The geek in me is drawn to online dating like its legendary loot. All I need is one good day of writing, I told myself, and I'd have a perfect profile to woo all sorts of sexy, available women. On the internet.
That right there had a few glitches. First, I'm really not all that clever. Sure, I can imagine as easily as I'm writing here that I'll put together strings of words that will both cause the viewer to laugh at my daring wit, but will also interest her to simply stop what she's doing and write me only for the pleasure of picking my brain. Reality illustrated how wrong I was. I didn't realize that short essays were the staple of these sites, and suddenly I had flashbacks to my poor SAT Writing scores. Well, those wouldn't be able to save me now. I decided to instead focus on my winning personality.
"Describe yourself," the prompt suggested, "500 chars or less." What struck me was how breezy the entire thing was. Like it was asking for a glass of water. Chilled with three ice cubes, 500 chars or less. If I was to be honest, my dating site would read much like a primer on the Unibomber. "Stays at home," it would warn, "Basement living quarters. Leaves to eat and in case of internet disconnection. Allergic to sunshine and law enforcement."
Surely, I would have to use a different tack. "Agreeable!" I wrote hoping that the exclamation would make it exciting. I looked at the screen and instantly backspaced the whole thing. "Friendly!" too, made me look boring again, as did "Fun!" I didn't even type out Nice! as that seemed to me a death kiss. I wanted something a little edgy and mysterious, so I finally settled on "Will probably not fight you!" I decided to keep the exclamation.
After my profile was completed, I browsed the entire world of eager women. Luckily, most the websites could narrow the search down to just those close to me. Of my neighbors, I picked an age range near my own. If there was an option, I would have checked "Easy" but none was available. This part of online dating leads to my second problem. I quickly learned that there's an art to reading profiles as well as writing. There are several clues to look out for. Curvy was a red flag. It meant fat. Don't get me wrong, there are fat girls I would be interesting, but I prefer if the girls I were to pick up were trim. I'm personally quite scrawny, so I always feel uncomfortable with very large women. Another red flag were pictures which showed only part of the face from a strange angle. This also probably meant fat. Then, there were the profiles with girls too pretty that screamed "I'm easy, so message me and come get some!" These were always scammers. Nothing was more disappointing than e-mailing one extremely attractive girl who seemed very nice and approachable in her profile, only to be awarded with a link to a sign-up site.
Ultimately, after editing my profiles for many days, choosing the perfect profile pictures to share, and searching through girls for a perfect match, my search has still be unrewarded. My final problem is that all the available women just ignore my comments and messages. I just think that these are all places where infinitely more attractive people are meeting other attractive people and having lots of sex. Of course, this leaves average "oh, you're kinda cute" me sitting alone on my computer. These attempts have basically been an exercise in finding more porn, I suppose, since they've all led there anyways.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
Anime Convention Weekend (Part I)
This weekend tried my best to enjoy myself at Anime USA.
If you know what an anime convention is then you're probably aware that it's full of very young people dressed up as outrageous cartoon characters walking about and posing for nerdy camera-men. Unlike other geek-related conventions, which are as nerdy but full of harmless activities, an anime convention seems like nothing more than a farce, hiding the huge amounts of drinking and partying under the guise of "family friendly" activities. That's not to say that people go to these conventions to only drink and party, but I certainly do.
Anime USA (or, AUSA for those in the know) has always been a good time. Though I'm not particularly a fan of japanese animation, many of my friends certainly are. When they all come to town for a weekend, I learned that the cost of a shared hotel room for two nights is petty cash compared to the amount of partying I can rack up. I can put a few of these on my calendar, and the slow buildup the weeks leading to the event ultimately explodes into an incredible weekend reunion. For two, maybe three days, we're all stuck with each other in one hotel, hanging out, chatting, drinking, and dining together.
I was looking forward to this particular AUSA because of The Breakup and Move. A week after I began unpacking, I set aside a small luggage and drove to the hotel. Friends, fun, an escape from the thoughts that had been following me. I needed a distraction. Looking back, most of the weekend was a blur. I was just swept along by the personalities of old acquaintances. We all reconnected and filled each other in on our lives. Lunch, zoom. Dinner, zoom. Hotel bar, zoom! Drinking in the rooms, zoom! Meeting new people, ZOOM! Everything was a rose-tinted haze. Exactly what I needed.
