARE LUCKY! And OF the population of scary-freaky-odd-sad-broken-crazy-gahgahgahgah-types out on the net, I’m sure close to 200% of them are searching the online dating universe for a partner.
And at this point someone out there is all “hey, YOU’RE out there searching for a partner on the web. Are you saying there’s something wrong with you?” And I’m all “are you NEW? HELLO!!! Of course I know there’s stuff wrong with me! I’m Lady High Empress of the Whackadoodles, keeper of the scepter of RBBRRBBBRRBBRRBBRR!!!” and you’re all “what, you really think there’s something so weird about you?” and I’m all “didn’t you read this post? And this one? And pick any post you want, they all scream “Run from the crazy single lady before she snares you with her box of nasty sarcasm and pudding!” and you’re all “wha- um, I don’t… I mean I just, uh, er, I um-“ and I’m all “Woopity, whoopity, whoopidy! Lookit me, I’m all invisible! Somebody catch that giant flying turnip because it took my cheese-shoes!”…
But enough about me.
This morning there were another two messages. Twice the number of messages I was going for. 200% more messages then I’d been looking to get. And at this point I’m expecting “You’re so excellent, what should we name the first baby?, I don’t want you to spend so much time with your girlfriends anymore, does this dress make me look fat?” and I don’t even want to OPEN the messages.
Don’t worry, I finally opened them and they were fine. Lots more questions – I think this guy thinks he can take me in a pop culture challenge! – but mostly normal. So I sent another reply today. This is bordering on conversational at this point, folks.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Houston, we have contact.
Get this: the only thing freakier then going for months and months and not getting an interesting messages? Turns out it's getting an interesting message.
My cheery little email tells me I have a message (more then a nod, better then a wink, less creepy then "eye contact" -- an actual message) from someone on fweewove.com, and in my usual jaded form I approach it with grains and nuggets and boulders of salt. And first thing I notice is this guy also likes to reference being a father in his username, which I still find kind of creepy. So I'm now even more shoulder-chippy.
And this shoulder-chippiness? It’s comfortable. I am relieved this guy is also flawed. Just like everyone else so far. I proceed to find the rest of the flaws so I can craft yet another mocky-mockiting blog post.
But then I read the actual message, and weeelllll crap. He says many of the right things, the bastard! Like he knew some of the authors that I’d referenced and challenged my assertion that I will kick pop culture expert butt on Vh1 (rather then thinking, as any rational person would, “what a sad, sad little woman to have this be a goal.”) and included “going to car races” and “swearing” as things he enjoys to do. Which means there would be things that we could do together! (“we totally cussed this guy out, and it was so romantic we ran home and had racecar sex!”)
But guess what? Not being able to reject the guy was MUCH more freaky then the freaky guys with horns and hooks and dog lovers. Did I mention big old crap? Because CRAP!
I found some things that are definite drawbacks (like dude, if they say they want someone who doesn’t smoke at all I’m not sure it works well to state that “you’re quitting. Again.”) and also he’s older then the oldest guy I said I wanted to meet and might be a vampire (no picture. I know, I know! I totally know!) and he MIGHT be a janitor (and I know it would be wrong of me to reject someone for being a janitor, but I’d probably do it as I am a very bad person) so I’m not web-surfing for china patterns or anything.
But I did reply.
And then thought seriously about puking.
So just when I thought it was time to change the focus of this blog to something more productive (cooking with your feet, snipe-breeding, my feelings about the socio-economic developments in lower-upper-WhosisWhatsis-a-Topia…) something might finally be happening. On the free site, no less!
Needless to say, my peoples, I’ll keep you posted. (except for the puking. I’ll keep that to myself. Which you know is a lie. I keep nothing but the names of the innocent to myself. And sometimes the puking.)
My cheery little email tells me I have a message (more then a nod, better then a wink, less creepy then "eye contact" -- an actual message) from someone on fweewove.com, and in my usual jaded form I approach it with grains and nuggets and boulders of salt. And first thing I notice is this guy also likes to reference being a father in his username, which I still find kind of creepy. So I'm now even more shoulder-chippy.
And this shoulder-chippiness? It’s comfortable. I am relieved this guy is also flawed. Just like everyone else so far. I proceed to find the rest of the flaws so I can craft yet another mocky-mockiting blog post.
But then I read the actual message, and weeelllll crap. He says many of the right things, the bastard! Like he knew some of the authors that I’d referenced and challenged my assertion that I will kick pop culture expert butt on Vh1 (rather then thinking, as any rational person would, “what a sad, sad little woman to have this be a goal.”) and included “going to car races” and “swearing” as things he enjoys to do. Which means there would be things that we could do together! (“we totally cussed this guy out, and it was so romantic we ran home and had racecar sex!”)
But guess what? Not being able to reject the guy was MUCH more freaky then the freaky guys with horns and hooks and dog lovers. Did I mention big old crap? Because CRAP!
I found some things that are definite drawbacks (like dude, if they say they want someone who doesn’t smoke at all I’m not sure it works well to state that “you’re quitting. Again.”) and also he’s older then the oldest guy I said I wanted to meet and might be a vampire (no picture. I know, I know! I totally know!) and he MIGHT be a janitor (and I know it would be wrong of me to reject someone for being a janitor, but I’d probably do it as I am a very bad person) so I’m not web-surfing for china patterns or anything.
But I did reply.
And then thought seriously about puking.
So just when I thought it was time to change the focus of this blog to something more productive (cooking with your feet, snipe-breeding, my feelings about the socio-economic developments in lower-upper-WhosisWhatsis-a-Topia…) something might finally be happening. On the free site, no less!
Needless to say, my peoples, I’ll keep you posted. (except for the puking. I’ll keep that to myself. Which you know is a lie. I keep nothing but the names of the innocent to myself. And sometimes the puking.)
Sunday, August 05, 2007
They matched me up with science. Science!
OK, so apparently Yenta.com is done. I'm kind of amazed that they didn't automatically renew me or send me an email to let me know I was about to be 'let go' or anything. I am also surprised to find that my reaction to being no longer subscribed was kind of a little internal "whew!" I guess I wasn't enjoying that whole thing.
BUT I still have that whole "finding wove" goal to fulfill and so I decided to click the button inviting me to check out Yenta.com's more involved version, where you answer complex questions and they find you complex matches. Because here's the deal: "come and find your matches for FREE, FREE, FREE! and you only have to give us money if we find someone you want to connect with!" It's very tempting, although it does sound like eventually I'll be sitting there paying ransom for them to let my lovah free. But I'll burn that bridge once we get there. For now I had yet ANOTHER series of questions to answer.
This one had some very odd additions, beyond the standard stuff ("does your match smoke? Drink? eat babies? How many babies? raw or bar-b-qued babies?...") which kind of fascinated me. Like there were these little designs where you were supposed to click buttons to make one part of the picture match the size of another, and it was timed. Also there was one where you had to pick the diagram that most closely matched your finger sizes. (is your ring finger longer then your index finger? Shorter? Missing?) And one where you had these four photographs of people smiling, and you were supposed to indicate which of the smiles you trusted and which you didn't. (I didn't trust the one with the pointy canine teeth, because hello? Vampire? Duh!)
So by the time I was all finished I realized that these questions made the whole thing seem downright scientific! Like you'd have to believe that any match they bring you would be Mr. Wight because they reached the conclusion via science. Science! Of course this must be the dude for me -- his finger question probably matched mine! We're probably finger-compatible! Or maybe they put us together because we can resize random shapes very quickly, both of us. Which would be important as we raise our kids, as you can't bring up children with someone who is slow to resize a hexagon, for god's sake. That would be madness! At the very least I can rest assured that any mate I settle down with will distrust vampires just like I do.
So I'll give this new, science-based channel a little time and see what they come up with. I'm either all excited OR I'm sitting on an electroscope.
BUT I still have that whole "finding wove" goal to fulfill and so I decided to click the button inviting me to check out Yenta.com's more involved version, where you answer complex questions and they find you complex matches. Because here's the deal: "come and find your matches for FREE, FREE, FREE! and you only have to give us money if we find someone you want to connect with!" It's very tempting, although it does sound like eventually I'll be sitting there paying ransom for them to let my lovah free. But I'll burn that bridge once we get there. For now I had yet ANOTHER series of questions to answer.
This one had some very odd additions, beyond the standard stuff ("does your match smoke? Drink? eat babies? How many babies? raw or bar-b-qued babies?...") which kind of fascinated me. Like there were these little designs where you were supposed to click buttons to make one part of the picture match the size of another, and it was timed. Also there was one where you had to pick the diagram that most closely matched your finger sizes. (is your ring finger longer then your index finger? Shorter? Missing?) And one where you had these four photographs of people smiling, and you were supposed to indicate which of the smiles you trusted and which you didn't. (I didn't trust the one with the pointy canine teeth, because hello? Vampire? Duh!)
So by the time I was all finished I realized that these questions made the whole thing seem downright scientific! Like you'd have to believe that any match they bring you would be Mr. Wight because they reached the conclusion via science. Science! Of course this must be the dude for me -- his finger question probably matched mine! We're probably finger-compatible! Or maybe they put us together because we can resize random shapes very quickly, both of us. Which would be important as we raise our kids, as you can't bring up children with someone who is slow to resize a hexagon, for god's sake. That would be madness! At the very least I can rest assured that any mate I settle down with will distrust vampires just like I do.
So I'll give this new, science-based channel a little time and see what they come up with. I'm either all excited OR I'm sitting on an electroscope.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
You lookin' at me?
So my attempt to find exactly the right guy for me kind of,... what's the word? Oh yeah, hit the old crapparoo! Mostly because I'm just not looking for Mr. Right+family. Also, I'm pretty much a bottom and I cannot support that many people on me. Bad for the back.
Tonight I noticed there's a "reverse search" button. Apparently I could come at this from the other direction, and rather then ask to see the guys who are "perfect" for me I could look at the guys for whom I would be perfect. Now this, says I, sounds like the way to go!
Because here's what I'm thinking. I'm thinking "why should I be in charge of picking the right guy? Clearly I SUCK at that! The one time I've done that in the past I wound up with a peach of a guy who's best attributes were "he hasn't hit me just yet. Also he's a really heavy sleeper, so he'll never hear me strike the match!" And since then my selection process has resulted in an extremely impressive collection of whole lotta nothin' So I should let the guys pick me! And then it will be voila - instant fish!"
I push the button.
Once again the result is... slim. In that there is only one guy. I'll go ahead and kill your suspense: we won't be picking out any china patterns. Why? What could be wrong? is it possible that I'm being just too darned picky? OR could there be bonafide reasons for me to rubber stamp this guy? What could these reasons be? (why the hell do I keep asking you guys questions like this? Don't I understand that this is not a conversation? Am I just completely addicted to question marks? Sorry, where were we...) Oh yeah, what reasons could there be for me to reject this guy? Could it be:
- that his online moniker is "daddy(something)"? I'm glad if you're excited about being a father, but when you make that your dating moniker it's saying something very different. And creepy. Creepy different.
- that he lives something like 90 min. away? Dude, I gotta think of the planet. If I started commuting 3 hours a day for a booty call I'd be removed from Al Gore's Five!
- that he doesn't have a picture? Ummm, yeah!
But those are just additional reasons.
