Drumroll please...I went on my first match.com date last night!! Generally, I don't get particularly nervous before first dates. Not so this time. I was kind of sort of nervous ALL DAY LONG. The more I thought about it, the weirder it felt. I was about to have drinks with someone I had never even met! My friends pointed out that it's really no different from going on a first date with someone you met at a bar. When you meet someone at a bar, you probably chat on average for 10-60 minutes? Long enough to know where they're from, what they do, where they went to school and maybe another tidbit or two. When you meet someone online, you probably exchange a few emails. Long enough to know where they're from, what they do, where they went to school and probably a few MORE tidbits.
So really, the only bit that really distinguishes the two is the looks factor. But even that is debatable, becuase when you meet someone at a bar, it's likely that you've been drinking. Is your hazey memory of that "cute guy" really more accurate than the 5 to 10 pictures that a guy picks to put on a dating site? I'm not so sure.
All things considered, it should be a relatively level playing field. EXCEPT for that good ol' intangible thing called chemistry. I kind of hate that word. It's such a dating buzzword, like "networking" and "work-life balance" (which I realize is 3 words). But even so, I'm starting to think "chemistry" is just another reason that it's less likely I'll meet someone with actual potential on match.
The thing is, I nix guys who message or wink at me purely based on their profiles. And well, 80% of my decision is based on their pictures. Now, I don't think that's unfair of me, considering that's basically all you have to go on when you're looking at someone's profile. BUT if I look back at the guys I've dated and been attracted to in the past, I can pretty definitively say that I probably would've ignored them too had I only seen their match profile. The reason for my attraction to them wasn't necessarily that they expressed themselves well in words or that they were photogenic. Nope, it was almost always simply chemistry.
So if I wasn't already underwhelmed by match, now I'm becoming increasingly skeptical. Who knows, maybe one day, the stars will align and I'll find someone with a good profile AND chemistry. But as far as Match Date #1 is concerned, well, it just wasn't there.
Showing posts with label First Dates. Show all posts
Showing posts with label First Dates. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Not What You Said But How You Said It
So I went on a date last weekend with this guy that I met the weekend before that. My initial impression of him was pretty lukewarm, but I was feeling open-minded about the whole thing because the date itself sounded promising. It was the first gorgeous spring day in New York, and the plan was to picnic in the park. Unfortunately, the picnic was a Disaster with a capital D. Had it been any other guy, I'm sure I would've just said, "Let's pretend this never happened and go on a second first date."
But with him, I didn't. I couldn't quite put my finger on what I disliked about him initially. My first thought was, well, he was nice...I guess. And he was...I guess. He was polite, good-natured, maybe a little boring, but there was nothing overtly offensive about him. Which of course made me feel a smidge guilty for nixing him after the first date, especially since it wasn't really his fault that the date was a Disaster. But thinking back, I now know what it was that I didn't like about him. He was just like any other career-obsessed, full-of-himself guy in New York, except that he tried to hide it behind his I'm-just-a-nice-humble-boy-from-the-midwest facade. And it was that facade that I found the most offensive.
The thing about living in New York is that everyone you meet tends to be young and successful. Everyone has something to be proud of, whether it's the guy in the suit on his BlackBerry who just closed a multimillion dollar deal or the guy working the night shift in the copy center who also happens to be a back-up dancer in hit music videos. Sometimes you can never tell what a person has achieved so far, while other times they wear it on their sleeves. I have certainly met my fair share of arrogant douchebags, but not once in my last year of dating lawyers, bankers, hedge fund managers, architects and doctors did I have someone give me a full and very detailed run-down of his resume. On a first date. Which is what this guy did.
It was as though he felt compelled to explain his success because maybe it wasn't immediately obvious from his job title. Fair enough. I had never heard of his company, so sure, it was enlightening to hear what he did. But he didn't stop there. He proceeded to tell me the full story of how he got his first job, why he decided to leave his first job, how he wound up getting his second job, why his second employer moved him to New York, and THEN, he went on to tell me how his dad's business was bought out by a major company, how his parents looked to buy their winter house in several tropical countries before settling on Florida, and how his 21-year-old brother had a wildly successful club-promoting career on par with the 40-year-olds in the industry.
