Monday, May 30, 2011
No Free 6 Months For Me
I think my run with Match will be over soon. I'm just not really feelin' it. All I'd have to do is contact 4 more people before today... lol. I don't think I could handle six more months -- even if they are free.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Must Have Sense of Humor
Every now and then an email comes in that makes me laugh. Sincerely laugh. This one came in a while back while I was out of state for work, and I waited a while before deciding to reply or not.
I'll post a picture of it, but chances are you'll only *get* it if I... yes... you guessed it... post my profile content, too. (His whole email is practically in reference to it.)
His email (click on it to view full size):
I'll post a picture of it, but chances are you'll only *get* it if I... yes... you guessed it... post my profile content, too. (His whole email is practically in reference to it.)
His email (click on it to view full size):
Now, for the above to make sense, here's my profile:
-------------------------
1. I love listing random facts (hence, number 1). It's like the cliff notes version of getting to know someone. And we can all appreciate that, right?
2. I'm not from Houston.
3. Where from, you ask? A tiny East Texas town with 800 people, 2000 cows and one stoplight.
4. Yes, I'm guesstimating.
5. No, I'm not good at math. I much prefer English.
6. While we're on the subject, I love books. Nonfiction, preferably. Don Miller. Elizabeth Gilbert. David Sedaris.
7. I'm not fond of my middle name.
8. I hate socks in, near or around my bed. Don't try it. I'm serious. You've been warned.
9. You know the girls who wanted to be ballerinas, rockstars, teachers, nurses, or the president? I used to want to be a dolphin trainer.
10. No, I still haven't swam with one, though. Working on that.
11. Gummy bears are better frozen. Try it. You'll see.
12. I adore foreign accents. You could curse me out in your native tongue, and I'll still think it's the prettiest thing I've ever heard.
13. I don't have an odd fear of the number 13, but I find it funny when elevators skip that level.
14. I refuse to text and drive.
15. A sense of humor is a must. Must must must. The wittier, the better.
16. I'm a self-proclaimed grammar Nazi. But only because I'm a writer by profession.
17. I also have a BFA in graphic design.
18. I have two adorable dogs who, no matter how much trouble they get into, always seem to get out of it with one look.
19. I love doing laundry, but absolutely hate folding clothes.
20. I don't mind doing the dishes, though, which most people find odd.
21. I don't watch/enjoy Jersey Shore. So please, no fist pumps, orange glow, or hair gel.
22. Being from the country, I do enjoy a good two-step every now and then.
23. I think 23 is a great number to close with.
... I just thought of one more.
23.5 I have this uncontrollable desire to be in a well-orchestrated flash mob. Then, I think life (just might) be complete.
The end.
--------------------------
I actually did reply to him in a similar fashion, but I did not disclose my middle name. So we'll see if I ever hear back from him. Either way, I got a good laugh from it all.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Punctuality and Peep Toes
"You're late."
He was smiling, but this was the first time I'd seen him in person, so I did that whole is-he-kidding-or-is-he-serious internal thought process in my head. He looked like he was kidding. But somewhere, years ago, I heard that 80% of all jokes are half-truths. Or something like that. This could be one of those times.
I walked up to the bar of the restaurant to officially meet him. He got up out of his chair, like a gentleman would, and hugged me as he greeted me. Wow, I thought. He wasn't lying about his height. He really was pretty short. I was wearing heels, and I stood at least a good 2 inches (if not more) above him.
"See, I knew you'd be late. I have three sisters." He laughed.
"But I really wasn't late. Parking is terrible here! I had to walk all the way from the parking garage," I countered.
He smiled again. "But see, I planned for that."
Already this whole punctual thing was getting on my nerves. Am I always on time? No. Do I tend to take time to get ready? What girl doesn't? But seriously, harping on the fact that I was eight minutes late isn't a good introductory card to play. And I was hungry. You don't mess with me when those two are combined.
I didn't instantly sit down next to him because I expected we'd be moving to a table.
"So did you put our name on the list?" I asked.
"No, not yet. I was waiting for you."
I'm a very patient person, but when it's crowded on a Saturday night and there's a line already beginning to form out the door... wouldn't you go ahead and at least put a name down on the list? I realize some places won't seat you until your complete party is present, but you can at least have a name down. Right?
"Oh. Okay. Well, I'm here now," I replied easily. I'm not one to make a big deal out of things, and I was damned if tonight was going to crash before it even began.
