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Archive for the tag “Plenty of Fish”

On to the Next: Online Dating Makes It Easier to Throw the Peace Sign

I always have a saying that when a date is going bad, “you gotta take your purse and exit.” I often use that in a literal and proverbial sense.

A wise cousin once said to me, online dating can be a curse because you meet so many people and if you don’t like something about them right away, you can start up something new immediately. You aren’t really seriously giving anyone a real chance.

She may be on to something.

Even while dealing with this “Mad Scientist” situation, my options are open. I actually have too many options and they flood my pof account daily.

I think I’m selective, but it’s not unusual for me to engage in conversations with three men at a time. There are two men who are ready to be promoted to phone conversations, and I had to laugh. They both sent me the let’s talk on the phone message, within minutes of each other.

Mad scientist mentioned me wanting something “shiny” and saying he is not that. But I think it’s a little hypocritical and makes me seem basic, when he said himself, he doesn’t want to get bored by a person. To me that’s like Miley Cyrus calling Kim Kardashian an attention whore, just in Latin.

But meeting someone new can give you hope that they might actually be cool and worth spending time with. But I have left a lot of text messages and voicemails unanswered because someone newer and shinier came along.

But isn’t that the point of dating? Shouldn’t a person meet a bunch of different people, talk to them gather the vibe and then weed out the ones that don’t spark? I think so. And just as I check my messages on POF, I see the same three guys in my rotation online at the same time as me, yet they aren’t always in conversation with me. I’m just doing what the Romans are doing. They are dropping conversations with me, as they meet people who better fit into what they like, just as I am.

It’s a strange world we are in right now. It feels as if there truly are no rules and we have to just fend for ourselves.

Mad scientist was right about one thing. There is a script. I do feel like a couple of times a day, when I’m on the site, I’m repeating my “dating elevator pitch.” Where I’m from. How long I’ve been in the area. What I do for a living. What I like to do for fun. What school I attended. Why I’m single. And asking the same questions in return.

I was thinking about something while lying in bed. How I want to forget what it feels like to want love. I remember when I was in love, there were moments I just stopped to savor it, and I tried to remember what it was like when I felt so lonely or when I was waiting for the person I was with. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember that feeling. I was relieved that I couldn’t remember, and I said that life is cyclical, the likelihood is high that I’ll feel that way again and be unable to feel the way I feel now, so yup, I’ll breathe it in. I’ll snuggle in closer while he sleeps and I’ll listen to him breathe. And when he looks at me the way he looks at me, I will eat it all up. I will eat it all up. When he takes my hand, I’m going to fight to remember just how it feels because this moment will slip away. And when I am alone and wanting to remember so bad, I won’t be able to, but I’ll know that it happened. I’ll know at that time it was real.

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Dating Has Become My Second Job

Yesterday morning I woke up feeling like crap.

I spent a greater part of the previous night chatting with a guy on the phone into the wee hours. You’d think it was awesome until my high came down.

I was achy, tired. Grumpy. Work dragged on and I was edgy. Didn’t want to be bothered with anyone. Finished a project and left early to get some chicken pho (my go to cure-all for everything) and some sleep.

Talked to the same guy again for a while, while languishing on my couch last night, but it was almost like the club effect. Turn on the lights and you don’t see the same person you thought you were dancing with. You see a slovenly drunken, ugga bugga.

Beer goggles. Ciroc shades.

The really funny, easy guy I was talking to the previous night turned into a judgemental, Uncle Ruckus, who has an issue with my hair all of a sudden. I decided I didn’t care about his opinion because he is an unexposed, non-cultured person. And I’m not even being jerky about it. This guy really hasn’t been exposed and I don’t think he cares to expand his world view at all.

Black people who go on ad nauseam about how they hate large groups of black people or neighborhoods with too many black people irritate me. He actually said he feels better when he sees more white people. This guy is from the South and I can’t decide to call him Uncle Ruckus (A black self-hating, black people hating character on The Boondocks cartoon series) which I did to his face or Jim Crow.

He went on and on about how black people just want to eat fried food all the time with hot sauce and are unhealthy. Have you looked at the entire country? Poor eating habits are rampant across color lines. GTFOH. Negro, you probably have too many people in your family with diabetes and high blood pressure! Earlier he asked me to send another photo of myself and asked me, if I had just gotten out of bed, because my hair looked messed up.

