Memorandum

On the side bar of the Online Daters' Club, I have installed a calendar for more efficient tracking of Club operations. Please bear in mind that the formality associated with the calendar system, is designed with your benefit in mind.

Facebook Private Eye: Quiet As a Mouse Click

One of the most excellently amazing fun aspects of the Internet age as it relates to dating is that your friends can investigate your suitors from the comfort of their own computer terminals. Take off your trench coats and sunglasses; there is no specialized espionage training necessary. Never is such investigation more convenient than if a friend belongs to the same online dating service as you. Today a friend and I traded the OkCupid profile names of boys we have gone out with and liked. It had the giddy feel of middle school dance chatter, and since we are in the same dating pool it may have also been an implicit marking of territory.

They do not call this the Online Daters’ Club for nothing. And by “they” I suppose I mean “I”.

For those not on OkCupid, there is always investigation in the form of Facebook. After you pass the two-date mark with a gentleman from an online dating site, a budding Facebook friendship is formed. Curiosity seekers called ex-boyfriends use this social networking tool to check stats like the suitor’s hotness relative to their own, and the number of FB friends they might have in common.

Speaking of exes, the one tacitly referred to above would like me to find happiness, or, given the nature of his self-involvement, would find happiness in taking credit for me finding happiness. He referred an acquaintance of his to me. I’m not sure what the fella’s intentions were or are, but he interestingly enough, despite our friend in common, wrote to me over a communication tool loaded with meaning called OkCupid. I remain uncertain if this should count in the "dates attended" tally to the right, but last night we had a beer.

Has Person 1 gone on a date recently?

I have found myself employed by U.S. Census 2010 full-time + in an office that is absolutely window-free and comes with none of the standard Internet surfing privileges afforded to the typical white collar worker. Party over. The census operates nearly 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and on my first shift, I worked until precisely 3:45 am with nary a google mail thread to distract me from productivity.

Me and my coworkers crunching data so that you count, or whatever.

While I have been careful not to let the alarming reduction of free time compromise my ability to go on dates, I have struggled to find the time to write about the experiences. An unfortunate backlog for a particular unmarried, single, white female residing in state 36, County 047 has occurred.

But this is not a blog about excuses about not blogging about dating, but rather a blog about dating. So with no further ado it is my pleasure to inform my readership what has transpired romantically since my last report: Thanks to the mysterious algorithmic calculations of OkCupid’s, I met someone I was inspired to see again. I believe there is a possibility I will break my two-date record with strangers from the Internet and perhaps see him a third time.

Which begs the question - when is a stranger from the Internet no longer a stranger?

On our first date, I took a leap of faith that he was not a dismemberer of just-raped human flesh and allowed him to pick me up in his car and drive me off to a remote location called Staten Island so we could simultaneously discover what it is they do in the forgotten borough. As you may have ascertained by the existence of this post, my inclinations regarding his non-murderer status were entirely correct! Additionally we were compatible in other ways and had a simply marvelous time feeling culturally superior (in a refreshingly not pretentious manner) to the entire island.

Staten Island scene

Then we came back to Brooklyn and went bowling.

His knowledge of the Online Daters’ Club is a testament to his cool-cattitude. I feel confident that the degree of his fondness for me, (an unknown), is immaterial to his support of the continued existence of this blog in its present form.

A's To Your Q's

As promised, I am providing you with the answers to your burning questions you've so patiently waited for.

Q: Had any luck with Match.Com?
A: If you call a one-night stand followed by a very awkward date to a douche baggy bar surrounded by hockey enthusiasts success, then yes, Match.com was a magical experience.

Q: How many times have you had a touchdown by meeting a person on these sites? Operation el spank-o?
A: What refreshing avoidance of baseball metaphor in the realm of human sexual experience. I don't really know much about American football, so I hope this makes sense. Two touchdowns, one first down that lead to a fumble.

Q: What is the best concert you have ever been to?
A: When I was a younger woman, Haitian hip hop hottie Wyclef Jean included me in his act by bringing me on stage in order to freestyle about the tightness of my pants.
Drinks before going to the show - $12. Concert tickets - $25. The thrill of wondering if you are going to lose your virginity to Wyclef on a tour bus - Not priceless exactly as I include this as part of the non-itemized $25 entry fee.

