I realize it's been a very long while since my last post. And I have a perfectly good (few hundred) reasons for that. But basically, it's because...
I'm really starting to dislike criminals. The scum of the earth, bottom of the pond, law-breaking mongrels who have absolutely no respect....
...for a decent dating schedule.
Not that I ever liked criminals. But they really should be more flexible. Damn hooligans.
To start, I haven't been able to see the cop in over a week (and even before that, there was one week dating delay due to additional scheduling conflicts). Okay, okay, it's not like I'm boo-hooing, but I have to admit, seven(+) days of not seeing someone isn't exactly what you want for a budding relationship.
So what happened? Well, for the first thwarted date, a prisoner was at the hospital and the cop had to "sit" on him -- as in safely secure, watch, keep an eye out, and make sure everything was all right while he was in the hospital's care. Long story short, he didn't get off until about 2 a.m. and then had to turn around and work his 5:30 a.m. shift. The guy slept in his car for a few hours and rolled straight into a 16-hour shift.
Then another 16-hour shift the next day, followed by a hectic workweek (he also works most of the weekend while I don't), and...
Well, you get the picture.
Justice never sleeps. Or so they say. Let's do the math, shall we?
No dates = a whole lot of nothing = makes for bad blog material.
Now, please don't think I'm going on these dates for the sole purpose of writing about them. I'm just stating that, honestly, the reason I haven't posted in a while is because there hasn't been a lot to post!
These criminals really need to get their act together. Take a page from Aretha and have some R.E.S.P.E.C.T.
{Cop it to me, cop it to me, cop it to me.}
-- Miss Matched
Showing posts with label online dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label online dating. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Is that what I think it is?
He grabbed a black gift box from the kitchen counter and handed it to me. It was square -- about the size of a paperweight.
"I wanted to see you so I could give you your gift," he said, clearly ready for me to open it.
I had barely unleashed the dogs and hugged him hello. I couldn't believe he didn't have jetlag and wasn't exhausted. His plane had landed in the states only a few hours earlier, but he seemed wide awake.
It was a weeknight, so I had just spent the last hour fighting traffic to make it to his place. He looked exactly the same (after all, it had only been a week), but I was very happy to see him. And find out what was in the black box.
The top of the box said something about "crystal" gifts, so I carefully lifted the lid.
Inside was a solid glass clock that had "London" etched in it, along with various landmarks.
Funny thing is, you can't change the time. The back of the clock is encased within the glass, so there's no way of getting to it. And the cool thing is, it's set on London time. Why would you want to change it in the first place?
Thoughtful and yet not overly thoughtful. I liked it.
"Really, you didn't have to do that," I told him, smiling. "I was only kidding when I said you should bring something back!"
"No, I wanted to." He opened the pizza box that was sitting on the counter. He fixed me a plate and we moved to the couch to eat, trying to keep the dogs' noses out of our pepperoni.
He flipped the channel to Justified, and I begged him to show me his London photos. But his camera was still charging and he had taken more than 200. He told me about his trip and how he liked Manchester so much better than London. (Not having been to either, I just nodded because I didn't have an opinion about one over the other).
And he said he really did try to make it to Ben's Cookies -- I recommended he try it based on @WhitforBrit's blog and celebrity endorsement. (Ha, well, celebrity in my mind, anyway. I'm addicted to her blog. But that's another post for another day.)
"I asked around about them and everyone kept telling me how amazing they were," he said, referring to Ben's Cookies. "But no one could tell me where to go or how to get there! So I never did find them."
So he didn't get to experience what is apparently the best cookie on the face of this planet, but he wasn't short on the sweets.
{Note: I'm not one to kiss and tell all -- only pieces here and there -- but if you'd like, feel free to stop reading now. Consider yourself warned.}
Did I mention he's a good kisser? So yes, naturally, we started making out and moved to his bedroom. Now, now, don't go making any assumptions. I said making out.
