nuts4chic - the online women's lifestyle magazine

Tania Boghossian

Confessions of an Internet Dating Junkie

I sat, with a pained expression, waiting for a pause, but he ranted breathlessly until I had no choice but to force myself out of the conversation by spilling coffee on him, which, by the way, worked brilliantly. He flew to the men’s room, and I escaped out the front door.

‘KRISHNA’ struck the gong next. He set out – albeit, unwittingly – to put the wheels of karma in action. We agreed to meet after work at an Afgani restaurant. Eating with my hands on a first date wasn’t exactly my first choice, but who was I to turn down a free meal? He arrived fashionably late, dressed in black. Instead of apologizing, he eyeballed me from head-to-toe and said, "we are destined to be friends." Obviously, he was stoned or delusional. Obviously, he had consulted a crystal ball prior to his arrival because I was unwilling to accept rejection unless it was channeled from an outside source – not from this schmuck. Obviously, I wasn’t sticking around much longer. Gazing into his ring-studded eyebrows, I said, “can you order me a glass of goat’s milk while I go to the bathroom?” and without waiting for a reply, I slithered through the kitchen and high-tailed it out the back door.

I should have known things with ‘VIBES’ would never work out after our first conversation, which went something like this:

“What are you wearing?”
“Right now?”
“No, when we meet.”
“Jeans, probably. Why?”
“Do you ever wear miniskirts?”
“Uh...no…..well…sometimes….why?”
“What about dresses?”
“Hardly. Why?”
“I like skin.”
“It's snowing outside.”
“Whatever…….how much do you weigh?”
“I don't think I'm your type.”
“Why?”
“I have flesh on my bones.”
“I said I liked skin.”
“But I think I may have more than you like.”
“Do you wear heels?”
“Never.”

I was beginning to get bad "vibes." This conversation was degenerating by the second, and I couldn't seem to steer it back on course, so, rather happily, I decided to cut it off entirely.

“Look,” I said, “it's getting late, I have to go.”
“Well, are we still on for Saturday?”
“Sure.”

''After my
disappearing act,
it occurred to me that
I was becoming
something
of an escape artist''

I hung up. Like hell we were still on for Saturday. From that point on, we continued to ignore each other online and never exchanged another email.
‘JOSH,’ the uber-sexy, artsy, musician guy I had yet to meet, had an unabashed hankering for phone sex. "What are you wearing, baby?" he whispered, in a silky smooth, brandy-coated voice. Where had I heard this before? I replied, "LL Bean flannels, thermal underwear, two pairs of socks, and a wool hat" – not exactly the Victoria’s Secret image romping through his pea brain but the truth nonetheless. "Hmmmm,” he groaned, “do you keep your socks on or off when you……..?" I hung up the phone and went to bed.

There were over 4500 singles online in Boston alone, and all I could attract were sex-obsessed men with zero non-pornographic interests.

‘CLIMBER’ seemed harmless enough. He was a project manager by day, rock climber by night, and he taught classes at an indoor rock gym. The idea always intrigued me in a remote sort of way –- dangling my body off a mountain cliff, that is -– so I decided to drop him a line. “Hi, I've always been intrigued but terribly apprehensive about the sport...can you tell me more?” Of course, he bought it hook, line, and sinker. This always pulls them in, talking about themselves or something they love (themselves). He dissected his craft ad nauseam via email, and at some point down the road, on the phone as well. The only problem was that the more we talked, the harder it was to back out of, what I had professed to be, a life-long yearning. The one plus of online dating is the ability to vanish at will, without any explanation, which is exactly what I did.

After my disappearing act, it occurred to me that I was becoming something of an escape artist.
With ‘LUVPUP16’ there was that crazy chemistry, the instant I-can’t-keep-my-hands-off-you physical attraction that everyone is dying to experience. From the very first moment we met, stars burst, and the earth shook. When he confessed undying love on our second date, my internal bullshit detector immediately ignited. True, I had mutually strong feelings, but I was more realistic and jaded thanks to my past experiences. Throughout the day, he would call and say that he felt my “energy.” He had unequivocal faith in our destiny. By our third date, he was injecting inappropriate words, like ‘marriage’ and ‘children’ and ‘moving to Florida’ into the conversation. Riddled with doubt, I got scared and started to pull away. Sensing my reluctance, he backed off enough to keep the relationship puttering along. We continued to date, but I somehow managed to keep one foot on the brake.

Months after we broke up, I discovered the truth. He was a former drug dealer who was now back in recovery for heroin addiction. He totaled his car by ramming head-on into his own house. He purchased the vehicle by stealing his mother’s credit card. He actually met his former wife in rehab – not at a Christmas party. He racked up thousands in debt and drove his business underground by smoking, drinking and injecting whatever profits he drew. Needless to say, I was shocked – and relieved – that I trusted my gut instead of believing his profession of love. After hearing about this man’s secret life, I knew that I would never try online dating again.

That was six months ago. After revisiting the bar scene, speed dating, salsa dancing, and a host of random fatalities otherwise known as blind dates, I’m back, my expectations in check. I’ve come to realize that the Internet is one of the most accessible venues for meeting people and offers the greatest bang for the buck, so to speak. And while I can’t say that I’ve met the love of my life online (yet), I haven’t given up. I’m back in the game, and the search goes on.

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