You see, when I first clicked on to this profile the first thing I noticed (right after the creepy Daddy handle totally creeped me out right away, all creepy, but anyway) was this sentence:
I scrolled down and here's what his criteria says:
Age range: 18 to 65
Height: 4" to 7'11"
Build: Petite, Slender, Average, Athletic, Few Extra Pounds, Full Figured, Proportional, Body Builder, Tall and Lanky
Physical Appearance: Any
(I'm not kidding -- this info is copied and pasted directly from his profile!)
Marital status: Any
Race: Caucasian; African American; Asian; Multi-racial; Hispanic; East Indian; American Indian; Other
Religion: Any
Smoking preference: Doesn't smoke; Occasionally/Socially; Regularly; Trying to quit; Any
Drinking preference: Any
Children preference: Any
Race: Caucasian; African American; Asian; Multi-racial; Hispanic; East Indian; American Indian; Other
(you're seeing it already, right?)
Education Level: Any
Eye Color: Any
Hair Preference: Blonde; Dirty-Blonde; Light Brown; Auburn; Brunette / Brown; Strawberry Blonde; Red; Black; Salt & Pepper; White; Bald/Shaven; Subject to change without notice
Pets Owned: A dog owner; A cat owner; A reptile owner; A fish owner; A rodent owner; A bird owner; Call me Old McDonald; Petless
Political Party: Any
Sense of Humor: Any
Bests Physical Feature: Any.
Oh yes, not just any lady will do! It must be any lady except a 66 year old, 8 foot tall eskimo athiest who chain smokes, has a green mohawk and owns a pet giraffe.
and I will give up my giraffe for no man!
Tonight I noticed there's a "reverse search" button. Apparently I could come at this from the other direction, and rather then ask to see the guys who are "perfect" for me I could look at the guys for whom I would be perfect. Now this, says I, sounds like the way to go!
Because here's what I'm thinking. I'm thinking "why should I be in charge of picking the right guy? Clearly I SUCK at that! The one time I've done that in the past I wound up with a peach of a guy who's best attributes were "he hasn't hit me just yet. Also he's a really heavy sleeper, so he'll never hear me strike the match!" And since then my selection process has resulted in an extremely impressive collection of whole lotta nothin' So I should let the guys pick me! And then it will be voila - instant fish!"
I push the button.
Once again the result is... slim. In that there is only one guy. I'll go ahead and kill your suspense: we won't be picking out any china patterns. Why? What could be wrong? is it possible that I'm being just too darned picky? OR could there be bonafide reasons for me to rubber stamp this guy? What could these reasons be? (why the hell do I keep asking you guys questions like this? Don't I understand that this is not a conversation? Am I just completely addicted to question marks? Sorry, where were we...) Oh yeah, what reasons could there be for me to reject this guy? Could it be:
- that his online moniker is "daddy(something)"? I'm glad if you're excited about being a father, but when you make that your dating moniker it's saying something very different. And creepy. Creepy different.
- that he lives something like 90 min. away? Dude, I gotta think of the planet. If I started commuting 3 hours a day for a booty call I'd be removed from Al Gore's Five!
- that he doesn't have a picture? Ummm, yeah!
But those are just additional reasons.
You see, when I first clicked on to this profile the first thing I noticed (right after the creepy Daddy handle totally creeped me out right away, all creepy, but anyway) was this sentence:
"Not just any lady will do!"Tell me, if you saw this within someone's carefully crafted profile you'd think they'd really painted a specific picture of what they're looking for, right? This is someone who does not want to waste any time on someone obviously not matching his criteria. And apparently, based on how I found him on the site, I AM his criteria! I should be that magic lady he's looking for! Maybe this could work after all!
I scrolled down and here's what his criteria says:
Age range: 18 to 65
Height: 4" to 7'11"
Build: Petite, Slender, Average, Athletic, Few Extra Pounds, Full Figured, Proportional, Body Builder, Tall and Lanky
Physical Appearance: Any
(I'm not kidding -- this info is copied and pasted directly from his profile!)
Marital status: Any
Race: Caucasian; African American; Asian; Multi-racial; Hispanic; East Indian; American Indian; Other
Religion: Any
Smoking preference: Doesn't smoke; Occasionally/Socially; Regularly; Trying to quit; Any
Drinking preference: Any
Children preference: Any
Race: Caucasian; African American; Asian; Multi-racial; Hispanic; East Indian; American Indian; Other
(you're seeing it already, right?)
Education Level: Any
Eye Color: Any
Hair Preference: Blonde; Dirty-Blonde; Light Brown; Auburn; Brunette / Brown; Strawberry Blonde; Red; Black; Salt & Pepper; White; Bald/Shaven; Subject to change without notice
Pets Owned: A dog owner; A cat owner; A reptile owner; A fish owner; A rodent owner; A bird owner; Call me Old McDonald; Petless
Political Party: Any
Sense of Humor: Any
Bests Physical Feature: Any.
Oh yes, not just any lady will do! It must be any lady except a 66 year old, 8 foot tall eskimo athiest who chain smokes, has a green mohawk and owns a pet giraffe.
and I will give up my giraffe for no man!
Monday, July 30, 2007
Getting every bit of what I paid for.
So I decided to sit down and complete my fweewove.com profile. Everything. My likes, my dislikes, religious beliefs, political stance, favorite food, biggest fear, place I'd least like to be kicked (Barcelona)... the whole she-bang! This, I figured, was the key to finding my true wove! If I don't let them know who I really am and what I really want, I reasoned, then how could I expect them to help me? It took some time, but I got it done, and with my newly specific search parameters I called for a match.
And this is what I got:
And in case you need more excellent information I should mention that Fabio here looks to be about 5 and a half feet tall. And 3 and a half feet wide. With kind of a dirty Teddy Ruxpin thing goin' on. And did I mention he's looking not for a special lady, but more for an additional, or "spare" if you will, special lady. A sparecial lady. He apparently is so overflowing, so bubbling over with masculine machismo magic that just one, or possibly two, or maybe even three to five women just can't satiate him. Nor, apparently, can two to five daily donuts. But really, who could resist such animal magnetism? (cough, gag, pinch of vomit into my mouth...)
Not only was this the first match that my newly specific search brought me, but it was the ONLY MATCH. The ONLY ONE. This is IT. If I am to go to the person with which I am meant to be I will have to dig deep, deep into my Mr. Rogers training and really rock my sharing skills. Please Mr. Polyamorous (which is, I believe, Latin for uber-randy, which is German for mucho-horny, which is Spanish for "I actually think I can get a bunch of women to come have loose sex with me despite my personal appearance and wife plus kids."), won't you be my neighbor?
I will admit, people, that this response to such specificity is disappointing. It's sure a good thing I didn't pay for this one!
And this is what I got:
"polyamorous, looking for another new relationship"Apparently my Mr. Right is shacked up with a Mrs. Right and a couple of little Rightlings, but they have an understanding. And a corral of "friends" on the side. And an opening for a new "friend." And probably hot-and-cold running cable-porn. And an uncanny ability to give me the fuzzy, leaping, sideways-hinged and double-barrelled heebie-jeebies! (brief pause for shudder dance of a thousand great googly-mooglies!)
And in case you need more excellent information I should mention that Fabio here looks to be about 5 and a half feet tall. And 3 and a half feet wide. With kind of a dirty Teddy Ruxpin thing goin' on. And did I mention he's looking not for a special lady, but more for an additional, or "spare" if you will, special lady. A sparecial lady. He apparently is so overflowing, so bubbling over with masculine machismo magic that just one, or possibly two, or maybe even three to five women just can't satiate him. Nor, apparently, can two to five daily donuts. But really, who could resist such animal magnetism? (cough, gag, pinch of vomit into my mouth...)
Not only was this the first match that my newly specific search brought me, but it was the ONLY MATCH. The ONLY ONE. This is IT. If I am to go to the person with which I am meant to be I will have to dig deep, deep into my Mr. Rogers training and really rock my sharing skills. Please Mr. Polyamorous (which is, I believe, Latin for uber-randy, which is German for mucho-horny, which is Spanish for "I actually think I can get a bunch of women to come have loose sex with me despite my personal appearance and wife plus kids."), won't you be my neighbor?
I will admit, people, that this response to such specificity is disappointing. It's sure a good thing I didn't pay for this one!
Monday, July 23, 2007
Looking for Lawrence of Arabia, getting Larry the Cable Guy
Ya know how 2 weeks ago I said I was gonna take a break from the manhunt? Yeah, well as I feared no sooner did I decide that then the free and local online dating site spit out several "hey baby!" connections. Because irony has such a messed up sense of humor. And so I went to check them out, because if they're coming to me the LEAST I can do is meet them half way!
Apparently the type that I attract is something like this:
Sigh.
I'm not trying to be picky, although I'm sure that's how I sound. And I'm not expecting Brad Pitt or Robert Redford or even Robert DeNiro or even Robert Wagner! But how 'bout not Robert the unemployed manure salesman? How 'bout not Bobby the trophy snipe hunter? How 'bout not Bobbo the trained monkey? 'kay? Really? How 'bout?
I'm gonna work with the idea that I should take the time to fill in more of my blanks on the freebie matchmaking site. Really all they know about me is girl, age, location, not dead, likes boys, homo sapien. Doesn't give them too much to work with. And who knows, maybe there's a box I can check that say's things like "no dudes who enjoy gutting anything." or "not interested in learning to appreciate "chawin' tabacki" or "anyone who says grace over a bag of Cheetos need not apply." (although to be clear: Cheeto enthusiasts are very welcome! Yeah, wipe me all over with that fake, neon-orange powder-o-wove, baby! ...sorry, too much?)
The other trend that just keeps being true is that if they're cute they're also looking for someone who can "keep up with them" as they bike the Rocky Mountains or free-climb the Space Needle. I don't think the right person for me would consider teaching a turbo-spinning class a reasonable hobby. I'm more looking for someone who thinks that learning to pick up socks with your toes is a reasonable hobby. I'd just like them to be kinda cute while they're walking off that foot cramp. (be a man!)
So as of tonight I return to the hunt by fleshing out my profile with fweewove.com. (hmmph. Fleshing out. Dirty.) I'll tell them what I want and don't want and then I'm sure they'll come knocking on my (email) door and say "what ho, we have foundeth for you yon stallion of beautiest brow and galliant heart! He doth profess much wove for you and asks do you feel the same?" And I will reply forsooth:
"I'm sorry, did you call me a ho?"
Apparently the type that I attract is something like this:
- Cowboy hat
- moustache, no beard
- wears cammo. In the city.
- enjoys hunting/fishing/other death-oriented hobbies
- wants to treat someone like a queen/goddess/right purty filly
- has 2-6 kids that just might need a new baby mama
- bears a striking resemblence to someone who just might have an interest in gettin' er done.
Sigh.
I'm not trying to be picky, although I'm sure that's how I sound. And I'm not expecting Brad Pitt or Robert Redford or even Robert DeNiro or even Robert Wagner! But how 'bout not Robert the unemployed manure salesman? How 'bout not Bobby the trophy snipe hunter? How 'bout not Bobbo the trained monkey? 'kay? Really? How 'bout?
I'm gonna work with the idea that I should take the time to fill in more of my blanks on the freebie matchmaking site. Really all they know about me is girl, age, location, not dead, likes boys, homo sapien. Doesn't give them too much to work with. And who knows, maybe there's a box I can check that say's things like "no dudes who enjoy gutting anything." or "not interested in learning to appreciate "chawin' tabacki" or "anyone who says grace over a bag of Cheetos need not apply." (although to be clear: Cheeto enthusiasts are very welcome! Yeah, wipe me all over with that fake, neon-orange powder-o-wove, baby! ...sorry, too much?)
