GUEST POST: JDate Exposed

When I started this blog, a friend told me that I would need to convert to Judaism. When I asked her why, she told me that no online dating blog would be complete without stories about JDate. Since I figured that switching religions for blog purposes may be frowned upon by... well... pretty much everyone, I decided to ask my friend, Amy, for help. Amy is on JDate, and I knew from a few drunk dish sessions that she had some good stories for me. Here's one of the 'best' (a.k.a. most awkward) first date stories that I've heard:


I recently decided to put myself back on JDate, unbeknownst to my mother, who convinced me that maybe it wasn't the worst thing in the world. I had used it back when I first graduated from college and thought that it was just what I was supposed to be doing, and I had managed to find some real winners. But in my advancing age, I've decided that religion actually is important to me, so I wanted to try to find likeminded people. This, of course, means that I had to stop judging every book by its cover and actually talk to guys who might not be my type. That's when I replied to an email from *David* (name changed just in case, really...). [side note: Duh! Of course he'll read this entry. This blog is going to be the hottest ish on the internet. I'm preparing for a book deal any day now.]

David was a 34-year-old guy who seemed harmless enough from his pictures. His emails were rather perfunctory, and he gave me his phone number in case I wanted to use it. We had one phone call, in which he told me that he lives with his parents because one of them had been sick. He was being a good son and helping them, and asked me what I thought I was looking for and if any of his information bothered me. I brushed it aside, thinking he was just being polite and we set up another night to talk a few days later.

Perhaps I should have taken it as a sign when he called a few days later and greeted me with: "Hey! It's me..." when I answered.

Fast forward a few more days to our actual first date. It was the Saturday of July 4th weekend, and it was a beautiful day outside - not humid at all - and it seemed almost a shame to sit in a bar and miss out on it. I convinced him to get a cup of coffee, and we walked down about a block to sit on a bench and chat. Well, that's where the excitement ended - it was as if he had read a book of conversation starters and didn't have any actual conversation to go along with it. Questions such as, "Do you like music...?", "What kind of movies are you into...?", and "What do you like to do socially...?" He also asked me several times how old I was and where I lived (I lived about 2 streets over from where we were sitting). At first, I tried to be polite and play along, but it almost seemed like he was so onesided that he couldn't interact with other humans. I actually considered taking the straw from my iced coffee, sticking it through my eyeball and swirling it around my brain - it would have been better stimulation than this.

He asked a few times, "What do you want to do...?" (keep in mind, it was HIS idea to come to my part of town), and we finally settled on taking a walk down the street. After about a block or so, I thought I heard a biker behind me. I moved over behind David to let the biker pass. It was actually someone holding grocery bags, and David looked over his shoulder to ask what I was doing. If you will:

David: "What's wrong?"
Me: "Oh, I thought I heard a biker behind me, I was letting them pass" (as I moved next to him again.
David: (shrugging) "Oh I hate bikers. I usually pass them when I drive, and I honk. Usually they give me the finger".

I had pretty much decided that I had nothing in common with this guy. We walked down the street, crossed over and walked back up the other side. When he asked me what I wanted to do for probably the 5th or so time, I finally had enough and answered, "You know what? I think I'm just going to go home." This seemed to catch him off guard, of course; I do have a hard time believing that no girl has ever wanted to escape from him on any date situation before. "Oh, oh you do? It's still early, but I guess if you want to go home, that's fine." I thanked him for the coffee and told him that it was nice to meet him and that I hoped he had a good night.

As I walked away and rolled my eyes very far back into my head, I dug in my purse for my cell phone. It hadn't even been a full hour. My immediate next thought was, "If the world ended right now, this could NOT have been the last person I ever hung out with." So I called some friends and rallied to save my night.

The Virgin Part Deux

"The virgin" has returned. I did not answer his previous message, but my poor lil' virgin decided to share entirely too much information in his follow-up. I almost feel bad sharing it, but then I remember that only a slightly crazy person would send an e-mail like this... to a stranger... who has never contacted them.

Enjoy:

Any thoughts?

Typically a no response is a no. But I do like tall girls, and among the tall girls on here you stand out. You're a cake-taker in my book. It's worth sending a follow-up e-mail.

