Sept. 27, 2003--A song

I won’t write much today for a few reasons: 1) I'm way too distracted by the Cub situation. 2) No time to search. 3) Even if I had the time, you don't want to be too active on weekends—makes you look like you don't have anything better to do.

Nonetheless, I'll check to see what's come in: an Icebreaker and an email from Emode and an email through MM. No replies from all the Match people I emailed yesterday, but it is Saturday morning.

In MM, I've received a reply from SINGLETOM, who says I sound great. He admitted he's "not really into sports," but said he likes to get outdoors and would rather participate or go to a game than watch on TV. I could deal with that. He's also a news junkie. His email has some meat to it, although he suggests exchanging cell numbers to chat real-time. But he also offered to write for a while—well done, Tom. He has three stars on the Matchmeter and meets my Matchmarker. I reviewed his profile, and he looks good, if a little on the artsy side. I could use more art in my life, though. I'll definitely be in touch. But, not now—don't want to look like I’m catting around on MM on a weekend morning.

The Emode Icebreaker is from a 39-year-old in the far north suburb Gurnee, decked out in tinted glasses. Three things he can't live without, according to his profile: income, computer, and a potential future. A potential future? How literal of him. Very high score on the Emode IQ test. I'm starting to think Emode is for geeks and dweebs. I should be pretty popular.

The Emode email is from a guy in New Zealand. What's the deal with these people?

Cruising over to Yahoo, I've received two new emails and two Icebreakers. Still no reply from Wayne. Batman54987 is an artsy long-haired (curly, no less) type from Chesterton, Indiana, who offers to cut his hair for the right woman. Did he learn nothing from Samson? His profile includes a song/poem:

"I wrote this for a friend who was feeling down but I think its' how we all feel at times.I hope all who read it will enjoy it. 'TO BE NEAR YOU Lost in the light of your face In your eyes I feel no disgrace Oh how I long for your embrace Is there any way to convince you That I would truely love to be near you What would it take to know the feeling of your body next to mine What would it take for our spirits to be entwined OH OH how I long for you to be near me.'"

It would take a lot, Batman, it would take a lot.

Warmbluewaterlover didn't send a profile or a photo. In such a case, I feel I can dismiss someone for their punctuation and spelling errors, even if he did give up a sales job to become a ship captain.I'm really fighting the urge to drop Mike a quick line. I mean, he did send a total of five emails yesterday. My favorite Tom Petty song ("American Girl") just came on the radio—a sure sign I should go ahead. Just a quickie …

Sept. 26, 2003--Casual sex

My mailbox this morning held three emails from Emoders, one from MM about an "admirer," and one from Greg. I've also received a couple Icebreakers—one from a guy in Carbondale and the other from Glendale, distant suburbs. No word from Wayne or Mark.

Doh! I just broke my "rule" about not initiating any meet-and-greets during this round. I suggested to Greg that we get a drink Monday night. But he's clearly been looking to meet, and he’s headed out of town Tuesday and Wednesday. And I'm hoping to be wrapped up in the divisional baseball playoffs the rest of the week. He's an enthusiastic emailer, and I don't want to spend a lot of time emailing back and forth if either of us would lose interest upon meeting in person.

In fact, truth be told, I'm thinking about asking if he wants to meet for lunch today. He's working at home, and he already mentioned he likes Charlie's Ale House, a pub in my neighborhood. Yes, that’s right—less than 24 hours after laying out my rules for the protocol I want to follow (email, phone, meet), I'm weighing breaking them. I think it's out of self-protection. I want to get on with things, so I don't want to waste time and, more importantly, emotional energy and imagination on someone with whom it could be easily discerned in person that things won't go anywhere. Sad but true.

Huh. I just noticed Greg says in his profile "Probably want to start slow." I guess he doesn't include emailing in that caveat. If, however, we get along, I hope it doesn't mean physically, either. Would it be ill-advised to ask what he meant by that? If not, when to ask?

Getting back to inquiries that arrived since I last checked, I have one waiting in MM. The guy is kind of cute but 5'7”. His message is obviously canned, proclaiming "summer is here." More amusing is his closing paragraph, which states "Again, I really like to hear from you even if you're not interesting." So, either he doesn’t mind dull women or he made a typo and hopes to hear from women not interested in him. He must like a challenge. Or have self-esteem issues.

On to Emode. One guy (who sent a lame-ass Icebreaker) is 45 and lives in LaPorte, Indiana. I can only assume his message "Wow! Our compatibility score is really high! Let's face it. You're sexy." is the canned language in the Icebreakers. Another is 46 and lives in Bensenville. The third is 35 but lives in Prospect Heights. Suburbs, suburbs, suburbs.

I just noticed that Emode offers "Chemistry Reports" with each profile. I can't help but question the value of such an assessment. It seems like a good idea, but how accurate can it be? It also gives a percentage assessment of compatibility, based on the personality tests. That's already been called into question by the guy Emode rates as 93 percent compatible with me--he likes doing standup comedy and salsa dancing and doesn't drink. I can't imagine doing standup or dancing without drinking.

Good God. I just heard from Greg, who is under the mistaken impression I'm going to the Cubs game today:

"I'm totally jealous about your trip to Wrigley this PM. ANY chance somebody will cancel? I'll give you my cell and wait at Murphys if you think someone might bag because of the weather.... =) I'm serious by the way!"

We haven't even met, buddy—pull way back. Like I'd really go to a nine-inning game with a potential "match" who I've never even met, let alone along with some of my friends. "Hi, guys. This is Greg. We met online but never in person before. Don't know much about him. Carry on." I'm hoping he's just a really big Cub fan and not just really clueless (not that the two are mutually exclusive).

I can’t quite figure out Emode. It offers a Mutual Match option but different from the other services. It shows someone's profile, and you click “yes” or “no” for whether you'd like to meet. Then that person gets the same option (assuming they monitor their Mutual Matches section). Most of them seem to be 5'7”. I don't think Emode is going to work out too well for me, fun as it is to complete personality and IQ tests. Running a search based on age, height, kids, college, and income of more than $35,000, and within 25 miles, I turned up only eight profiles, none of which jump out at me.

