Thursday, August 8, 2013

RULE #5- DADDY TYPES NEED NOT APPLY (Unless you're on my celebrity to do list. Here's looking at you George Clooney and Sebastian Roche)

I need to find the part of my profile that tells these dating sites to match me up with 35-42 year old overweight divorced and balding men who are "between jobs and applying for things right now"AND START LYING ON THAT PART OF THE APPLICATION. Sadly this still seems to apply to about 70% of my matches.

Thank y'all for sticking with me through the dry period! You know what sucks the soul out? Dating. Dating a guy that you're not even that into. Having a grandma who you can tell is imagining how many bridesmaids you will have in the wedding to said guy. 

Brandon was great if you can imagine dating a guy that you're not attracted to do to an overwhelming feeling of Dad-Is-That-You? Maybe I'm spoiled. I read a lot of smut. Loved 50 Shades. I read Sylvia Day and I love a good cheesy romance where girl meet a guy who is handsome and successful and a giant douchebag, but he mans up to win her over and they have crazy hot sex for the next twenty pages before the book ends. I know it doesn't work like that in real life, but I always imagined that there would be a physical attraction. Personally I like arms. I don't really care what the rest of him looks like as long as he's working that t-shirt like an actress/dancer/screenwriter/barista is working a Los Angeles Starbucks.

Brandon was 32, overweight, bearded, balding, oddly sweaty ALL THE TIME and really into talking about being a grandmaster wizard (????) of the Freemasons. Every date we went on he wore his Freemason swag. He was a super sweet guy and was willing to try a couple episodes of Supernatural. He even tried a bit of Doctor Who on Netflix. We probably could be decent friends, but it was a little weird for him. He gave off the distinct feeling of hoping to progress in the relationship while being batshit afraid of me. For example- I kissed him on the cheek. He turned pink, backed away, and then asked me out again Like four times. We went to the movies where he wouldn't hold my hand or pull the I'm stretching UH OH now my arm is around you. He went straight for the sweaty palm on my (clothed) thigh.

For God's sake, couldn't even wipe your hand first?

 Anyway, it took a couple tries but he finally got the hint that I wasn't that interested. Seriously though, this part took like two weeks. He kept texting me over and over again until he finally got the picture. After that, back to the starting board.

Every day, eHarmony sends you 6-8 matches. These guys may or may not be fully registered members, which means they probably joined for a free communication weekend and hasn't actually been active in months. Sadly this seems to be the case for the smoking hot Jensen Ackles look-alike who hasn't been active in ages. *Sigh* This means he's either a cheap bastard who can't afford the fee, or has already gotten a girlfriends since he set up the profile.

I was feeling defeated. Gross. Kinda fat, and just really wanting to get the fuck outta town. Went to Philadelphia. My friends meanwhile, I swear to god, without saying it in so many words were all:

You know who you girls are. I love you all!

They don't speak basketball, but the sentiment is the same. Also the message. The message was MATCH.COM. Match is turning out to be oddly like college. SOOOOO many choices. You don't know who these people are, and since uses screennames, you don't know real names and just have to hope these people are telling you the truth. However, they all seem way cooler than the people you just left behind (eHarmony) You really want them to like you since there is all sorts of ratings and choosing going on. Plus- there are parties. I really want to try one or two stir events. 

I've been on for 3 days, and I have a date on Sunday with a guy that we shall call Nick. He's 34, a local high school history teacher (TRIVIA PARTNERRRRRR!!!), who likes reading, dogs, theater, and Mel Brooks movies especially Spaceballs. Let's not even TALK about his arms.

Me. Right now.

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