More than the partying, though, what I needed was practice. A month and a half, yet I really still hadn't been on the hunt. My confidence was generally running on fumes. I felt like this was the perfect opportunity to talk to some girls and work up the self-esteem I had lost. Anime conventions are generally filled with nerds who just want attention. What's hard about talking to girls here, where they're walking around, hoping they'll get stopped for photos of their Chibichansailorchu?
For one, everything. When did talking become so hard? I never considered myself to be shy, but the whole weekend I felt like a ghost. I'd shadow my old friends, introduce myself to their friends, respond to any questions in five or less words. Was this how it's done? I didn't seem to be getting anywhere. I certainly wasn't chasing down pretty tail like I had imagined all week. Girls weren't jumping all over me, despite the distinct advantage I had of a new, sexier wardrobe. What was I doing wrong? By Saturday morning, I boxed my fantasies and decided to just enjoy myself. No need to work myself up.
If you know what an anime convention is then you're probably aware that it's full of very young people dressed up as outrageous cartoon characters walking about and posing for nerdy camera-men. Unlike other geek-related conventions, which are as nerdy but full of harmless activities, an anime convention seems like nothing more than a farce, hiding the huge amounts of drinking and partying under the guise of "family friendly" activities. That's not to say that people go to these conventions to only drink and party, but I certainly do.
Anime USA (or, AUSA for those in the know) has always been a good time. Though I'm not particularly a fan of japanese animation, many of my friends certainly are. When they all come to town for a weekend, I learned that the cost of a shared hotel room for two nights is petty cash compared to the amount of partying I can rack up. I can put a few of these on my calendar, and the slow buildup the weeks leading to the event ultimately explodes into an incredible weekend reunion. For two, maybe three days, we're all stuck with each other in one hotel, hanging out, chatting, drinking, and dining together.
I was looking forward to this particular AUSA because of The Breakup and Move. A week after I began unpacking, I set aside a small luggage and drove to the hotel. Friends, fun, an escape from the thoughts that had been following me. I needed a distraction. Looking back, most of the weekend was a blur. I was just swept along by the personalities of old acquaintances. We all reconnected and filled each other in on our lives. Lunch, zoom. Dinner, zoom. Hotel bar, zoom! Drinking in the rooms, zoom! Meeting new people, ZOOM! Everything was a rose-tinted haze. Exactly what I needed.
More than the partying, though, what I needed was practice. A month and a half, yet I really still hadn't been on the hunt. My confidence was generally running on fumes. I felt like this was the perfect opportunity to talk to some girls and work up the self-esteem I had lost. Anime conventions are generally filled with nerds who just want attention. What's hard about talking to girls here, where they're walking around, hoping they'll get stopped for photos of their Chibichansailorchu?
For one, everything. When did talking become so hard? I never considered myself to be shy, but the whole weekend I felt like a ghost. I'd shadow my old friends, introduce myself to their friends, respond to any questions in five or less words. Was this how it's done? I didn't seem to be getting anywhere. I certainly wasn't chasing down pretty tail like I had imagined all week. Girls weren't jumping all over me, despite the distinct advantage I had of a new, sexier wardrobe. What was I doing wrong? By Saturday morning, I boxed my fantasies and decided to just enjoy myself. No need to work myself up.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Friends and Furniture
I'm officially moved into my new pad.
It's been quite difficult getting into my new place. The old place was a bottom floor of a house. The second floor was a different apartment with an entirely separate entrance way, so we had the space for ourselves with no unwelcome guests. It was a beautiful one bedroom, with a full kitchen and bath, hardwood floors, and a fireplace. In the last year, the girl who broke my heart and I had made it our home. Together.
She moved two weeks before me. Faster than I expected, surprisingly, she packed all her belongings and moved. I was suddenly alone in a home that was too quiet, too large, too empty for my thoughts. When I woke in the mornings, the familiar creaks and groans of the house were now eerie and hostile. I went to sleep every night in a cold bed. I was a stranger in my own house, it seemed.
When I finally moved I was at once relieved and anxious. I walked into my old home, strangely small and at the same time too enormous. In the empty bare walls of my former home I felt both strangled and stretched thin. How did my life suddenly change so quickly? Life had taken a turn for the worst, it seemed.
My friends saved me. They showed up on moving day, helping to load and unload my furniture and possessions into the truck. They assembled my new furniture with me. They kept me going and distracted me when I felt like collapsing. People I haven't talked to in months showed up at my door, ready to lend a hand.