Just got an email from Greg, after I told him I wasn't actually going to the Cubs game. He suggested catching a drink and a few innings. I’d thought about that myself, so I said okay, suggesting Charlie's. This may be rushing things by my usual standards, and I don't really feel like drinking this afternoon (I’m going to see REM tonight), but I want to find out if we have any physical attraction. Of course, it started raining minutes before game time. The sun is peeking through right now, though, and the worst of the threatening clouds appear to have moved east. Maybe that's a sign. I'd really like to believe that.
***
Greg wrote to say his boss called him and wants him in a 4pm conference call, so no go on the drink. I'd be a little suspicious, but this guy seems eager to meet, so I'll believe him. I'm not really in the right frame of mind for an audition right now anyway. I don't feel pretty, or witty, or wise.
***
I've been emailing with the casual sex guy, just to find out what motivates such a campaign:

"Hi there--Thanks for your offer of casual sex (I think?), but that's not really my bag. However, I'm intrigued by the fact that you even asked because I'm a writer and thinking about doing a piece on Internet dating.

So, I've got to ask--do emails like that work? How exactly does it go down (so to speak) if you get an affirmative reply? I'm really curious about how that would work--would you be willing to share your experiences with casual sex initiated online? Anonymously, of course. I'd be interested in a photo, too (just for my own reference, not to publish).
Any information would be much appreciated."

He replied quickly:

"Hi Barb,
Well, well, if THIS doesn't pique all the dusty confines of my salacious side, then I do not know what does?

But first, I must attest that such a forward blast of a message is not my usual approach. Indeed, I do not hinge my dating or social habits on said casual sex (sure, be flattered, because you're hot, excruciatingly adroit reading, and you dared to go for 'IT'). But, I would also be fibbing if I didn't mention that it is something I have always wanted to try.

Why not go to a bar? Because I don't want some drunken yutz. I am interested in the cerebral aspects of doing somehting one might not otherwise do for a thrilling and unusual experience. And for those adjectives to breath life, it helps if both parties are reasonable to rather intelligent yes?

Ergo, I'd be happy to answer your inquires on my reasoning. Why I picked you. Etc., etc., etc.

Best regards,
-K"

So I sent several questions, which he in turn answered:

Me: OK, so it's not your usual approach. But have you ever taken this approach before? If so, what were the results?
Him: This would be my inaugural time actually. And this represents the first real discourse that I've had with such a proposition.
Me: If not, what prompted you to take such a step at this time? What made you think it might work?
Him: I will be relocating to Australia in a few months, so I do not want to commence anythign too terribly involved or emo for the time being. I have nothing against that hallowed phrase "commital", but, sematically, it's not worth it right now. I sent a message to you with about a 99% assurance that I'd hear nothing. But I am always willing to allow the slim chance that there is a woman out there that might be as equally piqued about such a proposition as I am.
Me: Do you have concerns about one of the parties in such a tryst becoming emotionally attached? How would you handle that if it was you? If it was the woman? Are you open to the casual sex leading to more? If not, why not?
Him: I have no concerns about undue attachment as that would addressed from the outset. I have zero desire to fool somebody, use somebody on the level of false hopes, or any such thing. I was merely hoping to find another established adult human (female) whom was attractive, yes, but also enthralling in words. So, I picked you. I had wagered that you might be daring enough to try something like this if safe and mutually agreed upon.
Me: And, finally (for now, I'm sure this is more than enough!), how do you select profiles to whom to send such propositions? And can I see a photo of you?
Him: I selected your profile because you weren't afraid to live and change the course of your erstwhile dull life, same as I have done/in the process of. You seemed astute, curious, adventurous, rapier in wit, sexy, writerly, and real. I am attracted to those things. Though sex would be the fulcrum of the meeting, I am only interested in doing such a thing with a woman who is all the above.
Me: Actually, on a related note, one more question—why don't you post a photo with your profile?
Him: I have no qualms about sending along a picture at some point, but I am curious as to why you want it? Do you want to see the appearance of the sort of lecherous schlepp that might inquire such an abrasive meeting? But that's putting words into your mouth, which is not fair. Please explain.

He followed up by writing:

"I will send along a photo, of me, only if you're willing to admit you're honestly considering my proposition. Sorry, don't mean to sound snarky, but it's my suspect!"

My response:

"Sorry--I'm not considering it at all; I'm just curious. I appreciate all your responses, though.
Best of luck in Australia."

His final message:

"Very well Ms. Neff, that's a shame. You read/look to be a scintillating dame."
Why can't a normal person think I'm a scintillating dame? One who I'd be interested in? And one of my height?
***
Returning to the realm of the possible, Mike_1616 from Match, a big music fan, sent a response that got a chuckle out of me. I expanded on my usual greeting when I first emailed him a little while ago:

“Hi, Mike--I just came across your profile, and it seems like we have a lot in common, from proficiency with house plants to laundry habits. Take a look at my profile and see what you think. Take care, Barb
P.S. Are you going to the REM show tonight? Maybe our paths will cross!”

His reply is somewhat noncommittal, and I know I shouldn't respond just yet, but what the heck—he replied quickly. I’d like to write that maybe we can compare notes some time about what it takes to drive someone to quit a job without another lined up, an experience we apparently share, but I shall resist. Too much, too soon.

Geez, though, it's unnerving how easy it is to get excited doing this stuff. You'd think I would know better by now. At the same time, though, I don't believe approaching this from an overly cynical angle will be very conducive to success (whatever that is). You need to stay optimistic, but it can be hard in the face of history and statistics. I guess that might explain why I'm so quick to jump on the slightest positive development for reassurance. Sad, I know.

Similarly, I want to see some optimism reflected back at me. I get turned off when guys begin their profiles by saying they've never done online dating before, or can't believe they're doing it, or are skeptical, or thought they'd give it a shot, etc. It’s like they're trying to put women on notice that they're really too cool for this online dating thing. They have other options, they swear.

Damn—heard back from Mike again, and I like his emailing style. He can write, and he's making me laugh. Seems normal and fun. Just the type to not be interested after meeting me. Doh—can you say "self-esteem problems"? I mean, his subject line was "I'm sorry," in response to my chiding him for assuming I’m only singing karaoke in one of my photos, rather than a professional singer. Of course, my mind immediately seized the opportunity to interpret the subject line in a negative way: "I'm sorry…but on further examination, I find you totally unappealing and can't believe I bothered responding in the first place." Or at least "I'm sorry to have misled you by responding. I was just being polite." Such a defeatist, I am.

The emails carry a bit of an addictive quality. I just sent Mike a reply and sit here hoping to hear back soon. I also find myself checking MM and Yahoo on a regular basis throughout the day for action. Or maybe I just don't have enough to do! I prefer that explanation.