We were eventually seated near the center of the room. The restaurant was really nice... dimly lit, but full of character. I had never been to a tapas restaurant before, so I was out of my element, but he was pretty familiar with most of the items on the menu.
He suggested a couple of things for me to try, so I did, and even though it wasn't my favorite genre of food, it wasn't bad.
We made the usual small talk and laughed about our long phone conversations, and that's when the waiter brought the check.
"So on to the second date, eh?" He grinned as he reached for the check before I could.
"You're already planning that?" I asked skeptically.
"No, I mean, it's gonna happen right now. Let's move this... let's take a walk."
Clever. He was trying to two-birds-with-one-stone me. See, I had told him previously on the phone that my longest first date lasted 6 hours. But to be fair -- and I had made this clear -- 2 of those 6 hours was a movie. So really, it was 4 hours tops.
We walked to a local cafe to get my parking ticket validated, and talked until closing time. The conversation was easy, not forced, but I was still evaluating everything in my head.
I decided a good test was to see what his reaction might be once I said this:
"So... I told you I had something to tell you. It's not bad, but I... well..."
"Please don't tell me you're married. Or you have a kid," he nervously laughed.
"What? No! Nothing like that. I just... well, you know I'm a writer by profession...." I continued.
"Yeah?" He looked at me but didn't see where I was going with this.
"I keep a blog."
I maintained eye contact to clearly see his reaction. It seemed like he was waiting for more, so I continued.
"I write. I keep a blog about all my dating experiences. Some people could take offense to it, so I just wanted to be upfront."
"Oh, okay, I thought you were going to tell me you had 3 kids and a maniac husband or something!" He laughed, clearly relieved.
"Ha, no nothing like that," I said, glad he seemed to handle it okay.
But then he got suddenly silent.
"Well... it is a little weird," he said as he looked at me skeptically.
"What? Having a blog?"
"Well, just writing about the dates you're going on. I mean... now that I know that, the pressure's on. It's a little weird."
"Yeah, I can understand that," I said. "But I promise, your name and identity will never be revealed. Top secret, I swear. And I do write with all honesty, but also the fact in mind that one day, someone might end up reading it."
He seemed okay with that and suggested we go for a walk.
"Okay," I said, as we both got up from the table. "But only if I can run to my car and change into flats."
He was smiling, but this was the first time I'd seen him in person, so I did that whole is-he-kidding-or-is-he-serious internal thought process in my head. He looked like he was kidding. But somewhere, years ago, I heard that 80% of all jokes are half-truths. Or something like that. This could be one of those times.
I walked up to the bar of the restaurant to officially meet him. He got up out of his chair, like a gentleman would, and hugged me as he greeted me. Wow, I thought. He wasn't lying about his height. He really was pretty short. I was wearing heels, and I stood at least a good 2 inches (if not more) above him.
"See, I knew you'd be late. I have three sisters." He laughed.
"But I really wasn't late. Parking is terrible here! I had to walk all the way from the parking garage," I countered.
He smiled again. "But see, I planned for that."
Already this whole punctual thing was getting on my nerves. Am I always on time? No. Do I tend to take time to get ready? What girl doesn't? But seriously, harping on the fact that I was eight minutes late isn't a good introductory card to play. And I was hungry. You don't mess with me when those two are combined.
I didn't instantly sit down next to him because I expected we'd be moving to a table.
"So did you put our name on the list?" I asked.
"No, not yet. I was waiting for you."
I'm a very patient person, but when it's crowded on a Saturday night and there's a line already beginning to form out the door... wouldn't you go ahead and at least put a name down on the list? I realize some places won't seat you until your complete party is present, but you can at least have a name down. Right?
"Oh. Okay. Well, I'm here now," I replied easily. I'm not one to make a big deal out of things, and I was damned if tonight was going to crash before it even began.
We were eventually seated near the center of the room. The restaurant was really nice... dimly lit, but full of character. I had never been to a tapas restaurant before, so I was out of my element, but he was pretty familiar with most of the items on the menu.
He suggested a couple of things for me to try, so I did, and even though it wasn't my favorite genre of food, it wasn't bad.
We made the usual small talk and laughed about our long phone conversations, and that's when the waiter brought the check.
"So on to the second date, eh?" He grinned as he reached for the check before I could.
"You're already planning that?" I asked skeptically.
"No, I mean, it's gonna happen right now. Let's move this... let's take a walk."