The other trend that just keeps being true is that if they're cute they're also looking for someone who can "keep up with them" as they bike the Rocky Mountains or free-climb the Space Needle. I don't think the right person for me would consider teaching a turbo-spinning class a reasonable hobby. I'm more looking for someone who thinks that learning to pick up socks with your toes is a reasonable hobby. I'd just like them to be kinda cute while they're walking off that foot cramp. (be a man!)
So as of tonight I return to the hunt by fleshing out my profile with fweewove.com. (hmmph. Fleshing out. Dirty.) I'll tell them what I want and don't want and then I'm sure they'll come knocking on my (email) door and say "what ho, we have foundeth for you yon stallion of beautiest brow and galliant heart! He doth profess much wove for you and asks do you feel the same?" And I will reply forsooth:
"I'm sorry, did you call me a ho?"
Monday, July 09, 2007
Are we there yet?
Or "Do I gotta?"
Or "She's not just a pretty monarch. She's smart too!"
...I had an epiphany tonight. Now, don't get too excited because traditionally my epiphanies are neither earth-shattering nor long-term, but here mine was:
The idea of checking either of the online dating services felt like a chore. A chore. Like "oh crap, before I go to bed I'd better check Yenta.com and the other one." And then kind of a "poopsters." feeling, like you get when you're almost ready for bed and you realize tomorrow is garbage day. Or when you fall asleep on the couch and crawl from sofa to bed and are just drifting off as you register that your teeth are unbrushed. You know what I'm talking about, right? That "dang, I was almost scott free!" sensation.
But instead of garbage or plaque-defense it's "finding wove."
Its not that I don't want to have wove. I like the idea of being in wove, all mooney-eyed and giggley-pussed and such. And I have some fond memories of when I think I might have been in wove in the past. That time. Assuming that I was in wove, which is something I won't ever know for sure until I get to do it at least once more and then compare sensations.
But I realized today that the concept of pursuing wove, seeking it out, hunting it down... WHAT A HASSLE!!! It sucks, and the older I get the more it will suck. And the more lame I will feel doing it. And I don't like feeling lame.
The Queen has said in the past that my lack of partner was due mostly to my lack of making it a priority, or really going after it, or possibly "not working hard enough." I don't know if that was true in the past -- there was this 6-month stretch where I was positively chasing a dude from my office, and as exhausting as that was I'm sure I was working hard! -- but I'm pretty sure it's about to be true. Maybe I just need a break? Maybe I need a change of perspective? But for the next week or two I may not do much in pursuit of wove.
Not that I won't write -- I promise I will write. But maybe a bit more about the life of a single gal and less about the ways to be a double. A plural? A plenty? A couple.
But before I shift focus, here's a picture of the cute guy that lives across the street from my uncle and came over on the fourth w/ a 75-yr old copy of Colliers to show to the rest of the men. Enjoy.
Or "She's not just a pretty monarch. She's smart too!"
...I had an epiphany tonight. Now, don't get too excited because traditionally my epiphanies are neither earth-shattering nor long-term, but here mine was:
The idea of checking either of the online dating services felt like a chore. A chore. Like "oh crap, before I go to bed I'd better check Yenta.com and the other one." And then kind of a "poopsters." feeling, like you get when you're almost ready for bed and you realize tomorrow is garbage day. Or when you fall asleep on the couch and crawl from sofa to bed and are just drifting off as you register that your teeth are unbrushed. You know what I'm talking about, right? That "dang, I was almost scott free!" sensation.
But instead of garbage or plaque-defense it's "finding wove."
Its not that I don't want to have wove. I like the idea of being in wove, all mooney-eyed and giggley-pussed and such. And I have some fond memories of when I think I might have been in wove in the past. That time. Assuming that I was in wove, which is something I won't ever know for sure until I get to do it at least once more and then compare sensations.
But I realized today that the concept of pursuing wove, seeking it out, hunting it down... WHAT A HASSLE!!! It sucks, and the older I get the more it will suck. And the more lame I will feel doing it. And I don't like feeling lame.
The Queen has said in the past that my lack of partner was due mostly to my lack of making it a priority, or really going after it, or possibly "not working hard enough." I don't know if that was true in the past -- there was this 6-month stretch where I was positively chasing a dude from my office, and as exhausting as that was I'm sure I was working hard! -- but I'm pretty sure it's about to be true. Maybe I just need a break? Maybe I need a change of perspective? But for the next week or two I may not do much in pursuit of wove.
Not that I won't write -- I promise I will write. But maybe a bit more about the life of a single gal and less about the ways to be a double. A plural? A plenty? A couple.
But before I shift focus, here's a picture of the cute guy that lives across the street from my uncle and came over on the fourth w/ a 75-yr old copy of Colliers to show to the rest of the men. Enjoy.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
T-t-t-t-tangents...
Sometimes you eat the bear, and sometimes the bear eats you. (now see, in my head that sounded all profound and deep. but in writing? Just dirty. sigh.) Yes, ladies and..., well pretty much just ladies, things are all sorts of familiar now! I'm wrapped up in that most well-worn of beach towels: rejection. In less than 24 hours Monty sent word my presence was not required.
I know what you're saying now. "24 hours? Well hell, you could have told this 2 days ago!" You're right. And I started to a bunch of times, but each time this same thing happened. Everything came out all bitter and hissy. See, this is what put out my fire to pursue this kind of stuff in the past. I got danged tired of the rejection, and even more tired of the nasty little bitch I become in the face of it.
(Woah, this is becoming another very real and bitter post. Allow me to break things up with a random tangent, shall I?)
Tangent: tomorrow (today already for some folks) is that most commercial of holidays, Valentines Day. This year I think it's being brought to us by Target, Coke and the letter P. This holiday is one that really separates the boys from the men, I say. Or more accurately the single boys from the dating men, and same goes for the ladies. If you're doing the wove thing when this day wheels around it's all about "do something or don't? If I do something am I just pandering to society's insistance that I choose today to be romantic? If I do nothing am I being an ass-hat?" Here's your answer, dating/mating world: yes. Yes, yes, a thousand chocolates over yes! You are pandering, you're letting the rest of the world dictate your romantic schedule and you're a complete and utter bastard if you don't. So suck it up, buy a single wed wose or a teddy bear holding a box of inedible chalk talking hearts or those truly classy silk boxers with the big, red lips all over them and get to it!
And then there's those like moi, who have to decide if they'll shun the day (usually with much bile and self-pity), take back the day with the tried and true "hey, why don't all we single friends get together and do something!" plan or pretend that the 14th of February is no different than the 13th (like anyone's buying that.) Me? I used to celebrate with as non-romantic a movie I could find (Platoon, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, most things starring David Spade...) and eating an entire pizza by myself (using the traditional "hell, if I'm not dating anybody then there's no one to care if I gain 5 pounds in a single sitting!" rational) but that seemed like giving the day more oomph then made sense. Now I just look it as the day before the day when all those boxes of candy go on big-time sale!
So Sunday night I come home from a rollicking evening of Grammy-tastic action to an email from my very good friend, Yenta.com, assuring me that I shouldn't give up hope just because oh yeah, by the way, that dude what I winked at reacted with something along the lines of "yeesh! Are you high?" and beat feet in the away direction. I really appreciated that Yenta was there for me in that, my time of need. There with generic encouragement to get back on the e-horse and go find someone else who can reject me tomorrow! But in all honesty what I felt like doing was, in my opinion, a very reasonable and balanced reaction. It was a plan of two steps:
I did try to follow Yenta's advice and check for anyone new out there at whom I could wink. Apparently the pickings are sticking to their strict diet of parsley, red ants and criticism (which is the same diet that Nicole Richey is on, by the way.) In other words, they are still slim, these pickings. Am I being too selective? Perhaps. How do I tell? Based on the small amount of info I'm provided and these akward, sketchy and sometimes frightening pictures I'm not finding anyone I want to open a door to. But correct me if I'm wrong: that's what I'm supposed to do, right? I'm supposed to look for someone who interests me and make contact. It's just the first part I'm having trouble with.
Tangent: Valentines for friends - for 'em? Agin' em? What say you guys? Because I've received a ton (sorry, should have been T-U-U-U-U-H-N) of valentines cards and gifts from friends. And it's a three-part process. First there's the reaction that you show your friend: Wow, that's so nice, thank you so much! Simultaneously there's the reaction in your head: great, another box of pity candy, another lovely poem about how good a friend I am where a dirty limerick about my boobs should rightly be, another friend worried that I might finally OD on Mad Dog 20/20 and Firefly reruns because I'm unloved on Feb. 14th - how pitiful am I? And then there's the internal struggle: should I have bought something for this friend too? I figured they'd be celebrating with their spouse/main squeeze; oh crap-a-doodle, are all of my friends expecting cards from me? Am I now officially a bad friend on top of a kaka significant other? Don't get me wrong, because I know that these are truly coming from a good place. My friends are all really excellent people who are just thinking of me. But I gotta be totally honest here (thereby taking me off the hook everywhere else) and state that I'd rather skip it, thanks all the same. Spend the money on the silk boxers!
Anyway, if you look at my scorecard so far I've got Mr. Eloquent of the non-sequitor pipe pics and the "I'm stealing my own soul" self-portraits AND a big "Wow am I out of your league, sweetie" rejection from Looks-good-on-paper-but-probably-would-have-sucked-his-thumb-and-called-me-mommy-Dude. I'm pretty sure that means I'm losing. Time to start figuring out how I can cheat.
Happy Valentines Day, everybody!
I know what you're saying now. "24 hours? Well hell, you could have told this 2 days ago!" You're right. And I started to a bunch of times, but each time this same thing happened. Everything came out all bitter and hissy. See, this is what put out my fire to pursue this kind of stuff in the past. I got danged tired of the rejection, and even more tired of the nasty little bitch I become in the face of it.
(Woah, this is becoming another very real and bitter post. Allow me to break things up with a random tangent, shall I?)
Tangent: tomorrow (today already for some folks) is that most commercial of holidays, Valentines Day. This year I think it's being brought to us by Target, Coke and the letter P. This holiday is one that really separates the boys from the men, I say. Or more accurately the single boys from the dating men, and same goes for the ladies. If you're doing the wove thing when this day wheels around it's all about "do something or don't? If I do something am I just pandering to society's insistance that I choose today to be romantic? If I do nothing am I being an ass-hat?" Here's your answer, dating/mating world: yes. Yes, yes, a thousand chocolates over yes! You are pandering, you're letting the rest of the world dictate your romantic schedule and you're a complete and utter bastard if you don't. So suck it up, buy a single wed wose or a teddy bear holding a box of inedible chalk talking hearts or those truly classy silk boxers with the big, red lips all over them and get to it!
And then there's those like moi, who have to decide if they'll shun the day (usually with much bile and self-pity), take back the day with the tried and true "hey, why don't all we single friends get together and do something!" plan or pretend that the 14th of February is no different than the 13th (like anyone's buying that.) Me? I used to celebrate with as non-romantic a movie I could find (Platoon, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, most things starring David Spade...) and eating an entire pizza by myself (using the traditional "hell, if I'm not dating anybody then there's no one to care if I gain 5 pounds in a single sitting!" rational) but that seemed like giving the day more oomph then made sense. Now I just look it as the day before the day when all those boxes of candy go on big-time sale!