And all of this in approximately an hour.
So okay, after writing it all down, he does sound pretty awful. But really, that wasn't even the worst part! Sure, it was partly what he said, but it definitely more how he said it. How he pretended to be humble. How he pretended like he was just telling me stories about his life when he was doing nothing more than spewing and gushing about how great he was.
Which is only mildly ironic considering the reason the date was a Disaster was that he had diarrhea.
But with him, I didn't. I couldn't quite put my finger on what I disliked about him initially. My first thought was, well, he was nice...I guess. And he was...I guess. He was polite, good-natured, maybe a little boring, but there was nothing overtly offensive about him. Which of course made me feel a smidge guilty for nixing him after the first date, especially since it wasn't really his fault that the date was a Disaster. But thinking back, I now know what it was that I didn't like about him. He was just like any other career-obsessed, full-of-himself guy in New York, except that he tried to hide it behind his I'm-just-a-nice-humble-boy-from-the-midwest facade. And it was that facade that I found the most offensive.
The thing about living in New York is that everyone you meet tends to be young and successful. Everyone has something to be proud of, whether it's the guy in the suit on his BlackBerry who just closed a multimillion dollar deal or the guy working the night shift in the copy center who also happens to be a back-up dancer in hit music videos. Sometimes you can never tell what a person has achieved so far, while other times they wear it on their sleeves. I have certainly met my fair share of arrogant douchebags, but not once in my last year of dating lawyers, bankers, hedge fund managers, architects and doctors did I have someone give me a full and very detailed run-down of his resume. On a first date. Which is what this guy did.
It was as though he felt compelled to explain his success because maybe it wasn't immediately obvious from his job title. Fair enough. I had never heard of his company, so sure, it was enlightening to hear what he did. But he didn't stop there. He proceeded to tell me the full story of how he got his first job, why he decided to leave his first job, how he wound up getting his second job, why his second employer moved him to New York, and THEN, he went on to tell me how his dad's business was bought out by a major company, how his parents looked to buy their winter house in several tropical countries before settling on Florida, and how his 21-year-old brother had a wildly successful club-promoting career on par with the 40-year-olds in the industry.
And all of this in approximately an hour.
So okay, after writing it all down, he does sound pretty awful. But really, that wasn't even the worst part! Sure, it was partly what he said, but it definitely more how he said it. How he pretended to be humble. How he pretended like he was just telling me stories about his life when he was doing nothing more than spewing and gushing about how great he was.
Which is only mildly ironic considering the reason the date was a Disaster was that he had diarrhea.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
A First First Date
Tonight I went on a first date. My first First Date since 'D'. Obviously it didn't go that well considering it's 11pm and I'm home and blogging about it. Honestly though, it wasn't actually a bad date. It was really quite pleasant. But even so, the minute I got into that cab, I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.
I know that sounds all sorts of terrible, especially because really, the date wasn't actually bad. He was on the short side but cuter than I remembered. He had some funny stories and he shared my love of Arrested Development. While I was there, I had a good time. But the minute I was alone again, it hit me. I was out on first dates...again.
In so many ways, this was the perfect first First Date to go on. I had absolutely no expectations. It was practically a blind date. I didn't know anything about him apart from his name and the fact that he had a 617 number and so probably had some connection to Boston. I met him three days after things ended with 'D', when I was at Spitzer's (again). I ran into him on my way out of, and on his way to, the bathroom. (Yeah, totally romantic.) He was basically like, "Hey, I was actually going to come over and talk to you and your friend in a minute." So we had a quick chat, I gave him my number, he called and I agreed to have a drink with him.
