Confessions of an Internet Dating Junkie
by Tania Boghossian The first time I tried online dating my goal was simple – to find my soul mate.
Having squandered the majority of my adult years enduring a series of flings that went nowhere, I set out to make up for lost time. I’m the type of woman that could have written the handbook entitled “How to Find Mr. Wrong Without Even Trying.” If finding love really was a crapshoot, then I was hell bent on upping the odds by going on as many dates as possible.
And so I did.
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I should have known things
with ‘VIBES’ would never work
out after our first conversation |
Within 24 hours of posting my personal ad, my inbox was full. My skepticism waned, and I was emailing, phoning, and dating more guys in one week than I had dated in my entire life combined. Night after night, I went on dates with everyone from ‘HOT4U’ to ‘SMILINSAM.’ From tax accountants, divorce lawyers, and computer geeks to struggling artists, writers and mechanics — you name him, and I dated him. It began to get so confusing that I had to devise a spreadsheet in order to keep all of the names and faces straight. Online dating had become a full-time job. I was now searching with blatant impunity at work, leaving cookie crumbs all over my hard drive for Tech Support to scour as I browsed profile-after-profile everyday. Staying out late on dates left me pumping double lattes at work to stay awake. My turbo-charged social life was getting the best of me.
I was becoming an Internet Dating Junkie.
After one month, I was exhausted. The exhilaration of meeting someone new was wearing thin. I felt like I kept meeting the same guy, only with a different name and face. Every conversation felt like an interview, and nothing was clicking. Three months into the game and still no Mr. Right.
I decided to change my approach. Instead of dating everyone on the planet, I would attempt to weed out the whackos by stepping it up a notch. Establishing a connection from the outset – either via email or the phone – would help to avoid slipping into the verbal black hole that inevitably crept up within five minutes of meeting someone cold. Or so I thought.
‘HUNKALUV’ was the first step in this direction. He looked great on paper and we progressed from emails to the phone in a nanosecond. I thought he was a dream come true. As each day passed, we grew closer and I began to fall deeper the more we talked. When it was finally time to meet, I began to get cold feet. What if he didn’t find me attractive? What if I suddenly had nothing to say? Despite all of the negative thoughts trampling through my head, I agreed to meet him at a bar in Harvard Square. After waiting nearly an hour, he was nowhere in sight. Naturally, I assumed the worst — that he dumped me. As I turned to leave, the 500-pound, chain-smoking truck-driver I spotted an hour earlier, limped toward me and said, “you can’t leave now.” As I turned to face him, I realized that it was actually the man I was supposedly in love with. I was awash in a tsunami of emotions: disappointment, hurt, and anger and I knew right then and there that I would never try online dating again.
Six months later, I was back — new picture, new profile, new approach. Equipped with a fresh coat of emotional armor, I decided to revert to my original tactic and meet face-to-face right away. Considering that it takes less than five seconds to make an impression, this seemed like the most effective way to go.
‘STANTHEMAN’ clocked in at a little under three seconds flat. Far less toothsome and charming in living color, he was a rug-wearing, pasty-faced businessman with a humorless disposition. He arrived at Starbucks twitching like a bug in his three-piece suit. Immediately upon sitting down, he cracked open his mammoth briefcase and pulled out photographs of his children in 9x12 wooden frames. He spread the pictures on the table (which was too small to display the entire family) and launched into an elaborate story about each of his five children and the mind-numbing details of his divorce. I drank a tank of coffee and whipped out my mental checklist:
1. Receding hairline
2. Dog breath
3. Spineless
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See Also:
God, a Neaderthal and Hope
Left/Right Love
A Matter of Necessity
Meeting Mr Right Now
Missed Connections
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