So Sunday night I come home from a rollicking evening of Grammy-tastic action to an email from my very good friend, Yenta.com, assuring me that I shouldn't give up hope just because oh yeah, by the way, that dude what I winked at reacted with something along the lines of "yeesh! Are you high?" and beat feet in the away direction. I really appreciated that Yenta was there for me in that, my time of need. There with generic encouragement to get back on the e-horse and go find someone else who can reject me tomorrow! But in all honesty what I felt like doing was, in my opinion, a very reasonable and balanced reaction. It was a plan of two steps:
- write an email apologizing to him for the mistake wink, as I had no interest in him whatsoever and that the wink was actually due to my cat messing with the computer while I was on the john -- "she winked at no less than 17 different guys while I was taking a dump. I'm so glad that you're not interested, because you couldn't be further from what I was looking for if you tried. For instance, I'm looking for a straight guy..."
- copy his picture and paste it into all sorts of doggie-porn chat rooms under the moniker "poodle-poker"
I did try to follow Yenta's advice and check for anyone new out there at whom I could wink. Apparently the pickings are sticking to their strict diet of parsley, red ants and criticism (which is the same diet that Nicole Richey is on, by the way.) In other words, they are still slim, these pickings. Am I being too selective? Perhaps. How do I tell? Based on the small amount of info I'm provided and these akward, sketchy and sometimes frightening pictures I'm not finding anyone I want to open a door to. But correct me if I'm wrong: that's what I'm supposed to do, right? I'm supposed to look for someone who interests me and make contact. It's just the first part I'm having trouble with.
Tangent: Valentines for friends - for 'em? Agin' em? What say you guys? Because I've received a ton (sorry, should have been T-U-U-U-U-H-N) of valentines cards and gifts from friends. And it's a three-part process. First there's the reaction that you show your friend: Wow, that's so nice, thank you so much! Simultaneously there's the reaction in your head: great, another box of pity candy, another lovely poem about how good a friend I am where a dirty limerick about my boobs should rightly be, another friend worried that I might finally OD on Mad Dog 20/20 and Firefly reruns because I'm unloved on Feb. 14th - how pitiful am I? And then there's the internal struggle: should I have bought something for this friend too? I figured they'd be celebrating with their spouse/main squeeze; oh crap-a-doodle, are all of my friends expecting cards from me? Am I now officially a bad friend on top of a kaka significant other? Don't get me wrong, because I know that these are truly coming from a good place. My friends are all really excellent people who are just thinking of me. But I gotta be totally honest here (thereby taking me off the hook everywhere else) and state that I'd rather skip it, thanks all the same. Spend the money on the silk boxers!
Anyway, if you look at my scorecard so far I've got Mr. Eloquent of the non-sequitor pipe pics and the "I'm stealing my own soul" self-portraits AND a big "Wow am I out of your league, sweetie" rejection from Looks-good-on-paper-but-probably-would-have-sucked-his-thumb-and-called-me-mommy-Dude. I'm pretty sure that means I'm losing. Time to start figuring out how I can cheat.
Happy Valentines Day, everybody!
Saturday, February 10, 2007
to poke the bear or not to poke the bear...
OK, so I checked Yenta again today. Same lonely email ("hi, I'm not supposed to be here and my info and pictures suck. Have a nice day." Of course I'm paraphrasing.) and same list of people who've checked out my profile. But that's it.
I scanned the list again, and here's the thing. There's this one (and only one, so far) dude who looks interesting. His headline is something I'd appreciate, he likes many things that I officially like (some of them I actually DO like!) and he's not bad looking. And he's on that list of guys who looked at me, and at this point I'm on his list of chicks who've looked at him.
Now what?
My plan, because I'm already having a hard time with having invested money and time in online matchmaking, was to get myself out there and let the dudes do all the work. Let my siren call and my fascinating, scintilating (I didn't talk about poop or boogers at all!) profile and that come-hither look in my eyes be all that it took to drag them forth in droves. This was the plan. I have a plan, and when I have a plan I hate to deviate from it. From the plan. See my pretty, pretty plan?
The hard part is getting the dudes to do their part of the plan. Where, I ask you, are my droves? So far they are totally slacking on all the being dragged forth stuff. I'm having bonafide Wove.com flashbacks, and so here is my dilemma: wink or no wink?
See, Yenta has this thing called "wink" and apparently it's a way to let someone know that you're interested (beyond just the "I was looking at your profile" deal). I imagine it is the adult, web-based equivalent of "hi i like you do you like me if you do check this box if you dont then i dont either." I'm sure the next step would be e-punching them in the arm and e-running away.
But the winking is not on the plan. I've checked. So do I stray from the pretty, pretty plan? Does that make me the aggressive, pushy beotch that I'm trying to hide from the droves, at least until I've got their spare key and PIN number? Or (alternative spin that I'm trying on for size) is this a good way to find a member of the droves that would be able to handle such an aggressive, pushy beotch? After all, beotch I be one way or another, and maybe the fair thing is to give them the warning now, in the beginning?
OK, you've talked me into it, you silver-tongued devils. I've winked at the dude (we'll call him Monty.) And I'm already regretting the whole thing. You silver-tongued bastards, what the hell were you thinking? Why do I listen to you? Sigh.
I'll keep you posted. Don't I always?
I scanned the list again, and here's the thing. There's this one (and only one, so far) dude who looks interesting. His headline is something I'd appreciate, he likes many things that I officially like (some of them I actually DO like!) and he's not bad looking. And he's on that list of guys who looked at me, and at this point I'm on his list of chicks who've looked at him.
Now what?
My plan, because I'm already having a hard time with having invested money and time in online matchmaking, was to get myself out there and let the dudes do all the work. Let my siren call and my fascinating, scintilating (I didn't talk about poop or boogers at all!) profile and that come-hither look in my eyes be all that it took to drag them forth in droves. This was the plan. I have a plan, and when I have a plan I hate to deviate from it. From the plan. See my pretty, pretty plan?
The hard part is getting the dudes to do their part of the plan. Where, I ask you, are my droves? So far they are totally slacking on all the being dragged forth stuff. I'm having bonafide Wove.com flashbacks, and so here is my dilemma: wink or no wink?
See, Yenta has this thing called "wink" and apparently it's a way to let someone know that you're interested (beyond just the "I was looking at your profile" deal). I imagine it is the adult, web-based equivalent of "hi i like you do you like me if you do check this box if you dont then i dont either." I'm sure the next step would be e-punching them in the arm and e-running away.
But the winking is not on the plan. I've checked. So do I stray from the pretty, pretty plan? Does that make me the aggressive, pushy beotch that I'm trying to hide from the droves, at least until I've got their spare key and PIN number? Or (alternative spin that I'm trying on for size) is this a good way to find a member of the droves that would be able to handle such an aggressive, pushy beotch? After all, beotch I be one way or another, and maybe the fair thing is to give them the warning now, in the beginning?
OK, you've talked me into it, you silver-tongued devils. I've winked at the dude (we'll call him Monty.) And I'm already regretting the whole thing. You silver-tongued bastards, what the hell were you thinking? Why do I listen to you? Sigh.
I'll keep you posted. Don't I always?
Sunday, February 04, 2007
I have no response to that...
Well Yenta.com is off to a pretty good start. Not more then 48 hours after I posted all the wonderfulness that is me I had over a dozen fellows checking me out. More than that, one even sent me an email. Due to the wonders of technology this email came right to my regular email inbox, so I found it during my usually boring morning check-in. And I'll admit that my first response was to be excited! More so then I would have expected really. "Ooh, looky!" I thought to myself, "someone was already interested enough to reach out! Take that, Wove.com!" and I triumphantly opened up the email from this, my first official suitor! And I found this:
.....blink. Blink. Blink.....
What do I do with this? I feel like this was not a message to make a connection, but more of an FYI. "Hey," he seems to be saying, "just in case you go looking and find my profile and wonder why there's no info and the pictures aren't very good, here's the deal." I read it like I was scoring it, like the guy that takes you out to pass the driving test for your first license. "Hmm, can't spell "off" - check. Ooh, blames the technology for his not knowing how the system worked - check. Ouch, has been here for at least a month and has yet to put up good pictures - check. Hey, would you pass me the "FAIL" stamp for this application?" Needless to say, I think I've already got an insight into why this guy is looking for a little help with his matchmaking.
To be sure I wasn't judging him unfairly based on one less-then-stellar email I did go and check out his profile. He's not for me. I mean he's not a serial killer or skinhead or anything overtly "Gah!!" like that, but there's no click. No "pow!" No "where have you been all my life!" Based on the pics that were there, all my life he's been laying pipe under houses. (He even had pictures of the pipe. And the houses. With no sign of him in the picture at all. No idea why.) And I have to wonder if he's looked at my profile, beyond my (clearly GENIUS!) headline. We don't match on much beyond the physical. And you gotta love any guy who answers the question "what do you do for fun?" with the fact that he's spending all his fun time on Yenta.com "e-mailing candidates that do not respond in general, they seem to have a lot of hang ups." Ooh, tell me more, big daddy! I love bitter, disgruntled guys who make big, sweeping generalizations about the rest of the world!
Still, I was trying to find a way to see this as a positive step that I should take. After the bust that was Wove.com I thought I should do whatever I could to make this a more productive endeavor. But the nail in the coffin for me was this phrase:
As you guys already know about me, this pursuit is absolutely not one of need. I'm not searching for someone to take care of me, or support me, or solve all of my problems. I can take care of myself and do it pretty dang well. I have been supporting myself for close to 20 years, thanks. No guy will ever be able to solve all of my problems and I don't want one to. It's as my Granny said when explaining why her marriage to my grandfather didn't work out: "He wanted me to need him, and I didn't. I chose him, I loved him and I wanted him, but I didn't need him."
I'm not looking for a hero or a solution or a parachute. I'm looking for a buddy or a partner or a good foil. But until the right person comes along I'm doing just fine. I can afford to be choosy. And choosy I shall be! So I sent this first suitor (whom I will call Bitterman) one of Yenta.com's pre-crafted "no thanks" emails, saying basically that we're not a good match. (they didn't have one that said "I'm just gonna dissapoint you like all the others before me, and why would you want to go through that yet again? So just assume I'm another one of those damn self-sufficient bitches and move on. Have you considered something in a mail-order-type-deal, say from somewhere super-crappy?")
So what we know now is that Yenta.com is a faster process then Wove.com, but that the matching may be just as funky. May be. Stay tuned!
i thought i was to be of this site a couple of days ago so i dumped the information off my profile. well match did a auto renew that was not approved so i did some changes on the profile and need to put up better pictures. see ya.
.....blink. Blink. Blink.....
What do I do with this? I feel like this was not a message to make a connection, but more of an FYI. "Hey," he seems to be saying, "just in case you go looking and find my profile and wonder why there's no info and the pictures aren't very good, here's the deal." I read it like I was scoring it, like the guy that takes you out to pass the driving test for your first license. "Hmm, can't spell "off" - check. Ooh, blames the technology for his not knowing how the system worked - check. Ouch, has been here for at least a month and has yet to put up good pictures - check. Hey, would you pass me the "FAIL" stamp for this application?" Needless to say, I think I've already got an insight into why this guy is looking for a little help with his matchmaking.