Suddenly, I realized that the people in my past lives were calling. People who had heard of the breakup had been calling me, offering me a hand when I needed it. I had talked to many of my old friends on the phone. People from 3000 miles away messaged me. I wasn't as alone as I had thought. The one dim flames suddenly burned bright with dozens of people I though I'd lost connection to.
Finally, I sat on my newly constructed bed, fresh sheets smelling of detergent. Boxes were piled around me. My new home began to creak and moan, and I felt at ease for once since the break-up. Here I was. I realized that with my friends around me, I could never really be alone. Finally, I began to heal.
It's been quite difficult getting into my new place. The old place was a bottom floor of a house. The second floor was a different apartment with an entirely separate entrance way, so we had the space for ourselves with no unwelcome guests. It was a beautiful one bedroom, with a full kitchen and bath, hardwood floors, and a fireplace. In the last year, the girl who broke my heart and I had made it our home. Together.
She moved two weeks before me. Faster than I expected, surprisingly, she packed all her belongings and moved. I was suddenly alone in a home that was too quiet, too large, too empty for my thoughts. When I woke in the mornings, the familiar creaks and groans of the house were now eerie and hostile. I went to sleep every night in a cold bed. I was a stranger in my own house, it seemed.
When I finally moved I was at once relieved and anxious. I walked into my old home, strangely small and at the same time too enormous. In the empty bare walls of my former home I felt both strangled and stretched thin. How did my life suddenly change so quickly? Life had taken a turn for the worst, it seemed.
My friends saved me. They showed up on moving day, helping to load and unload my furniture and possessions into the truck. They assembled my new furniture with me. They kept me going and distracted me when I felt like collapsing. People I haven't talked to in months showed up at my door, ready to lend a hand.
Suddenly, I realized that the people in my past lives were calling. People who had heard of the breakup had been calling me, offering me a hand when I needed it. I had talked to many of my old friends on the phone. People from 3000 miles away messaged me. I wasn't as alone as I had thought. The one dim flames suddenly burned bright with dozens of people I though I'd lost connection to.
Finally, I sat on my newly constructed bed, fresh sheets smelling of detergent. Boxes were piled around me. My new home began to creak and moan, and I felt at ease for once since the break-up. Here I was. I realized that with my friends around me, I could never really be alone. Finally, I began to heal.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Clothes and Shopping
My wardrobe is shrinking. It took me a few days, but I sorted through everything, trying to get rid of the junk. I had too many t-shirts. The piles weren't as pathetic as I expected. There weren't endless folded-up black tees with cartoons of videogames. Considering this, I believe I've been doing pretty well. Still, a t-shirt with a cartoon isn't a fashion choice, no matter what decade that cartoon came from.
Today, I went shopping at the mall. Two hours and $300 later, I bought several jackets, coats, and trousers. I'm trying to move away from a Tee-a-Day look and more towards shirts and slacks. Gone are my giant carpenter jeans, replaced with grey and black slacks. Adios Konami Code Hoodie (Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A) to be replaced with sports coats and wool jackets. Scarves are accessories, and not a D20 necklace.
How far do I take this? I've begun to sell my games, keeping only a handful. I'm changing my look. Do I throw away all my geeky activities? Get rid of my board games? Hide my PC and consoles? Do I start drinking Natty Ice and watching football and giving high fives to big guys in polo shirts? I want to be myself, but no one gives my self any attention.
Today, I went shopping at the mall. Two hours and $300 later, I bought several jackets, coats, and trousers. I'm trying to move away from a Tee-a-Day look and more towards shirts and slacks. Gone are my giant carpenter jeans, replaced with grey and black slacks. Adios Konami Code Hoodie (Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A) to be replaced with sports coats and wool jackets. Scarves are accessories, and not a D20 necklace.
How far do I take this? I've begun to sell my games, keeping only a handful. I'm changing my look. Do I throw away all my geeky activities? Get rid of my board games? Hide my PC and consoles? Do I start drinking Natty Ice and watching football and giving high fives to big guys in polo shirts? I want to be myself, but no one gives my self any attention.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
What a shame....
Rachelle has a boyfriend. Of course she does. She's beautiful and clever, so it shouldn't be a surprise to me, right?