As we were kissing, my hand hit something under the pillow. The lights were off and I couldn't see anything in the dark. But it was cold. Hard. Metal.
"Wait... wait, what is... what is that?" I stopped kissing him and formed the words slowly, not sure I wanted to know the answer.
"What?" He asked, confused.
And then, 0.25 nanoseconds later...
"Oh shit!"
He leapt over me to grab it, blocking me from getting any closer. He sounded surprised, but not worried. There was almost a chuckle in his voice, and even though it was dark, I could have sworn he was almost laughing. He picked it up and moved it to his dresser.
"It's my gun," he said casually. "Don't worry, it was locked down."
I assumed by "locked down" he meant the safety was on. After I had a moment to process what had just happened, I nervously laughed. (You know how you laugh when you're not sure what else to do?) I mentally reminded myself that no, my hand/arm/face hadn't been blown off and yes, everything was all right and under control. And after replaying the event in my head and laughing at the absurdity of it all, I did have to admit...
...it was kinda hot.
"I wanted to see you so I could give you your gift," he said, clearly ready for me to open it.
I had barely unleashed the dogs and hugged him hello. I couldn't believe he didn't have jetlag and wasn't exhausted. His plane had landed in the states only a few hours earlier, but he seemed wide awake.
It was a weeknight, so I had just spent the last hour fighting traffic to make it to his place. He looked exactly the same (after all, it had only been a week), but I was very happy to see him. And find out what was in the black box.
The top of the box said something about "crystal" gifts, so I carefully lifted the lid.
Inside was a solid glass clock that had "London" etched in it, along with various landmarks.
Funny thing is, you can't change the time. The back of the clock is encased within the glass, so there's no way of getting to it. And the cool thing is, it's set on London time. Why would you want to change it in the first place?
Thoughtful and yet not overly thoughtful. I liked it.
 |
| It looks good on my shelf at work. |
"No, I wanted to." He opened the pizza box that was sitting on the counter. He fixed me a plate and we moved to the couch to eat, trying to keep the dogs' noses out of our pepperoni.
He flipped the channel to Justified, and I begged him to show me his London photos. But his camera was still charging and he had taken more than 200. He told me about his trip and how he liked Manchester so much better than London. (Not having been to either, I just nodded because I didn't have an opinion about one over the other).
And he said he really did try to make it to Ben's Cookies -- I recommended he try it based on @WhitforBrit's blog and celebrity endorsement. (Ha, well, celebrity in my mind, anyway. I'm addicted to her blog. But that's another post for another day.)
"I asked around about them and everyone kept telling me how amazing they were," he said, referring to Ben's Cookies. "But no one could tell me where to go or how to get there! So I never did find them."
So he didn't get to experience what is apparently the best cookie on the face of this planet, but he wasn't short on the sweets.
{Note: I'm not one to kiss and tell all -- only pieces here and there -- but if you'd like, feel free to stop reading now. Consider yourself warned.}
Did I mention he's a good kisser? So yes, naturally, we started making out and moved to his bedroom. Now, now, don't go making any assumptions. I said making out.
As we were kissing, my hand hit something under the pillow. The lights were off and I couldn't see anything in the dark. But it was cold. Hard. Metal.
"Wait... wait, what is... what is that?" I stopped kissing him and formed the words slowly, not sure I wanted to know the answer.
"What?" He asked, confused.
And then, 0.25 nanoseconds later...
"Oh shit!"
He leapt over me to grab it, blocking me from getting any closer. He sounded surprised, but not worried. There was almost a chuckle in his voice, and even though it was dark, I could have sworn he was almost laughing. He picked it up and moved it to his dresser.
"It's my gun," he said casually. "Don't worry, it was locked down."
I assumed by "locked down" he meant the safety was on. After I had a moment to process what had just happened, I nervously laughed. (You know how you laugh when you're not sure what else to do?) I mentally reminded myself that no, my hand/arm/face hadn't been blown off and yes, everything was all right and under control. And after replaying the event in my head and laughing at the absurdity of it all, I did have to admit...