To be sure I wasn't judging him unfairly based on one less-then-stellar email I did go and check out his profile. He's not for me. I mean he's not a serial killer or skinhead or anything overtly "Gah!!" like that, but there's no click. No "pow!" No "where have you been all my life!" Based on the pics that were there, all my life he's been laying pipe under houses. (He even had pictures of the pipe. And the houses. With no sign of him in the picture at all. No idea why.) And I have to wonder if he's looked at my profile, beyond my (clearly GENIUS!) headline. We don't match on much beyond the physical. And you gotta love any guy who answers the question "what do you do for fun?" with the fact that he's spending all his fun time on Yenta.com "e-mailing candidates that do not respond in general, they seem to have a lot of hang ups." Ooh, tell me more, big daddy! I love bitter, disgruntled guys who make big, sweeping generalizations about the rest of the world!
Still, I was trying to find a way to see this as a positive step that I should take. After the bust that was Wove.com I thought I should do whatever I could to make this a more productive endeavor. But the nail in the coffin for me was this phrase:
"...they make a lot of money and do not need what they are looking for..."Yeah, see ya buddy.
As you guys already know about me, this pursuit is absolutely not one of need. I'm not searching for someone to take care of me, or support me, or solve all of my problems. I can take care of myself and do it pretty dang well. I have been supporting myself for close to 20 years, thanks. No guy will ever be able to solve all of my problems and I don't want one to. It's as my Granny said when explaining why her marriage to my grandfather didn't work out: "He wanted me to need him, and I didn't. I chose him, I loved him and I wanted him, but I didn't need him."
I'm not looking for a hero or a solution or a parachute. I'm looking for a buddy or a partner or a good foil. But until the right person comes along I'm doing just fine. I can afford to be choosy. And choosy I shall be! So I sent this first suitor (whom I will call Bitterman) one of Yenta.com's pre-crafted "no thanks" emails, saying basically that we're not a good match. (they didn't have one that said "I'm just gonna dissapoint you like all the others before me, and why would you want to go through that yet again? So just assume I'm another one of those damn self-sufficient bitches and move on. Have you considered something in a mail-order-type-deal, say from somewhere super-crappy?")
So what we know now is that Yenta.com is a faster process then Wove.com, but that the matching may be just as funky. May be. Stay tuned!
Friday, February 02, 2007
Level of slutty from 1-10:
I'm at about a 7?
Y: So, what do you like to do in your free time?
F: I enjoy making jewelry, reading Joshilyn Jackson books, making mixed CDs and crochetting.
Y: You are looking to attract a GUY, right?
F:.....I read comic books, play video games and paintball, shoot things and bake brownies. To give to other people. And I'm really easy to please in bed. And I honestly think size doesn't matter.
Y: better.
The Queen helped me, to make sure I didn't write anything too lame, and together we filled in the stuff that I HATE to write. These long, terrible paragraphs which are supposed to tell everything about yourself. I kid you not, one asked me to write "what defines me as a person." Am I wrong to think of this as a pretty tall order? A heady concept to try to sum up in 4000 characters? Aren't there Bhuddist monks out there meditating on this kind of concept to the distration of everything else? Perhaps you'd also like me to fill y'all in on why we're here, and a little chat about the meaning of life?
Such a big question makes me want to answer in the simplest of ways. What defines me as a person? The Muppets and Daffy Duck; Cheddar Beer Kettle Chips and Hostess Cupcakes; dust-free kitty litter and bird poo on my car shaped like Pee Wee Herman's head. I am defined by the fact that Princess Stinkbutt cannot identify me out of a crowd. Even a crowd of 3. By the fact that there is a song running through my head at all times. ALL times. I'm defined by all the movie quotes that I can't forget and the math formulas I can't remember, and by every time I added a "Dammit!" to someone else's rant. because trust me, the rant needed the big finish. (dammit)
Anyway, of all the challenging questions asked by Yenta, the one that stumped Queen and I equally was this one:
Your dating headline. (defined thusishiously: "the only chance people will have to hear your “voice”—your personality—before they decide to click for more" Essentially the one and only one thing that will wrap you all up in pretty jewel-toned w/ foil accents wrapping paper, glittery ribbon and voluminous bow. But no pressure.)
How long could it take to come up with one witty, yet not too full of oneself, but descriptive, and also to the point, and not repetitive of your details and also sure to catch the eye of your soul mate and cure cancer and create world peace and a delicious, low-carb, low-fat drink that won't rot your teeth? So much longer then I'd like to admit. We read their helpful(less) hints, including things like "don't tell them where you are because they already know that," and "don't be boring or cliched" and "do something unexpected to catch the eye." and we both agreed that they deserved a big helping of "WELL DUH!"
We considered movie quotes. Tell me, would you be attracted to someone who's headline was "Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles..."? How about "Do or do not. There is no try." I know that one would bring in all the single geeks in the area. And I could be their queen! We looked through some that other people were using, and I decided quickly that I would not be using the words "Playful", "Open" or "Flexible". Finally I went with this:
Daffy Duck seeks her Bugs Bunny.
If he's out there and he sees it, he'll get it. And such a guy I'd definitely consider!
Coming Next: the pickings and just how thick or thin they are...
(note: this post will be scattered w/ song names, showing how cool a Risky mixed CD is. I'm rockin' out to a compilation called "For the Next Disaster", shuffled of course, and it's jamtastic! Current song: "Steve McQueen")Yenta and I had our first date last night. She asked me all sorts of questions about myself, just trying to understand who I am as a person. It was all like thisy:
Y: So, what do you like to do in your free time?
F: I enjoy making jewelry, reading Joshilyn Jackson books, making mixed CDs and crochetting.
Y: You are looking to attract a GUY, right?
F:.....I read comic books, play video games and paintball, shoot things and bake brownies. To give to other people. And I'm really easy to please in bed. And I honestly think size doesn't matter.
Y: better.
("Staple it Together", Jack Johnson)
The Queen helped me, to make sure I didn't write anything too lame, and together we filled in the stuff that I HATE to write. These long, terrible paragraphs which are supposed to tell everything about yourself. I kid you not, one asked me to write "what defines me as a person." Am I wrong to think of this as a pretty tall order? A heady concept to try to sum up in 4000 characters? Aren't there Bhuddist monks out there meditating on this kind of concept to the distration of everything else? Perhaps you'd also like me to fill y'all in on why we're here, and a little chat about the meaning of life?
("Shake Your Lovemaker" ala Cherry Poppin' Daddies)
Such a big question makes me want to answer in the simplest of ways. What defines me as a person? The Muppets and Daffy Duck; Cheddar Beer Kettle Chips and Hostess Cupcakes; dust-free kitty litter and bird poo on my car shaped like Pee Wee Herman's head. I am defined by the fact that Princess Stinkbutt cannot identify me out of a crowd. Even a crowd of 3. By the fact that there is a song running through my head at all times. ALL times. I'm defined by all the movie quotes that I can't forget and the math formulas I can't remember, and by every time I added a "Dammit!" to someone else's rant. because trust me, the rant needed the big finish. (dammit)
("Give me Novacaine" ala Green Day. Greenday? Dia Verde!)
Anyway, of all the challenging questions asked by Yenta, the one that stumped Queen and I equally was this one:
Your dating headline. (defined thusishiously: "the only chance people will have to hear your “voice”—your personality—before they decide to click for more" Essentially the one and only one thing that will wrap you all up in pretty jewel-toned w/ foil accents wrapping paper, glittery ribbon and voluminous bow. But no pressure.)
How long could it take to come up with one witty, yet not too full of oneself, but descriptive, and also to the point, and not repetitive of your details and also sure to catch the eye of your soul mate and cure cancer and create world peace and a delicious, low-carb, low-fat drink that won't rot your teeth? So much longer then I'd like to admit. We read their helpful(less) hints, including things like "don't tell them where you are because they already know that," and "don't be boring or cliched" and "do something unexpected to catch the eye." and we both agreed that they deserved a big helping of "WELL DUH!"
("Beijing" by some rockin' chick named Melissa Ferrick)
We considered movie quotes. Tell me, would you be attracted to someone who's headline was "Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles..."? How about "Do or do not. There is no try." I know that one would bring in all the single geeks in the area. And I could be their queen! We looked through some that other people were using, and I decided quickly that I would not be using the words "Playful", "Open" or "Flexible". Finally I went with this:
Daffy Duck seeks her Bugs Bunny.
If he's out there and he sees it, he'll get it. And such a guy I'd definitely consider!
("Nugget" from my friends Cake)
Coming Next: the pickings and just how thick or thin they are...
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Wove.dumb...
OK, one day was cute and all. But at this point I'm being mocked by wove.com. Every day I get more and more matches, and from more and more remote spots within my "geographical region." I'm closing them all for the same reason -- I still don't live in any of those other places because I live in MY place! -- but take the hint they do not. The next day: 6 more matches from far and wide.
So then, in addition to "no thanks!ing" the matches, I go into my settings and reselect my distance limitations. And they show me that they are, indeed, listening by sending me 7 matches from places I'll never live.
Today? 8 new, craptastic matches. (and if I'm not mistaken there was a little E-snicker this time.) But I finally figured out what I had to do. I had to "reset" my priorities. I apparently told the folks a wove.com that physical distance is not the most important thing to me -- I called it "7 out of 9" -- so I went in and changed that priority to "very important." But just as I was making the change I realized that if I take "distance" out of the flexible matching option the brain trust behind wove.com could start throwing matches at me that are less attentative to some of my other less-critical match priorities, and I thought I should take a look at what those other things might be.
And now I'm nervous.
The things I set as least important to me were:
Height
Education
Income and Age
So now that I've taken 'distance' off the table, here's what I fear I'm getting next:
-"Wove.com wants you, Femtastic, to meet Milton. Milton lives in, is 87 years young and is the extremely comfortable with his stature of 3 ft. 4. Luckily this height helps him to fit right in with the rest of his classmates in the 6th grade of Lonely Elementary. (If you two make a match please be aware that he'll need to borrow a little cash for that first date.)"
Yes, when the Online Dating Website you've hooked up to starts sending you folks from distant lands it sure begins to feel like their way of saying "Psssst: you are unmatchable. You've frightened away all the dudes." Now that would be freaky to many folks, but I'm so proud of my independence I'm seeing this as independent confirmation from a neutral source that it don't matter where I go or what I do, because no dude can handle me. Hah! (you're beginning to see just where this is going, right? Welcome to the ride.)
So then, in addition to "no thanks!ing" the matches, I go into my settings and reselect my distance limitations. And they show me that they are, indeed, listening by sending me 7 matches from places I'll never live.
Today? 8 new, craptastic matches. (and if I'm not mistaken there was a little E-snicker this time.) But I finally figured out what I had to do. I had to "reset" my priorities. I apparently told the folks a wove.com that physical distance is not the most important thing to me -- I called it "7 out of 9" -- so I went in and changed that priority to "very important." But just as I was making the change I realized that if I take "distance" out of the flexible matching option the brain trust behind wove.com could start throwing matches at me that are less attentative to some of my other less-critical match priorities, and I thought I should take a look at what those other things might be.
And now I'm nervous.
