Trusting my Instincts

This weekend, something happened in my head (or maybe my heart, but that might be a bit too philosophical...although it goes well with my recent sentiments...moving on from the melodrama).  Mr. One Liner, who we spoke of last week, continued to bare-bones communicate with me, expressing his interest in meeting.  At this point, I noticed my own reluctance to respond.  I asked him what he had in mind (attempting to prolong the conversation and avoid a next-day meeting), and he wrote back with the most words he'd ever used before:  dinner, coffee and a corn maze.  This was all well and good, but considering that I only knew three facts about him (his name, his city of residence and his place of employment) over the course of more than a month of communication, saying that I was hesitant to commit to an actual date of this level would be an understatement.  For some reason, this bipolar-like change sent up some internal red flags for me.  I can't explain it even now, but I got the feeling that I shouldn't go on this date.  I suggested that we meet just for dinner, and it was arranged for Saturday night.  As Saturday afternoon wore on, I felt like a kid being dragged into the dentist's office.  I wanted nothing less in the world than to meet for this dinner, even if it was "just a free meal," as several friends put it.  I texted Mr. One Liner and asked if we could reschedule for Sunday night, thinking that I might be more inclined to go after another day of prep.  Still, I had this ball of dread growing ever larger in my stomach, and it was only by divine intervention that he texted to postpone our arrangement for Sunday.

Now, I've been on several blind/online dating dates in the last few months, most of which have been able to conjure up astronomical levels of nervousness.  But, once I'm actually there on the "date," I calm down and most of these feelings are settled. This weekend wasn't nerves.  It was something else, but I can't really put my finger on it.  Maybe I subconsciously knew that this guy wasn't for me, and my instincts are helping me not waste anymore of my time (this damn biological clock!).  Something was physically stopping me from even going on this "date."  It wasn't the normal nerves making me rehearse my conversation in my head a thousand times, or plan out what I was going to wear down to the tiniest detail.  This was a complete aversion to anything involving this guy.  It was weird and new.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I don't think I'm in a good place to be online dating anyone right now.  I'm so bitter towards any communication I receive from any of these sites because it seems so childish/petty/sexual/inappropriate/mindless/uninspired/unintellectual/uninteresting that even the little chirp email alert on my phone literally pisses me off.  I wonder what level of stupid each new email is going to reach and am usually not disappointed.  I'm tired of being the one to make multiple attempts at actual conversation when all I'm given to work with is "nothing, u?"  I want to ask these guys if they think these lack luster approaches would work for them in a bar.  If they came up to me and just repeated "Hey, cutie" after everything I said (I'm not kidding, I had one of these this weekend.  Every two-word response I got was prefaced with "Hey, cutie."), would they think that would capture my attention and spark an interest?  (<- See, told you I was bitter.) 

So, I started contemplating a total online dating hiatus through the remainder of 2010.  A two-month respite to work on Melanie and to seriously pursue all opportunities to meet people in person.  I will put myself in every single possible place singles hang out.  I will make my first attempts at speed dating and finally go to a Meetup.com event.  No more profiles, no more emails, no more text relationships.  At least until 2011. 

I hadn't officially decided to take this route until this morning when I opened yet another Plentyoffish.com email.  This guy falls completely out of my realm of interest on multiple levels, but I do owe him a debt of gratitude.  He put the final nail in Online Dating's coffin this morning, and all I have to do now is lower that bad boy into the ground.  This was his opening email:

Hey gorgeous how are you doing? I am doing just fine. Basically woke up for you to tell you that you're lips look so delicious. ;)

Again, overlooking my usual contempt for poor grammar (who says that my standards are too high?! I've been overlooking blatant misuse of your/you're for months now! Basic English, people.  Basic.), what does this even mean?!?

I've honestly lost a lot of confidence in the online date-seeking male species in general.  Don't get me wrong, I know there are men out there [most of whom are my readers! ;) ] who can put together a complete, grammatically correct, intelligent, conversational email without initially referencing my "delicious" lips.  But, online, in general (and I'm sure women are equal culprits, but again, I've never ventured into the same-sex arena), you're missing the mark with me.  I'm not lowering my standards just to have a man or a date, because I don't think they're set too high:  basic hygiene, love Jesus, and can engage me in a conversation.  In no particular order.

I can't do it anymore.  This engine is out of gas. Chalk it up.  Hang it up.  Stick a fork in me.  I'm done.  Tootle-loo, Online Dating.