...it was kinda hot.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Smart Phones Are Date Dumb
NOTE: Yes, I'm aware of the irony, since I posted this with my iPhone.
Don't get me wrong. I love my smartphone. I wouldn't trade it in for anything. But it just doesn't understand my dating life.
Like, for example, when I go to search the web. It takes me to the last page I had visited (last three pages, rather), and it's a reminder of who didn't work and how I awkwardly shot them down or let the "relationship" fizzle into virtual thin air.
To illustrate:
My browser opens up to the IMDB page of Kevin Connolly.
Why was I Googling Kevin Connolly? Because as my second date and I were walking in the park, we got into a (non-serious) argument about who "the little dude" was in He's Just Not That Into You. Lawyer guy was correct, I was proven wrong.
So when my browser pops open to that IMDB page, I'm instantly reminded how I tried to let him down easy with the pathetic line of, "But I'm afraid I might wrinkle you!"
(Yes, that lawyer. The one who I deemed to be too "fancy.")
And then there's the other webpage that opens up to reveal "hello" defined in many different languages ("jambo" is hello in Swahili, just for your daily dose of FYI trivia) because the divorced single dad and I had a text message volley going with international flair. We stopped when we got to Japanese. I got tired of having to copy and paste what I was going to text, translate it, and then re-copy and paste it... All for the sake of an "lol."
So, smartphone.... If you're so stinkin' smart, why don't you NOT remind me of the dates I "dumped" and ease my conscience the next time I feel like Googling something?
Just sayin'.
- Posted by Miss Matched using BlogPress from my iPhone
Don't get me wrong. I love my smartphone. I wouldn't trade it in for anything. But it just doesn't understand my dating life.
Like, for example, when I go to search the web. It takes me to the last page I had visited (last three pages, rather), and it's a reminder of who didn't work and how I awkwardly shot them down or let the "relationship" fizzle into virtual thin air.
To illustrate:
My browser opens up to the IMDB page of Kevin Connolly.
Why was I Googling Kevin Connolly? Because as my second date and I were walking in the park, we got into a (non-serious) argument about who "the little dude" was in He's Just Not That Into You. Lawyer guy was correct, I was proven wrong.
So when my browser pops open to that IMDB page, I'm instantly reminded how I tried to let him down easy with the pathetic line of, "But I'm afraid I might wrinkle you!"
(Yes, that lawyer. The one who I deemed to be too "fancy.")
And then there's the other webpage that opens up to reveal "hello" defined in many different languages ("jambo" is hello in Swahili, just for your daily dose of FYI trivia) because the divorced single dad and I had a text message volley going with international flair. We stopped when we got to Japanese. I got tired of having to copy and paste what I was going to text, translate it, and then re-copy and paste it... All for the sake of an "lol."
So, smartphone.... If you're so stinkin' smart, why don't you NOT remind me of the dates I "dumped" and ease my conscience the next time I feel like Googling something?
Just sayin'.
- Posted by Miss Matched using BlogPress from my iPhone
Friday, February 18, 2011
Double the fun? Don't. Ever. Do. It.
---------------------------------------
UPDATE
to my double-booked Sunday
---------------------------------------
Online dating tip:
NEVER, EVER -- under any circumstances -- tell a date that you double-booked them with another guy on the same day. Ever.
They'll laugh. They'll tease. And thank heavens in my case, they'll still agree to meet. But regardless, it's not a good rule of thumb, and it makes for what I can only assume will be an extra awkward goodbye.
[The following imagined scenario playing out in my head]
Me: "So... I better get going."
Him: "Yeah... for your second date."
Me: "Yeah... um... that."
Just play coy, make an excuse when he asks you why you had to rearrange your schedule, and let that be the end of it.