Clever. He was trying to two-birds-with-one-stone me. See, I had told him previously on the phone that my longest first date lasted 6 hours. But to be fair -- and I had made this clear -- 2 of those 6 hours was a movie. So really, it was 4 hours tops.
We walked to a local cafe to get my parking ticket validated, and talked until closing time. The conversation was easy, not forced, but I was still evaluating everything in my head.
I decided a good test was to see what his reaction might be once I said this:
"So... I told you I had something to tell you. It's not bad, but I... well..."
"Please don't tell me you're married. Or you have a kid," he nervously laughed.
"What? No! Nothing like that. I just... well, you know I'm a writer by profession...." I continued.
"Yeah?" He looked at me but didn't see where I was going with this.
"I keep a blog."
I maintained eye contact to clearly see his reaction. It seemed like he was waiting for more, so I continued.
"I write. I keep a blog about all my dating experiences. Some people could take offense to it, so I just wanted to be upfront."
"Oh, okay, I thought you were going to tell me you had 3 kids and a maniac husband or something!" He laughed, clearly relieved.
"Ha, no nothing like that," I said, glad he seemed to handle it okay.
But then he got suddenly silent.
"Well... it is a little weird," he said as he looked at me skeptically.
"What? Having a blog?"
"Well, just writing about the dates you're going on. I mean... now that I know that, the pressure's on. It's a little weird."
"Yeah, I can understand that," I said. "But I promise, your name and identity will never be revealed. Top secret, I swear. And I do write with all honesty, but also the fact in mind that one day, someone might end up reading it."
He seemed okay with that and suggested we go for a walk.
"Okay," I said, as we both got up from the table. "But only if I can run to my car and change into flats."
Monday, May 23, 2011
Don't Filter Me! Oh, wait. Yes, please.
I feel like I keep starting these blog posts out with apologies. I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while. Long story short:
Cinco de Mayo river trip + long work weeks + traveling out of state for work + getting sick = delayed blog posts.
But I'm back and ready to enlighten you lovely readers on my wonderful world that is online dating. I'm not sure if it's so much "enlightenment" as it is pure "entertainment" or "self-deprecation," but anyhow... I'm glad you enjoy it!
--------------------------------
So where did I leave off?
Oh, right. The cop was a no go. You can read all about that in the previous post(s).
A week or so went by before I had any quality "bites." (I just watched that Tosh.0 video about sharks eating sharks, so I guess the lingo is on the brain...)
But then, an email came in my "filtered" inbox...
Let me take a minute to explain the beauty of "filters" in the Match.com world. The email system for Match isn't the best thing in the world, but it does have its benefits. For example, this last month or so, I was receiving at least 5 emails a day. That doesn't sound like a lot, but when you don't check them very often, it can really add up. And when I would devote time to checking them, they read a lot like this:
"Hey u look gud. What up. Hit me up if u like my pics. We should hang."
As tempted as I was just to email him back and mess with him (I'd use four syllable words, of course -- it's the small things in life), I hit delete.
My email inbox would get flooded, I'd receive pointless notifications and I'd spend minutes sifting through poorly written, incoherent messages before maybe -- just maybe -- landing on something significant.
Enter the magic of "filters."
Now, as great as those filters are, they (unfortunately) don't have an automatic "delete idiot" checkbox or "delete due to poor grammar" option.
But here's what filters they do have:
Education.
I can limit my messages received to people who have my preferred education level. Bachelor's degree? Check. Graduate degree? Hellooooo there. PhD? Um... you're a perpetual student and probably a stoner. Only kidding. But seriously. Why are you 40 and still in school? Time for a big boy job.
Height.
Auditioning for world's tallest man? Need not apply. Five inches shorter than me? Well... like they say, I'm sure there's someone for everyone. I was actually pretty stingy about this one, and as you'll find out soon, I did end up going on a date with someone who was originally in my "filtered" mail because of his height. Or lack thereof. So... filters are more like pre-screening options. You don't have to stick to them, but they're good guidelines.
Age.
This one is tricky. While you have total control over how young or old to set your filters, some really great emails come in and then you feel bad for putting them in the "filtered" category (since, you know, age is just a number). However, this does take care of the 47-year-old divorcee who wants a quick fix to help raise his three rugrats and do his laundry. I was pretty generous with my age limit settings, but stingier with height. Go figure.