Despite the many, many random guys I've given my number out to at bars, I've actually only gone out with 2 (now 3) of them. And, not because of any fatal flaw of their own, none of them have made it past the first date. And this latest one is probably not going to be an exception to that rule.
It's just that as LOW as my expectations were for this date (and they were lowest they could be since I had none), I was still disappointed. I was disappointed all over again by 'D' and the fact that here I am, out on first dates again when all I really want is to be with someone who knows me, inside and out, who understands me, who loves me, and who, despite the fact that he could, would never, ever break my heart.
I know that sounds all sorts of terrible, especially because really, the date wasn't actually bad. He was on the short side but cuter than I remembered. He had some funny stories and he shared my love of Arrested Development. While I was there, I had a good time. But the minute I was alone again, it hit me. I was out on first dates...again.
In so many ways, this was the perfect first First Date to go on. I had absolutely no expectations. It was practically a blind date. I didn't know anything about him apart from his name and the fact that he had a 617 number and so probably had some connection to Boston. I met him three days after things ended with 'D', when I was at Spitzer's (again). I ran into him on my way out of, and on his way to, the bathroom. (Yeah, totally romantic.) He was basically like, "Hey, I was actually going to come over and talk to you and your friend in a minute." So we had a quick chat, I gave him my number, he called and I agreed to have a drink with him.
Despite the many, many random guys I've given my number out to at bars, I've actually only gone out with 2 (now 3) of them. And, not because of any fatal flaw of their own, none of them have made it past the first date. And this latest one is probably not going to be an exception to that rule.
It's just that as LOW as my expectations were for this date (and they were lowest they could be since I had none), I was still disappointed. I was disappointed all over again by 'D' and the fact that here I am, out on first dates again when all I really want is to be with someone who knows me, inside and out, who understands me, who loves me, and who, despite the fact that he could, would never, ever break my heart.
Friday, January 29, 2010
A Half-Hearted Apology & A Story
I was brainstorming what I should write about today and 9 out of 10 ideas were about...dun dun dun. Boys! Dating too, but mostly boys. I paused for a moment of self-loathing. And then I got over it.
I do hate that so many of these posts are probably going to be about boys. I bet I sound super boy crazy. Maybe I am. I don't really feel like I should have to apologize for it (because wouldn't that essentially be apologizing for who I am at this moment in my life?), but I kind of want to apologize for it. I want to apologize to the 18-year-old me who hoped never to become one of those girls whose life revolved around boys. Sorry hon. But you also thought you would be married by the time you were my age.
So I admit it. Sometimes my life does revolve around boys. In any case, it's certainly the most interesting topic in my life right now. I hardly think there are many people out there who want to read about my dating escapades, but I'm quite sure there are even fewer who would want to read about how I skipped out of work today for 2 hours to go to MoMA, or how I got free shipping on my last J.Crew order or how I hit Bobby Flay with my shopping cart when I went grocery shopping at Whole Foods. Ha! I just threw that last one in there to make it seem like my life is a lot cooler than it is (though I did almost bump into him once). Anyway, this is all to say that sadly this blog may end up becoming a little one-note. So, sorry.
And now for the story!
I wanted to write about the worst date I've been on in the last year. But in the spirit of not becoming That Bitter Single Girl, I decided instead to write about the BEST date I went on this year. When I first starting thinking about it, there wasn't actually a clear winner. Despite all my griping, I actually did go on some pretty great dates this year. There were several nearly-perfect dinner dates where we never ran out of things to talk about, continued with drinks after, and ended the night with a good-night kiss (or two or three). There was an amazingly cheesy date when we went ice-skating at the outdoor rink in Bryant Park, surrounded by skyscrapers and a beautifully-lit Christmas tree, just after it had snowed and everything was dusted with a film of white. And then there were those great "dates" when we ordered greasy take-out, sat on the couch and relished being comfortable enough with each other to just stay in.
But the date I recall the most fondly was none of the above. Actually I'm not sure I can even call it a date. The night I recall the most fondly then.
