About fifteen years ago, I was single and thirty years old and wanted to get married already and have kids. Not much has changed, except for the wanting to get married part and I already have kids. Oh, and I’m forty-three. So, I guess a lot has changed. Even with all of that change, really, not much has changed. Yes, I love contradicting myself. Yes, I know, I am my own dichotomy. Actually, I am my doppelganger, but that’s another story for another time.
I used to allow my friends and family to fix me up on blind dates because of the wonderful advice I used to get from my Grandma Sylvia, “wear a sweater, you never know”. I wrote about this in my first blog, but for my new followers (all fifteen of you), I will explain. I like the idea of the figurative quality of this statement: Always be prepared because life is an adventure; you never know where life will take you; buy your own condoms, etc. And, hey, if you are cold, then it totally works as well. Man, I miss her. Grandma Sylvia rocked.
My grandmother, back then, wanted to fix me up with some grandson of some friend who lived in LA. How could I say no to my grandmother? Seriously, she was the grandmother, so if I didn’t say yes, then I would hear about it at the Passover seder forever. And ever. It would be the fifth question.
Obviously, I said fine. The guy, whose name I totally don’t remember (blocked it out) looked like Mr. Potato Head although I think I was actually more sexually attracted to the real Mr. Potato Head then to this guy. After the 45 minute coffee clutch, he decided a friend of his might be a much better match for me. Really. I am not kidding. Yep, my blind date wanted to fix me up on a blind date. At first I thought, you are Mr. Potato Head and YOU are not attracted to ME? Seriously? And then, the thought of what a great story this would make kicked in and I decided to be fixed up with his friend. I know, I know, I had very few hobbies back then. I didn’t even have my fun little bloggy blog yet. However, I said okay anyway. (sweater mentality)
The friend was actually not too bad, we dated a few times, but that is not the point. Just a really great story. I mean how many of you actually can say they were fixed up on a blind date by a blind date? Yeah, I know.
The point is that both of these young men came with references. They knew someone I did and therefore, I was assured they were not serial killers. Even though most serial killers were more attractive than these two.
Nowadays, with this whole online dating thing, there are no references. There is no way you can actually know if the wonderfully sardonic profile was written by that genuine guy or if any of it is even true. They could be paid escorts that pander to the over forty set (no, don’t go there) or mass murderers or worse, republicans. You try to be open minded and enjoy the mystery of giving someone your phone number and having a great two hour conversation with them. You laugh at their jokes, you listen to their stories you count how many questions they actually ask you and if they are even listening to you; and they seem really great, but in the back of your mind you are thinking, “serial killer”. Even if and when you actually go out with one of these prospective dates you will never know if they are sincere or full of shit. (I keep saying you, but in reality, I think you all know I mean me. I mean, it is my blog...)
My big sister, Elyse, has requested I do the following for any man I actually meet in person from the online dating thing. For safety purposes only. Which I totally appreciate.
1) Call my best friend, Kelly, and tell her where I am going. Time, location, etc.
2) Keep all phone numbers of men I will be going out with on my computer so the police have a lead when I have been murdered and left in a dumpster.
3) Don’t shave my legs.
So, just for my big sis, I will follow her rules. This however will be bad in the summer when I want to wear a skirt.
You can’t actually google someone until you have a last name. And yes, we all do it. Whenever we meet someone new, we try to find out if they are googleable. That’s a word now. Even if it’s not, I just made it up, so it is now. Says me, the English teacher.
On the online profile, there should be a link to a police website to see warrants and arrest records. I am not talking credit checks, because that would make most men not want to date me. Plus they would see just how much I owe on my student loans.
This anonymity thing is starting to get old (and its only been like, a week. I haven't actually seen one of these guys in person. Yet.).
Mystery, dear prospective dates, does not mean you are sexy and cool. It just means you are not telling me something. Just tell me who you are. Seriously, I am sure it is not that bad.
Oh, who am I kidding...
No comments:
Post a Comment