Adventures in Online and Interracial Dating

Not even two weeks into the online dating thing, I have concluded that this is the breakdown of types of photos my “matches” choose to post on their profiles:

Also, I have been the recipient of such creative gems in my inbox:

Hey how are you?

Hay how are you?

hi!!!

hello—how r u?

Even on the internet, I am underwhelmed by the effort men put forth.

As mentioned before, I managed to weed out about three prospects. The first one, Really Tall Guy, just wasn’t doing it for me so I stopped responding to his e-mails before he even found out my last name. I haven’t received any hate mail yet, so I suppose there won’t be any decaying animal corpses on my doorstep. Rotting squirrel carcasses rarely bode well for the future.

Except that one time.

But I digress.

The second guy, the Athletic Trainer (whom apparently you all hate based on his profession alone), and I have talked once (on the dating site’s lame IM interface) since I last posted. We really enjoyed our conversation and decided to take the plunge and become Facebook friends. He invited me to go bowling with him and his friends that night (he was supposed to meet them at 9, this was at 8:45. I live about 40 minutes away from this particular bowling alley and I was wearing sweatpants. I declined). He then agreed that yes, that was probably not the best venue for our first meeting as I wouldn’t know any of his friends, and it would be loud, so we wouldn’t really be able to talk much.

Also, it was 9:00 p.m. on a freaking weeknight. Bitch gotta get her beauty rest!

Just sayin’.

We agreed we would plan something for another time, and I urged him to run along and meet his friends and we would be in touch. After looking over his Facebook profile, I’m feeling sort of “meh” about him. I can’t really explain it. He’s nice enough, and if he does contact me I will probably go out with him and at least give him a chance, but I’m not exactly checking my inbox every fifteen seconds.

Which brings me to the third guy, Smartass Engineer (or SaE for short, I suppose)—the gorgeous Asian man who shares my penchant for sarcasm, karaoke, and inappropriateness. We got flirty over e-mail and eventually exchanged phone numbers. He called me Tuesday night during American Idol and I didn’t answer (ALLISON WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF HER SONG, WHAT?), but I texted him to let him know I’d call him back in a bit. When I called, he gave me straight hell (in a joking way) about avoiding him for American Idol, but I was like, “WAIT DUDE, YOU JUST SAID YOU WERE WATCHING DANCING WITH THE STARS. WHO IS LAMER?”

I think we tied.

We talked for several minutes, and laughed the entire time. He wanted to make sure I wasn’t easily offended because he can be a bit crass sometimes.

Me? Easily offended? This dude should read my blog. I talk about eye farts and squirrels with rigor mortis.

He should be OK.

Then he invited me to go out for sushi this Friday (tonight) because I had previously mentioned wanting to eat some.

I have a date tonight! Woot!

Not only is this my first Online Dating Experience, it is also my first Interracial Dating Experience.

Two birds, one stone.

Also, I’m glad he’s not offended I wanted to eat sushi. You know, since he’s Asian and all.

Yellow man, white girl FTW!

If our phone conversation is any indicator, we should get along swimmingly. As long as he doesn’t try to rape me, kill me, or show me his collection of human skin, I will consider the date a success.

On insults, sperm, and booze

So, I received a negative comment on my last post, and I’m going to try not to go into a long rant about it, but I felt I should address what was said.

I’ve only read the comment once, and I read it hastily because my friends were on the way over to my house, so I don’t remember what all exactly was said in the comment. I know the words “slutty” and “immature” were used, and I am neither of those things. Yes, I have issues. I have problems I need to work on. I’m human for fuck’s sake. I can be a red hot mess sometimes. I acknowledge this.

Something I have a problem with is that I think too much. If I didn’t analyze, re-analyze, and over-analyze every situation, I probably wouldn’t have a blog. And if I did, it would probably read something like this: “I went to work today! I have a cat! I like Diet Coke! I am having a good hair day! Taco!”

And no one wants to read that.

I don’t want to write that, either.

So I’m going through a rough patch right now, and I’ve had a few weak moments. BEE. EFF. DEE.

That’s all I’m going to say about that. Moving right along . . .

I previously mentioned that I joined a dating site. I realize that I’m moving too quickly back into dangerous territory. But there’s a reason I’ve taken this step.

My mother.

Now, don’t go hating on my mom because of what I’m about to write. My mom is, in my mind, the greatest person to walk the planet and as far as I’m concerned she could have three heads and  fart out her eyeballs and I’d still think she was the best thing ever.

But my mom? Has baby fever.

Bad.

I’ve dubbed it Sperm Watch ‘09.

I suppose it all started a few weeks ago when I told her I went to a psychic and was told I would have two children—both girls.

(Also filed under Topics I Am Not Discussing: The validity of psychics and tarot card readings)

My mother is the youngest of nine. She is the only one of her siblings who is not already a grandmother (a couple of them are GREAT grandmothers—holy shit!!!!). Granted, she is the youngest, and she only had one child (that’s me!), so of course her chances of being a grandmother by now are slimmer than those of her older sisters and brother. But that still doesn’t stop her from trying to get me a husband RIGHT THIS SECOND so I can start becoming a baby factory and squeeze out some little tax deductions already.

Now, I’m not giving her false hopes. I told her when I DO get married and have kids, she’s not getting any more than two grandchildren. She wants three, but tough shit.

I also told her I was apprehensive about getting into a serious relationship. But I do want it to look like I’m trying so she’ll get off my back about it a little bit.

It’s really bad. Andy thought I was exaggerating until he saw my mom’s neurosis in action.

I shit you not. I was out at a restaurant with my parents this weekend, and when I came back from the bathroom my mom asked me, “Did you meet anyone on the way to the bathroom?”

“Yes, mother. I’m engaged.”

WTF?

As far as the dating site goes, I’ve met three guys. The first one to contact me who seemed decent enough is a guy who is 6′5″ and a little on the larger side. He’s nice, but I’m just feeling sort of meh about the whole thing. He doesn’t excite me. I haven’t e-mailed him back in a few days.

The second guy is an Athletic Trainer and he is HOT. He’s new to the area and wants to meet people. He’s supposed to be getting in touch with me about doing something this week, but I haven’t heard from him yet. Whatevs.

The third guy is Asian, and is also really cute. I think he and I have the most in common, but he lives the farthest away. We exchanged numbers and mentioned going to a sushi restaurant, but again, whatevs. I just wanna have fun.

And to end this post I am pleased to report that I am cutting back on the booze and cigarettes. I’m trying to concentrate on my health and happiness, and hopefully after that everything will fall into place as it should.