Earning Stripes

I’m equally surprised and not surprised by the amount of friends I have who have tried online dating.  Not that they all would admit to it, but I’d wager at least 75% of my dating-age/single friends have at least signed up for a dating site.  Whether or not they follow through isn’t really my concern, but if they’ve been reading this, at least they’ll be better prepared.  I hope…

The reasons I’m not surprised: It’s no longer verboten to discuss online dating amongst your friends.  There seems to be a tacit agreement amongst the men and women of the world to avoid talking about it unless there’s a funny story or a wedding involved.  Is it still considered a taboo?  Slightly, but you’re no longer a pariah for trying it.

The reasons I am surprised: The folks I know who do it, most of them never seem to have trouble meeting people.  That includes me too.

Previously I discussed the reasons why I’m giving it a shot.  I haven’t asked my friends their specific reasons for going up on these sites, but it’s safe to assume that they would all answer with a combination of “I don’t have time to meet people” or “I’m tired of meeting people at bars.” 

I can’t disagree with either reason, but I do have doubts. 

Social awkwardness is still social awkwardness.  Whether you’re doing your talking online or in person, the awkward will still rear it’s ugly head and potentially ruin your evening. 

Everything is better with a LOLcat...

I am fully aware, and embracing, of my awkwardness.  It’s one of my most endearing qualities.  Sometimes it’s horrible and I end up with a beer down my shirt, tomato sauce in my eye, or falling flat on my face (klutz, not booze), but if I didn’t embrace it, I would not be able to exist in social situations.  My career is one big social situation, so I’d be fucked. 

I wear this hat to every date.

More often than not, my awkwardness will make me fall flat on my face (metaphorically) while talking to a strange woman.  Either my joke is too obscure or too blunt, or my observations are too straightforward, or I manage to spill something.  Sometimes all of the above, and I definitely go home numberless and alone those nights. 

I was not always this awkward.  In fact, I used to be pretty damn good at the “game.”  I made my rules; I stuck by them, and had a lot of fun along the way.  I’m getting older now, and I’ve adapted my rules.  No longer am I driven by the urges for raucous parties and empty sex. 

Seriously.

A few years ago I had some run-ins with some really unpleasant women.  At first glance they weren’t too bad, but then again, I was young, dumb, and full of [insert the word that you all know fits here].  It wasn’t until I ended up with a bleeding back and nearly getting a restraining order (two DIFFERENT chicks…) that I decided I was no longer solely motivated by the chase of the tails.

I decided that I would rather wake up in my own bed than wake up in some strange place and say: “Oh Crap.”

I'm not wasting another cent on paper bags.
A real bed isn't worth that either...

~

Because I’m not a prude, and because I know I’m fully capable of getting women, I chose to online date and attempt to save some embarrassment and trouble by getting turned down.  I’ve earned my stripes as a “man” and don’t feel like any less of one for skipping the awkward interpersonal courting process.

There is really only one thing that is still puzzling me.  Why am I not getting many responses back to my messages?  I’m using an algorithm of directly addressing something in their profile, something slightly sarcastic, and me being myself.

Maybe that’s the problem…

Actually no, I don’t think that’s the problem.  I think I’m not asking them enough questions.  Pardon my assumption here, but I feel it’s pretty standard: The best magic happens when you can induce the woman to just talk and talk.  The way to do that is to just ask lots of questions and let them open up.  I do my best when I can get them on a thread and just let them ramble on.  Ideally, what they have to say interests me, but I can’t be too picky, right?

Which is worse?

Even if she was rambling about Tom Brady's cock, I'd still let her talk my ear off...

Shut up shut up shut up shut up....You're burning my brain!!!