I was fed up with the bullshit of recent events. It got so bad, my personal trainer, hearing a new disaster or story every week, asked me if I played the lottery because my luck was so bad with men it had to be good elsewhere.
So one recent night, bolstered with a bit of liquid courage, I said “fuck this shit”. If I really wanted someone in my life, I needed to seriously get back in the game. I had opened my Bumble profile a few weeks prior and it was lackluster so far – quite literally, nothing to write about.
I already had open profiles on Coffee Meets Bagel and the League, both which took about 5 minutes of effort each day to say whether I liked the one or two men they served up, and yielded absolutely nothing.
I reactivated my profiles on OK Cupid (last guy I met there was HWSNBN), Tinder (hadn’t been on there since 2015), and Plenty of Fish (my choice last summer when I met Jack), but the source of Tony and Fox.
Within two days I remembered how difficult it was when I first started dating and forgot names and information. It’s impossible to talk to that many people. If someone doesn’t make a strong impression, they are lost in the shuffle.
If I move someone from a site to text, I add them as a contact in my burner app with the platform I met them on (Kris (Tinder)), screenshot their profile picture and handle, and put it in their contact card. Otherwise how do I remember which one is Chris, Kris, or Christopher.
One guy already has said I’m obviously not interested because I didn’t initiate conversations. Several never got past “hey how is your day”. Of course, there are the men who swipe right, answer or send the first text message, then say nothing else. Whatevs.
A 58 year-old opened with “can I see you naked please and thank you.” Another guy forgot which Ann he’d moved to text with, and tried to have simultaneous conversations with me on the dating site and via text.
The hilarity knows no bounds.
Work has also exploded, so it’s been a double whammy. I’ve had zero time to text during the day between meetings. No time to meet after work. My child-free evenings are spent with my laptop. So I have a bunch of men I can’t make time for. I guess it’s one way to weed out those who aren’t keen, because I’m sure I’m testing their patience.
I’m working through the list. Anyone who has online dated knows that you can go from having four potential dates one day and the next, none. It’s how it all happens. A guy went from being super keen to deactivating his profile. People flake out, conversations fizzle, or you meet for a pre-clearance date and there’s no chemistry.
But. The universe keeps sending me men who work with their hands. Bruce was one. There’s also been the plumber with piercing blue eyes who I talked sex with over a drink; we are talking about a second date. The landscaper who is not my soul mate but who’s been responsive and kept me laughing over nachos. The high-end carpenter who I am trying to not get my hopes up about, after our first phone call lasted 2.5 hours. Fingers crossed our date on Wednesday goes through and he’s as great in person as our few phone calls have been.
Men who work with their hands. Gotta love it.