O' Canada, O' Canada!

I finally reached my 50th view on match.com and as I promised myself, I purchased a paying membership for 3 months. Woo-hoo! Let the games begin. After my credit card was approved, I unlocked the gates to the magical kingdom. I could now see who had been viewing me and could actually start contacting the thousands of unsuspecting women in my metro area.

The first thing I did was see who viewed me. Not bad, quite a few cuties in that list. The second thing I did was check my email. I had received four emails. Before I payed for membership I received these emails but with a decade of internet experience and a lifetime of capitalism drilled in my brain, I suspected they were fake emails sent by match.com to lure me into spending my hard earned gold.

As it turned out, they were quite real with real questions from real woman asking about the real me. I carefully read each one, three or four times, checked out their pics and read their profiles. Then something caught my eye. I knew this was too good to be true. They were all from different States, hundreds of miles away. One wasn't even the same country. She was from Canada. That's right, maple syrup, hockey, free medical care and geese, Canada.

You wouldn't know her, she lives in Canada

Actually, I don't live too far from Canada. I emailed the other three explaining that even though I appreciate the response, I am not interested in dating anyone that requires a layover and luggage. I responded to Canada girl and re-read her profile. Turns out we have a lot in common, almost too much in common. In fact she is my clone, my doppelganger, except with boobs. Same age, same job, same interests, same hobbies, just about everything, except she is in fucking Canada.

I emailed her back with this observation and we chatted back and forth that night. Turns out, she is pretty cool, either that or I really like myself. She said she does travel to my area a few times a month and asked me to meet her next weekend. So just like that, I have my first date from match. I secretly hope we don't hit it off because well, she lives in fucking Canada!

Bowling alone

I've been trying this wacky online dating thing for two weeks. I'm now convinced that if you only limit yourself to online dating interactions you'll either go quietly insane from frustration if you're a man or if you're a woman, start adopting cats to screen your emails. Online dating should be just one of several tools to increase your chances of finding that special someone who you can endlessly annoy.

Since I'm the type to try anything once (I have the scars to prove it) I decided to join a local singles group on meetup.com. The group page listed all sorts of activities with photos of happy, smiling care-free singles hiking, salsa dancing, speed dating, happy hours, etc. This is exactly what I have been looking for. I can talk to a real live woman without waiting two days for a reply! Sign me up.

I signed up for the next event. I didn't care what it was, I just wanted to try it. The next event was 80's night at a skating rink. I love the 80's but haven't been to a skating rink since...the 80's. 1982 to be exact, my tenth birthday party. This could be really, really fun or I'll end up with broken ankle and an ambulance ride to the nearest hospital. Either way, it'll be an adventure.

Two things I hate. Rollerskating and the Dutch.

I RSVP'ed the event that day and within a few hours I was on my way to the roller rink. My first sign that this could go horribly wrong was all the mini-vans in the parking lot with those annoying family stick figure graphics in the back window. According to the meet up twenty singles were attending and I was to look for a purple balloon near the snack bar. I paid my fee, rented some skates and looked for the balloon and twenty awkward desperate singles trying not to fall flat on their faces. I saw three birthday parties, about a hundred kids, an old school Contra video game that I really wanted to play and there in the corner, five awkward adults but no balloon.

I skated on over, knocking into two kids and almost injuring a third and asked if they were part of the singles group. The lady looked at me rather strange and said "I'm married." "I'm Dave." I said, and skated off. I scanned the room and saw the only other adults were surrounded by birthday presents, kids and they all had large shiny rings declaring their marital status and that exhausted look only parents have. I wobbled on over to the front desk and asked the manager if he heard of a singles group meeting here tonight. He actually scratched his head, as if that helped him think and said "Nope, I reckon I would have heard about that."

So there I was on a Saturday night, a forty year old, single white guy in roller skates, alone, in a dark room with a hundred children. I thought I'd better leave before some overprotective parent called the police on me but not before I played one game of Contra. Not only was I stood up, but I was stood up by twenty people in one night. That's got to be a record.