Okay. So back to the filtered email. I hate to admit that the email in question was automatically delivered to my filtered box because of his height. (If he ever reads this, I sincerely apologize.) But the good news is that it was witty and clever enough to work its way out of the filtered category and into my main inbox. Basically, he got my attention.
Right upfront, he mentioned where he was from (born and raised, I mean... not the town we're both currently living in.) Normally that wouldn't have garnered much of a response from me, but I was intrigued because we shared the same hometown. I don't find that very often since I come from a pretty small area, so I decided to reply.
Granted, it took me a week to do so. I'd like to say I did it on purpose to make him sweat, but honestly, I was loaded down with work and couldn't find a good time.
Once I hit "reply," we played a series of what I like to call email-interview-ping-pong. The short version went something like this:
Him: What's your favorite flower, movie and color? How do you handle stressful situations? What's your favorite book? Favorite food? (And on and on...)
Me: Answer. Answer. Answer. Answer. [pause to breathe]. Answer. Answer. (Ask the same questions...)
Replying to his emails were fun, but wow, did it take it out of me. He asked at least 10-15 questions per email, and I noticed that his style was slightly reminiscent of interview questions.
Me: These emails are turning into novels. I feel like this is an interview session!
Him: I know, but I enjoy getting to know a person really well first. And besides, if you want the job, you've got to interview for it, right? :)
I will say that kind of took me by surprise. Sure, I'd heard that before. Dating is a lot like interviewing. Or interviewing is a lot like dating. Either way, I was usually too exhausted from work to answer a 500 word email.
So it wasn't long after that we moved to the phone. (Was that his plan all along? Wear me down, long email after long email only to get my digits...?)
He was good natured and funny, but there were times where I'd say (what I thought was) a really funny joke, and he a) either wouldn't get it or b) slightly laugh, but reference the completely wrong thing, thereby negating the joke in the first place.
Now, if you know me, you know sense of humor is a must. And not just any humor. Clever, witty banter to be specific. The wittier the better. I even have it written in my online profile I'm so adamant about it. Jim from the Office comes to mind. You know, something out of the ordinary humor bin.
But the phone conversations lasted hours, so I took that to be a good sign and continued onward and upward.
Besides, it was too early to knock him off the chart for humor, but I did wonder how it would play out in person since I'm a huge believer that more is said when things aren't being said...
Cinco de Mayo river trip + long work weeks + traveling out of state for work + getting sick = delayed blog posts.
But I'm back and ready to enlighten you lovely readers on my wonderful world that is online dating. I'm not sure if it's so much "enlightenment" as it is pure "entertainment" or "self-deprecation," but anyhow... I'm glad you enjoy it!
--------------------------------
So where did I leave off?
Oh, right. The cop was a no go. You can read all about that in the previous post(s).
A week or so went by before I had any quality "bites." (I just watched that Tosh.0 video about sharks eating sharks, so I guess the lingo is on the brain...)
But then, an email came in my "filtered" inbox...
Let me take a minute to explain the beauty of "filters" in the Match.com world. The email system for Match isn't the best thing in the world, but it does have its benefits. For example, this last month or so, I was receiving at least 5 emails a day. That doesn't sound like a lot, but when you don't check them very often, it can really add up. And when I would devote time to checking them, they read a lot like this:
"Hey u look gud. What up. Hit me up if u like my pics. We should hang."
As tempted as I was just to email him back and mess with him (I'd use four syllable words, of course -- it's the small things in life), I hit delete.
My email inbox would get flooded, I'd receive pointless notifications and I'd spend minutes sifting through poorly written, incoherent messages before maybe -- just maybe -- landing on something significant.
Enter the magic of "filters."
Now, as great as those filters are, they (unfortunately) don't have an automatic "delete idiot" checkbox or "delete due to poor grammar" option.
But here's what filters they do have:
Education.
I can limit my messages received to people who have my preferred education level. Bachelor's degree? Check. Graduate degree? Hellooooo there. PhD? Um... you're a perpetual student and probably a stoner. Only kidding. But seriously. Why are you 40 and still in school? Time for a big boy job.
Height.
Auditioning for world's tallest man? Need not apply. Five inches shorter than me? Well... like they say, I'm sure there's someone for everyone. I was actually pretty stingy about this one, and as you'll find out soon, I did end up going on a date with someone who was originally in my "filtered" mail because of his height. Or lack thereof. So... filters are more like pre-screening options. You don't have to stick to them, but they're good guidelines.