Third email from Mike. Really like the tone and the info conveyed. It's getting close to the point where I better meet him soon or I run the risk of feeling like week-old kitty litter afterward if he drops me. But I vow not to suggest the meet-and-greet this time.

Sept. 25, 2003--Let the email exchanges begin

Two messages this morning on Yahoo, one unsolicited and one from ubet75, and two Icebreakers (probably as lame as Match's winks, where someone can show interest in you by “winking,” which sends you his profile without requiring an actual message, or thought). Ubet's name is Wayne, and his profile looks good—39, liberal, a lot of common interests, not sure about kids, Cubs fan, and always looking to learn more (to my way of thinking, the sign of someone who’s intelligent and not complacent). I replied with a little golf and Cubs banter, and a bit about my work. I also gave him my own email address—the Yahoo interface quickly becomes kind of cumbersome, requiring you to move through a lot of screens to access email.

The unsolicited email is from mrgh3189, whose profile I checked out yesterday. His name's Greg, and he looks cute (I thought he looked kind of like my brother in one photo—what would Dr. Freud say about that, I wonder). I'll have to scour his profile to figure out why I didn't pursue … ah, there it is—he has kids who live at home part-time. Well, maybe this is the kick in the ass I need to expand my parameters a bit, especially since I liked the profile yesterday and then he contacted me. A sign, perhaps? And he's not sure about more kids. What the hell—I'm replying. Maybe guys with kids feel more desperate, so that could work to my advantage.

As I suspected, the Icebreakers are weak. They come with the message "I like your profile" or a similar option from a list Yahoo provides. How lazy can you get? If someone can't even work up the energy to write a short email message, it doesn't say much for his initiative overall. It doesn't make a good first impression. The two Icebreakers today came from guys with headlines claiming "I'm a keeper" and "I wanna be your boyfriend, possibly." Probably not.

Switching over to MM, I sent an email to the guy who offered casual, safe sex. I'm curious about whether inquiries like that actually work, and, if so, how does it work logistically and emotionally. Mark has replied, with some good wishes for the Cubs, in the midst of their playoff run, and some stuff about the Bears. Leaves plenty of open doors as far as material to build on in my own reply. I'll wait until this afternoon, though. Don't want to seem overanxious.

No word from SAVVY562 (Paul), and the stalker feature shows he has read my message suggesting we email for a while before jumping to the phone. Still up in the air about whether it's a good thing that you can see whether your emails have been read, but if he can't muster the energy or interest to email, then good riddance.

Greg responded quickly, with a good-length email about various national parks he's visited and Hawaii. He also sent a followup, with a P.S. that he's a big Cubs and Red Sox fan. Again, plenty of material to explore in a reply. This is how I like an email exchange to go—easy to reply to and keep going, something to look forward to. I also like the quick replies, but I think that's a turnoff for a lot of guys. Besides looking like my day revolves around online dating, a lot of guys would rather not have protracted exchanges. But, again, I just don't like to jump into the phone call. I prefer to nurture things a bit. At the same time, I don't want to go on and on with the emails. I do, however, want to try to leave it to the guys to suggest phone calls (after some emails) and meet-and-greets. That's partly because I do kind of believe guys prefer a bit of the "hard to get" and partly because I think it's just more promising if it's the guy's idea. Fewer worries that he's acquiescing reluctantly.

I'm not seeing much action from Match—just a couple winks (although my profile has been viewed 121 times)—but I think that's because I've been listed on there for about a month and a half now. I'm old news. I may respond to one of the winks, just to get something going on the Match front. I might also subscribe to another service called, I think, Emode. On further review, I'm not going to respond to that wink—he's 5'10” and wants kids someday. I'm not yet to the point where I'll try to work with those traits.
***
I received my first email from a Match guy this afternoon, but he's 43 and an attorney. He does, however, note that he’s "comfortable in a suit and tie but just as comfortable in jeans."

I also just got another email from Greg. That makes three today alone, although one was only a P.S. I'm guessing I can respond without seeming overeager. I'm also going to respond to Mark from MM now.

While replying to Mark (some general stuff about the Bears and Cubs), I received another MM email, complimenting me on my smile and being pretty, and saying "letts meet." Sure—you had me at "hi how are you." These guys are unbelievable, expecting a woman to be willing to meet at the drop of a hat. Or a cheesy line. Even better, I looked at his profile, and he's 5'7” to 5'8”, 171-180 lbs., and answered all of the open-ended questions with computer gibberish. You know what, guy—let's meet at my place.

Greg seems eager to meet, inquiring about my weekend and weeknights. But he's also sending real emails, with some substance to them, so I'm not turned off. I'd be willing to meet next week probably. The meaty emails are a Catch-22—they're fun to receive and helpful for getting a handle on the person, but they carry the risk factor for unrealistic expectations. I guess my preferred approach is to exchange some meaty emails for a while, not longer than a week, talk on the phone, and then, if that goes okay, meet for a drink or dinner. I wouldn't commit to dinner without a good, lengthy phone conversation—it could be really painful, otherwise. When in doubt, go with the drink.

I've decided to subscribe to Emode for a month. The subscription included a free personality test (a $30 value!) that comprises a love personality test, the ideal sex partner test, and the finding Mr./Mrs. Right test. Great—according to Emode, only about seven percent of the population shares my love personality. Gotta like those odds.

More email from Greg—geez, relax, buddy!

Sept. 24, 2003--First impressions count

My Matchmaker traffic has already begun slowing down—only two messages this morning, and one is a reply from MARK773 (I guess I can probably just call him Mark at this point). He sent a fairly lengthy email, with some meat to it. He seems pretty normal, and he writes well. I've read online dating advice that you shouldn't let grammar, etc., deter you from a profile, and that makes sense, but, as an editor, it's difficult not to cringe at some of the stuff I read. First impressions count, people!

I'm so horrible. I see that a guy likes Whitesnake, Dokken, Metallica, Rush, and AC/DC, and NASCAR, and it's all over for him. Some of my guy friends like Rush, and I haven’t dropped them because of it, so what's the problem? Fortunately, this guy doesn't have a photo, so I don't need to bother with any further internal debate over this point.

