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Adventures In Online Dating.

March 27, 2009

So, I swore I would never date online. Not because I think it’s stupid, it has worked for many a friend of mine (L, here’s looking at you and that hot bf of yours, kid). The main reason I am not an online dater is that I legitimately loathe the activity that is dating.

Yep. I hate dating. I hate the fake conversation. I hate the awkward logistical back and forth. I hate feeling accountable to end said date with a kiss if I’m not into someone. I hate being not into someone and sitting across from them for more than ten minutes. I prefer to do things the old fashioned way, pick a questionable, probably unemployed man up in a bar (or, you know, go home with my ex, apparently).

However, when one indulges in thirty thousand drinks over the course of a day whilst shopping with her friend Steph on Larimer Street, one starts to think certain things are a fabulous idea. Enter my first foray into finding love on the Internets.

I’m not going to tell you which service I used (you stalkers, you), but suffice to say that I was assured by a VERY drunk Steph that it was the more hip of the dating sites. And this was particularly important in her convincing me (although after the amount of Chimay I had imbibed that particular Sunday, I probably could have been convinced to do most anything), as I have briefly checked out Match.com via my little sister and deemed it too full of Denver douche bags to utilize myself (no offense to anyone).

So, I set up a quick profile (half of which didn’t save because I was drunk and couldn’t figure any of it out), slapped a picture up and promptly passed out. I woke up Monday morning, semi-forgetting what I had done (per usual) and saw that I had new emails. It went something like this:

7:00 a.m. Oh sweet jesus, what the fuck happened to me, I am going to lose it
7:08 a.m. I am officially having a heart attack
7:15 a.m. It’s heart burn. Pizza. All I have to say to myself is ‘FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WOMAN, YOU KILLED A PIZZA’
8:30 a.m. WTF happened to my email inbox
8:45 a.m. Oh. Right. I signed up for a dating site and created a profile, that goes to show what Sunday day (and evening) drinking and seven months without sex will do to a girl

Over the past two weeks, I have received a slew of very, VERY strange messages from young men in the downtown area. A vast majority of these messages are from men aged 21-24 . I am clearly 33 years old, yet I suppose this is because the photograph I chose does make me seem quite immature:

Yes. I am drinking a PBR tall can. In public. I am immature AND cheap. Hot.

Apparently men in my age range do not go on said dating site. Or they just don’t exist (which could explain my singledom, single 35+ year old men are like unicorns in Denver, apparently). Regardless, I thought I would share some of the emails I have received from these young men because they are fucking hilarious. And while I do feel a little bad making fun of these people, I just cannot help it and I am an evil bitch.

A few have been really nice, smart and well-meaning . Others are really making me question the male species. Those are the ones included below for your reading pleasure with my bitchy comments in parentheses.

*************************

Subject: I wanna see you smile
Body of email: hello

(The guy is succinct, he says what he wants right up front, which is to see me looking happier than I look in the above photograph. That is really impossible, though because I am at a bar in that photo and am always happiest at bars. Obviously.)

Subject: Look no further!
Body of Email: Okay Ms. Hot Stuff of course I read your profile. What you think us guys don’t? Do you like sushi, and can you shake it? If so I feel we are one step closer to a date. I am romantic, passionate, affectionate, and love making out. Hope to read from you soon. Cheers, [name redacted]

(Uh, I’m pretty sure I joined a dating site, albeit blacked out, so that young men would, in fact, look at the profile I created, albeit blacked out. So that first part confuses me. Secondly, I can shake it, this hot chunkler bod actually shakes while I walk. Sexy, right? Third, could he please give me a descriptor that relates to my interests? I am not a romantic person, I am not particularly affectionate. However, I am passionate, about melted cheese foods, and do love making out, on dance floors. Maybe that’s what he meant.)

Subject: Good god
Body of Email: Good god, you are beautiful, girl. Let’s talk and learn more about you. – G

(I already know far more than I want to know about myself. And shouldn’t you save such compliments for models or something?! Apparently the name of the online dating game is ‘over the top’.)

Subject: Heya
Body of Email: Think you’re cute, duh! Maybe a drink to see if you fall for me, which is possible I am adorable too. 🙂 – m

(Uh. I didn’t ask if anyone thought I was cute. And I fall for most people that buy me drinks. Maybe this guy is on to something…)

Subject: Ciao bella
Body of Email: You have a gorgeous smile. Lets take over the world.

(World domination, interesting. I am all for high ambitions, but really unless he means he can take over the world and I can sip pina coladas and nap while he does so, it isn’t going to work out.)

Subject: Gorgeous
Body of Email: YOUR FREAKIN HOTTTTTTTTT and GORGEOUS!!!

(First of all, let’s get our grammar correct. YOUR would be a conjunction — you are = you’re not your. Idiot. Also, I have never been so into the use of all caps before. He is violently complimenting me. And I kind of like it.)

Subject: Are you a sweet girl?
Body of Email: I’m so glad I found you.

(Whoa Soulmate McSketchyemail, slow down, boy.)

Subject: CAREER
Body of Email: Hey there, wow you are tall! But you’re pretty cute and sexy. I would definitely put my arms around your waist. You don’t look like you have too much junk in the trunk!

(Uh, thanks, I think. I love how the subject of the note is CAREER, yet it has nothing to do with my job and is instead all about the ass. Typical.)

Subject: Kind of like being alone?
Body of Email: Wouldn’t that make you a hermit? And you’re a sagittarius, so you’re a hermit lion!

(Jesus christ, what did I get myself into.)

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