Q: If you could be a spokesperson for any online dating site, which one would you choose?
A: Funny you should ask, I am submitting some work to JDate as we speak to be their next big blogger! Keep your fingers crossed on my success in this endeavor. In other national spokesperson news, my comedic partner and I are applying to be the next Lady Liberties for Liberty Tax Service.

Q: I am dealing with a very sensitive issue. I'm recently engaged (let's call my fiancée "Rahim" for the sake of anonymity). With so many fish in the sea, as your most recent blog declares, how do I really know that "Rahim" is the one?
A: That is precisely my point m'dear. There is no "one." There are many ones. So long as he's one of those ones, and a cutie patootie to boot, you may as well get a tax break to honor it.

Q: What should I do if I want to be like you when I grow up?
A: Eat lots of oatmeal. It's good for your heart. Watch 1990s sitcoms revolving around the lives of sexually promiscuous 20 and 30-somethings residing in Manhattan. Take chill pills every day.

Q: What are your top fashion dos and don'ts for a first date?
A: Do, wear deodorant under at least one arm and clear your nostrils of debris. Don't wear any item of clothing you don't feel completely comfortable in. To be sexy, you must feel sexy.

Q: What did you think of PlentyOfFish.com's heavy-handed product placement in the new Lady Gaga & Beyonce video for Telephone?
A: I was only able to watch the first 3 minutes and 19 seconds of this 9-minute video before my ADD kicked in and am not familiar with said product placement. However I do support artists supporting online dating products.

That being said, I think I've answered all the questions our ADD-afflicted generation can handle. I invite baby boomers and medicated Generation X and Y-ers to keep reading.

Q: Where did you think you would be in ten years, when you were 16?
A: According to a 10th grade health class project that involved such predictions, I thought I would be married to the dreamboat boyfriend I met on my first Peace Corps tour and would be finishing up an environmental law degree at Berkeley that would later lead to a Nobel Peace Prize. I did not think I would be collecting unemployment checks and going on dates with guys from the Internet that vaguely resemble my 16-year old self.

Q: Do you have any sworn mortal enemies?
A: My mortal enemies are probably aware of their status and do not need reminding on such a well-read blog.

Melting Snowflakes

My bff, V, is not a supporter of the snowflake theory, at least not as it relates to the inhabitants of New York City. She has lived in Brooklyn for two years and says that no matter who you meet, they are “a dime a dozen,” contending that every "type" possibly imagined not only exists here, but in large quantities. This rather pessimistic view of the human experience is anathema to that of our childhoods; that touchy-feely-Barney-the-dinosaur attitude that “everyone is special”

On hipster main street Bedford Ave in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn, this guy wearing a major brand's signature briefs, and albeit little else, is neither weird nor special:



And neither is this gal. Her chest pain was for naught:


And frankly I'm afraid, this blog post is not that special either. You've heard it all before. I live in a land where the more special you try to be, the less you succeed. Irony. (Not that kind, but the actual kind in this case.)

So if there are dozens of denizens of every type in NYC, that means there are dozens meeting my exact specifications. And to be had for a dime! I wonder if I ought not be a bit choosier.

...And finally readers, here is a last call for questions on dating, love, making out, relationships, and whatever else floats your boats. I do encourage you to ask. In my next post, all answers shall be revealed.

Invitational

I have become since the launch of this blog a tireless champion of online dating and a destroyer of the taboos associated with this modern method of romance. I also toot the horn of OkCupid so often that I should go pro and look into compensation for my endorsement of their (amazing) product.

Because I so openly discuss my sex-life, my occasional love-life, and my awkward-conversation-with-strangers-life, there is a mythology that I am something of an expert in all the above matters. I am not one to shy away from accolades. In fact I welcome positive attention in all its many forms. So if you have any questions, about anything at all I invite you to ask away. Please use the comments section below. I will answer in the order in which they are asked.

Dr. Ruth and I have more in common than just amazingly overt correction of vision

What is this salty discharge?

Whoa! So I am actually, uh, like offended by something a stranger from the Internet has said to me. With regards to what neighborhood I live in, I present the following one-liner response:

“Bushwick might as well be DC to me. Can't get there from Cobble Hill.”