Two more emails just came in. LENNIE345 lives in Racine and is 51-55; as if the line "I play Santa, wanna sit on my lap? Have you been a good girl?" isn't enough to rule him out. Or, for the question to get the ball rolling: "Are those really yours?" OUTSET779 asked a fairly good opening question ("What did you like about ‘Sunset Blvd’?"), but he has no photo and doesn't trigger the Matchmarker. And he's 51-55.

I'm going to spend some time on Yahoo today, checking out who they've pulled up for me and reaching out to any who catch my interest. Yahoo gives me 120 profiles, based on my saved search, some of whom look familiar, probably from Match. I finally resorted to paying for a subscription for this experiment (I’m still using free trials on Match and MM)--$42.95 for three months of Yahoo, expiring on Christmas Eve. I know there's some deeper meaning in that end date.

One guy writes that his match "should have a college degree (nothing is better than a intellegent woman with a good sense of humor) or at least have the patience to decifer a run-on sentence." Oh, brudder. This reminds me of when I would receive resumes and cover letters with typos, while in my old job. I always struggled with whether to let applicants know about their mistakes, so they could correct them for other potential employers (because they weren’t getting an interview from me after that).

On the other hand, when I launched my own communications business a few years ago with a direct mail campaign, a woman called to alert me to a grammatical problem in my letter. It turned out to be a false alarm (which is exactly why she needed my services!), but initially I could physically feel my future disintegrating, and was seized by the urge to grab a bucket at the thought of the thousands of dollars I had flushed down the toilet as the result of a single error. Granted, the consequences here aren’t quite so dire, but I still feel like emailing this guy to let him know about his misspellings. I think I will.

Bucktownboy wrote a really funny "About me," although he's conservative and his photos don't knock my socks off. And one of his interests is dancing. But nobody's perfect, right? I'm going to go for it because I laughed at loud at his text, and he's obviously clever, with a sense of humor:

“The Laws of Physics do not apply to me. I am respected by animals, children, and clergy. I invented the Internet. I designed the layout for the jazz club Green Dolphin Street on the back of a cocktail napkin while dictating the great American novel to my younger brother, who I'll call Hewson. I once taught a platoon of infantrymen to recite by heart poems by Walt Whitman without so much as moving their lips. Many of my peers know me only by the name ‘Satchmo’ and will swear up and down that I am a real stand up kind of guy. I voted for Bush. Twice. I pass my days making dolls for children in Africa and memorizing quotes from Victorian literature. I knit all my own socks. I coined the phrase, *It s all good* in 1987 in order to cope with the loss of my second true love (and never looked back.) I have thirteen diplomas, twelve of them honorary. Residents of Prague and Lima look to me as a pillar of strength and hygiene. I am three degrees from Kevin Bacon, unaffected by weather, and can tell a person's eye color by talking to them on the telephone. I let the dogs out.”

He continues with more “on the serious side,” listing his interests and the other types of information you usually find in this section. In my email, I called him Satchmo and referred to the Louis Armstrong song "What a Wonderful World,” one of my all-time favorites. I considered mentioning Kevin Bacon and "it's all good," but I didn't want to go overboard.

I just received my first email on Yahoo—45-years-old. What is it about me that attracts these older guys? Or am I deluding myself thinking 45 is "older"?

Heard back from Satchmo already—he said my offer is tempting, “albeit a week late.” He's trying to figure out how to hide his profile. Story of my life. And, out of 120 Yahoo profiles, I found three worth pursuing.

Swinging over to MM, I've heard back from SAVVY562, who said he browsed my profile before and thought about writing. He seems to want to go straight to the phone, though, having included his number. Call me old-fashioned, but I don't like to be the one to make the call. Plus, I generally don't feel the urge to go straight to the phone. How can you have a conversation with someone, in this context, without knowing more about him? I prefer to email for a while, both to confirm some mutual interest and to generate some topics for conversation.

When I get these "let's talk" responses, I waver back and forth between "I know I'd rather email for a while" and "Well, I don't want to turn the guy off." I usually resist the early phone call—if the guy is turned off by that, it's probably just as well. Either he's a "player" (per the MM warning email I received) or lazy and/or not really serious about finding someone. I want someone willing to put a little effort into this part of the equation, which is why I don't consider profiles without text. If a guy isn't willing to devote a little time and thought at this juncture, it doesn't bode well for the future.

In GABZOOM435's profile, under "Describe your personality and physique," he wrote: "I am too sexy for you." And too short, buddy. See ya.

Hah! I just received a message on MM offering to have casual sex. “Safe, casual sex,” no less—how thoughtful. He doesn't even include a photo! And the only text in his profile is: "Looking for the daring and off-beat. Really." Of course, he's only 26-30 (or so he claims), so maybe I should be flattered. And he does live in the neighborhood, and doesn't want kids …

Another MMer uses the name VERYSECURE991, yet he doesn't post a photo. Kind of undermines his username, I'd say.

Sept. 23, 2003--Lots of chaff, not much wheat

I awoke to about 10 emails in my MM account, dating back five days. One caught my eye right away—because it's from GIRLFRIEND353. Fortunately, she inserted a disclaimer in her message immediately:

"My name is Theresa and no, I’m not looking for a date. In fact, I’m married to a great man that I actually met on Matchmaker!! (Yes, this thing can work. Be patient. You’ll have to weed through a lot of undesirables, but you will find your gem! I did!)"

Gee, thanks for the encouragement, Terry. Her email, however, wasn't only to encourage me, shockingly. Instead, she's looking for women to host Passion Parties, providing "women an opportunity to observe, sample and purchase sensuous products … like a candle party, only more fun and laughs." More fun than a candle party—hard to fathom. I'm surprised she doesn't claim the products helped her snag her great man.

Yikes—two more emails have come in just while writing my snarky remarks about GIRLFRIEND. The volume of email you experience when you first post a profile can be so misleading. Kind of thrilling, of course, but misleading. It's only "new kid on the block" syndrome. Or should I say new chum on the block? And the sharks are circling.

I don't know how picky I should be with this venture—should I be more open-minded because I'm trying to gather material? Should I consider guys I wouldn't if I was doing this merely in the hopes of making a connection? It's probably too early to decide—as time goes on, I should have a better gauge of how picky I can afford to be. For now, though, and probably for the future, I can't imagine considering guys without any text in their profiles. C'mon, fellas—give something up! And someone 5'6” or 5'7”, or age 46-50, as in today's batch, ain't gonna cut it. Those criteria will probably survive throughout this process.