It's not like I meant to tell him. He prodded me about why I had to shuffle things around and teased about my having "many" dates (he doesn't know about any others, he was absolutely just joking in good fun). It all just came out... like verbal vomit, spewing from my mouth. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
But... On the other hand, it does let them know they're in for a little healthy competition.... hmm.
No. Don't do it. Just don't do it. Or, at the very least, hope to the high heavens that you have an understanding person on the other end of that phone that says, "Sweetie, here's a piece of advice. In the future, never tell another guy that you have to bump them because of a later date."
I'm mortified. I'm honest and blunt, but I'm absolutely mortified.
-- Miss Matched
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Dating Overkill?
I know this isn't the post you were waiting for. This one will have to be quick and dirty because I'm on a time crunch.
I want to devote a good amount of time to tell you about my Valentine's Day blind date, but before I do, I have to give you an update on this weekend.
Are four dates in one weekend too much?
Now c'mon. Before you judge, wouldn't you want to knock 'em out as quickly as possible in order to move on to the rest (in the case they didn't work out)?
Anyway, here's my weekend lineup so far:
Fri: Possibly a late coffee (first date) after work. He's a lawyer, so work hours are loosely defined, as it could be as early as 6 or as late as 9 pm.
Sat: Second date. Different lawyer. Dinner at an Italian place. Now I must find an SDO, pronto. (Second date outfit)
Sun: Here's where it gets tricky.
A.M. - early afternoon: First date. Behind-the-scenes tour of NASA. Pretty cool, right? No, he's not an astronaut.
P.M. - First date. Divorced single dad. Not my first preference, but he was extremely funny over the phone and the kid looks very, very cute.
So.... am I committing Match.com overkill?
I want to devote a good amount of time to tell you about my Valentine's Day blind date, but before I do, I have to give you an update on this weekend.
Are four dates in one weekend too much?
Now c'mon. Before you judge, wouldn't you want to knock 'em out as quickly as possible in order to move on to the rest (in the case they didn't work out)?
Anyway, here's my weekend lineup so far:
Fri: Possibly a late coffee (first date) after work. He's a lawyer, so work hours are loosely defined, as it could be as early as 6 or as late as 9 pm.
Sat: Second date. Different lawyer. Dinner at an Italian place. Now I must find an SDO, pronto. (Second date outfit)
Sun: Here's where it gets tricky.
A.M. - early afternoon: First date. Behind-the-scenes tour of NASA. Pretty cool, right? No, he's not an astronaut.
P.M. - First date. Divorced single dad. Not my first preference, but he was extremely funny over the phone and the kid looks very, very cute.
So.... am I committing Match.com overkill?
Sunday, February 13, 2011
First Date Outfit (the LBD)
I have another "first" date tomorrow.
{Freeze frame: I'm not sure why this thought is just now occurring to me, but tomorrow was not smart on my part. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. That could be extremely awkward. This date might have to be postponed. I'll keep you posted, dear readers. Now back to the story...}
It's supposed to be coffee and conversation at a nice little local place. Having had three "first" dates already (meaning three separate dates with three separate men), I've decided I need a "first date outfit."
Here's my logic:
I usually stress over what to wear, how to fix my hair, what accessories to use, etc. etc. However, I've decided that having a designated "first date outfit" cuts down on all that. Just wash... and re-wear.
It's a cute LBD (for all my male readers out there, that's short for little black dress), and I can dress it up or down depending on jewelry and shoes.
Granted, if I run into any former first dates or visit the same venue too many times, the waiters might start questioning me...
But for now it works. As long as I don't get too date-happy and keep them spaced out with days in between to do the laundry, I'm set.
Resourceful and efficient... don't you think?
{Freeze frame: I'm not sure why this thought is just now occurring to me, but tomorrow was not smart on my part. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. That could be extremely awkward. This date might have to be postponed. I'll keep you posted, dear readers. Now back to the story...}
It's supposed to be coffee and conversation at a nice little local place. Having had three "first" dates already (meaning three separate dates with three separate men), I've decided I need a "first date outfit."