Clearly, I was wearing full make up. I felt insulted. I’ve been getting a lot of reactions to my hair. Some men think it’s pretty awesome, which makes me very happy. Some just don’t really mention it, or they may ask me when I decided to go natural and why and when I explain my reasons, they tend to leave it alone.

My hair was styled in a similar way to how I had it styled in my profile pics. I told him “um, yes, it’s styled. I have natural hair.”

“Well do you wear it straight?”

“I can wear it straight, but it doesn’t last for very long, especially in warm weather. I’m getting braids next week because I don’t want to fuss with it on vacation.”

“Oh.”

I’m thinking the whole time, “Seriously, Negro? Seriously?”

Then when he talked about all of the foods he wouldn’t eat or try, and asked me if Vietnamese food was Oriental, I decided this ain’t gonna go far.

Oriental? Might as well call me colored.

So I’ve decided that he has a serious self-love problem and no wonder he’s screwed up. His mother named him after one of the biggest white American Rock and Roll stars of all time and he grew up in the south. So I give him a pass and pray for his happiness someday. Anyone who knows me knows I am obsessed with African-American history and with Pan-Africanism. I love talking to my friends from other cultures within the Black diaspora and understanding their experiences and how they look at the African-American experience. I love my heritage. So someone like him, yeah, I have no patience for it at all.

So after further discussion, this dude got married early, to a woman who barely out of her first marriage (who wanted to be with him during this first marriage) and asked HIM to marry her.

Like I said, “Well, I mean she was barely out of the first marriage what made you ask her?”

“Well, she asked me.”

Silence.

Because she was his first and only sexual partner he agreed. The marriage lasted 10 months.

She was cheating.

No kidding.

So yes, yall. Dating has become my second job and the stress from it I think caused me to just break down yesterday.

I foolishly tried to plan drinks with Kyle Barker, because he said something about him no longer being immune to my intoxicating vibe and energy. And of course, he stood me up.

I didn’t go to the gym as I planned and I sat at home eventually shedding clothing and pouring wine in a glass, disappointed in myself.

But the pull of new messages from POF keep making me go back and try and try again.

There’s one guy, who is really wordy with the most wonderful lips who I’m talking to and another guy who’s messages I seem to enjoy. I’ve booked drinks with him after I hang with some friends tomorrow night.

I don’t even want to get into the one dude who I talked to off and on and have never gone out with yet.

He asks me to a barbecue this weekend. Cool. Then he says it’s a guy from work, there’s free food and a dj.

Fine.

Then he says he only knows the guy from work, so it’s a great chance for us to get to know each other.

Record scratch.

I tell him, if he wants to get to know me, we don’t have to go to the barbecue. Barbeques are social and honestly, if we don’t know the people that well, we are going to look like moochers.

So he said he agreed and would like to do lunch. I told him lunch was cool. Besides I didn’t want to drive all the way to that side of town to be non-social and looked upon as a mooch. I can afford to make my own burgers. Come on dude.

But I haven’t heard anything else sense.

So do you see why I’m drained folks? Do you see?

One more work week and I’ll be vacation bound in New Orleans. It won’t just be a vacation from my real job, but a much-needed one from dating…

It can’t come soon enough…

Itch Don’t Kill My Vibe, the Online Dating Edition

I’ve decided the longer you online date and not take breaks, you will become jaded.

It will get harder and harder to look at any new profile with fresh eyes and have just enough hope that this person could be your everything, that you can get through the conversations and the dates and the false starts.

I’m learning this.

There’s an interesting phenomenon happening where people I may have started conversations with and have dropped off, they are reappearing and actually telling me, “I guess you aren’t feeling me because you never hit me back.” Ugh.

Dabnis is already hinting at being invited over. And I hint back that I’m not ready for him to post up at my house (especially because he lives at home with his parents, I feel like if I start letting him over, he ain’t gonna leave). I invited him to go take a walk with me on Sunday through a beautiful series of gardens.

I was hoping there would be more sparks sparking off, but sometimes the conversation just fell flat and I found myself looking at my shoes. No heat.

Because of what he does for a living, he was able to tell me all of the work it took to keep such a place so well-manicured, or how difficult certain tree branches are to cut, or the difficulty of taming roses with horribly sharp thorns.