AJX508, who wrote while I was out of town, says he knows just what I mean about meeting people at bars getting really old. Um, AJX…I didn't say anything about that. You must have me confused with someone else. Not that bars are now, or ever really have been, a fertile meeting ground for me, but I don't write anything in my profile along those lines. Lost points for poor reading comprehension or at least sloppy organizational skills. Deduct some more for describing yourself as "chill" in your profile. It was one thing using the term "chill hip hop" in your email, but two "chills" are too many. And, perhaps related to your use of "chill," you're too young.

EMMNCO@GERMANY writes:
"Hi dear, Compliment of the day,how are you doing?well I saw you on this site then I decided to approch you for seriouse relationship,If will are willing here is my personal email address:ifeanyi_em@yahoo.co.uk I hope to hear from you soonest. Ifeanyi Emma"

Where to start with this one? "Why, yes—I'd love to have a serious relationship with you. I don't see the UK thing being a problem at all!" How handy that you provide your international phone number in your profile. And what a profile it is! The text mentions Christ and Christianity repeatedly, yet, under the Religion and Life section, he selects "Religion is not a part of my life." Personal habits of others that bother him: "Good habits." Spending habits: "Cheap is my middle name." Can't let this guy get away.
***
About five emails came in today, but I'm still plowing through the ones that arrived over the weekend. "How are you?" isn't going to cut it as an opening email, but it makes it easier to weed out a guy. And too many older guys!!!

Oh, that's nice—STEVEN892 lists a porn star, Jenna Jameson, as one of his favorite actresses. Somehow I just knew, even before I googled her name. Maybe because one of his “Favorite pastimes, sports, hobbies” is sex. Next.

I just realized I'm actually lending credence to the "Matchmeter," where MM assigns zero to four stars to a guy based on compatibility. If a profile comes up with two stars or less, I’m immediately downgrading the guy in my mind. How foolish is that? Similar or dissimilar interests don’t guarantee anything. The Matchmarker icon, on the other hand, proves pretty useful and time-saving. If a guy doesn't get the Marker, I know he doesn't fit my minimum requirements re height, etc. I wish it took into account proximity, rather than just physical or personality traits. I’m hearing from guys way out in the boonies, towns I wouldn’t want to commute to on a regular basis. (Does that raise questions about my commitment to finding someone? If I really want to find someone, shouldn’t distance be irrelevant?)

Odd—another email that mentions the bar scene ("looks like we found each other here for the sam reasons eh...bar scene sucks..lol"). I've pored over my profile, though, and don't see any mention of bars.

Oh, boy! TOMMYBOY835 posts three photos (which I do prefer to just one photo). In one, he's in a full Scottish kilt get-up; in another he's holding a large snake. Oh, yeah—and he rolled up both his t-shirt sleeves and jean shorts' cuffs.

OK, I've looked at them all, and haven't felt moved to respond to any. I set one aside to maybe reach out to later, but he's in McHenry, about 50 miles from me.

Moving to Match, five guys (I presume) have browsed my profile since last night, according to the handy-dandy counter. Quite a comedown from the 2,800 or so I registered on my last go-round with Match. But I know weekdays can be slow. Still, I wonder what the point is of the counter. I assume the idea is to encourage you—"Hey, look at all the people who've checked out your profile!" Au contraire, Match.com! It's hardly a big ego boost to know thousands have looked at your profile, but only a handful like what they saw enough to get in touch.

I just checked two more emails in MM. One, compiled from emails by various women on the service, warned about online “players.” The other, from a 41-45-year-old in a far south suburb, was captioned "Woohoo this hottie does it all." Uh…am I the hottie or are you?

Hmmm—MM’s “1-click matches,” based on the Matchmeter and my Matchmarker, generated 200 profiles. Only two of them stirred enough interest in me to email them. Not promising.

Is it wrong to rule someone out because he's Republican and his favorite actor is Chevy Chase? Or to reject someone because he’s wearing a bracelet in his photo?

Sept. 22, 2003--Getting an early start

I just returned from New Jersey, where I visited my friend Maggie and her husband (who she met online), stepson, and new baby. I heard back from MARK773 and received some other emails in MM (none of which look promising at first, cursory glance). I still haven't figured out how to hide my profile. Anyway, I've decided to activate all three of my profiles now—in MM, Match, and Yahoo—rather than waiting for Sept. 29. Why wait for some artificial starting date? I'll start a week earlier than planned and make up for it with the week I'll spend in Hawaii in a couple months. So the adventure begins tomorrow.

Sept. 18, 2003--Tracking or stalking?

Eleven days until my scheduled D-Day, Sept. 29, and I'm already cheating—not an auspicious beginning.

When I opened my Inbox today, I saw an email waiting from "The Matchmaker." My finger hovered over the delete button—it was, after all, lodged in with about 30 pieces of spam and only two actual emails. I opened it to find the message:

“You got mail.”

I forced myself to overlook the grammatical issue and read on:

“Dear LIFEISGOOD629, Somebody likes you. Why not take a moment to read the email that's been sent your way? After all, you might just find that the person you've been searching for has already sought you out.
Anthony,Your Chicago Matchmaker”

Somebody likes me? That sounds like a bit of an online overstatement, considering I've had no communication with this alleged admirer. I guess that would rate as mere puffery in the online dating world, where Lesson #1 teaches that nothing should be taken at face value.

Despite the fact that I thought my profile was hidden on Matchmaker (or MM, as I’ll call it), I found eight messages in my mailbox there. And one came from someone who I'd tagged for my so-called "Hot List," to contact when my experiment officially begins. His opening parry was remarkably similar to my own standard introduction: "I saw your profile and thought we might have some things in common. Take a look at mine and see what you think." His read:

"I enjoyed reading your profile, and thought we might have a few things in common. Check out my profile and drop me a note if you'd like.
Mark"

As I looked over his profile again, I remembered that I borrowed the "Icebreaker" question he included in his profile—“Cubs or Sox?”— as my own such question, posed for someone who reads your profile and wants to say hello but doesn’t know how to get the ball rolling.

What to do? Especially since I'm going out of town tomorrow? Should I reply today, or wait until my official start date of the 29th and explain that I've been offline for a while?