The things I set as least important to me were:
Height
Education
Income and Age
So now that I've taken 'distance' off the table, here's what I fear I'm getting next:
-"Wove.com wants you, Femtastic, to meet Milton. Milton lives in
Yes, when the Online Dating Website you've hooked up to starts sending you folks from distant lands it sure begins to feel like their way of saying "Psssst: you are unmatchable. You've frightened away all the dudes." Now that would be freaky to many folks, but I'm so proud of my independence I'm seeing this as independent confirmation from a neutral source that it don't matter where I go or what I do, because no dude can handle me. Hah! (you're beginning to see just where this is going, right? Welcome to the ride.)
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Mea Culpa and all such things.
I'm sorry.
I'm just plain sorry.
As I geared up to return to the mission here I considered how best to address this, my first post in weeks. I could give you all sorts of excuses, but I'm not gonna. I thought about just telling you everything I was doing when I wasn't doing this, but we're not about that. No, we're about one thing:
The mission.
We're about the mission! In all the time we've known each other we've been, more or less, about the mission. I've tried very hard to keep from being a diary blog or a "cute tangent" blog or a blog all about my inner demons. (by the way, you can jump in and disagree with any of this via the comments at any old time!) So I'm not gonna take you guys down any tangent roads. I was doing non-mission things and so the mission was back-burnered.
Conveniently enough, during this time of back-burnering the mission it seems that the mission took a break too. In other words, one of the reasons that I wrote of nothing was that nothing was happening to write about.
You know how nobody really hires new employees at the end of the year? Because there's too much other stuff going on, and because everyone's really thinking about the holidays, and because you just don't know what's gonna be what come the new year? I think the dating universe does the same thing. "Well, I have been hoping to bring a new person on to take care of things like eating out, movies, possibly to handle some, if not all, of the various sex to be had, but really I can't focus on that right now. I'm gonna go back to filling the position again after the new year. Hey, hand me some more eggnog, eh?"
But the new year is here (oh hey, happy new year everybody!) and so it's time to get back to the mission. And like magic my good friends at Wove.com seemed to just know it was true, as I was met this morning by FOUR MATCHES! I was pretty jazzed until I started looking at them. Apparently Wove.com had forgotten where I live? Or that I wasn't particularly interested in moving to Salt Lake City, UT or Las Vegas? In other words, What the F*ck?
As is the case with most e-things, once I poked around a bit I found the teeny, tiny explanation. They call it "Flexible Matching." I call it "OK, you're wrecking our curve -- are you sure you won't move hundreds of miles away for this elusive treasure we call wove? Pwease? Pwetty pwease? Come on, you're totally making us look bad! You shut up! No, you! No you! No, you're a whiny bag of cr*p!!" (you can see why they went with "Flexible Matching" instead.)
Apparently if you can't be matched for long enough they get desperate and forget what your settings are. Of course they describe it a little differently. Here's how they spin it:
(No, I'm not kidding. But wait, they go on...)
(Of course they could also let one shop for men OR women -- that would increase the possible matches too. But that, of course, would be wrong. And not, apparently, in the good way.)
I'm just plain sorry.
As I geared up to return to the mission here I considered how best to address this, my first post in weeks. I could give you all sorts of excuses, but I'm not gonna. I thought about just telling you everything I was doing when I wasn't doing this, but we're not about that. No, we're about one thing:
The mission.
We're about the mission! In all the time we've known each other we've been, more or less, about the mission. I've tried very hard to keep from being a diary blog or a "cute tangent" blog or a blog all about my inner demons. (by the way, you can jump in and disagree with any of this via the comments at any old time!) So I'm not gonna take you guys down any tangent roads. I was doing non-mission things and so the mission was back-burnered.
Conveniently enough, during this time of back-burnering the mission it seems that the mission took a break too. In other words, one of the reasons that I wrote of nothing was that nothing was happening to write about.
You know how nobody really hires new employees at the end of the year? Because there's too much other stuff going on, and because everyone's really thinking about the holidays, and because you just don't know what's gonna be what come the new year? I think the dating universe does the same thing. "Well, I have been hoping to bring a new person on to take care of things like eating out, movies, possibly to handle some, if not all, of the various sex to be had, but really I can't focus on that right now. I'm gonna go back to filling the position again after the new year. Hey, hand me some more eggnog, eh?"
But the new year is here (oh hey, happy new year everybody!) and so it's time to get back to the mission. And like magic my good friends at Wove.com seemed to just know it was true, as I was met this morning by FOUR MATCHES! I was pretty jazzed until I started looking at them. Apparently Wove.com had forgotten where I live? Or that I wasn't particularly interested in moving to Salt Lake City, UT or Las Vegas? In other words, What the F*ck?
As is the case with most e-things, once I poked around a bit I found the teeny, tiny explanation. They call it "Flexible Matching." I call it "OK, you're wrecking our curve -- are you sure you won't move hundreds of miles away for this elusive treasure we call wove? Pwease? Pwetty pwease? Come on, you're totally making us look bad! You shut up! No, you! No you! No, you're a whiny bag of cr*p!!" (you can see why they went with "Flexible Matching" instead.)
Apparently if you can't be matched for long enough they get desperate and forget what your settings are. Of course they describe it a little differently. Here's how they spin it:
"Flexible Matching is a means by which we can offer more matches for your consideration - and hopefully help you find your special someone all that much sooner."
(No, I'm not kidding. But wait, they go on...)
"With Flexible Matching we temporarily relax the Match Selection criteria which you indicated are least important to you. This often allows us to find you more matches."
(Of course they could also let one shop for men OR women -- that would increase the possible matches too. But that, of course, would be wrong. And not, apparently, in the good way.)
"Rest assured, we never relax our compatibility criteria because we know these deep dimensions of compatibility are a crucial foundation for a happy, lasting relationship."...which begs from me the question "then why are you doing it now?" Within an hour one of the guys had done what I'm fully planning to do: reject the matches due to "what the hell were you morons thinking? I DON'T LIVE THERE." And then we're back to square less-then-two. But it's all worth it -- for the mission! Happy new dang year everybody!
Saturday, December 02, 2006
The latest.
OK, so we're waiting to see if McFirsty ever comes back, but in the meantime we've got a new player. We're calling this new fellow Maestro (seriously, I'm not telling you where the nickname comes from until the wedding night post!) and he seems promising. He definitely talks a good game and he mentions friends, family and music among those things about which he feels strongly, so I'm in that "hmmm, tell me more" place here. Sadly he is yet another vampire. And I'm about ready to draw the line on this pictureless thing!
Because honestly, how do you not worry that there's something tragically wrong if they won't show you a single picture? I mean, I'm no supermodel, artist's inspiration or movie star and I took a damn picture! In that special way that is me I will take the absence of information (such as a picture) and turn it into the worst possible scenario (such as "man's skin melts when exposed to air -- unimaginative friends call him "Skippy the all-muscle dude!") I also go to all the standard places of panic: obese, nasty comb-over, werewolf-level of body hair, "shower, what's a shower?"
I will, in the next week, decide if I should limit my matches to only those folks who have pictures. If any of you have a recommendation about whether I should make such a limitation let me hear you.
But for now I sent off my standard 5 questions to see what Maestro says. I wonder sometimes if I should pick 5 different questions, but since realistically I am gonna compare any matches against other matches it seems like it makes the most sense to have the same questions each time. Otherwise I'm just comparring apples to Volkswagons.
In short, I'm now playing the waiting game for both McFirsty and Maestro. Ball's in your courts, boys!
Because honestly, how do you not worry that there's something tragically wrong if they won't show you a single picture? I mean, I'm no supermodel, artist's inspiration or movie star and I took a damn picture! In that special way that is me I will take the absence of information (such as a picture) and turn it into the worst possible scenario (such as "man's skin melts when exposed to air -- unimaginative friends call him "Skippy the all-muscle dude!") I also go to all the standard places of panic: obese, nasty comb-over, werewolf-level of body hair, "shower, what's a shower?"
I will, in the next week, decide if I should limit my matches to only those folks who have pictures. If any of you have a recommendation about whether I should make such a limitation let me hear you.
But for now I sent off my standard 5 questions to see what Maestro says. I wonder sometimes if I should pick 5 different questions, but since realistically I am gonna compare any matches against other matches it seems like it makes the most sense to have the same questions each time. Otherwise I'm just comparring apples to Volkswagons.
In short, I'm now playing the waiting game for both McFirsty and Maestro. Ball's in your courts, boys!
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
After Holiday lack of inspiration...
So sorry for the long dry spell. Normally I try to be really good about keeping you guys informed, as I know that this is all desperately interesting to each and every one of you, but there was this one day where everyone in my club said "hey, let's each make 3-4 truly amazing dishes and bring them all to one house and eat until we're dead with happy!" And then it took all weekend to recover. (I employed the "hair of the dog what you bit." rule. Best. Recovery. Ever!)
I realize that there's been some positive developments with Wove.com that I've just not been good about reporting. I've been looking over my list of scapegoats and I'm going to blame both the holiday AND Wove, Thursday for this lack of reporting. (a two-fer scapegoat -- nothing can penetrate such a protective barrier!) But enough of the blame-game, let's get to catching up. First, a recap of the players thus far:
McFirsty: still in play
McSecondy: he closed
Princey: I closed
Newstand Dude: he closed
Vegan Guy: I closed
Now my way-overdue updates...
Update the first: McFirsty finally did send me his answers to my questions. Ya know how I read the answers from Princey and kind of went "yeesh..."? And eventually I rejected him? And at the time I felt like all of my justifications were really excellent. No kidding, I used some overly-large words, I put the inflections on some of them just so, and I used just the right amount of sarcasm, which is where I think most justifications lose their way. The sarcasm has to be used as a scalpal, people, not a sledgehammer. Remember that when next you are crafting a solid justification.
Anyway, I made the justification and cut him lose, but then I began the prerequisite fretting. "What if all of the answers are just like his? What if I'm expecting way too much from this process? Am I being too picky? Am I judging him just because he's from the Sister City? Do I normally talk to myself in questions like this?" (Note: the answer to that last one had better be no. It would just make me nuts.)
But then, like an e-beacon on the e-rizon came a new set of answers to those questions but from a new dude! I kind of wish that these had been the third set of answers so that I could do this whole elaborate parody of the three little bears. Because these answers definitely were Juuust Riiiight. Just when I'd given up on him the elusive McFirsty reappeared on the scene with answers in hand and he nailed them! This validated my pickiness on Princey AND gave me the first bit of honest hope about this process yet!
Now for update the second, also known as the "bad news" or at least the "less good news" (or maybe the "Femtastic is crazy and making everyone else crazy" news!): With these excellent answers came questions of his own for me to answer. I looked over the questions he sent me and I'm pretty sure he's too good for me. Sigh. Here were his questions:
1. If you decided to stay at home for the evening would you tend to: (pick one from a list)
2. How often do you lose your temper?
3. How important is chemistry to you?
4. How many books did you read last year?
And here's what I'm afraid these questions are secretly telling me: He's a reader with zen-like peacefulness who is drop dead charming. And likes to read. (reading was the noble choice answer on two of these questions.) Now if you know anything about me (which would be amazing given that the whole of your knowledge of me is based on these idiotic ramblings. By me!) you know that I will always boil things down to a simple if horribly flawed concept and here's todays:
If their answers are good their questions are too good.
I have such hope for the future.
I realize that there's been some positive developments with Wove.com that I've just not been good about reporting. I've been looking over my list of scapegoats and I'm going to blame both the holiday AND Wove, Thursday for this lack of reporting. (a two-fer scapegoat -- nothing can penetrate such a protective barrier!) But enough of the blame-game, let's get to catching up. First, a recap of the players thus far:
McFirsty: still in play
McSecondy: he closed
Princey: I closed
Newstand Dude: he closed
Vegan Guy: I closed
Now my way-overdue updates...
