The Power of Need

So, I've decided.  There are very few things I need in this world.  I've got a roof over my head, a great job, a full fridge, and a couple of pennies left in my bank account at the end of the month.

Like many other single girls out there in the dating world, I don't need someone to take care of me, but I'd like to find love.  It's a pretty average, ordinary story.

But, recently, I've decided that I must be a freak.  Because, while I'd love to be loved, I need to be needed.  It's not something I want.  It's something I need, like my houseplants need sunlight.  Like a swimmer needs air.

I've never been the girl who looked for the flawed guy so I could try to fix him.  I've always believed in taking people for who they are, flaws and all.  When my ex-mother in law lectured me about "making" her son act more responsibly, I'd say to her, "It was your job to raise him.  It's my job to put up with him."

On my drive home tonight, I decided that I'm not such a freak after all.  Hollywood has made quite a pretty penny on the power of need.  Need an example?

Sleepless in Seattle.  It goes like this.  Meg Ryan is a cute, successful, if impossibly thick haired newspaper writer.  While listening to a radio show, she learns of the plight of Tom Hanks, a widower with a young son who can't face life without his beautiful, perfect, dead wife.

Tom Hanks is a mess.  He's doing the best he can with his kid, but he's a man walking around with a big hole in his metaphysical heart.  It's very sad.  And Meg Ryan falls in love, sight unseen.

Now, the movie tries to make you think that Meg Ryan falls in love with Tom Hanks because he's capable of such a deep love.  He remembers the way his wife peeled an apple in one long curl, and Meg Ryan does the same thing.  Clearly, in Hollywoodland, this means they're MFEA.

Meanwhile, Meg Ryan has a fiancee.  The nerdy, but still cute Bill Pullman.

Now, Bill's got some flaws.  He tells bad jokes.  He uses one of those weird sleep apnea contraptions.   He's not perfect.

But, Bill Pullman could have been Brad Pitt.  It wouldn't have mattered.  Tom Hanks and his son needed Meg Ryan.  Bill Pullman was going to pull through just fine without her.

Meg Ryan needs to be needed, too.  So, she chooses the messed-up-guy-with-a-kid over the stable-but-slightly-odd Bill Pullman.  Who could blame her?

Maybe I'm not such a freak after all?

Things that make me go, "Huh?"

So, I know how y'all love the post where tell you about all the "winners" I've found on match.com.  (Don't y'all love that word?  I recently spent some time in Dallas, and I decided that y'all is the best word, ever!)

I feel the need to write a semi-serious post tonight, but first I'll reward you for paying attention with something fun.  Here's a collection of the most mind-numbingly confusing, weird, or awkward guys I was "matched" with over the past week or so.

Example 1:  The social butterfly.

Those of you who've met me know that I'm a pretty sociable gal.  So why, oh why, would match think this guy was a good fit?  First of all, let's take a look at what he does for fun:

I enjoy being at home but willing to go out if necessary.

Yay!  As long as I can drag you out of the house occasionally (only if necessary) then we're good, right?

How about your favorite things?

I like going to different places and trying new foods

Hmm...shouldn't that read, "I like going to different places and trying new foods, as long as it doesn't require me to leave the house?"

Maybe Mr. Sociable has something really great that's keeping him at home all the time.  Like...a pet?  

 

me and my x had a wonderfull yorki name viggo hes about 6 pounds and a great dog

Okay, that rule about not talking about your ex on the first date?  It applies double for your online dating profile!  There are a few exceptions to this rule (usually where custody of children is involved) but custody of a dog does not make the cut!

 

Example #2:  The goal-setter.

i hope to meet nice people who are willing to develop sincere friendships that may develop into a romantic relationship....

Okay, so you'd like to meet nice people (plural) for sincere friendships (plural) that may develop into a romantic relationship (singular.)  Dude, I know Kody Brown has gotten guys thinking they might be able to cash in on this plural marriage thing, but I don't think match.com is a good place to find a couple girls to help you film your own episode of "Sister Wives!"

 

 

I'm sorry for that grammatical outburst.  The Goal Setter continues...

however, this is not the main goal, although it would be nice. 

 Whew.  That's a relief.

 

i believe there are alot of nice ladies, that if they gave me a try, they would be pleasantly surprised and happy with the many fine qualities i bring to a freindship.