No such quandary with the others who wrote, especially the 51-55-year-old who lives in Arizona but thinks that we would connect because he grew up in Joliet, a far suburb. What's the story with these people who 1) live out of state and 2) are older and definitely out of the age range I've specified?
***
A lot of Matchmaker profiles don't include photos. I'm sure this comes off as shallow or superficial to anyone who hasn't tried online dating, but I generally won't consider those guys. They'd have to contact me with a great opening salvo; I won't even read their profiles if they come up in my search results. The truth is, physical attraction does matter, even if it's not the most important attribute (and it isn't). I don't want to get excited about meeting someone if I don't at least find him mildly attractive in advance. It cheats both of us. I’ve also read that married men trying to pass themselves off as single online often put up profiles without photos.

Having done this before, I'm looking for ways to cut to the chase—the meet-and-greet or "audition." I want to avoid prolonged email exchanges. Although I actually enjoy email exchanges and the great sense of anticipation that follows sending your latest message or reply, I've learned they can build up an unreasonable crescendo of expectations, expectations that can so easily crash down on you on first sight or at first meeting. Chemistry online doesn't necessarily translate to chemistry in person. The two forums are very different.

So, what to do about MARK773? I just finished creating a "Matchmarker," which will place an icon on profiles of guys aged 31-40, within 25 miles of me, with photos, at least 5'11" (which apparently means 5'10" for a lot of guys), income of at least $35,000, and at least uncertain about wanting kids. Sure enough, the icon showed up on MARK’s profile.

I think I'll send a brief note and mention I'm going out of town. I don't know why I'm even expending energy pondering how to handle this. I know well enough by now that I can reply and never hear from him again. It doesn’t take any commitment or even strong interest to send out an tentative introductory email to someone whose profile appeared on your computer screen.

I just noticed that MM allows you to track the emails you send, so you can see whether your message has been opened. That explains the hostility I sensed earlier from COACH912, who very shortly after he sent me his original email sent a follow-up:

“Hey, Princess: Too worried about breaking one of your Lee press-on nails to send a reply?”

Chicks dig anger, Coach.

Coach is a little trigger-happy. Give a gal a chance to compose a good response. Not that I intended to respond, but that's still a really foolish reaction, I think. People might be quickly checking their new messages at work, without time to respond. They might want to put some thought into their responses. Any number of reasons could explain why someone didn’t immediately respond—flaming is just poor strategy. But that’s one of the dangers of the immediacy spawned by communications over the Internet.

I don't know about that tracking ability in MM. It seems likely to promote obsessive-compulsive behavior, if not stalking. Not in me, of course …

Crafting my online profile

The first hurdle in online dating is assembling your profile. That's where you give your vital stats like age, location, height, "body type," hair and eye color, education, occupation, income, smoking and drinking habits, interests and hobbies, desire for children, and the all-important turn-ons and turn-offs. These are usually elicited through close-ended questions with checklist answers. The formats vary, but the services I've checked out generally request the same information. They also include some open-ended questions where members can elaborate, describing themselves and their "ideal match" in narrative form. Some services, like Matchmaker, are more comprehensive, with space for information like favorite movies and actors, life goals, pet peeves, your dream lunch date, what kind of superpower you'd choose, and perspectives on spirituality. Matchmaker leaves virtually no stone unturned, especially compared with the more bare-bones approach of, say, Yahoo, where members often enter nothing but their vitals.

I go back and forth on which type of profile is preferable—more information versus less. At first blush, it seems like the more information, the better. Wouldn't most people prefer to know as much as possible about a potential love interest? Why waste time on someone who possesses a trait or interest that you find intolerable? If that's the case, the Matchmaker profile, with its wide variety of probing, open-ended questions, would be best. On the other hand, with so much information at hand, it's easier to find a reason to rule someone out prematurely. And, really, how much information do you have about someone you first meet at a bar or through a friend? You're probably lucky to have as much information as the spartan Yahoo profile provides in that situation. You fill in the blanks as you get to know each other—that's what dating is all about. At the same time, having access to a wealth of knowledge can decrease the odds of suffering through excruciating or at least awkward dates for a relationship that's doomed from the beginning.

As I said, I go back and forth.

Fundamentally, though, most of the services use the same profile format. Like, I suspect, most people who enroll in multiple services, I'll post the same basic profile in all of them. I originally wrote my "About Me" a couple years ago and have updated it a bit for this venture:

"About three years ago, I quit my well-paying, secure job of seven years because I was miserable (I worked with lawyers--need I say more?). It was scary, but I've never regretted it or the way it's changed my life, attitudes, and priorities. I've had a lot of great times since then--trips to Hawaii (going again this fall) and the Pacific Northwest, launching a freelance career and getting a master's degree, beautiful days running by the lake, duffing on the golf course, or at Wrigley, Soldier Field, etc. I've appreciated and enjoyed them all to the utmost, but I sometimes wonder about how even more amazing these things, and my life, could be with someone to share them with. I've learned that sometimes you have to make good things happen. So, that's why I'm here. I'm just really enjoying life, and would like to see if it could get even better."

Similarly, I've sprinkled the same general description of my interests on different services across the Internet:

"Sports are a big part of my life--running, golf, tennis, Cubs, Bears. I enjoy dining out, movies, plays, travel, etc., but, as a lifelong Midwesterner, I try to squeeze in as many outdoor activities as possible in the summer."

And who, you ask, am I looking for? Well, my ideal guy would be 33-40, tall, and very intelligent, with at least a college degree (I have law and master's degrees, so education matters). He would own a home in the city and live with no roommates or pets, have no kids and want no kids. He'd be liberal, able to dish out and take sarcasm, a fan of both sports and arts, a reader, and an NPR listener. He wouldn't smoke, but he'd drink in moderation. He'd exercise but not fanatically. He'd have some ambition and a stable career but not one that requires a lot of overtime. For the sake of my profile, I've pared all that down into:

"I'm looking for someone with a well-worn sense of humor, including an appreciation for sarcasm; non-pretentious intelligence; and honesty. Basically, I’d like to meet someone with a 'business casual' attitude—relaxed, comfortable, and easy-going, but serious and dependable when it matters and willing to take initiative, in both his own life and our relationship. And, while it's certainly not the most important thing, I think you usually need a mutual physical attraction, too, if a relationship is going to go anywhere. Oh--and I give extra points for news junkies."