His name was...hmmm. No, no, I remember his name. But maybe it isn't exactly fair to put his name on here when I'm not even sharing mine. So, let's just call him 'A'. I was out with some friends at Spitzer's one night when I spied these three guys in the corner of the bar, chatting amongst themselves. When I looked over, one of them gave me this big, toothy, super cute smile. I smiled back (I think) but that was it. My friends and I left the bar not too long afterwards and went down the street to another bar, where the night continued pretty uneventfully. The bar was starting to empty out and we were getting ready to call it a night when three guys walked in. The SAME three guys from Spitzer's. 'A' took one glance at me, pointed and practically screeched, "YOU! You were at Spitzer's!!!! I gave you a HUGE smile and you didn't even come over and say hi!"
I have to pause the story for a second. Doesn't this sound like the beginning of the most perfect how-I-met-your-mother kind of story? Yeah. Sadly, it didn't turn out that way. Instead it turned out that 'A' was moving to Seattle in three days. Three! Just my luck. We ended up talking until we closed the bar down at 4am. There was no initial plan to exchange numbers. What was the point, right? But then his friend practically forced him to ask for mine. And I figured, what the hell. It's not like he was going to call anyway.
But he did. Since he was moving, he had a pretty jam-packed schedule, but I agreed to meet up with him and oh, just TWENTY, of his friends the next night for drinks. They were throwing him a going-away barbeque and then heading to their favorite bar for one last hurrah. So, I went. And I brought two friends along as airbags. I couldn't quite believe myself. Was I really about to meet up with some random guy who was about to move and his entire group of friends? Sure, I'd done some out-of-character things in the past year but certainly nothing this pointless?
One of the first things 'A' said when we arrived was, "I bet in 19 hours, you'll wish I wasn't moving to Seattle." Oh god. Really? I rolled my eyes. And then four hours later, I was wishing he wasn't moving to Seattle.
Apart from the slightly cocky personality, he was amazing. He was easy to talk to and struck just the right balance of talking to me AND my friends but without completely ignoring all of his friends. He was a recently laid-off architect whose latest project had just been completed. He asked if I'd seen it (I hadn't), so when everyone else cleared out, we hopped in a cab and headed over to check it out. It was a gorgeous building. Even more gorgeous was the passion with which he described it. I know nothing about building construction, so he could have been making everything up, but even if that was the case, it was pretty hot. We wandered through all these back areas of the building with him pointing out all sorts of architectural details along the way. And then made out in a stairwell. And then he moved to Seattle and I never heard from him again.
Sometimes I wonder if that's why I can still look back on that night so fondly. Is it simply because there was nothing for me or him to feel sorry for at the end of the day? Is it simply because no one got hurt in the process? Would I still feel the same way about him if he hadn't moved to Seattle and we had actually gone on a second or third or fourth date? I guess I will never know the answer to these questions, but I do know this.
Sometimes it's the things we do in life that we think are pointless that end up becoming the things we enjoy the most.
I do hate that so many of these posts are probably going to be about boys. I bet I sound super boy crazy. Maybe I am. I don't really feel like I should have to apologize for it (because wouldn't that essentially be apologizing for who I am at this moment in my life?), but I kind of want to apologize for it. I want to apologize to the 18-year-old me who hoped never to become one of those girls whose life revolved around boys. Sorry hon. But you also thought you would be married by the time you were my age.
So I admit it. Sometimes my life does revolve around boys. In any case, it's certainly the most interesting topic in my life right now. I hardly think there are many people out there who want to read about my dating escapades, but I'm quite sure there are even fewer who would want to read about how I skipped out of work today for 2 hours to go to MoMA, or how I got free shipping on my last J.Crew order or how I hit Bobby Flay with my shopping cart when I went grocery shopping at Whole Foods. Ha! I just threw that last one in there to make it seem like my life is a lot cooler than it is (though I did almost bump into him once). Anyway, this is all to say that sadly this blog may end up becoming a little one-note. So, sorry.