So...wait.  Your main goal is not to meet nice people for friendships that may turn into a relationship?  What is your main goal?  To find a new tennis partner?  To find someone to help you rob a bank?  I know what y'all are thinking.  (There's that word again!  So fun!)  I must have conveniently edited his profile and removed an reference to the actual goal.  Nope.  I gave you everything.  I'm just as confused as you are.

And finally.... Example #3:  The championship speller.

ENJOY LIFE TO FULLIEST JUST BEING ME, ALWAYS OPEN TO NEW IDEA'S, ENJOY TRAVELING WHEN I CAN. LOVE TO PLAY AFTER HARDWORK, ALWAYS APPRECIATE OTHERS JUST LOVE HUMANITY ENJOYING LIFE TO THE FULLIEST, WILLING TO MAKE A SCARFICE AS WELL AS SWALLOW MY PRIDE

A few things:

a) what's with the ALL CAPS?

b) Fulliest?  Is that one level fuller than fullest?

c) You only need to put the apostrophe before the "s" when using a possessive or a contraction.  This is neither.  Think of all the ink you can save!

d) I'm glad you're enjoying life "to the fulliest" twice in your single paragraph profile.  I could have forgotten that part after reading those other two sentences.  I'm so glad you reminded me!

e) You're willing to make a scarfice?  Is that like a scar face?  Because I really prefer my faces without scars.

f)  Why, exactly, do you need to swallow your pride?  Has your pride done something that requires swallowing?

Okay, new rule.  I never, ever, ever want to see any references to the word "swallow" in an online dating profile.  Eeewwwhhh!

Winks are for Wimps

I "un-hid" my profile on match about a week ago, and I've gotten quite a bit of attention since then.  None of it is the kind of attention I want.

What I want:  a charming, successful, funny, nice, smart, cute, follically blessed man to send me a personal email that sweeps me off my feet.

What I'm getting:  winks.

I hate winks.  I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with a wink.  If I wink back, we just get stuck in this endless wink loop.  If I write back, I come across as too aggressive.


So, last night, I changed my headline to "Winks are for Wimps."  Since then, my wink rate is picking up speed.   Here's a chart to illustrate:

Yep.  This is the best graph I could come up with.  There's a reason I'm not a statistician!

For those of you not well versed in obscure graphs, I'll do the simple math.  Before I changed my headline, I was averaging one wink every 26.3 hours.  After I changed my headline, I got three winks in eight hours.  Seriously.  Can no one follow instructions?

Other things I did not miss on match.com:

1.  Photos with Attitude (a.k.a. Putting your best chin forward.)

Seriously?  Who told you this was attractive?

These guys seem to want you to know that they're the boss.  Either that, or they're really concerned about hiding their double chins.  They all sorta remind me of someone...

In case you were wondering, this is *not* a compliment.

2.  Photos that Require Interpretation (a.k.a. Is that your house or your neighbor's?)

Okay, here's a hint.  I want to see photos of you.  Not your kitchen.  Not the house you want to own someday.  Not your dog who died 3 years ago.  Not your art project from senior year.  And not the beautiful place you went on vacation 15 years ago.  Here are some examples:

Do you own this?  Do you want to own this?  Do you want me to want you to want to own this?

Am I supposed to be impressed?  By what?  Your fantastic kitchen in your basement apartment?  The fact that there are no dirty dishes in your sink?   The fact that you clearly need an interior decorator?  What?

Dude.  If I was going to hire a nature photographer, you'd be it.  But, I'm looking for a boyfriend.  Different resume.

While we're at it, please don't post photos of your kids.  Or your friend's kids.  Or your sister's kids.  Let's just keep the children away from potential predators on internet dating sites, okay?

3.  Illiterate assholes.  (And by that, I mean, illiterate assholes.)


Today's candidate:  Svett!

Are we to take this to mean that Svett is good at something?  Clearly those medals aren't from spelling bees!

Svett wants you to know many, many things.  First:

"I like to hang out with my frined dont like to read much like going to the movies you know the clasic stuff ...."

Oh good.  That's useful information.  What else do you have for me?

"i realy dont know what to write so im just going to use the random words. "

Oh...well...at least we can praise Svett's honesty?

"actualy i a real nice guy but not looking for anything special just some fun. I would realy like to some ones buty call hehe so just call me ;)"

I had to stare at that for a good, long while before I knew what Svett is looking for.  I'll save you the trouble.  He wants to be someone's "booty call."

Now do you get the crack about the spelling bees?