Age.
This one is tricky. While you have total control over how young or old to set your filters, some really great emails come in and then you feel bad for putting them in the "filtered" category (since, you know, age is just a number). However, this does take care of the 47-year-old divorcee who wants a quick fix to help raise his three rugrats and do his laundry. I was pretty generous with my age limit settings, but stingier with height. Go figure.
Okay. So back to the filtered email. I hate to admit that the email in question was automatically delivered to my filtered box because of his height. (If he ever reads this, I sincerely apologize.) But the good news is that it was witty and clever enough to work its way out of the filtered category and into my main inbox. Basically, he got my attention.
Right upfront, he mentioned where he was from (born and raised, I mean... not the town we're both currently living in.) Normally that wouldn't have garnered much of a response from me, but I was intrigued because we shared the same hometown. I don't find that very often since I come from a pretty small area, so I decided to reply.
Granted, it took me a week to do so. I'd like to say I did it on purpose to make him sweat, but honestly, I was loaded down with work and couldn't find a good time.
Once I hit "reply," we played a series of what I like to call email-interview-ping-pong. The short version went something like this:
Him: What's your favorite flower, movie and color? How do you handle stressful situations? What's your favorite book? Favorite food? (And on and on...)
Me: Answer. Answer. Answer. Answer. [pause to breathe]. Answer. Answer. (Ask the same questions...)
Replying to his emails were fun, but wow, did it take it out of me. He asked at least 10-15 questions per email, and I noticed that his style was slightly reminiscent of interview questions.
Me: These emails are turning into novels. I feel like this is an interview session!
Him: I know, but I enjoy getting to know a person really well first. And besides, if you want the job, you've got to interview for it, right? :)
I will say that kind of took me by surprise. Sure, I'd heard that before. Dating is a lot like interviewing. Or interviewing is a lot like dating. Either way, I was usually too exhausted from work to answer a 500 word email.
So it wasn't long after that we moved to the phone. (Was that his plan all along? Wear me down, long email after long email only to get my digits...?)
He was good natured and funny, but there were times where I'd say (what I thought was) a really funny joke, and he a) either wouldn't get it or b) slightly laugh, but reference the completely wrong thing, thereby negating the joke in the first place.
Now, if you know me, you know sense of humor is a must. And not just any humor. Clever, witty banter to be specific. The wittier the better. I even have it written in my online profile I'm so adamant about it. Jim from the Office comes to mind. You know, something out of the ordinary humor bin.
But the phone conversations lasted hours, so I took that to be a good sign and continued onward and upward.
Besides, it was too early to knock him off the chart for humor, but I did wonder how it would play out in person since I'm a huge believer that more is said when things aren't being said...
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Pile of Red Flags
Hello dear readers, Miss Matched here. I thought I couldn't beat my own record of non-posting, but apparently, I managed to go nearly a whole month without updating you lovely folks. Shame!
So I'm sure you're all wondering...
Whatever happened to the cop?
Well, here's the cliff notes version, since I need to get you up to speed:
Certain flags started showing their true colors. As in red. Red flags.
Red Flag #1: He was overly defensive and very... shall we say "overreactive"?
Red Flag #2: He was more negative than he was positive, which isn't my cup of tea.
Red Flag #3: [Note: I never disclosed this with you before (I felt it wasn't that important), but once you get to the end of this list, it will become much more... relevant.]
When we met back up after he got back from London, he made a joke about me seeing other guys while he was gone. I shrugged my shoulders and was honest with him.
"Well, yes, I did meet someone while you were gone," I said. Something most people don't know about me: I'm completely honest. As in, I should probably work on my diplomacy and delivery. I don't have anything to hide, and I feel honesty is the best policy. Besides, we weren't exclusive by any means (it had only been three dates), so I knew there was no harm, no foul.
But apparently... he didn't feel the same way.
"What? Wait... You did what?" He was clearly upset.
"It was just one drink. We weren't (aren't) exclusive, so I figured it was okay," I said.
"But you told me you don't casually date." He got up and walked to the kitchen.
"My idea of casual dating is different from yours, I guess. I'd much rather be exclusive, but until then, you have to date to figure out what works and what doesn't. How else are you supposed to 'date' if you don't... well.... date?" I asked.
"But when I was emailing and talking to you, I was only talking to you," he said.
I laughed. How is that possible? I thought.