Being in such a beautiful place, I could remember with certain people, I could walk around talking and enjoying the beauty of it all for hours and even lay down a blanket and talk about all sorts of things. Surely surrounded by all of this beauty, I would be compelled to return the feelings of this guy who has declared his interest.

I was bored. I tried to focus.

Last night, I asked him what his flaws were.

He said that he can be too nice.

I told him that was a safe answer, a job interview answer like I work too hard, I’m my worst critic.

So I told him I’m impatient. I hold the people in my life to a high standard and when they fall short of it, I’m disappointed. I take it personally because I think so highly of them. But they are human and it isn’t fair. I can be moody and sensitive and really quiet.

He responded that he wouldn’t try to change me and sometimes he can be quiet too, and that even if we didn’t become a couple, he sees us being friends.

So maybe I introduced a dark cloud and rained on his parade a bit with my “real” moment.

If he’s enjoying the newness, I’m messing it up trying to get to and expose the flaws.

I’m killing his vibe. Damn.

Some other guy, who loves to abbreviate everything in texts, hit me up this morning. He said he guessed I wasn’t feeling him. I told him I thought he was attractive but something about him really screams to me he’s slick and full of shit.

So I didn’t say full of shit, but I said slick. So he catches an attitude tells me I didn’t give him a chance and to have a nice day.

I told him he was right and wished him the same.

This is my theory. Insecure, slick men go nuts when you call them out on it. It’s like supposed to be a secret that they only know and you had the nerve to bring it up. You had the nerve to trust your women’s intuition on the front end and not be swayed by their looks or their words.

Frankly, I don’t trust men online who always refer to me as beautiful, or sexy or gorgeous. I don’t trust men who use abbreviations when they contact me or simply ask all the time what you doing or wyd? as a greeting.

It’s not a greeting.

So I decided his angry response was a reaction to my hard-earned ability to feel the bs coming. I just don’t have the energy.

What confuses me are the men who double back if I haven’t stayed in contact and then casually mention I haven’t held up my end of the conversation.

I like being pursued. I just do. I need to know a man is interested, but I guess sometimes I can end up falling all the way back because I don’t want to be the pressed girl.

That’s the situation I’m dealing with in terms of the Candidate. I feel like he’s given me a green light, but he’s slow on the uptake even though he said we’d talk on Facebook. But I guess that’s back to me being impatient.

I’m struggling. I had a long talk with God and I’m just really having difficulty with my season of singleness right now.

I asked for the insight to recognize I’m where I am for a reason and I want to enjoy the freedom that comes with being single right now.

I want to appreciate that things have to line up in my life for certain things to happen. When I think about things that have happened to me, I always had to be at the right place at the exact right time, I had to meet the right person who led me from one opportunity to the next that links me to the next place I’m supposed to be. Different people, educational experiences, trips, work things have served as conduits to romantic and professional opportunity.

But right now, it feels like all of the circuits are broken. I’m not being connected to my future in any kind of way. Nothing is poppin. I’ve tried to be proactive and not sit on the sidelines, I’ve tried to be open. I’ve tried to relax some of my really high standards.

But still I feel some kind of way.

I’m not there. I’m not even close to wherever it is I’m trying to be.

In love. In real love.

I have to keep living my life and sprinkle new things in it so I can be in those places or around those people. It’s easy to get bogged down and just wonder.

I want to be ready for the love I want to enter my life. Maybe I’m not ready, or as healed or as mature, or selfless enough for the person God wants to bring in my life. Maybe he’s not quite ready either.

Thinking this way gives me comfort, but it doesn’t necessarily satisfy me.

But in the meantime, how do I not crush anyone’s spirit who actually does want to get to know me?

Introducing “The Candidate”

Ok. Here we go. Still getting over the whole debacle with Officer Cutie, I went back to Plenty of Fish with vigor.

A couple of cuties hit me up, but they are starting to drop like flies. One guy was a firefighter who moonlit as a manager for a female rap artist. He sent me a link to her music video and I will say, she is telling her truth. But I’m not interested in songs about women running drugs for their men and watching her do that and kill him at the end. She could be a raging success if they ever made a Love and Hip Hop DC.