Escaping the Past

Two weeks ago, I stood up in front of a group of strangers (and my boss) and told the story of the Doctor Who Bit Me.  If you remember, the Doctor was the 12th man I dated after my best friend's husband challenged me to go on dates with 20 men before I stared looking for "the one." 

The crowd was suitably amused, and my boss was suitably horrified.  I walked out of that room feeling pretty darn good, with a free t-shirt under my arm and an invitation to come back to compete again for a really cool prize.  It was awesome.

I got home and checked Facebook.  I thought I'd go ahead and RSVP to the invitation stuffing party for a charity event.  When...horror of horrors, I notice that the Doctor is also RSVPed to attend.

But, the drama doesn't end there.  #8 - Pee Boy is also on the RSVP.  I haven't thought about him for years!  (Nor have I wanted to.)

Also helping out with this charity event are #3 (The Republican) and #17 (The Man.)  Seriously.  Four men I've dated are helping out with this one charity event.

Four.

F-O-U-R.

This is not four men out of hundreds.  That would be statistically strange, but not beyond belief.  This is four men out of 20, in a city of 4.4 million people.  (The always accurate Wikipedia puts the population of Boston "proper" at just under 650,000, but since neither I, nor many of these bachelors actually live in the city, I'm using the numbers for Greater Boston.)


As far as I know, none of these four men know each other.  (I suppose that's a silver lining?)  None of them dumped me.  (Also a silver lining.)  One of the four is now a good friend, who might be willing to defend my honor should the other three get out of hand.

I'm sure when this charity event arrives in early December, I'll be able to blend into the crowd.  I'll have a glass of wine and pretend that the Doctor isn't leering at me, and that the Man isn't sad, and that Pee Boy....

Well, there's nothing to do about Pee Boy except to wish that he didn't exist.  It's bedtime now.  I'll have to explain that one later.

How are you?

I am smart, funny, successful, and relatively socially adept.  I try to be a good person who treats others with kindness and respect.  I'm a girl who could stand to lose a few pounds, but I've been told I have a fantastic smile.  That's a compliment I have no trouble believing.

I have lots of friends.  Sometimes I worry that I have more friends than I can handle.  I gossip more than I should, but I truly love all the people whose quirks drive me crazy.  I'm not an angry drunk, or a sad drunk, or a just-plain-drunk.  I pay my taxes, contribute to charities, and vote in most elections (but maybe not every primary.)

When I'm not dating anyone in particular, I have no doubt about any of the above facts.  I have my good days and my bad days, just like everyone else.  But, I know that I am worthy of the space I'm taking up on this Earth.

But, when I'm dating someone, inevitably my self-worth starts to hinge on his opinion.  I start thinking... I haven't gotten as many emails from him today, there must be something wrong.  He looks distracted at the dinner table, I wonder what I said to upset him?  When I was married, I even found myself falling into the ultimate mental drama,  I've said "I love you" before him the past 3, 5, or 10 times.  Does that mean I love him more than he loves me?  (To that last point, if you never give a guy a chance to email first, call first, or say "I love you" first, the fact that you always beat him to the punch just means that you're being an incredibly insecure person who needs to take a breath.)

As I've mentioned here before, I'm a girl who tends to dive into relationships head first.  Is it any wonder?  If I need that constant validation, that continuous upping of the ante, can I really be surprised when I find myself behind the bars of a prison of my own making?  (Or, to be slightly less drama queen-ish, if I never take the time to get to know someone slowly, before falling in love, how will I ever know if the guy I fall for is worthy of my adoration?)

So, as you might have guessed, I'm sorta kinda dating someone.  It's only "sorta kinda" because things are currently moving at an absolute snail's pace, at least for me.  We were moving quite quickly for a while there, and then he asked if he could slow things down.  At that point, I figured I had two options.  Say "yes" and see where it leads.  Or say "no" and totally push him away.  I chose to say "yes."

I think it's probably good for me, to slow down and get to know someone before giving him my heart and soul.  But, every time it takes a little longer to get an email back from him, I'm sure he's pulling farther away.  The second that email arrives in my inbox, I'm convinced I was just imagining things.  I have even started to do math (and I hate math!)  For example, last Tuesday I got seven emails from him, but they were all one liners.  Yesterday I got four, and two text messages, but they were longer.  So, do I chart the "falling off of interest" by the number of emails, or by the length of those emails?

This is stupid.  How about I not chart the "falling off of interest?"  How about I focus on my own life, on my own self-worth, and on my own hopes and dreams?  If he turns out to be a worthy (and willing) participant in that life, that's cool.  If not, that's cool too.