Now, I'm not deluded—I know the odds of finding someone who perfectly fits the description of my ideal guy are slim, and the odds of finding someone like that who's also interested in me are even slimmer. I am willing to compromise on most things, knowing everyone has "flaws" and that taking a rigid, checklist approach to the hunt for love is unrealistic and unlikely to succeed. There are, however, some areas where I'm less willing to compromise. For example, I'm 5'11", so I'm looking for a guy at least that tall. It's poor strategy to rule out shorter guys, I know, but I'm just uncomfortable dating men who are shorter than me. It makes me feel too big and brawny and unfeminine. I've been self-conscious about my height most of my life, and I don't want to think about it when I'm with a boyfriend or date.

More important is the question of children. For whatever reason, I've never wanted to be a parent. Even if I had wanted children all my life, I'd be setting that desire to the side by now because of age considerations. I'm already 36. Say, things worked out with someone I met today. If we dated for a year, became engaged, and got married six months later, I'd be 38. If I became pregnant within the first six months of marriage (which I don't think would be a good idea considering the relatively short courtship and marriage at that point), I'd be 39 when I gave birth. So, the earliest I could have a child at this point in my life is age 39; 40 or older would be more likely. I think that's too old, from both the child's perspective and mine. So, that's settled. No compromise on the kid issue.

That probably sounds foolish, that I shouldn't eliminate potential matches merely on that basis. But children are a major issue. When someone says they definitely want kids, they definitely want kids. It's not a compromise point, like location or musical taste or even age, or at least it shouldn't be. I think compromising on kids, in either direction, is likely to lead to difficulties, if not outright resentment, at some point down the road. With that in mind, it strikes me as unfair to both parties to even start something when their goals for a family clash. And clash is the word for wanting kids versus not wanting kids. So that's my mindset as I prepare to embark on this latest, and longest, online quest. I'm registered with Match, Matchmaker, and Yahoo Personals. Let's see what happens. And how long I last.

Prologue to the experiment

"I don't think this is working out," my boyfriend told me one Saturday night in August.

Huh. Well, that certainly caught me by surprise.

Earlier that day, Andy had sent me an email, with the subject line "Tonight":

"I know you don't like surprises, but you're just going to have to deal with it this time. I'll be over at 7pm. I really liked the play last night.
Andy"

We'd agreed on Thursday night to each take charge of a night that weekend. On Friday night, after spending a lot of time online, culling through dining and entertainment options, I took us to one of his favorite restaurants, followed by a play at a small storefront theater up the street from Wrigley Field. It was a nice evening, highlighted by tasty Italian food and cuddling and PDA at the play, but we went our separate ways after the final curtain because he taught a three-hour class on Saturday mornings.

Early on in our relationship, Andy had gone online to purchase a non-FDA-approved mouthpiece to control his snoring. Without it, spending the night with him was like trying to sleep on a runway at O'Hare, complete with full-body tremors. That Friday night, I'd suggested in my oh-so-coy-and-seductive way that he bring the mouthpiece the next night, and he readily agreed.

The next I heard from him was his email Saturday afternoon. He was wrong about me not liking surprises, and in fact I'd been hoping he'd show some initiative with his designated night because I tended to do most of the planning in our relationship. For a guy who owned a dog-eared, marked-up copy of 1001 Ways to Be Romantic, he showed a dispiriting lack of initiative or creativity, satisfied with routinely bringing me sad little 3-for-$10 bouquets from Jewel. Once, he had presented me with a shiny red blouse he'd picked up at Salvation Army--the idea was to put it on so he could rip it off of me--without damaging one of my own shirts with his passion. So I was excited about the so-called surprise. I wrote back to ask what to wear ("casual," he replied) and to remind him: "Don't forget your mouthpiece!" That's right, big boy—we're getting it on tonight.

I spent the afternoon by the lakefront near my home on the north side of Chicago, surrounded by picnicking families and strolling couples. Lying by the jagged rocks that line the shore, I tried to stop myself, but I couldn't help speculating about what might be in store. A romantic dinner? A boat ride? A show? The mind reeled. Well, not so much, actually. I knew the "surprise" might just be an attempt to hide that he had yet to come up with an idea when he emailed me. It easily could be another night eating at the Middle Eastern place in my neighborhood and watching a movie.

Nonetheless, I looked forward to the night ahead and was heartened when the buzzer rang at exactly 7pm. I pressed on the intercom to say I'd be right down, but the buzzer screeched again as I headed out the door. He looked faint as he climbed the stairs to my third-floor apartment, and he greeted me by asking for a glass of water. I tried to joke around a bit in the kitchen but got about as much positive reaction as George Bush at the Sierra Club. He walked into the living room and sat on the couch, where I joined him, confused.

"I don't think this is working out," he said.

Huh. Who knew?

Truth be told, I had an inkling. So, in fact, did my friends, who later told me they'd gotten the impression I'd been gearing up to dump him. Beat me to the punch, the bastard.

So, it really wasn't a big loss, at least as it pertained to Andy himself. In hindsight, he did me a favor—I probably would have kept going just because I was enjoying being in a relationship. There, I said it. I'm sure it's blasphemy to admit, but I liked having someone around, someone to do things for and with. Someone for dinners out and in, shows and other couple activities (not to mention the obvious). It was nice to not always be the single one at gatherings, and I felt like my friends were relieved I had found someone, too. I knew things with Andy weren't what they were supposed to be—I had compiled mental pro/con lists about him a couple times already, never a good sign. I thought I was compromising, in the spirit of a mature relationship, but really I was settling. And now it was over.

Five weeks later
Friday night—popcorn for dinner, with a Skinny Cow fat-free fudge bar for dessert. What a cliché. My friend Joel invited me to a movie, but as a freelancer, I'm spoiled and prefer weekday matinees where I can sometimes have the entire theater to myself. I opted to lay low with a DVD and was tired enough that I had to force myself to stay up to see Letterman's announcement about his impending fatherhood.

So, here I sit, in my single-gal nightwear of a green Tulane t-shirt and corncob boxers, in front of my computer at 12:20am, too excited to sleep because of the idea I just hatched in bed. I've known for years that I want to write a book, but I've struggled to come up with a good topic. I've also been frustrated with my dating life (or lack thereof), particularly my recent online dating experiences. To be honest, I've been looking for a reason to even continue with it, as it seems pretty clear that I'm not going to have much luck going that route, and yet what alternatives are there for someone who works at home, doesn't hang out at bars anymore, and is very wary about setups?