Update the first: McFirsty finally did send me his answers to my questions. Ya know how I read the answers from Princey and kind of went "yeesh..."? And eventually I rejected him? And at the time I felt like all of my justifications were really excellent. No kidding, I used some overly-large words, I put the inflections on some of them just so, and I used just the right amount of sarcasm, which is where I think most justifications lose their way. The sarcasm has to be used as a scalpal, people, not a sledgehammer. Remember that when next you are crafting a solid justification.
Anyway, I made the justification and cut him lose, but then I began the prerequisite fretting. "What if all of the answers are just like his? What if I'm expecting way too much from this process? Am I being too picky? Am I judging him just because he's from the Sister City? Do I normally talk to myself in questions like this?" (Note: the answer to that last one had better be no. It would just make me nuts.)
But then, like an e-beacon on the e-rizon came a new set of answers to those questions but from a new dude! I kind of wish that these had been the third set of answers so that I could do this whole elaborate parody of the three little bears. Because these answers definitely were Juuust Riiiight. Just when I'd given up on him the elusive McFirsty reappeared on the scene with answers in hand and he nailed them! This validated my pickiness on Princey AND gave me the first bit of honest hope about this process yet!
Now for update the second, also known as the "bad news" or at least the "less good news" (or maybe the "Femtastic is crazy and making everyone else crazy" news!): With these excellent answers came questions of his own for me to answer. I looked over the questions he sent me and I'm pretty sure he's too good for me. Sigh. Here were his questions:
1. If you decided to stay at home for the evening would you tend to: (pick one from a list)
2. How often do you lose your temper?
3. How important is chemistry to you?
4. How many books did you read last year?
And here's what I'm afraid these questions are secretly telling me: He's a reader with zen-like peacefulness who is drop dead charming. And likes to read. (reading was the noble choice answer on two of these questions.) Now if you know anything about me (which would be amazing given that the whole of your knowledge of me is based on these idiotic ramblings. By me!) you know that I will always boil things down to a simple if horribly flawed concept and here's todays:
If their answers are good their questions are too good.
I have such hope for the future.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Must Stands, Can't Haves...
I had messages from wove.com today. Not one, but two! The fancy-pants makers of sayings would call this that 'feast' part of the equation, after all the famine we've been tangoing through. We had the "Must Haves" and "Can't Stands" from Princey (for the last time, I'm not telling you where the nickname comes from! Secret is secret, dammit!) in record time! (To be fair, he's the first to do this, so he both sets and breaks the record. Oh hell, he IS the record.)
From Princey's lists of "Must Haves" there were several items that... gave me pause. Not red flags like "Must Have 6 legs" or "Must worship my strangely shaped naughty parts," because those would give me more then pause. Something along the lines of leaping, crawling heebie-jeebies, ya know? (spelling police -- heeby-jeeby? Your call.) But ok, here's a frinstance:
And my personal favorite:
And people, you should know this about me: I'm NOT a prude! In fact, I'm extremely motivated to find someone with which to do some parallel parking, if you know what I mean. (oh, and if you don't know what I mean you either shouldn't be reading this or my Mom is finally checking out this link.) What I'm trying to say is this: I have not had touchy-feely, mattress-bouncy, spring-testing fun for over 10 years. A solid DECADE. So if anyone should be throwing down that naughty gauntlet it would be me. And therefore if I'm made hinky by this particular "Must Have" I think I should go with me gut on this one. Right?
From the land of "Can't Stands" I was singing along with his karaoke tune pretty well until I hit this sour note:
I could either end this communication now, or I could turn the crank one more time. If I did that I'd send him another set of 5 questions from a whole new list. But I'd also have to wear the bastard hat, because I'm 96% sure that I'd just be indulging in the social experiment at that point. I want to keep seeing what happens next, but I gotta remind myself that this actually isn't a computer game, where I keep going through each level until I save the Royal Cosmonaut or defeat the Evil Asparagus. It's just an amazing simulation.
Too pooped to cover email number two -- must be why they invented tomorrow!
From Princey's lists of "Must Haves" there were several items that... gave me pause. Not red flags like "Must Have 6 legs" or "Must worship my strangely shaped naughty parts," because those would give me more then pause. Something along the lines of leaping, crawling heebie-jeebies, ya know? (spelling police -- heeby-jeeby? Your call.) But ok, here's a frinstance:
"I must have a partner who maintains high standards of personal hygiene, orderliness, and other personal habits."...I remember seeing that one on the list and thinking "wow, that would make me sound like some kind of uber-sensitive, anal and picky wackadoo. I'd better not pick it." Apparently either Princey didn't reach that conclusion or he's some kind of uber-sensitive, anal and picky wackadoo!
"I must have someone who is willing to share my interests and passions."...I want to hope that he's just trying to talk about having things in common with a partner. However, I've also seen too many control-freaks who figure if you're not in to whatever they find cool you're just wrong, wrong, wrong. And I'm already wrong enough in life, I don't need new opportunities for that.
"My partner must be financially responsible."...this is a good thought, but the thing is that I'm, er... whatdyacallit... like, not. I'm not. I mean I'm not filing for bankruptcy or ducking loan sharks or anything. But if my spending enthusiast ways make me so crazy I'd probably be peeling him off the ceiling. No thank you!
And my personal favorite:
"I must have someone who is mature and experienced as a potential sexual partner and is able to express himself/herself freely."What he probably meant: I want someone who isn't a virgin, a prude or catholic priest." What I'm hearing: "you bring your own saddle, I'll supply the branding iron and Crisco, baby!" followed by animal mating sounds, the smell of bacon grease and the taste of Cocoa Butter and feathers.
And people, you should know this about me: I'm NOT a prude! In fact, I'm extremely motivated to find someone with which to do some parallel parking, if you know what I mean. (oh, and if you don't know what I mean you either shouldn't be reading this or my Mom is finally checking out this link.) What I'm trying to say is this: I have not had touchy-feely, mattress-bouncy, spring-testing fun for over 10 years. A solid DECADE. So if anyone should be throwing down that naughty gauntlet it would be me. And therefore if I'm made hinky by this particular "Must Have" I think I should go with me gut on this one. Right?
From the land of "Can't Stands" I was singing along with his karaoke tune pretty well until I hit this sour note:
"I can't stand someone who likes to spend excessive time sleeping, resting or being a "couch potato."One of the things I promised myself when diving into this deep and uncharted pool was that I'd be honest about who I am and what I'm looking for. I'd love to say that I'm not lazy, don't spend excessive time sleeping and have never worn the suit of the "couch potato." Oh hell, I could totally say that! I'd just be lying, is all, and then I'm breaking promises I made to myself and I can be such a bitch when I'm pissed off, so I need to keep me on my good side. So honesty it is: I'm not just a couch potato -- I'm the dang queen of the couch potatoes! You wish you could spend as much time lounging on the couch as I do! If you tried, you'd probably pull a muscle!
I could either end this communication now, or I could turn the crank one more time. If I did that I'd send him another set of 5 questions from a whole new list. But I'd also have to wear the bastard hat, because I'm 96% sure that I'd just be indulging in the social experiment at that point. I want to keep seeing what happens next, but I gotta remind myself that this actually isn't a computer game, where I keep going through each level until I save the Royal Cosmonaut or defeat the Evil Asparagus. It's just an amazing simulation.
Too pooped to cover email number two -- must be why they invented tomorrow!
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Goes around, comes around.
Man, sorry for bringing the room down like that. But if I can't be honest to the point of sorrow with you, my bestest of unknown mystery friends, with whom can I?
So, where were we? Oh yeah, I was rejecting someone completely out of hand. And trying not to feel like crap for it. If anyone missed episode one of this saga, there are reasons. Good reasons. Not at all shallow reasons, and I'm sure this is the right thing to do. Now I just gotta do it.
When last we saw our hero (psst: that's me) she was pushing the button marked "Close Match", figuring that would be that. But oh no, me hearties, there's more!
First, you get yet another fabulous list of options. Lists are very big at wove.com. They have lists for what you want from a mate, lists of what you are like, lists of your faults; then you get to being matched and there are more lists, for the questions that you want them to answer or the steps you can take. OR the list of 18 different reasons why you're ditching a match. 18. I'm not sure which was more surprising: that there were 18, or that there were only 18. Some of my favorites were:
After all, "difference in our values" could mean "I close this match because friendships are important to you and hate friends!" or "I'm offended by your desire to help those less fortunate then you. Jerk." So I'm reading every question and trying to decide how it could be misinterpreted. (it was either this or washing my hands, washing my hands, washing my hands...)
And then that smart little voice in the back of my head, the one normally drowned out by the Smurf song or dirty limericks, pushed through with this noble, poignant thought: "Ahem... Are you kidding with this? You don't owe him anything -- you have no relationship with this person at all and he's going to live beyond your stupid match! Seriously, how important do you think your opinion of these people is to them? Wow, no wonder you always wear button-up shirts -- you'll never get that massive melon through a head hole!" (give me a moment, I must dry my emotional eyes.)
OK, so "crappy, minimalist-loving values" it is. I shall now click that box and see what comes next...
Nothing! Rejection delivered. So we're down to 2 guys. 2 guys who may or may not actually exist. 2 possibly fictional, pictureless guys. Yeah, this online matchmaking thing is totally awesome.
So, where were we? Oh yeah, I was rejecting someone completely out of hand. And trying not to feel like crap for it. If anyone missed episode one of this saga, there are reasons. Good reasons. Not at all shallow reasons, and I'm sure this is the right thing to do. Now I just gotta do it.
When last we saw our hero (psst: that's me) she was pushing the button marked "Close Match", figuring that would be that. But oh no, me hearties, there's more!
First, you get yet another fabulous list of options. Lists are very big at wove.com. They have lists for what you want from a mate, lists of what you are like, lists of your faults; then you get to being matched and there are more lists, for the questions that you want them to answer or the steps you can take. OR the list of 18 different reasons why you're ditching a match. 18. I'm not sure which was more surprising: that there were 18, or that there were only 18. Some of my favorites were:
- "I don't think our Must Haves and Can't Stands fit." -- I had to read that sentence like eleventeen times before I understood it.
- "I'd rather not say" -- a secret rejection? How french!
- "Other" -- I'm going to close out a match with "other" some time just because it tickles me. (and right after that I'm going to hell)
After all, "difference in our values" could mean "I close this match because friendships are important to you and hate friends!" or "I'm offended by your desire to help those less fortunate then you. Jerk." So I'm reading every question and trying to decide how it could be misinterpreted. (it was either this or washing my hands, washing my hands, washing my hands...)
And then that smart little voice in the back of my head, the one normally drowned out by the Smurf song or dirty limericks, pushed through with this noble, poignant thought: "Ahem... Are you kidding with this? You don't owe him anything -- you have no relationship with this person at all and he's going to live beyond your stupid match! Seriously, how important do you think your opinion of these people is to them? Wow, no wonder you always wear button-up shirts -- you'll never get that massive melon through a head hole!" (give me a moment, I must dry my emotional eyes.)
OK, so "crappy, minimalist-loving values" it is. I shall now click that box and see what comes next...
Nothing! Rejection delivered. So we're down to 2 guys. 2 guys who may or may not actually exist. 2 possibly fictional, pictureless guys. Yeah, this online matchmaking thing is totally awesome.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Match the Fifth...