He was a bit much. I knew after a while this guy would go the way of Lancelot because he also had no filter. So once the convo died down, I think we don’t need to resume it.

Another guy was really cute. He wants to go to college and study journalism, God bless him. He seems really nice and after four years of being single, he is very ready for a relationship. He needs to stay in the yellow light lane.

Slow down.

But I enjoyed his convo, he’s good-looking and has a nice sense of style, but I get the sense because he wants to do what I’ve been doing for ten years, he’s going to end up feeling more like a mentee than a boyfriend.

But let’s get to the most interesting point of my night on POF last night.

I saw a pic of a really handsome guy. But I said to myself, he looks so familiar. I just couldn’t figure it out. It was driving me nuts. I knew that I knew him but just couldn’t think of where.

So straight up, I sent him a message saying that I thought I knew him and the two places I thought I may have known him from.

So he smiled and said one of the two (well email smile).

So I said, I feel horrible for not remembering, but if you are who I think you are, it can’t be right. This guy moved down here for his girl, and if he’s on POF, that’s foul. LOL.

So then, I looked at his user name. Spelled it out backwards and it was his REAL NAME.

I knew who this guy was. So I told him. Your user name is your name backwards. I totally know you. LOL.

Well, I totally knew who he was at that point because he was fine as hell and I interviewed him for a position on my team at work.

We offered him the gig, but after stringing us along for a week (he had other offers I heard through the grapevine) he turned us down.

Oh well not a biggie.

So he was still trying to remember me and then I said, well you actually interviewed at my job, strung us along and rejected the offer. I really wish you had been up front about the other offers. I said there’s no hard feelings. You were overqualified anyway. 🙂

So then he said he interviewed at a lot of places and finally remembered and asked me my name.

Then he said “to your other point, we broke up months ago. A friend told me about this site.”

So with my foot planted firmly in my mouth, I decided to give a little. “Hey, I understand about moving for love. I almost did it like three years ago. We were engaged and it didn’t work out. I really meant no disrespect, it was a joke. But I’m really sorry.”

So he laughed and said it was cool. So I give him points for still asking me out. Some men could have taken what I said really personally and went off on me.

Then came the kicker.

“So since we met randomly on here, there isn’t a reason why we can’t go out right?”

“Um, I guess not. I mean you didn’t take the gig, so no HR drama. Sure.”

And here we go.

Introducing The Candidate.

I feel okay about this because I already know his resume. I know he didn’t send a fake pic, and I know people who know him. I was already attracted when he showed up for the interview. I was actually relieved he didn’t take the job, because I would have had to stay calm and cool everyday.

But reasons why I feel some kind of way. He’s in the same industry as me, which can be a good and bad thing we know some of the same people, which can be a good and bad thing. I said I would not date someone in the same industry again (Oh Katherine Woodward Thomas and saying what I won’t do).

And the super biggie is, is a few months out post breakup, post moving for his woman. To make that kind of move meant they were serious and probably put some time in. So there’s a part of me that feels like I could be on some rebound tip and easy to date and discard since he didn’t have to vet me from the site. So those are the things in the back of my head.

I am willing to go out and hang, because hey, I’m down to see what happens. I’m taking a risk.

Valley Of Recycled Men

It’s no secret that I’ve joined Plenty Of Fish.

This whole adventure seems to be more social experiment, boredom-fighting, therapy session, life-coaching, myth-busting, professional baggage handling and job interview than actual romance, chemistry and budding love.

Plenty of Fish is starting to look like Chicken of the Sea, these days.

Let my junk yahoo email inbox tell it, and it seems like I’m swimming in men and interest.

But this site is more about quantity than quality or the stars just haven’t aligned.

I actually avoid men I’m very attracted to, because I’m certain I’m among many women who are attracted. And the attractive men are kind of mean when the kind of woman they aren’t interested in shows interest.

I also avoid men who already write like assholes talking about how great they are and how ripped they are or rich.

If you have photos with your shirt off, I don’t want to talk to you.

If you have photos of pit bulls, I don’t want to talk to you.

If you have photos of stacks of money, I don’t want to talk to you.

If you went nuts on instagram filters, I don’t want to talk to you.

If in none of your pictures, you don’t smile at least once, I don’t want to talk to you.

If you have specific requests about how equally fit your woman must be to you, I don’t want to talk to you.