Psst, little girl. Wanna play some Contra?

The next day, I received an email from meetup asking me to rate my experience. Needless to say my review was not stellar. I ended my one star review with the quote "I guess skating alone is one step higher on the loneliness scale than bowling alone." A few hours later I received a personal email from the event coordinator saying how sorry she was for my misfortune. Apparently since I was so new to the group that I was not yet activated on their email list. They had actually cancelled the event and emailed the entire group... except me. I replied with the attitude of shit happens and said I would attend a future event, one that involved more alcohol and less children.

At least bowling has beer and interesting people

"You're cool" is not an answer.

So earlier this week I sent out ten emails to ten lovely woman. Faced with the sad return rate of 1-3%. I was still optimistic in my ninja skills as a wordsmith though, so I patiently waited. 24 hours later, no response. 48 hours, no response. 72 hours, 3 responses. Wow! 3 replies. Yep, 3 replies from real woman and they were all from the women I wrote. I got the messages at work but couldn't read them until I could log in from home. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. Sure, there were only three presents under the tree but they were perfectly wrapped and three presents is still better than none. I logged in and opened my presents. Did I get my Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle? Nope, I got socks.

Yeah! Socks!

The first email present I opened consisted of one word..."Hi" The second was a little better. "Thanks for writing." The third one gave me hope. "Greetings and salutations, what brings you online?" Holy crap, this is something I can actually work with, a greeting and an actual question I can answer. Maybe this pair of socks isn't so bad, I needed a new pair anyway.

When I sent my initial emails I ended them with a single question. I figured a witty or interesting question would give someone reason to respond. Notice how two of the replies didn't even bother to answer my initial question and the third answered my question with a question. You might be asking what questions would warrant such a dismal response? I can't tell you that but they were somewhere along the lines of "What do you think an Oompa Loompa smells like?"

They do not smell like cotton candy

I ignored the first two emails but answered the third. I wrote a brief but engaging paragraph describing what brought me to online dating and followed up with a similar question of my own. A few hours my response came back. "You're cool!" First of all, I am cool but not fonzie cool, just kinda cool and second, What?!? Did I not just answer your initial question and ask you a similar question in return? Your supposed to answer my question and perhaps ask a new question in return. This is called a "conversation." It happens when two people do something called "communicate."

I was starting to get a little frustrated and replied back with a "Thanks" and followed up with the same question I had initially asked and a brand new question. That's two questions for her to answer. Anyone can answer one question but two questions might be pushing the boundaries of an online conversation, especially two questions in a single email.

I checked my email before I went to bed that night and saw that she replied. Would she answer at least one of my questions or would she have the intellectual capacity to answer both of them in a single email? Wanna see her entire reply? Here it is:

:-)

Yep, it's an emoticon.

:-)

Never tell me the odds!

I decided to dive right in my first week and start sending some emails to the lovely ladies of POF. I've seen some bad statistics on how often a woman actually responds. The average return rate is 1-3%. 5% is considered excellent. Say what!?! So for every 100 emails a guy writes, at best he can only hope to get 5 replies in return. I'd have better odds surviving the Normandy invasion of WWII than I would getting a response from a woman I want to take to Starbucks. Good for me that I played Call of Duty II and survived that mission without a scratch.

Last one out pays for coffee

I figured the best approach is to keep it simple, humorous, but show some interest without commenting on her boobs. So, two playful, teasing sentences about one of her interests. Three sentences about me and what I find interesting in her. End with an engaging question that she could reply back with. Sign name, send. Easy formula but difficult in practice. I found ten lovely women that I wanted to meet. I spent about twenty to thirty minutes carefully constructing each email and sent them off with a smile. Now all I got to do sit back, sip my margarita and ponder how I am going to juggle ten dates in one weekend.

Hello, is this thing on?

So my profile has been up for exactly one week now. I have discovered a lot in that time and have come to the conclusion that online dating is just like real dating, except exponentially more disappointing.