Here's my logic:
I usually stress over what to wear, how to fix my hair, what accessories to use, etc. etc. However, I've decided that having a designated "first date outfit" cuts down on all that. Just wash... and re-wear.
It's a cute LBD (for all my male readers out there, that's short for little black dress), and I can dress it up or down depending on jewelry and shoes.
Granted, if I run into any former first dates or visit the same venue too many times, the waiters might start questioning me...
But for now it works. As long as I don't get too date-happy and keep them spaced out with days in between to do the laundry, I'm set.
Resourceful and efficient... don't you think?
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Yes, I judge you when you use poor grammar
Match.com has brought out my inner grammar nazi. I've always been frustrated by bad grammar, but getting 15-20 poorly written emails per day is too much for my patient little brain to handle.
However, my biggest pet peeve is actually turning into a handy little way of weeding out potential dates. I can understand an occasional autocorrect or typo, but if you don't take the time to type two more keystrokes and turn "u" into "you" --- then it's just not happening between us.
"Your" vs. "you're" is, and will probably always be, a top contender. "Their" and "there" comes in second with "lose" and "loose" at a close third.
Boys, if you don't take any other piece of {online dating} advice, take this one:
Proper grammar will get you out of the trash bin and, if you're really lucky, a reply.
See? All that schooling wasn't a waste. Now if you'd just put it to use...
-- Miss *Match*ed
However, my biggest pet peeve is actually turning into a handy little way of weeding out potential dates. I can understand an occasional autocorrect or typo, but if you don't take the time to type two more keystrokes and turn "u" into "you" --- then it's just not happening between us.
"Your" vs. "you're" is, and will probably always be, a top contender. "Their" and "there" comes in second with "lose" and "loose" at a close third.
Boys, if you don't take any other piece of {online dating} advice, take this one:
Proper grammar will get you out of the trash bin and, if you're really lucky, a reply.
See? All that schooling wasn't a waste. Now if you'd just put it to use...
-- Miss *Match*ed
The Cardinal Sin (of Match.com)
I just committed the cardinal sin of Match.com. I'm way in over my head at this point. I need a Match.com assistant, and I'm not even joking. I'm preparing to start an Excel spreadsheet tonight.
No, it's not that I have a lot of suitors. I just have a lot of potential suitors. And I'm not complaining. I mean, I know it's a good problem to have. Believe me, it's not like I'd rather be in Sheldon's shoes (any Big Bang Theory fans out there?). The more matches available, the better chances I have, right? However, I was just not prepared for the sheer volume.
So back to the cardinal sin...
I was busy enjoying the day with my parents (they came in town to visit), and while hanging out in town, I used the Match.com mobile app (which could use so many upgrades and tweaks, but that's another story for another time) to shoot off a quick email to a guy who told me his account was expiring. Not sure if guys use that as a line to get your phone number faster, but anyway... it worked. I sent him my phone number via email (instructing him to use it carefully, since it's my only one...ha).
Hours later, and I had forgotten all about that little email until a text message pops up on my phone from a number I don't recognize...
(XXX) XXX-XXX: Lol, your number is in good hands :-)
Me: Lol, let me guess... Dan?
Five minutes of racking my brain. Then 2.3 split seconds to realize I never sent a "Dan" my number. Frantically, 1.4 nanoseconds to try to figure out what to do next. SHIT.
Me: Wait! No... Kevin? C'mon help a girl out!
That's it, play the "do me a favor, help me out" game. Somehow, I still don't think this is working. I'm digging my own grave. Shit, shit, shit. What if he's not even a Kevin? Then I've gone and screwed up TWICE!
Me: Ah crap, I just ruined this conversation, didn't I?