"Well, then it's very different for girls. That's just not possible. We get almost 20 different emails a day -- actually, more in the beginning. I woke up the morning after I had signed up for Match, and opened an inbox full of 96 emails. Overnight. It just wouldn't be feasible to email one guy and one guy only. I would get nowhere!"
"Well, we obviously have different definitions of 'casual dating,'" he said. He wasn't happy, but we agreed to disagree on that topic.
Now... continue to the next Red Flag:
Red Flag #4: His calls got less frequent, and if he did call, it was late at night.
Red Flag #5: He couldn't remember key details/facts about me. Usual, ordinary ones. You know, like... what I majored in at college and things I liked. He didn't ask me many questions about myself... which, in the beginning when you first meet someone... seems odd.
Red and FINAL Flag #5: We became friends on Facebook.
Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking... what? Why is that a red flag? Well, simply put, it isn't.
But you know what is? Finding out via Facebook that his stories weren't exactly matching up. As in, the day after I cooked burgers over at his place, he went out on a date with another Match.com girl.
I didn't bring it up. I didn't say anything. I played it cool because I didn't want it to be a big deal. But there it was, staring me in the face. The fact that he made me feel guilty for meeting someone for drinks, when in reality, he did the exact same thing and he knew it.
Okay, I know what you're also probably thinking. You're also (more than likely) thinking... why would I look that up on his Facebook? The answer? Because you would too. Admit it. Facebook is fair game to all. Employers use it. The government uses it. Advertisers and marketers use it. And please keep in mind we were "Facebook friends" at this point. There was no way for me to see any of this otherwise, so there was absolutely no violation of privacy.
Conclusion { a.k.a. pile of red flags}
After all was said and done, it just wasn't worth it. My time or my effort. Add the scheduling conflicts to this, and well.... as nice as it was in the beginning, he just didn't seem to be in it for the long haul or really interested in me.
So my bad boy bad boy days are long behind me, but that just means one thing...
The blog lives on!
~ Miss Matched
So I'm sure you're all wondering...
Whatever happened to the cop?
Well, here's the cliff notes version, since I need to get you up to speed:
Certain flags started showing their true colors. As in red. Red flags.
Red Flag #1: He was overly defensive and very... shall we say "overreactive"?
Red Flag #2: He was more negative than he was positive, which isn't my cup of tea.
Red Flag #3: [Note: I never disclosed this with you before (I felt it wasn't that important), but once you get to the end of this list, it will become much more... relevant.]
When we met back up after he got back from London, he made a joke about me seeing other guys while he was gone. I shrugged my shoulders and was honest with him.
"Well, yes, I did meet someone while you were gone," I said. Something most people don't know about me: I'm completely honest. As in, I should probably work on my diplomacy and delivery. I don't have anything to hide, and I feel honesty is the best policy. Besides, we weren't exclusive by any means (it had only been three dates), so I knew there was no harm, no foul.
But apparently... he didn't feel the same way.
"What? Wait... You did what?" He was clearly upset.
"It was just one drink. We weren't (aren't) exclusive, so I figured it was okay," I said.
"But you told me you don't casually date." He got up and walked to the kitchen.
"My idea of casual dating is different from yours, I guess. I'd much rather be exclusive, but until then, you have to date to figure out what works and what doesn't. How else are you supposed to 'date' if you don't... well.... date?" I asked.
"But when I was emailing and talking to you, I was only talking to you," he said.
I laughed. How is that possible? I thought.
"Well, then it's very different for girls. That's just not possible. We get almost 20 different emails a day -- actually, more in the beginning. I woke up the morning after I had signed up for Match, and opened an inbox full of 96 emails. Overnight. It just wouldn't be feasible to email one guy and one guy only. I would get nowhere!"
"Well, we obviously have different definitions of 'casual dating,'" he said. He wasn't happy, but we agreed to disagree on that topic.
Now... continue to the next Red Flag:
Red Flag #4: His calls got less frequent, and if he did call, it was late at night.
Red Flag #5: He couldn't remember key details/facts about me. Usual, ordinary ones. You know, like... what I majored in at college and things I liked. He didn't ask me many questions about myself... which, in the beginning when you first meet someone... seems odd.
Red and FINAL Flag #5: We became friends on Facebook.
Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking... what? Why is that a red flag? Well, simply put, it isn't.
But you know what is? Finding out via Facebook that his stories weren't exactly matching up. As in, the day after I cooked burgers over at his place, he went out on a date with another Match.com girl.