Look ma'am. Boston isn't exactly blipping on my radar. I intend to work in Central Illinois for two more years, then go to the University of Illinois for a "Research Languages" degree, taking no electives, only language classes in Greek, Latin, German and French. Then I want to go to graduate school in Europe, especially Germany or Switzerland, learning Hebrew and stuff until I have a doctorate and post-doctoral study in philosophical theology. I love reading, I love learning, I love writing. I want to produce major research works on the messiahship of Jesus and on Christianity as a form of nihilism. Physics, math, astronomy, chemistry and so on are by and large all "discovered-out" already. There is room for seminal contributions in the field of philosophical theology.

If you're interested and the direction I am going in life concomitates with yours, say hey. If I don't hear from you, I won't send another e-mail. I'll handle you like a cactus and leave you be. :) I'll move on.

Take care,
-Aaron

I'm not exactly sure what about my Match profile screams "care-taker," nor do I really understand why he seems to need to tell me that Boston is not on HIS radar. He's the one contacting me.

Oh well... I guess I'm not a fern; I'm a cactus.

The Short List

I should start this post by explaining that I am a member of both Match.com and eHarmony. I know what you're thinking: "Wow, Jen! You're love life must be REALLY pathetic if you're on TWO dating sites." Well, you would be correct, but there's another reason as well. I forgot to cancel my Match account a few months ago, and the site automatically renewed my membership for another 6 months (a.k.a. robbed me of a whole lot of cash). Since I recently got dumped (waaah waah), I decided to try out eHarmony, especially since I haven't been very impressed with Match.com (e.g., my ex, "the virgin").

Unless you live under a rock or claim to not watch TV (seriously, TV isn't rotting your brain, your pretentiousness is), you probably know that eHarmony matches you on bunch of levels of compatibility or some shit like that. Well, I've decided that that's a load of bull. Here's why I came to that conclusion:

The site keeps sending me short dudes.

As a 6'1", slightly freakishly tall chick, I indicated when I filled out the online forms that height was VERY important to me. I don't hate short dudes or anything like that, but I, like a lot of women I know, enjoy the secure feeling of being held by someone slightly bigger than myself. Plus, most heterosexual dudes don't really want to be towered over by their lover (or so I thought...).

Despite my preference, however, eHarmony sends me dudes under 6'0" about 80% of the time. Really, what am I going to do with a guy who's 5'6", other than look utterly ridiculous or rest my drink on his head. What is eHarmony thinking?

And what's even better is that some of these shorties try to start talking to me. To all those dudes out there who fantasize about being with a girl who's significantly taller than you, let me just me fill you in on a little secret: That ish is creepy and weird and no thank you. I know there are probably a few weirdo tall women out there who are into that, but I am not one of them.

My "Virgin" Post

Where's the best place for me to start? Well, with a virgin, of course. A virgin from Illinois who LOVES kissing (according to his profile).

I'm not sure why a virgin from Illinois is into me, but he’s “winked” me twice now.

-- Quick side note for all of you online dating dummies: “Winking” is a way on Match.com to show interest in someone without really having to write them an e-mail. To be honest, I’m not sure why exactly they chose for people to “wink” at each other since most of the dudes who wink at me in real life are homeless, old, and/or greasy. --

Well, anyways, this poor virgin never really piqued my interest. I don’t have an issue with virgins. I was one. This one just didn’t rub me the right way. Maybe it’s because he lives hundreds of miles away. Maybe it’s because his profile is as long as a short novel. (He covers everything from his favorite beers to the fact that he is “a deep thinker with a gifted mind.”) Or maybe it’s because he uses creepy smiley faces to cover his friends’ faces in his profile pictures.

Well, apparently unanswered winks will not throw off a virgin from Illinois. The other day, I received this e-mail (titled “prolegomena”):

“Hey. :) My name is Aaron. I'm intrigued.

You want to be a writer? Me too. What do you write? What's your list of books you wish to pen?

If you were out driving, slowly, along a river, and you drove over a bolt that punctured your two right tires, and your car gently pulled to the right and hit a guardrail and stopped, and you got out of your car to survey the damage, and you noticed something yellow and shiny in the hole where from the post of the guardrail had dislodged, and you hand-excavated it and it was a magic lamp, and you rubbed it the right way and a genie emerged and offered to grant you three wishes, except this genie was shrewder than other genies and added a clause to the verbal contract that prevented any of your three wishes from being used to wish for more wishes, what would you wish for?

-- -- --

If you don't want to be handled like a delicate flower, would you rather be handled like a cactus?

;)

-Aaron”

Yea… I’m not really sure what more to say, other than I’d like to be handled like a fern, personally. But that’s just me.