...in which I get to put on the douchebag suit.
Flashback: remember McSecondy? The dude who took one look at the little smattering of information they gave about me and knew right away that I wasn't right for him? The one who rejected me without a second thought, dismissing me like so many peanut shells on the floor of the baseball stadium of his life? Remember that douchebag?
Well today the roll of douchebag will be played by me, your very own Femtastic.
I'm gonna reject someone. And I feel like I should have guilt about it, but it's just so definitely the right thing to do that I can't work up the guilt stuff. Blame the parents.
Now I'm sure you're wondering why I would be so sure that someone is rejectable. I have not just one very good reason, but TWO. And I should mention here that having two clear reasons to bail on someone is impressive when you consider just how little the puppet masters at wove.com tell you about someone in the initial match. Here are the topic headers for what they share:
But here I was, faced with a minor sprinkling of information which said to me oh-so-clearly "Not the dude for you!" And let me tell you, at last, why. In response to the question "one thing "The Dude" is most passionate about" there was this sentence:
And let me clarify: I'm also absurdly fond of all animals and living things. I'm the one in the office charged with taking the spiders outside so they won't be killed. I feed squirrels along with the birds. I can't watch a movie if I know that the animal dies within it, even if the animal is the villain! (Jaws, Cujo, Godzilla remake -- all non-Femtastic-approved movies for just this reason.)
But I'm sorry, there is just nothing quite as tasty as juicy fried chicken, a succulent filet of salmon, even a simple cheeseburger. So the idea of me and a vegan (and a tremendously enthusiastic vegan at that!) is an absolute laugh riot. (It gives me his nickname, though, which I hearby dub Vegan Guy.) And yet it doesn't end there.
He also added this sentence as a follow-up to the vegan bombshell:
Minimalism? How can someone be passionate about minimalism? And I'm asking this literally. If anyone has an insight as to how that could be done please chime in, because I'm just lost here. A dictionary I found defines minimalism as "Use of the fewest and barest essentials or elements." It would seem to me that passion works in a totally different direction. Could one actually say, passionately, "Wow oh wow, look at how few essentials or elements they've used here! Awesome!"
And then Vegan Guy wrapped up his answer with:
and that's when I ran away, away, away. Because though I like the idea of being fit, for me it's more of a conceptual thing. Like wanting to be 100% honest, or entirely free of envy. Or learning how to take flight. All cool, but just just not realistic. And I'd like to be with someone who might push me a little in this area, but not so much that I'm forced to end our relationship by crushing his head with my microwave oven (after having used same oven to make a new batch of oniony tater tots, of course.)
There was one more thing, but it's more of a pet peeve then a problem. You'll notice that the question that spawned all of this bad disclosure was "one thing Vegan Guy is most passionate about." ONE THING. How many things do you count in that response? Because I count five. Five things. Five things in response to a question asking for one thing. Five times more things then were requested. 500% more stuff then he was supposed to shove into that answer box. One thing, Vegan-guy! One!!
So, I clicked the "close match" button, and I bet you think it ends there, right? Well, it does for today, but (and I've always wanted to do this!) I must say:
Flashback: remember McSecondy? The dude who took one look at the little smattering of information they gave about me and knew right away that I wasn't right for him? The one who rejected me without a second thought, dismissing me like so many peanut shells on the floor of the baseball stadium of his life? Remember that douchebag?
Well today the roll of douchebag will be played by me, your very own Femtastic.
I'm gonna reject someone. And I feel like I should have guilt about it, but it's just so definitely the right thing to do that I can't work up the guilt stuff. Blame the parents.
Now I'm sure you're wondering why I would be so sure that someone is rejectable. I have not just one very good reason, but TWO. And I should mention here that having two clear reasons to bail on someone is impressive when you consider just how little the puppet masters at wove.com tell you about someone in the initial match. Here are the topic headers for what they share:
- important interests that you and "The Dude" share
- one thing "The Dude" is most passionate about
- three things which "The Dude" is most thankful for
- 3 Relationship Strengths
- The most influential person in "The Dude's" life
- "The Dude's" friends describe him as
- Three of "The Dude's" best life-skills
But here I was, faced with a minor sprinkling of information which said to me oh-so-clearly "Not the dude for you!" And let me tell you, at last, why. In response to the question "one thing "The Dude" is most passionate about" there was this sentence:
"I am most passionate about making a decent effort to live a lifestyle that is congruent to my envisions. For me, this puts veganism on top of the list. "Now the overall idea here I applaud, especially his use of "congruent." But I cannot deal with a Vegan. (the people who know me and read this blog are now wetting themselves with laughter at the sheer idea of me and a vegan. Let's give them a minute to compose themselves. How are those cuticles coming along?...) To say that I'm not a big vegetable eater is like saying that Jeffrey Dahmer had some unconventional eating habits. I'm a carnivore, people, just as was my ancestor, the Tyranasaurus Rex!
And let me clarify: I'm also absurdly fond of all animals and living things. I'm the one in the office charged with taking the spiders outside so they won't be killed. I feed squirrels along with the birds. I can't watch a movie if I know that the animal dies within it, even if the animal is the villain! (Jaws, Cujo, Godzilla remake -- all non-Femtastic-approved movies for just this reason.)
But I'm sorry, there is just nothing quite as tasty as juicy fried chicken, a succulent filet of salmon, even a simple cheeseburger. So the idea of me and a vegan (and a tremendously enthusiastic vegan at that!) is an absolute laugh riot. (It gives me his nickname, though, which I hearby dub Vegan Guy.) And yet it doesn't end there.
He also added this sentence as a follow-up to the vegan bombshell:
"Not far behind are minimalism and volunteering. ""But Femtastic, what could you have against volunteering?" I hear you ask. Absolutely nothing. I'm very pro-volunteering. I spend 3 hours a week volunteering time for our local animal shelter myself. No, it's definitely not the volunteering.
Minimalism? How can someone be passionate about minimalism? And I'm asking this literally. If anyone has an insight as to how that could be done please chime in, because I'm just lost here. A dictionary I found defines minimalism as "Use of the fewest and barest essentials or elements." It would seem to me that passion works in a totally different direction. Could one actually say, passionately, "Wow oh wow, look at how few essentials or elements they've used here! Awesome!"
And then Vegan Guy wrapped up his answer with:
"I'm also probably far too passionate about keeping fit, that's strictly for selfish reasons."
and that's when I ran away, away, away. Because though I like the idea of being fit, for me it's more of a conceptual thing. Like wanting to be 100% honest, or entirely free of envy. Or learning how to take flight. All cool, but just just not realistic. And I'd like to be with someone who might push me a little in this area, but not so much that I'm forced to end our relationship by crushing his head with my microwave oven (after having used same oven to make a new batch of oniony tater tots, of course.)
There was one more thing, but it's more of a pet peeve then a problem. You'll notice that the question that spawned all of this bad disclosure was "one thing Vegan Guy is most passionate about." ONE THING. How many things do you count in that response? Because I count five. Five things. Five things in response to a question asking for one thing. Five times more things then were requested. 500% more stuff then he was supposed to shove into that answer box. One thing, Vegan-guy! One!!
So, I clicked the "close match" button, and I bet you think it ends there, right? Well, it does for today, but (and I've always wanted to do this!) I must say:
TO BE CONTINUED
Sunday, November 12, 2006
The wish list
First, a recap for those of you still filling out your score cards:
McFirsty: we were "matched" (so romantic -- can't wait to tell this story to our grandkiddies) on Oct. 26, and I sent him my piercing, probing (dirty!) questions that day, despite his being plagued with a lack of face (if his "picture" is to be believed). After getting no answers I nudged him on Nov. 6th. I'm overwhelmed by the affections he's lavished on me, carefully disguised as ignoring me completely. Such a Romantic!
McSecondy: Matched and ditched all in one day. I sent him a closed message to let him know that I thought he was moving too fast and I needed to find someone who would take a little time with their relationships. Ironically, this guy had a picture. (stupid irony.)
Princey: Matched on Oct. 29th, picture-free again. He's also been shy. Or quiet. Possibly imaginary? I decided not to nudge Princey because... yeah, I'm sure there was a reason when I decided that. I'm slightly less sure that it was a really good reason. (It certainly wasn't a very memorable reason, so...) Thoughts on nudging anyone?
Newstand Dude: Matchness achieved on Nov. 9 and, big, hairy dang surprise: he also had no picture. In further pursuit of my social experiment I've opted to let N.D. send me questions rather than sending them to him. Which I'm just sure he'll do. Any day now. Just wait...
And all of that brings us to now. Still waiting for something to happen.
While we're getting so very good at this waiting, waiting, waiting we've so far talked about what I consider deal breakers (no smokers, boozers, angora rabbits) and we've talked about what the E-Experts at wove.com think I'm looking for (funny, open-minded, not suicidal). But there's still one more list that I think is worth covering (especially since there ain't nothin' happenin' over at wove.com): the wish list. Those things that I'll be using as a tie-breaker should I discover many possible mens of my dreams. Here's what that list might look like:
McFirsty: we were "matched" (so romantic -- can't wait to tell this story to our grandkiddies) on Oct. 26, and I sent him my piercing, probing (dirty!) questions that day, despite his being plagued with a lack of face (if his "picture" is to be believed). After getting no answers I nudged him on Nov. 6th. I'm overwhelmed by the affections he's lavished on me, carefully disguised as ignoring me completely. Such a Romantic!
McSecondy: Matched and ditched all in one day. I sent him a closed message to let him know that I thought he was moving too fast and I needed to find someone who would take a little time with their relationships. Ironically, this guy had a picture. (stupid irony.)
Princey: Matched on Oct. 29th, picture-free again. He's also been shy. Or quiet. Possibly imaginary? I decided not to nudge Princey because... yeah, I'm sure there was a reason when I decided that. I'm slightly less sure that it was a really good reason. (It certainly wasn't a very memorable reason, so...) Thoughts on nudging anyone?
Newstand Dude: Matchness achieved on Nov. 9 and, big, hairy dang surprise: he also had no picture. In further pursuit of my social experiment I've opted to let N.D. send me questions rather than sending them to him. Which I'm just sure he'll do. Any day now. Just wait...
And all of that brings us to now. Still waiting for something to happen.
While we're getting so very good at this waiting, waiting, waiting we've so far talked about what I consider deal breakers (no smokers, boozers, angora rabbits) and we've talked about what the E-Experts at wove.com think I'm looking for (funny, open-minded, not suicidal). But there's still one more list that I think is worth covering (especially since there ain't nothin' happenin' over at wove.com): the wish list. Those things that I'll be using as a tie-breaker should I discover many possible mens of my dreams. Here's what that list might look like:
- Plays the drums. Don't ask me why, but I've had a soft spot for drummers since puberty. Maybe it's the excellent rhythm, or maybe the absurdly muscle-bound right calves -- who can know? But loves me some drummer boy.
- Plays pool. I'm sorry, but the sound of pool balls whacking together is audio-sex, people! And someone who can really control a pool table gets my attention. And I do mean that in the way that you're thinking. (except for you -- stop thinking that.)
- Australian accent. Oh come on, do I really have to explain that?
- Can cook. Because I really can NOT cook. I also don't enjoy it. But any guy who could, and would want to, cook me some crazy-good meal would earn fabulous gratitude in whatever form he'd prefer.
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