I went out to the bar Friday night and in my semi buzzed state I was wondering what your stats would be in real life at a bar if they were calculated just like the dashboard on match.com. There's probably an app for that. Let's compare

Dave's Bar Dashboard:

Dave's Actual Match Dashboard:

As you can see in one single night, I had much higher stats in real life than one week on match.com. I think I might be on to something here. I am optimistic however. I had 38 profile views in one week, That's 38 potential dating disasters waiting to happen.

I'll admit I haven't actually paid for match as of yet. I am spending much more time on POF, only because I can email women for free. That's right, for free! More on that in my next post. If I get to 50 profile views by the time my next paycheck comes, I'll sign up.

The Day After

It's official. I have joined the desperate lonely world of online dating. My profiles on match and POF are complete with my awesome lady killer profile and cool, sexy mother fucker pics. I even filled out my hobbies which include smelling gasoline and quantum physics and my interests. I left out debating which is the better captain, Kirk or Picard, for obvious reasons. I even took their compatibility and chemistry tests so they can match me with my ideal women. Apparently she doesn't exist according to their database. Finally, my profile is 100% complete.

So what now? I guess I sit back and relax and surely wait for the multitudes of adoring woman to send me messages, winks and favorite me? How am I going to manage my time responding to all those emails and juggling two dates on a Friday night and three on Saturday? Will I have to stop playing my Xbox in order handle all these new women in my life? These are the thoughts that keep me up at night.

I was pretty busy the day after I completed my profile. I couldn't wait to get home and check my messages and see how many views I received. I got home late, fed and walked my dogs, ate a quick microwave meal, sat at the computer and logged in. The anticipation was killing me. Has my dream girl found me? Not quite. Actually not at all. My results were to say less than impressive. Here they are:

Match:
No new emails
No new winks
No new likes
No phone alerts
0 profile views

POF:
No new emails
No one has favorited you
1 profile view

One profile view! Frickin sweet! OMG, she found me. Who was this woman who found me so irresistible and sexy she just had to view my profile? Wanna see?

It's picture day, picture day, a wonderful day for picture day

Now that I have my totally awesome, lady killer profile up and posted, it's time to add some pics. I scoured my computer and digital camera for any photo that makes me look like a sexy, attractive, cool mother fucker that I envision myself in my daydreams. I found four pics. Not four sexy, attractive, cool mother fucker pics, but four pics of me total and I look like a dork leaving a Star Trek convention. I have pictures of friends, family, waterfalls, mountains, flowers, my dogs and even a slug, but only four with me in the picture. Time to fix that.

I'm not a bad looking guy but not a great looking guy either. If David Duchovny and Shaggy from Scooby doo had a love child, that pretty much describes my looks. That's me, Agent Shaggy Mulder.

I'm also not the most photogenic person. I am much more attractive in motion. Just like a circus clown, when a clown is in motion, they are amusing, entertaining and funny. A still photo of a circus clown is downright scary, frightening and the stuff of nightmares.

After some more research I know what NOT to do in posting an online dating photo. Bathroom mirror pics, duck face, flexing with your shirt off, in front of your car, half cropping out ex girlfriends. Do guys really do this? Yes, yes they do. Is it attractive? No, no its not. Keeping common sense in mind, I went on a photo shoot to the park. OK, I felt like a total dork in front of the little league baseball practice, setting up the timer on my camera then running into place and smiling. Rinse and repeat thirty times. I also managed to find two other decent pics on my friends facebook page.

I posted my pics. I have five total. One of me in the park, one of me on vacation in Hawaii, an action shot of me skateboarding and of course one of me with my wittle, snookum wookum doogie, and my profile pic. Wanna see?