It's tough, especially when I'm getting emails from friends who ask how he's doing, but forget to ask about how I'm doing.  I had a big week.  I got permission to take a fun work trip and came in second place in this really cool contest, and it's only Tuesday.  But let's not talk about that.  How's the boy?

I'm just as guilty as the next girl.  When's the last time I remembered to ask you about your job before I asked you if you'd gone on any good dates lately? 

Who are you dating?  Is he cute?  What does he do?  Does he want kids?  What's better, match or eharmony?  Where would you go for a romantic getaway, Vermont or the Berkshires?

The questions go on and on.  Can it be any wonder that we begin to feel like our self worth hinges entirely on our relationship status line on Facebook?  Is it any wonder that we put the needs of the guys in our lives ahead of our own? 

So, dear friends, when we chat, let's not make him the only topic of conversation.  When you email me, considering asking me how I'm doing, before you ask how things are going with him.  You know me well enough to know that you'll hear from me if there's anything to report! 

Note:  I wrote this post nearly two weeks before I published it.  Since writing, my recently divorced Romeo has decided that he's not ready for a relationship.  Since I'm really, really ready for a relationship (I mean, really, really, really ready already!) we've decided to part ways.  But, I still think my little ephiphany has merit.  

When next we meet, if I don't ask about you before I ask about him, feel free to bonk me over the head.  Preferably with something fluffy.  It can take a little while to break old habits... 

A Boy Named Sue and Other Updates...

I'm sure not one of my two faithful readers has been lying awake at night wondering where I've gone.  For the record, everything is good.  Quite good, in fact.  So good that I don't want to blog about any of it, because I'm superstitious that way.

But, I don't want either of you to suffer from withdrawal, so I'll update what little there is to update. 

First of all, remember psycho?  Way, way, way back in May?  No?  Gosh, I really thought everyone was taking notes.  Okay, here's the quick synopsis.  (And the not-so-quick synopsis.)

He asked me out for a walk on a Saturday afternoon.  I said "sure."  A few dozen emails later, he asked me out for Friday night instead.  When I said I was busy, he guilt tripped me into thinking waiting an extra 20 hours to meet was unreasonable.  It all went downhill from there and culminated in him calling me "crazy" and talking about urinating in my car.

So, out of absolutely nowhere, I get an email from Mr. Psycho this week.  As usual, it was witty, charming, and well thought out.

how are you?

Ahhh, yes.  Mr. Psycho thinks a three word "sentence" lacking in capitalization is going to be enough to lure me back into a conversation?  Mr. Psycho is clearly still...psycho.

Okay, but now, as promised, on to the Boy Named Sue.  The boy was not actually named Sue.  We don't use real names of guys we actually meet in this blog.  But, he was "gifted" with an otherwise feminine name.  Poor BNS.

BNS and I email chatted for a few weeks before we actually met.  We had a phone "date."  We hit it off well enough, but due to his busy schedule we didn't actually meet until nearly two weeks ago. 

I have this to say to BNS.  Ya snooze, ya lose.  In between scheduling a date with BNS and actually attending said date, I struck up a conversation with the current object of my affection.  We scheduled our first date very quickly and by the time I set out to meet up with BNS, we were already planning our second date.  So, I knew walking into the bar to meet BNS that he didn't have a chance.

That said, I also knew when I walked into the bar to meet BNS that I didn't have a chance in hell of recognizing him.  My only hope was that he would be late, and therefore tasked with the job of finding me.  Luckily, that's exactly what happened.

BNS is that he only had two photos posted on match.  The first was a fish photo.  You know the type...back to the sun, baseball cap on head, holding a prize catch.  They're all pretty much the same, so I didn't feel bad stealing a few from the web and making a montage.

No, none of these guys are the BNS. 

The subject in all these photos is the fish, not the guy.  So, if you're trying to let someone know what you look like (on a dating site, for example) it's not a really good choice.  If you're trying to hide your identity because you're in witness protection, it's totally the way to go.

BNS's second photo was an extreme close up.  Putting together a montage of this type of photo was a little more difficult.  I had to get creative.

None of these guys are the BNS either.  One of them isn't even real.

Incidentally, when I tried to find some "extreme close up" photos on google images, this is what I came up with.

Very funny, but it didn't make my point.  You can totally tell what Wayne and Garth look like.