We've been talking during our Monday, Wednesday, and Friday classes. Sometimes, we'll exchange a few words before the lecture begins. She's 19. Knows French, studying Arabic. I'm 23, honorably discharged. She bought a new Saab. A blue convertible. I flew to Atlanta to hang out with friends. Sometimes, she shows up late for class, and we can't get time to say anything. Some days we ignore each other until the very end, where I'll throw out a "See you later!" before rushing out the door. To where, exactly? I don't have class afterward.
Other times, she's there, waiting for me. My normal seat will be empty. As I sit, she will smile at me and offer a "hello." We might chat for 10 minutes while the class fills in. We'll talk about anything at all. I say her name, "Rachelle," during the conversation, looking her in the eyes while smiling. She'll smile back and look me in the eyes as well. Then, too soon, the professor will start his droning, and our sweet conversation will drift off as we scramble for pens and notebooks.
Still, she has a boyfriend.
We've been talking during our Monday, Wednesday, and Friday classes. Sometimes, we'll exchange a few words before the lecture begins. She's 19. Knows French, studying Arabic. I'm 23, honorably discharged. She bought a new Saab. A blue convertible. I flew to Atlanta to hang out with friends. Sometimes, she shows up late for class, and we can't get time to say anything. Some days we ignore each other until the very end, where I'll throw out a "See you later!" before rushing out the door. To where, exactly? I don't have class afterward.
Other times, she's there, waiting for me. My normal seat will be empty. As I sit, she will smile at me and offer a "hello." We might chat for 10 minutes while the class fills in. We'll talk about anything at all. I say her name, "Rachelle," during the conversation, looking her in the eyes while smiling. She'll smile back and look me in the eyes as well. Then, too soon, the professor will start his droning, and our sweet conversation will drift off as we scramble for pens and notebooks.
Still, she has a boyfriend.
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Lady-Killer
There's a girl.
In one of my classes, she sits next to me. Actually, when the semester started, I began to notice her across the room. She had long, dark hair. I noticed her cute top. Specifically, I noticed that she was wearing a cute top over her large breasts. One day, I decided to take the seat next to her. It took my two more classes before I could work up the nerve to introduce myself. I ran it through my head several times.
"This class is painfully bland," through the side of my mouth, "If you need someone to poke you awake, my name is Chris." She'd smile at me and introduce herself, falling in love with my wit.
"I need coffee to keep me awake," I could say, "Want to grab some with me?" She'd smile at me and we would fall in love over two steaming lattes in the library.
"Hi, I'm Chris," I finally spat at her. She sat down and smiled, "Rachelle," shaking my hand.
It's a start. Rachelle.
In one of my classes, she sits next to me. Actually, when the semester started, I began to notice her across the room. She had long, dark hair. I noticed her cute top. Specifically, I noticed that she was wearing a cute top over her large breasts. One day, I decided to take the seat next to her. It took my two more classes before I could work up the nerve to introduce myself. I ran it through my head several times.
"This class is painfully bland," through the side of my mouth, "If you need someone to poke you awake, my name is Chris." She'd smile at me and introduce herself, falling in love with my wit.
"I need coffee to keep me awake," I could say, "Want to grab some with me?" She'd smile at me and we would fall in love over two steaming lattes in the library.
"Hi, I'm Chris," I finally spat at her. She sat down and smiled, "Rachelle," shaking my hand.
It's a start. Rachelle.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Out with the old...
Today, I've jumped in with my first official steps toward dating. I'm selling my toys.
I listed most of my XBox 360, Wii, and DS games. Where they sat lovingly on my shelf, organized by genre and title, there now is an empty space on my shelf. The hole of dust in that one spot is unnerving. I decided that I didn't have time to go back and finish the games I hadn't beaten or to replay the ones I had. Instead, the games I enjoyed so thoroughly will fund my attempt to entertain and impress. Instead of impressing my friends with my gamerscore, though, I'll impress some ladies. Hopefully.
It's funny how hundreds of hours of my life can be reduced to a few brown paper packages. I hope these go to a good home.
I listed most of my XBox 360, Wii, and DS games. Where they sat lovingly on my shelf, organized by genre and title, there now is an empty space on my shelf. The hole of dust in that one spot is unnerving. I decided that I didn't have time to go back and finish the games I hadn't beaten or to replay the ones I had. Instead, the games I enjoyed so thoroughly will fund my attempt to entertain and impress. Instead of impressing my friends with my gamerscore, though, I'll impress some ladies. Hopefully.
It's funny how hundreds of hours of my life can be reduced to a few brown paper packages. I hope these go to a good home.
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