Idiot Genius

Now that I've decided on where I'm going to find my truly beloved for all eternity, or most likely the next few months, I need to post a profile. This is much harder than it seems. Again, more research is in order. Where as comparing dating sites was rather easy, what to actually say in your profile ran the gambit of completely ridiculous to absolutely boring. The best advice on this topic was not from Oprah or some pick-up artist but rather from my Mom when I was ten years old. "Just be yourself"

With an inflated self ego, I filled out my profile. I was as honest as possible. I mean you can fudge a little on your profile but some things you just have to truthful about. If you're 5'2 and fat and say you're 5'11 and athletic and toned and then actually meet someone in person... yous has some esplainin to do. So, after 8 cups of coffee, half a pack of cigarettes, and two hours of man vs. wild in the background, here is my current profile:

I am the artistic, passionate type always looking for new, creative opportunities to completely embarrass myself. I am smart, witty and fun, with quite the adventurous spirit. I am nerdish however, I've memorized the floor plans of the Death Star but can't tell you the first thing about football. That's the one with the stick and the ball, right?
I am confident but not a jerk, successful in the things that matter to me, ambitious, intelligent, curious and well travelled, open minded, a deep thinker but silly at times, down to earth, and loved by cute, fuzzy bunnies and other woodland creatures, except squirrels. Never trust a squirrel.
I grew up the poorest kid in the richest neighborhoods of the hot deserts of the Southwest. I migrated to the Northwest a few years ago and fell in love with this place and enjoy many outdoor activities. Not only because of the natural, scenic beauty but because I can go outside without spontaneously combusting.
Recently I have decided to put myself out there again, take some chances and see if I can find something meaningful. It's scary and exciting at the same time but I am looking forward to having some fun, new experiences.
So, If you're a woman who is independent, smart, a bit goofy, understanding, caring, a bit of a smart ass with a streak of hidden nerd, can cuss like a sailor but dine with royalty, you've got my attention.

Damn, I'm either a complete idiot or total genius, I haven't decided yet. Sweet, I just thought of my headline... Idiot Genius.

Critiques are welcome...

Five dollar shake

I'm still feeling downright giddy about the potential of dating again and using this new tool called "the internet" to quote my brother "hook-up with chicks". More research was needed and after reading endless articles rating one site vs. the other, I've decided on two sites. One free site and one pay site. I figured I'd get the best and worst each has to offer. I chose match.com and Plenty Of Fish.

Match.com seems like the Target of the dating world while POF seems like Walmart. Both are essentially the same store except one is has clean shiny floors, higher quality merchandise, a trained staff and the customers have all their teeth. The other has just about anything and everything but to get to the item you want you have to wade through a parking lot of dirty diapers and people like this.

They say you get what you pay for, so I am curious if match.com will be the five dollar shake it's hopped up to be or will POF be just as tasty? I'm casting a wide net here folks to live up to my full potential of failure. So now that I've decided on the site, the next thing I need to do is set up a profile...

In the beginning...

"He might not look like much kid, but he's got it where it counts."

And so it begins... After an all too long hiatus of living like a sheltered, half crazy hermit in my man cave I have decided to enter back into the world of mate-seeking. I'm fully healed and recovered from my time with "the-one-who-shall-not-be-named". It only took several years but what can I say? I am a slow healer and don't forget easily. I have a spring in my step, a permanently pasted cheezy grin on my face and a general aura that shines with possibility and adventure of meeting someone just as messed up and crazy as I am. But where to begin?

It's been a while since I've dated. I'm not going to say how long but let's just say the internet was still dominated by AOL and dial up modems. Internet dating was confined to chat rooms and only visited by thirteen year old girls and 37 year old boys. There was one reputable dating site and if you had a profile you might as well have tattooed a very large and dark L on your forehead. To my great relief, those days are gone and over and internet dating today is a booming billion dollar industry and is quite the norm.

Before beginning any adventure, be it taking a a vacation, going to a new restaurant, or online dating, I do some research into what to expect. My first stop was match.com. I felt like a diabetic kid locked inside Willy Wonka's factory. There were thousands of attractive women online in my age group and within driving distance who seemed they have the potential to be my next ex-girlfriend. I was immediately sold on this crazy interwebs dating thing. I couldn't get to bed that night as my thoughts were filled with all the beautiful, smart and funny women who soon would be begging and pleading for a chance to date the one and only me.