I didn't bring it up. I didn't say anything. I played it cool because I didn't want it to be a big deal. But there it was, staring me in the face. The fact that he made me feel guilty for meeting someone for drinks, when in reality, he did the exact same thing and he knew it.
Okay, I know what you're also probably thinking. You're also (more than likely) thinking... why would I look that up on his Facebook? The answer? Because you would too. Admit it. Facebook is fair game to all. Employers use it. The government uses it. Advertisers and marketers use it. And please keep in mind we were "Facebook friends" at this point. There was no way for me to see any of this otherwise, so there was absolutely no violation of privacy.
Conclusion { a.k.a. pile of red flags}
After all was said and done, it just wasn't worth it. My time or my effort. Add the scheduling conflicts to this, and well.... as nice as it was in the beginning, he just didn't seem to be in it for the long haul or really interested in me.
So my bad boy bad boy days are long behind me, but that just means one thing...
The blog lives on!
~ Miss Matched
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Damn Hooligans.
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
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
Friday, March 11, 2011
mixed.matched + TV Guy
{Note: The following post is from my guest blogger, Mixed.Matched. Enjoy!}
Ok, so I know I said my next post would be about writing your perfect profile (it’s still coming, in case you were looking for it), but I have to write about my latest match.
Ok, so I know I said my next post would be about writing your perfect profile (it’s still coming, in case you were looking for it), but I have to write about my latest match.
It all started when I got a wink on New Year’s Eve. I was in Arkansas visiting my grandparents for Christmas, and I’m lucky to get a single bar of signal at their little cabin in the mountains (oh, and there’s no computer, much less internet). However, I managed to get a couple of emails at one point, which is when I saw a friendly email from match.com.
Cute. In the right age range. No weird screen name, or obnoxious picture. Few pass this first test. I truly believe that your profile says a lot about you, and if you are annoying or a borderline douche-bag at this first glance, chances are you are in real life as well. But we’ll get into all of that later. The point is - I was interested. So, I clicked see profile.
…
loading…
Right. I forgot I have little/no chance of loading a single page, much less logging in and loading more pictures. I make a mental note of checking back later.
Fast forward almost 3 weeks, and I’ve only just remembered about this guy. I was winked at by another potential match, and I logged on to view their profile (which I almost immediately dismissed due to the excessive amount of shirtless, bathroom mirror pictures). But when I saw TV Guy’s picture in my Connections, I remembered that I wanted to know more about this guy. I found out he was divorced, no kids, worked in television, and met all my other important check points. But instead of emailing him, I just sent him a wink in return. You know… let him make the first move.
The next day, I received an email from him. Here is the first paragraph:
Hi. Ok with all this winking going on I have to send you this. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uef17zOCDb8&feature=player_embedded A friend of mine just sent that to me and I've been laughing about it for the past hour.
Pretty adorable. Usually I get a “hey how’s it going,” for a first email (notice the lack of capitalization or punctuation). But to receive a funny and somewhat witty first email made my heart smile.
We sent several emails back and forth and decided that we were both interested enough to meet. This is when the Snowpocalypse of 2011 happened in Dallas (where he is from… I’m currently 100 miles east of Dallas). We were unfortunately unable to meet for quite some time.
Oh boy, but when we did, it was worth it. He spent a pretty penny and took me to see Cirque du Soliel. Can we just say best first date ever? Yes. Afterward, we went to Starbucks for coffee and chat. Excellent conversationalist. This almost never happens. We sat and talked for 2.5 hours. Next, he took me to the Apple store to look around. (Any Mac-nerds out there swooning yet?) And while we were walking around the mall after coming out of the Apple store, he stopped in a department store to buy pants.
Hmm… Not too sure how I feel about this. I mean, he didn’t spend a lot of time looking, or trying on. He literally walked in, found the pair he wanted, and checked out. It took less than 5 minutes. At one point, he turned to me and said, “this is probably horrible first date etiquette, huh?” I just laughed and assured him that I was easy going and that there were no rules. But in my head, I was thinking this is something I’d never do. Not on a first date.
We’ve talked a lot since then. Lots of texts and emails. And one easy-breezy phone call discussing our next date. Did I mention he’s a great conversationalist? He even made a joke about going shopping for our second date. So far, this guy is a real winner. Wish me luck. Our second date begins in 10 hours.
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