Testing the water.
by Desvelada
As much as of a cliche as it was, I stayed up late into the night after Valentine's Day, piecing together a profile. I wanted to appear smart, yet quirky, well-versed in literature as well as pop culture. I looked at other women's ads to size up the competition. Yeah, there were some cute girls, but in my narcissism, I knew that there was only one of me out there, and that my profile would surely stand out.
I didn't have any great digital pictures of myself; besides, I was slightly paranoid about having my coworkers find my profile and giving me secret, sideways, pitying glances in the hallways. Late into the night, I finally hit the "save" button, made my profile public, and went to bed.
As soon as my eyes opened the next morning, I wondered...had anyone seen my profile? Were there any responses yet? I pulled myself out of bed, shuffled across my bedroom, and fired up my PC. Skipping my early morning coffee, I slid my glasses onto my nose and waited anxiously for Windows to initialize, then for my dial-up modem to screech and wail through its connection.
Logging into the personals site, my eyes immediately went to my mailbox, and saw...zero messages. Hmmm...well, I thought, I suppose it's unreasonable to expect a response within a few early-morning hours. Sighing, I turned off the PC and decided to get dressed, run some errands, and try to forget that anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach.
What if no one clicked on my profile? Worse, what if everyone clicked on my profile, and immediately surfed past it? Wasn't I smart enough? Sassy enough? Shouldn't the strength of my personality convince anyone to shoot me a little email?
As soon as I got home, around 2, when fully twelve hours had gone by, I pulled off my coat and again ran to my computer to turn it on. I imagined an invisible bungee cord tying me to my PC, stretching just enough to let me leave my apartment, but pulling me inexorably back with a snap as soon as I opened the apartment door.
Holding my breath as I logged in, I looked to the message center and again...saw nothing. Humiliated, I went to my profile and changed my profile to make it hidden. This was somehow worse than picking teams in gym class, and I decided to take myself out of the pool.
Surfing through the ads and finding several that were intriguing, I decided that in order to take control of the situation, I could buy some credits, which would allow me to contact people, while keeping my profile hidden. That way, I wouldn't feel as though I were being rejected by absolutely everybody. It occurred to me that there might be other guys out there who were doing the same thing, and that I was missing out getting their potential response, but I finally decided that my ego couldn't take it.
I chose three profiles to respond to; all smart, quirky boys in my general vicinity (carless and a bit of an urban snob, I didn't want to leave the city limits to date anyone). Two of the guys wrote me back--two out of three wasn't bad, I would later realize, but at the time I couldn't help but take it very personally. Who did that one non-responder think he was? Whatever.
Mike had what I thought was a cute, silly picture: it looked like he was eating Chef Boyardee out of a bowl, and his caption said, "Wow. Nice spoon." He said that the celebrity he resembled most was Tim Curry, and I guess I could see that, although I also thought he looked a bit like Robert Downey Jr., on whom I've had a crush forever and ever. I know what you're thinking--Tim Curry and Robert Downey Jr.? Um, worlds apart? At any rate, I liked his sense of humor, and we agreed to meet.
Joe was also interesting...about my age, a financial consultant, and a self-described Peter Scolari look-alike. (You remember Bosom Buddies, right? Yeah, Scolari's the short, non-famous guy.) He didn't seem as funny as Mike, but he had a bit of a daredevil streak--he was learning to fly a plane on the weekends, and I begain to imagine scenarios of flying up with him in a little two seater, over the city skyline as the sun sank in the west.
Joe and I were still corresponding when I agreed to meet Mike for a movie at my favorite art-house theater.
After the Great Mochi Disaster, fed up with waiting to meet the right guy through some chance encounter or fate, I finally screwed up the courage to create an account on an online personals site. It seemed friendly enough--they posted a "personal of the day" on my favorite online newsmagazine, and the personal of the day that compelled me to click on the link featured a picture of a guy who reminded me of a recent boy I'd had a lot of fun with.
As much as of a cliche as it was, I stayed up late into the night after Valentine's Day, piecing together a profile. I wanted to appear smart, yet quirky, well-versed in literature as well as pop culture. I looked at other women's ads to size up the competition. Yeah, there were some cute girls, but in my narcissism, I knew that there was only one of me out there, and that my profile would surely stand out.
I didn't have any great digital pictures of myself; besides, I was slightly paranoid about having my coworkers find my profile and giving me secret, sideways, pitying glances in the hallways. Late into the night, I finally hit the "save" button, made my profile public, and went to bed.
As soon as my eyes opened the next morning, I wondered...had anyone seen my profile? Were there any responses yet? I pulled myself out of bed, shuffled across my bedroom, and fired up my PC. Skipping my early morning coffee, I slid my glasses onto my nose and waited anxiously for Windows to initialize, then for my dial-up modem to screech and wail through its connection.
Logging into the personals site, my eyes immediately went to my mailbox, and saw...zero messages. Hmmm...well, I thought, I suppose it's unreasonable to expect a response within a few early-morning hours. Sighing, I turned off the PC and decided to get dressed, run some errands, and try to forget that anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach.
What if no one clicked on my profile? Worse, what if everyone clicked on my profile, and immediately surfed past it? Wasn't I smart enough? Sassy enough? Shouldn't the strength of my personality convince anyone to shoot me a little email?
As soon as I got home, around 2, when fully twelve hours had gone by, I pulled off my coat and again ran to my computer to turn it on. I imagined an invisible bungee cord tying me to my PC, stretching just enough to let me leave my apartment, but pulling me inexorably back with a snap as soon as I opened the apartment door.
Holding my breath as I logged in, I looked to the message center and again...saw nothing. Humiliated, I went to my profile and changed my profile to make it hidden. This was somehow worse than picking teams in gym class, and I decided to take myself out of the pool.
Surfing through the ads and finding several that were intriguing, I decided that in order to take control of the situation, I could buy some credits, which would allow me to contact people, while keeping my profile hidden. That way, I wouldn't feel as though I were being rejected by absolutely everybody. It occurred to me that there might be other guys out there who were doing the same thing, and that I was missing out getting their potential response, but I finally decided that my ego couldn't take it.
I chose three profiles to respond to; all smart, quirky boys in my general vicinity (carless and a bit of an urban snob, I didn't want to leave the city limits to date anyone). Two of the guys wrote me back--two out of three wasn't bad, I would later realize, but at the time I couldn't help but take it very personally. Who did that one non-responder think he was? Whatever.
Mike had what I thought was a cute, silly picture: it looked like he was eating Chef Boyardee out of a bowl, and his caption said, "Wow. Nice spoon." He said that the celebrity he resembled most was Tim Curry, and I guess I could see that, although I also thought he looked a bit like Robert Downey Jr., on whom I've had a crush forever and ever. I know what you're thinking--Tim Curry and Robert Downey Jr.? Um, worlds apart? At any rate, I liked his sense of humor, and we agreed to meet.
Joe was also interesting...about my age, a financial consultant, and a self-described Peter Scolari look-alike. (You remember Bosom Buddies, right? Yeah, Scolari's the short, non-famous guy.) He didn't seem as funny as Mike, but he had a bit of a daredevil streak--he was learning to fly a plane on the weekends, and I begain to imagine scenarios of flying up with him in a little two seater, over the city skyline as the sun sank in the west.
Joe and I were still corresponding when I agreed to meet Mike for a movie at my favorite art-house theater.
posted @ 10:45 AM
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