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Entries in Coffee Boy (2)

Saturday
Jan282017

You're dumped eHam

I finally deleted my eHam profile.  It felt weird.  Like I was letting an old friend go.  Throwing out a pair of jeans that once looked good on me. Killing off my chance to find love (pfffft, joking).  I won’t lie, as a What If Girl, it was hard. 

I’ve been on eHam for a few years – I don’t want to confess how long for fear of sounding like a loser – but it was fun.  When I first signed up I dated enthusiastically, lining up several dates every week, and chatting to a few men at once.  Then as the excitement of meeting potential partners wore off, I logged on only when I felt like it, throwing myself in and out of the dating world for as long as my self esteem would allow.

Now that journey – or should I say roller coaster - is over.  Yes, I’m still single.   But that’s okay. 

Did I meet some great men?  Absolutely.  Some of them I’m still in contact with.  Coffee Boy, one of my first dates, who texts me every year on my birthday to catch up.  Marathon Man, who I dated for a while (he’s now happily married again with another child).  Celebrity Chef, one of the hottest guys I met, swaps funny stories and emojis with me like we’re bored 15 year olds.  Oh and most recently, The Sailor, who was a brilliant dinner date and plus one.  I liked him a lot.  Never mind.  

I also talked to and met some weirdos.  IronMan, the uber strong Leo who had a voice like a jockey and talked in the third person about everyone.  Thong Man who had a fight with me because I didn’t want to meet him after ten minutes of chatting.  Smiley Face who said that women who wear glasses are librarians and that we let way too many asylum seekers into our country. Elvis the bragger and 50/50 boy the groper.  Delete.

Then there were the awesome guys I met but didn’t click with physically or emotionally.  Sometimes me, sometimes them.  The Food Scientist and I had a brilliant four hour date, then nothing.  Fireman Sam (an old school romantic), the Drummer (lots of fun) and Sauce Boy (who flew from Canberra to take me to dinner on Valentine’s Day).  All lovely guys, just not right for me. 

I also had some interesting match ups … Carlos the Spanish Horse Whisperer … Scott the Swinger who had a wife AND a girlfriend, and was looking for another playmate to join them … and the lovely Michelle, a woman transitioning and looking to explore the world of dating as she became a man.  Then there was Nick who ended up dating Twin Kat for a few months. Thank God she never brought him home.  Awkward on a new level. 

A huge shout out to The Painter, Italian Stallion and Five Perfect Dates who all have their own chapters in my upcoming book.  If I ever finish it. 

As I hit the delete button on my account I felt good.  It was time to try something new and get rid of the things in my life that weren’t working.  Done.  I closed my laptop.  A little later, however, I received more matches in my inbox.  What?  I logged on again to find I had only stopped my subscription, not deleted my account.  My profile was still there attracting men.  Nice try eHam. 

I searched the site and finally found the Close My Account section.  As I hovered over that tiny red button, I wondered if this was the right thing to do.  What If, my head taunted me.  What IF?!  No, I’m done.  We are done. 

I clicked the button and a collage of cute men scrolled across my screen with an ominous sentence … “Are you sure you want to close your account? These are some of the people you might be missing out on.”

Are you for real?!  Where the hell were all these hotties the past few years?  It’s like going to AA and someone waving a bottle of champagne in your face before you walk through the door. My self discipline may not be that strong.  I pressed the “Yes, Delete my Account” button.  Another screen popped up.   “Warning!  Are you sure you want to do this?”  

A list of reasons not to delete my profile tugged at me.  You will permanently lose all your matches.  Shame. You will lose all communication with your matches.  Fine. You will have to retake the whole relationship questionnaire (or 936 stupid questions about dumb shit as I like to call it).  Yep.  Got that.  I’m out of here.

Finally after getting through myriads of dating firewalls, my account was closed.  Dead.  Dormant.  Deleted.  Hundreds of men that didn’t quite fit me (or vice versa) disappearing into a cyber black hole.  Just like that.  My fallback database of potential love was gone … for good. 

 Surprisingly, it feels really good.  And no, I’m not signing up for Tinder.   

Monday
Jan072013

Online dating ... should I stay or should I go?  

I just opened up my eHam profile to do a bit of cyber stalking on someone I know.  It seems my profile is still active and there are 294 men waiting to meet me. 

Hooley dooley, I’m a popular girl!