Yeah. Keep it light-hearted. This will be a good test of his sense of humor at the very least, right? Oh God... Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
{Five minutes of stressful silence, and no "bing!" from a text message in response}
I just dug my own grave. I committed the cardinal sin of all sins on Match.com. I forgot his name! Or rather, I got him mixed up with ANOTHER GUY. What am I doing? I am way in over my...
{Bing!}
Him: Lol Dan, huh?
Well, at least he has a good sense of humor. However, he *still* didn't leave his name.... SHIT.
-- Miss *Match*ed
No, it's not that I have a lot of suitors. I just have a lot of potential suitors. And I'm not complaining. I mean, I know it's a good problem to have. Believe me, it's not like I'd rather be in Sheldon's shoes (any Big Bang Theory fans out there?). The more matches available, the better chances I have, right? However, I was just not prepared for the sheer volume.
So back to the cardinal sin...
I was busy enjoying the day with my parents (they came in town to visit), and while hanging out in town, I used the Match.com mobile app (which could use so many upgrades and tweaks, but that's another story for another time) to shoot off a quick email to a guy who told me his account was expiring. Not sure if guys use that as a line to get your phone number faster, but anyway... it worked. I sent him my phone number via email (instructing him to use it carefully, since it's my only one...ha).
Hours later, and I had forgotten all about that little email until a text message pops up on my phone from a number I don't recognize...
(XXX) XXX-XXX: Lol, your number is in good hands :-)
Me: Lol, let me guess... Dan?
Five minutes of racking my brain. Then 2.3 split seconds to realize I never sent a "Dan" my number. Frantically, 1.4 nanoseconds to try to figure out what to do next. SHIT.
Me: Wait! No... Kevin? C'mon help a girl out!
That's it, play the "do me a favor, help me out" game. Somehow, I still don't think this is working. I'm digging my own grave. Shit, shit, shit. What if he's not even a Kevin? Then I've gone and screwed up TWICE!
Me: Ah crap, I just ruined this conversation, didn't I?
Yeah. Keep it light-hearted. This will be a good test of his sense of humor at the very least, right? Oh God... Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
{Five minutes of stressful silence, and no "bing!" from a text message in response}
I just dug my own grave. I committed the cardinal sin of all sins on Match.com. I forgot his name! Or rather, I got him mixed up with ANOTHER GUY. What am I doing? I am way in over my...
{Bing!}
Him: Lol Dan, huh?
Well, at least he has a good sense of humor. However, he *still* didn't leave his name.... SHIT.
-- Miss *Match*ed
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Oh my god, I'm in love with an email
I realize this is my very first blog post. I'm a little behind. To be specific, I'm about two weeks behind. But everyone loved Star Wars, and that started four episodes in. I'm hoping my critics are lenient. Or at the very least, willing to travel down a couple week's worth of memory lane with me later.
My goal for this blog is to document the good, the bad and the... well. We'll just have to find out when we get there, won't we?
I want to document my online dating adventure, well, because I'm convinced that's what it could be. A grand mix of butterflies, awkward half side-hugs, and two people reaching for the check. It could also very well be an adventurous disaster, but that's just better fodder for future blog posts, am I right?
With that said, and with no further ado, I'm going to jump right into what happened tonight...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Day 15: Otherwise known as "I'm in love with an email"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
He emailed me back. He emailed me back. He finally! emailed me back. That's all I could think. I was giggling like a silly little schoolgirl. I'm 27-years-old.
Flashback: A full 8 days had passed and no communication. (No, I wasn't counting.... All right, fine. Maybe just a little.) But it wasn't the longest 8 days of my life. I'm not overly melodramatic, mind you. The back of my hand has never hit my forehand, and I've never fainted a day in my life. But the absence of communication was present -- it was on the back of my mind. I hadn't heard from him, and this is when my overly-analyzing self comes out in full force, with its twin cousins, fear and worry.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. You were too forward. You shouldn't have given him your cell phone number. Stupid! What were you thinking?