But the book topic is the more pressing concern—after all, that's actually in my control. Write about something you know, they say. So, how 'bout two birds with one stone—six months of my online dating saga, ideally providing reams of material for, at the very least, a long article. If I time this right, the six months will end March 29, my 37th birthday. Six months, though—can I last that long? That's a whole lot of potential rejection.

I've been listed on Match.com off and on, mostly off, for about three years now. I first signed up after a friend of mine endorsed it. She'd met a guy and was going to move in with him (with her son) after just a couple months. That was a little quicker than I tend to move, but she liked the concept, so I figured "Why not?" I was in a new job after years at a place that made me miserable and was bursting with the proverbial new lease on life. I was happy again and that's when you're supposed to have luck finding someone, "they" say.

I met a few guys and went on several dates with one, Jim, a fellow Cubs fan. I ended that, though, because he was just too negative. I appreciate sarcasm, but he had a cynical remark about everything: When a cop passed us while driving on a city street, with lights flashing and siren blaring, he insisted the cop wasn't going anywhere that required such urgency but just wanted to get around traffic. Jim saw the negative side of everything and not in a wry, amusing way. I was looking to get away from that mindset.

Then there was Terry. We had some really funny email exchanges (I owe him for directing me to www.mulletsgalore.com), but when we started talking about meeting, he mentioned a couple times that he'd hurt his foot recently. We met for lunch downtown, and it turned out he had a serious limp. We went out once more after that, but I felt like he hadn't been honest, and, shallow as this sounds, the limp made him shorter than me, so that was pretty much it.
Every once in a while since that first round, usually when bored or in the spring (it's a time for romance, I'm told), I'd re-activate my profile, but nothing ever really clicked, at least not mutually.

In the beginning of 2002, I dated Andy for a couple months. He was definitely more into me than vice versa and yet he never made any moves. One night, as he was leaving my place, I finally took the bull by the horns and went in for a real, prolonged kiss, from which he eventually pulled away. The next day, as we were driving down Lake Shore Drive to an exhibit at the Chicago Historical Society, he alluded to the kiss, saying that if it had gone on any longer, he didn't think he would have been able to control himself. "And the problem with that would be …?" I thought to myself.

There was a serious lack of chemistry, though. I really wasn't physically attracted to him at all. I broke up with him on the day of my 35th birthday party, when he'd have met my friends and siblings and I thought I would have to entertain him. Without any spark, I saw no reason to subject myself to that.

Around the end of that year, looking back over the year-that-was, I wondered if I'd made a mistake with Andy. I mean, he was interested in me and that seemed a rarity. And then I got an email from him around Christmas, just a friendly "Hey, how's grad school going? Hope you don't think I'm stalking you but I wanted to see how you're doing." I responded and tried to convey that I'd be interested in giving things another whirl, although I was only home for the holiday break before I'd be returning to DC until the end of March. He missed the cue.

Flash forward to Valentine's Day 2003. I would be flying home from DC for the weekend, and, a few hours before I was to depart, I received a Peanuts Valentine email from Andy. The weird part was that I kind of expected it; I wasn't at all surprised. We met for lunch the next day at the same place we ate the first time we met, a year earlier. Conversation flowed easily, although we didn't talk about "us" at all.

After I returned to DC, we had some soul-baring, painfully honest email exchanges about the pros and cons of giving it another try and ultimately decided to go for it when I moved back to Chicago. We broke up four weeks after a truck rolled through a stop sign and hit me while I was running; I suffered a broken rib, kicking off a period of forced abstinence. I'll never know if the abstinence thing had anything to do with his decision to call it quits.

I do know he wasn't very helpful the day of the accident. It wasn't one of those stories you read in women's magazines about "I knew it was love when…" I called him at 8am, from the side of the road where I'd been struck, and left a message on his machine (yes—he still relied on an old answering machine; no voicemail for him and he wore that fact like a badge of honor). Then I didn't hear from him until 4pm or so. He'd been home for a couple of hours but hadn't bothered to check his machine.

Anyway, I re-activated my profile the day after we broke up (about an hour before Andy reactivated his, which I took some admittedly petty satisfaction in). I got that usual initial flurry of interest and exchanged emails with a few guys, a couple of whom I met. The first, Aaron, I wasn't very interested in—he was nice enough and good-looking, but I felt ambivalent about whether anything happened after that. The other, after a four-hour "audition for a date" (as I call the initial face-to-face meetings), I was definitely interested in seeing again. We'd had a lot of laughs, ended up going from drinks to getting a pizza, and I found him pretty attractive. So, of course, he wasn't interested.

That seems to happen every time I re-up on Match. At first, the emails are fun, and it's a little ego boost that people like your profile or, more likely, photo. The sense of possibility, however short-lived, is a rush. But then you get down to meeting people and, whether you're interested or not, it can't help but hurt when they meet you and decide they don't want to see you again. I'm going to need to steel myself for the next six months, so I can bear up under the inevitable rejection. Of course, if I'm going to lie out all these rejections for the reading public, I'd like to have some success, too.

I need to get to bed now because I'm going to the Cubs game tomorrow. This raises one of my theories for why I have such poor luck with men—I like sports too much. Lots of guys say they want a woman who likes sports, but what they mean is someone who'll watch them watch sports and put up with their and their friends’ sports talk. They don't want a woman who actually knows the game, certainly not enough to cite stats and make cogent observations, or worse yet, who knows more than they do. It’s just like how they say they want a woman who’s tall, but really don’t want one too tall, and smart, but not too smart (read: smarter than them), and sarcastic, but not as sarcastic as them and their pals. And, of course, they all want someone who's comfortable in both jeans and a black cocktail dress. But I digress.

Anyhow, I hope I'm on to something. I think I can handle the blows to self-esteem inherent in this online dating stuff better if I can look at the greater picture of trying to accomplish a long-time goal—writing a book. As for the other—finding someone online (a "match," if you will)—I admit the possibility seems remote, but you never know. After all, Letterman's going to be a dad, for God's sake.
***

What the heck is this blog?

In September 2003, not long after a break-up, I decided to launch a six-month experiment in online dating. My plan? Subscribe to multiple online dating sites and keep a journal of my experiences, with an eye toward eventually putting together a book. In hindsight, I really wish I'd kept the journal as a blog, especially as the book publishing industry is so hard to penetrate. Ultimately, I decided, hey, better late than never. So I'll be posting my journal entries here, sequentially and as originally written. I hope you'll find it worth reading. And please be kind--it's not easy to expose myself like this.