Oh hey. I didn’t see you there.

I have a love/hate relationship with this blog.

I love to post here and see all of your comments and likes. Conversely, I really have begun to hate the actual online dating part. And that’s the only way I can account for my second hiatus from writing here.

Every now and then, I have these grand ideas of “research” projects I can do on online dating sites. I can respond to creepy people and see what they say, and then blog about it. I can write a message to literally every single person I come across, and then blog about it. The problem lies in the fact that this usually ends up creeping me out immensely. I can hear my mom’s terrifying childhood lesson about stranger danger, and not talking to strangers, and not getting into vans with strangers, and not taking candy from strangers (oh God, what kind of neighborhood did I live in!?).

Enter: Hank. (I don’t actually know his name, but I’m going with Hank)

Hank messaged me in early October innocently enough…

dating01

… but, for a multitude of reasons, I often don’t reply to messages on online dating, especially when the prospective guy has a 10% match. I did look at his profile and just thought we weren’t a good fit — no harm, no foul. But then he messaged me again two days later.

dating02

Now, if the reason I didn’t reply to him is because I’m shy, then that would make me the worst dater ever — and that’s coming from me… the ACTUAL worst dater ever. What, I sign up on a dating site and then am too shy to reply to prospective dates using the infinite secrecy of the Interwebs, only after posting a picture of myself? What kind of logical sense does that make, buddy? Are you seriously so entitled to my response that the only possible reason I wouldn’t write back is because of my crippling nervousness?

By the way, I feel it’s important to interject here that this man’s username contains the words ‘tall, dark, and handsome.’ Clearly no limit to the ego on this man. He regards himself as a regular Shemar Moore. And yes, that is the only correct identification for a man who is legitimately tall, dark, and handsome. And yes yes, followers of my blog, that is my second reference to good looking men on the show Criminal Minds.

Following Hank’s horribly misguided characterization, I wrote a very long message in reply. I wouldn’t say it’s rude per se, but it did include the sentence, “I think the kind of person messaging me with a wink is presumptuous and a little sleazy.” Also, “I also am wary of someone who says the thing they are best at in life is bullshitting people.” Ok, I was a little rude. But I ended it by wishing him good luck in his quest for “love” (yeah, that’s what he’s looking for. Love.)

Instead, he responds by asking me out… again… for a drink. Because clearly I just didn’t get my point across with those wishy-washy statements from the stammering shy girl. He must envision me as the female version of Professor Quirrell. You know, before he unwrapped his turban to reveal evil incarnate on the back of his misshapen skull.

Anyway, this continued on for a few more rounds (and I say “rounds” because I legitimately felt like I was in some sort of throw down, drag out fight for victory with this guy).

In the end, I was so put off by the whole experience that I needed a little breather. But once again, you all started calling for more posts and asking where I’d gone. And you know me, I like to give the people what they want.

So maybe I’m still getting over my immense shyness here, but I have hope. I mean, just earlier today at work as I pranced around the office like a ballerina who suddenly contracted polio, but then got her leg braces removed after a miraculous recovery (I clearly don’t know how polio works), my coworkers said, “man, all the boys must like you.” And then at a holiday work lunch, as I explained to my boss that I don’t eat seafood or vegetables or… pretty much anything else… she said with a smile, “you must be a blast on dates.” So, see? I’m FINALLY being recognized for the female heart throb that I am. This is how I get all the boys, because I understand what boys really like: shy girls who don’t eat their carrots.

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