If you drone on about how educated you are, I don’t want to talk to you.

If you have a one sentence profile or say, “Just ask me. We won’t have anything to talk about later,” I don’t want to talk to you.

If you talk about your mother or sisters a little too much…

Yeah. You make me nervous.

If you talk about how “trapped” your married friends are, that doesn’t inspire any faith in me that you are the marrying kind.

The craziest thing about POF is the recycled men factor.

I often think that among black folk in the DC, MD, VA area, while it is vast and wide, if you are between certain age groups, have a certain educational or socio-economic status, your friends will have dated the same man, once or twice.

And if you all are on Plenty Of Fish, it’s totally going to happen.

Case in point. Two ladies I know did date the same man from the site. The latter of the two didn’t like how touchy feely he was on the first date anyway, so by the time I warned her about the man with a very distinctive name and his inclination to lie about having children and being married, and his job, she said it was cool and he was cut off anyway.

It had been several months since the first friend had caught him in his web of lies and subsequently ripped him a new one and told him that he shouldn’t lie. Let the woman decide if she wants to deal with your baggage and really like who you are for you.

You’d think the man would learn his lesson. But instead he continues to shop the web, and lie to women. Why go through the dating? Why go through so much? This man is grown. In his 30s. But for whatever reason, he may be addicted to creating this alter image of himself, maybe the version he wish he could have been before he had a wife and child. But that kind of reckless behavior is cruel and unjust to women really looking for the real thing.

I had a date at a frozen yogurt spot Saturday, with a big-toothed gentleman, who loved to talk and ask me probing questions, I guess trying to keep up with my complicated journalistic mind. He was a traditionalist, who firmly held to gender roles, while often backtracking about wanting an independent woman. He was fixated on one of his best friend’s relationship, constantly using the word trapped. He conveniently scheduled our meeting an hour before he was to report to work nearby.

I told him he was way too invested in his friend’s marriage and he just needs to be honest, he doesn’t like his wife. His friend made the agreement to be in that relationship and they negotiated the terms. If from the outside to you, he looks like a trapped punk, who never has permission to hang out, and has to pick up children from day care. If this man feels this is what he has to do to keep his woman happy, guess what? He’s still married. He decided staying at home and not going out with his single friends was what he wanted to do, to keep the peace in his house. Is that right?

It depends on the man, and it depends on the precedent he set and the tone he set with his woman.

I have another date tonight after work.

Happy hour at one of the most notoriously clubbish, meat-markety TGI Friday’s in the region. The close second, which has probably taken the crown, is actually in my neighborhood. LOL.

Can’t say I’m looking forward to it, just because of the geography in relation to my job, but I don’t think I’ll be bored. I actually appreciated the fact that we didn’t have books long of conversation and that he just wanted to go out and meet me and see what was what.

So for his get-to-the-pointedness, I’m willing to meet this brotha for a mojito and some half-priced wings and keep it moving. I’m totally prepared to pay my own tab and bounce. Cash and carry.

I almost feel like I’m in the bird-in-the-hand mode.

I know I like Officer Cutie, (having a serious Olivia Pope gut moment about him) but I still don’t know enough to make me feel like he is going to be my next relationship, but I feel like there is a high possibility. And I’ve got to wait about three weeks before his visit. I’m very excited about the planning and I’m excited about seeing him.

But in the meantime, as I’ve often said, when I’m single, I’m single.

I’m not going to sit and twiddle my thumbs and wait. I do want to go out, see what’s out there, so if and when Officer Cutie arrests my heart, I’ll be all in and will have no doubt and back to my laser vision girlfriend ways.

Actually a good friend of mine said there will be true balance in the universe once I’ve snagged a steady boyfriend. I usually give myself a good breather between relationships, but according to my girl, this one has gone on for far too long.

But in my defense, my extended leave of absence from the relationship world was post an engagement. A broken engagement is the Zombie Apocalypse threat level red, of relationships. I’m sorry. It just is. You have to rebuild cities and towns, and make sure all of the Zombies are dead, and kill anything that even seems quasi-Zombie just in case.

That’s a huge thing to bounce back from and I needed adequate time to heal.

So here we go again.

Wish me luck.

Fingers crossed I don’t pick up any of my homegirls’ refuse along the way…

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