So, it should come as a surprise to no one that when I finally met BNS, I spent the next ten minutes completely confused because he didn't look anything like I expected.  Maybe I'm dating myself here, but it's kinda like the first time I found out Casey Kasem looked like this:

No.  Casey Kasem is a little man in a funny sweater?  Say it isn't so!

I spent the next two hours having a polite, friendly conversation with the Boy Named Sue.  We laughed.  We had a good time.  We exchanged biographical but not personal information.  But, the entire time I was dreaming of Date #2 with the other guy.  BNS asked me out again, but I politely declined. 

And that's the story of the Boy Named Sue...how do you do?

How Jane Austen Ruined Me for Real Men

My evening gym experience is always so much better when something good is on TV.  Today,  I breezed my way through 3.5 miles on the treadmill while watching the last 40 minutes of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.  It was the Keira Knightly version, which according to the ever-useful imdb stars a dreamboat named Matthew Macfadyen as Mr. Darcy.

Whew!  The brooding eyes.  The open collar.  The mullet!

As I tried to ignore my tight right hamstring, I found myself thinking (and not for the first time) how finding love would be so much easier if I had never heard of Jane Austen.  It doesn't help that I started reading her novels as a ridiculously bookish 4th grader.  Before I even realized that boys didn't have cooties, I already had unrealistic expectations.

For me, the problem isn't that Austen's men are so charming, or so dashing, or so gorgeous.  (Though, I have developed quite a fascination with broody eyed men in frilly shirts.  I'm just saying!)

No, the problem is that Austen's men are so terribly flawed.  They're mean, judgmental, aloof, harsh, and rude.  And have I mentioned the brooding?  I'm really not a fan of actual brooding.

But, somehow, by the end, an Austen man always turns it around.  After wrongly convincing a friend to scorn your older sister, he saves your family from social ruin by forcing the man who ran away with your younger sister to marry her.

The other Mr. Darcy.  Who could resist Colin Firth after this one?

Or, he's been criticizing your every move because he's loved you for your entire life and never even knew it.

Don't worry.  The distressed look on Gwyneth's face isn't caused by the beautiful man standing behind her!

And, when you finally realize that you love him too, there's nothing left to do but to profess your eternal devotion while standing in a field of flowers, or in front of a beautiful sunset, or while getting drenched in a torrential rainstorm.

Oh, Mr. Knightly.  You're such a scamp.

In Austen's world, a rough, dark, moody, harsh military man can turn into a sweetheart who's just worried about the fate of a young woman he promised to look after.

I have never before, and will never again, think that Alan Rickman is sexy.  But, Austen-ized, he's a dreamboat.

And another rough, dark, moody, harsh military man is just trying to hide his unwavering love for you, even though you scorned him years ago and sent him off to face certain death while seeking his fortune in the military.

I recommend the 2007 version of Persuasion.  Rupert Penry-Jones as Captain Wentworth smolders like no other!

And that guy who broke your heart?  He was just being honorable.  He ripped out your soul so that he wouldn't break a promise to another woman.  An annoying, shrill, high maintenance, gold-digger of a woman.  But, still, his promise to her is oh-so-much more important than your puny little heart.

Even Hugh Grant looks good...not at all like the kind of guy who'd get caught with a transvestite prostitute.

As you probably have noticed by now, when it comes to Jane Austen's men, I've read them all, watched them all, and even dreamed of them all.  Sadly, when I find a man who's rude, brooding, harsh, moody, or even overly critical, I don't run.  Instead, like a heroine in a Jane Austen novel, I wait for him to turn it all around.

Sometimes I wait a very long time.  12 years is my current record.  And, you know what?  They never do turn it around.  Rude, brooding, harsh, moody and overly critical men are exactly what they appear to be...even if they agree to wear a frilly shirt for Halloween.

(True story.  I got my ex-husband to wear one once.  It didn't change who he was inside.)

But, you know what?  Relying on Jane Austen to teach you about love is like allowing a kid who's played that "Operation" board game to actually operate on you.  Jane Austen died alone.  By most accounts, she never found love.  Sure, if you watched that "Becoming Jane" movie, you might think Austen was a pretty, Anne Hathaway type who had a passionate love affair with James McAvoy.  But, that's a movie, people.  There might be bits of it that are true, but it's no less than 90% Hollywood.

If you're gonna have just one passionate love affair before dying alone, James McAvoy is a mighty fine choice!

So, tonight, I pledge to dream about sheep.  Or rainbows.  Or aliens coming down to take over the earth.  Really, anything but an Austen man.  Because, well, I deserve so much better than Austen has to offer.