Two years ago I was bored, sick of being single and over meeting the same bunch of 27 year old media wankers, so I took the plunge and threw myself into online dating.  My friend Bubba had been nagging me for ages to sign up.  “Lots of people meet online, you should do that.  It’s great.  You’ll meet wonderful men and you can pick and choose who you want.  Go on, do it.  What are you waiting for?  Online dating is awesome!”

All this from a woman who had been happily married for two years to the most amazing man ever.  Bubba hadn’t been single for years, and when she was, men would ask her out all the time.   Easy.  Married people love to tell you how to meet someone.  Because, sure, they are out doing it every night of the week.  How hard can it be?

Really hard.  Soul destroying.  Depressing.  Self esteem lowering.  Horrible.

Dating is worst than a root canal with no anaesthetic if you’re not in the zone.    However it’s also totally awesome if you are in the right space, up for some fun and don’t put yourself – or anyone else - under pressure. Go out, meet some people, have a few drinks, swap numbers.  Who knows what might happen?    

At the time of Bubba’s online persuasion, I was feeling good and ready for a new challenge.  I try to not sit around complaining about stuff if I can help it.  I’ll whinge a bit and let it go if it can’t be fixed – or I'll do something, usually tackling it head on.  This is exactly how I approached online dating.  Take No Prisoners (unless they like to be tied up) may have been my mantra.  Or perhaps it was Take What You Can Get.

At first, I was cautious and contemplative.  I would read every ‘match’ that was sent to me, thinking about the man’s responses.  I’d imagine what he’d be like in real person.   Would he have a deep voice?   I’d look intensely at his profile picture.  He’s smiling - this one has nice eyes – I wonder what all those tattoos on his face mean?  Why do you think this one with no teeth doesn’t want to have children?  Oh, this caravan holiday fan is 62?  That’s fine, perhaps he’s young at heart.  Or he can be a bestie for my Dad.  Retired farmhand loves fishing and cups of tea, does he?  I’m sure we have other things in common.  I painstakingly went through each and every man that was sent to my inbox and seriously considered if he would be my next partner.

Even the man with one arm got a look in.  

Hey, his profile was really really funny.

I met some nice men and went out with a few.  I learnt that I was a ‘great date’.   This is as simple as dressing nicely, smiling and laughing, not getting too drunk, not talking with food in my mouth, asking lots of questions (about him) and not being 108kgs if I said I weighed 60kgs.   Apparently the majority of women online don’t understand this.   I was a catch.

I’m still in contact with some of these guys as they were great to hang out with, we’re just not meant to be in a relationship.   Coffee Boy was my first date and we have dinner twice a year.  Marathon Man and I chat on Twitter and swap running stories.   Sauce Boy flew from Canberra to take me to dinner on Valentine’s Day and we keep in touch via Facebook.   I met some really great guys. 

I also met a few, um, interesting men.   50/50 Boy who never paid for a date – only ever his half.  He’d been on about 208 dates so not surprised.  Iron Man, a policeman who had the body of Adonis but sounded like a jockey – on helium.   Bakery Boy who was lovely and chatty then told me he ‘couldn’t wait til he died so he could meet our Lord and Saviour and be in Heaven forever, away from all the sinners and demons in our world.’   Hey, I love God too Bakery Boy, but you need to relax a bit.  Text messages like that are a bit scary. 

It was a roller coaster of emotions.  

Some nights, I’d have a great time, laughing and chatting, really enjoying their company.  We’d talk for hours about anything and everything.  I’d feel connected to the other person and think, maybe this will be a good thing for a while.   Then suddenly, he’d start taking photos of the front of my house and sending me computer generated paintings (of me) and I’d not be feeling so good about our four week ‘relationship’.

So tonight, when Adventure Boy and I started chatting I felt two familiar emotions. Excitement. And Fear.

Can I really do this again?   Do I want to put myself out there with the likelihood of rejection?   Do I have enough self esteem to pick myself up when I meet someone great and they’re not into me?  How will I feel when I need to have the ‘You’re a great guy, but I’m just not feeling anything more than friendship” conversation?   It’s horrible having to tell someone you’re not into them.  It feels bad and I hate myself for it.  But that’s what you do when you date online.  Some people call it a process of elimination.  No, these shoes don’t fit, let’s see what else you have in the shop I can try on for size.  I can bring them back if I get bored or she gets annoying, right? 

Online dating is hard.  It takes up time and energy.  You have to be strong and not let it ruin your confidence.  But it can also be fun and rewarding and teach you things you never knew about the human race.

Like how funny men with only one arm can really be.   And that no one looks good in a computer generated painting.  Not even me – and I’m a GREAT date.