And now for the story!
I wanted to write about the worst date I've been on in the last year. But in the spirit of not becoming That Bitter Single Girl, I decided instead to write about the BEST date I went on this year. When I first starting thinking about it, there wasn't actually a clear winner. Despite all my griping, I actually did go on some pretty great dates this year. There were several nearly-perfect dinner dates where we never ran out of things to talk about, continued with drinks after, and ended the night with a good-night kiss (or two or three). There was an amazingly cheesy date when we went ice-skating at the outdoor rink in Bryant Park, surrounded by skyscrapers and a beautifully-lit Christmas tree, just after it had snowed and everything was dusted with a film of white. And then there were those great "dates" when we ordered greasy take-out, sat on the couch and relished being comfortable enough with each other to just stay in.
But the date I recall the most fondly was none of the above. Actually I'm not sure I can even call it a date. The night I recall the most fondly then.
His name was...hmmm. No, no, I remember his name. But maybe it isn't exactly fair to put his name on here when I'm not even sharing mine. So, let's just call him 'A'. I was out with some friends at Spitzer's one night when I spied these three guys in the corner of the bar, chatting amongst themselves. When I looked over, one of them gave me this big, toothy, super cute smile. I smiled back (I think) but that was it. My friends and I left the bar not too long afterwards and went down the street to another bar, where the night continued pretty uneventfully. The bar was starting to empty out and we were getting ready to call it a night when three guys walked in. The SAME three guys from Spitzer's. 'A' took one glance at me, pointed and practically screeched, "YOU! You were at Spitzer's!!!! I gave you a HUGE smile and you didn't even come over and say hi!"
I have to pause the story for a second. Doesn't this sound like the beginning of the most perfect how-I-met-your-mother kind of story? Yeah. Sadly, it didn't turn out that way. Instead it turned out that 'A' was moving to Seattle in three days. Three! Just my luck. We ended up talking until we closed the bar down at 4am. There was no initial plan to exchange numbers. What was the point, right? But then his friend practically forced him to ask for mine. And I figured, what the hell. It's not like he was going to call anyway.
But he did. Since he was moving, he had a pretty jam-packed schedule, but I agreed to meet up with him and oh, just TWENTY, of his friends the next night for drinks. They were throwing him a going-away barbeque and then heading to their favorite bar for one last hurrah. So, I went. And I brought two friends along as airbags. I couldn't quite believe myself. Was I really about to meet up with some random guy who was about to move and his entire group of friends? Sure, I'd done some out-of-character things in the past year but certainly nothing this pointless?
One of the first things 'A' said when we arrived was, "I bet in 19 hours, you'll wish I wasn't moving to Seattle." Oh god. Really? I rolled my eyes. And then four hours later, I was wishing he wasn't moving to Seattle.
Apart from the slightly cocky personality, he was amazing. He was easy to talk to and struck just the right balance of talking to me AND my friends but without completely ignoring all of his friends. He was a recently laid-off architect whose latest project had just been completed. He asked if I'd seen it (I hadn't), so when everyone else cleared out, we hopped in a cab and headed over to check it out. It was a gorgeous building. Even more gorgeous was the passion with which he described it. I know nothing about building construction, so he could have been making everything up, but even if that was the case, it was pretty hot. We wandered through all these back areas of the building with him pointing out all sorts of architectural details along the way. And then made out in a stairwell. And then he moved to Seattle and I never heard from him again.
Sometimes I wonder if that's why I can still look back on that night so fondly. Is it simply because there was nothing for me or him to feel sorry for at the end of the day? Is it simply because no one got hurt in the process? Would I still feel the same way about him if he hadn't moved to Seattle and we had actually gone on a second or third or fourth date? I guess I will never know the answer to these questions, but I do know this.
Sometimes it's the things we do in life that we think are pointless that end up becoming the things we enjoy the most.
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