I actually felt a little pang when I read that. I know, I know, allowing for sensations of sadness/happiness is diametrically opposed to my entire online dating philosophy. And I never even met this guy or anything. I don’t know where that emotional response came from, but given the amount of snubs I have delivered, I suppose this sort of thing was my karmic due.

“Can’t” get there. Haha. Asshole.

Wanting to know what “Can’t” means, I ran a Google map search and learned that it would take 45 minutes via train or bus to travel from his neighborhood to mine. I guess I live my life under the assumption that I am compelling enough to travel 45 minutes for on a method of transport that allows you to read at the same time.

In DC, I would have ruled out anyone north and west of the zoo, or outside of the district line. But that was not due to inaccessibility or length of travel time really, but rather a product of my geographic-based prejudgment of them and their probable douche bag-ness.

I think Elaine Benes once dumped a guy because she didn't want to have to switch trains more than once to see someone. So maybe there's a lot I need to learn about dating in a megapolis. But in the mean time, let's move on from that unpleasant business and get to the point of this blog post.

I had my first NYC date. Once again my Internet-based impressions of my Internet date did not match the reality confronting me. He was not frat-boy or hippie-like and had some funny things to say. I found the evening to be pleasant enough, and he, brimming with ideas for activities for us to participate in together, seems enthusiastic about seeing me again. I am unsure of my desire to make out with him though and you can’t just meet up with people unless you want to make out with them. This much I know is certain.

Opp. NYC Date 1

The other day I was feeling exceptional fondness for the idea of perhaps getting hitched and knocked up one day. Brooklyn will do it to you with all the attractive well-preserved 30-something couples that are accompanied by stylish and charming little miniatures of themselves playing bocce ball in McCarren Park, etc. Looks quite blissful in these beautiful spring afternoons. I must remind myself there is a one-in-two chance of a tearful aftermath five years down the line that is more involved than the whose-books-are-whose conversation I already have experience with.

Tonight I have my first New York City Internet date with a guy that has expressed commitment toward showing me some kind of cool time here that involves making new friends. My priority at this juncture is obviously kids my own age, not actual kids. Tonight's date struck me on the phone as a Jewish fratty-hippie type, for those of whom that description means something. I am not sure if this is exactly the alley I want to travel, but I need to get my feet wet in the online dating scene here.

So I'm going on a date tonight. So what? Don’t envy me, as I told a friend of mine who is romantically attached, and doing her laundry alone tonight, “You could be single and going on dates with strangers from the Internet too.”

Die Jdate membership, die

Today I learned that I have Internet dating to thank for my living situation. My predecessor was quickly engaged after three months of courtship to her OkCupid boyfriend. Ah winter hibernation love. For the sake of this blog, you should all hope my bedroom is not haunted by an itch to marry strangers from the Internet prematurely

Well one site we can all be assured I won’t meet any future husbands on is JDate. Thank you to my mother again for membership funding, but a waste of money I would like to reiterate. Everyone on Jdate, even the ones who I find physically attractive, and pictured in cool sweaters, argue socially conservatively principles with me, nitpicking at me for the few and far between glimmers of leftiness I display in my otherwise apolitical profile. Their ideology is tinged with snottiness and their presumption that I seek the approval of a stranger from the Internet is gross.

Online Date Bloggers Without Borders

I apologize to my readership for the delay between blog posts. As it turns out, preparing for a move is distracting and time consuming. First there is the partying, then there is the packing and then there is shipping of yourself off to a new land.

Eager to get back into the swing of things so far as this blog is concerned, my first night as a resident of New York City was spent in part trolling the Internet for strangers to meet. Sounds pretty lame but I am tired, have a big weekend with kids I know in real life to look forward to, and as it just so happens, love Internet dating very much. Furthermore, if real life mimics the Internet experience in this geographic space, I will fall in love several times a minute here in New York.

...and now for something completely different:

Several friends of mine have said they are "not ready" for Internet dating. As though joining an online dating site is both waving a white flag, and part of their sad inevitable future. As a proud Internet dater I advise these individuals to put their foolish, misplaced pride aside.

P.S. do you guys all think I'm a loser for using the Internet to meet strangers?