Hello stranger! The 30 day trial.

So, in May I decided to give the online dating game a shot.  After swiping hundreds of profiles here are the stats:

36 likes, 7 messenger conversations, 2 text message conversations, 2 dates set up, and 1 actual date.

My friend Kathy wrote this in one of her blog posts, “Sometime between my life before marriage and my life after marriage, dating changed. Or men changed. Or maybe I changed.  The playfulness of dating has been replaced by nice-to-meet-you-goodbye.”

I love this post (as well as the incredible ladies at canihaveabite) and how honest it was in 2013 and more so today.  My online dating experience was short lived because I thrive on meeting new people face to face and seriously despise social media. My love for you will not grow because of a profile picture and a few text messages. We, as humans need to interact with each other.  Online dating is a tool to get to that interaction, but needs to be used in moderation.

How did the one actual date end up? Well, we had a nice dinner, conversation then a short walk to get shaved ice, and then we said goodbye. There wasn’t a “see you later” or “I will call you.” We both knew that there were no sparks and that was OK. I met a nice person that I got to know more about and that I wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t try.

So, the story that seems to be the most interesting is the date that never was. This was a tragic tale. I have heard from many women that “men are assholes” and on the flip side I have heard from men that “women are crazy”. Which came first? The chicken or the egg? Hold that thought. I will return to that very question. I really do not know how to write this without the he said she said. Here are the cliff notes since I didn’t screen shot the conversation. The date was set in motion by some personal rapid fire questions followed by some basic pics and a little healthy banter.  Then came the text the night before “the date”. “I am getting a little anxious” then followed up with “my anxiety doesn’t control me, I control my anxiety”. The morning of the arranged date I get a message stating that my “date” had a knot in her hair. A knot, really??? After some light ribbing I said that I have to see this. So, there I sat looking at a picture of the back of a persons head that looked liked some one has spent a week in bed and never brushed their hair.  How does that even happen? I said that maybe she can put on a hat and we can go to Chipotle. She called me an asshole and said that I was probably the one who did it. What? As polite as I could, I wished her luck with her hair and blocked her.  So, which came first?  maybe it’s the assholes that encourages the crazy or visa versa:)

Thank you for reading and remember, Every friend you have today was once a stranger to you (even the assholes and crazies).