Let's rewind a bit, shall we? It's January 31. The weather is a little chillier than normal. I sit down at my computer and log on to Match.com. Before I know it, these gorgeous brown eyes are staring back at me from my screen. In all my five days of being on the site, I hadn't seen a profile picture so gorgeous. Too gorgeous. Wait...
Does Match.com install dating "spys" to scour their site? He's too perfect. This can't be real. And he emailed ME first.
All conspiracy aside, his email was far from generic. He was warm, sincere, and oh... did I really just read that? He said he has a slight British accent.
Note: From here on out, we'll refer to him as British guy. I'm keeping all usernames/real names/nicknames and the like private for my sake and everyone I correspond with.
So... back to present day. After not hearing from British guy in 8 long and grueling days, I see it. Another email. From him. God, it's beautiful. It's just like his picture, but with nouns and verbs and beautifully placed adjectives. I love everything about it... his warm introduction "Very nice to hear from you!" to his funny use of English phrases: "I've got an early get up tomorrow" and "shall I" and "arse." (Yes, he used the word "arse." That story to come later.)
But his sense of humor is just as charming. Funny, self-deprecating... it was all there. As was my cell phone number. He now had it. There was no turning back. The ball was now in his court.
Only, that was the problem. This wasn't a game to me. This was real. I was officially in love with an email. A gorgeous British email.
More to come...
My goal for this blog is to document the good, the bad and the... well. We'll just have to find out when we get there, won't we?
I want to document my online dating adventure, well, because I'm convinced that's what it could be. A grand mix of butterflies, awkward half side-hugs, and two people reaching for the check. It could also very well be an adventurous disaster, but that's just better fodder for future blog posts, am I right?
With that said, and with no further ado, I'm going to jump right into what happened tonight...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Day 15: Otherwise known as "I'm in love with an email"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
He emailed me back. He emailed me back. He finally! emailed me back. That's all I could think. I was giggling like a silly little schoolgirl. I'm 27-years-old.
Flashback: A full 8 days had passed and no communication. (No, I wasn't counting.... All right, fine. Maybe just a little.) But it wasn't the longest 8 days of my life. I'm not overly melodramatic, mind you. The back of my hand has never hit my forehand, and I've never fainted a day in my life. But the absence of communication was present -- it was on the back of my mind. I hadn't heard from him, and this is when my overly-analyzing self comes out in full force, with its twin cousins, fear and worry.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. You were too forward. You shouldn't have given him your cell phone number. Stupid! What were you thinking?
Let's rewind a bit, shall we? It's January 31. The weather is a little chillier than normal. I sit down at my computer and log on to Match.com. Before I know it, these gorgeous brown eyes are staring back at me from my screen. In all my five days of being on the site, I hadn't seen a profile picture so gorgeous. Too gorgeous. Wait...
Does Match.com install dating "spys" to scour their site? He's too perfect. This can't be real. And he emailed ME first.
All conspiracy aside, his email was far from generic. He was warm, sincere, and oh... did I really just read that? He said he has a slight British accent.
Note: From here on out, we'll refer to him as British guy. I'm keeping all usernames/real names/nicknames and the like private for my sake and everyone I correspond with.
So... back to present day. After not hearing from British guy in 8 long and grueling days, I see it. Another email. From him. God, it's beautiful. It's just like his picture, but with nouns and verbs and beautifully placed adjectives. I love everything about it... his warm introduction "Very nice to hear from you!" to his funny use of English phrases: "I've got an early get up tomorrow" and "shall I" and "arse." (Yes, he used the word "arse." That story to come later.)
But his sense of humor is just as charming. Funny, self-deprecating... it was all there. As was my cell phone number. He now had it. There was no turning back. The ball was now in his court.
Only, that was the problem. This wasn't a game to me. This was real. I was officially in love with an email. A gorgeous British email.
More to come...
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