Not long ago, I swore off online dating. In my defense of entering into this wild arena again, I did predict that zero dates would ensue if I gave it up.  I did have one, if you could count it.  He privately messaged me on Facebook, and since we had several mutual friends, I asked around a little and received positive reviews.  I agreed to meet him “out” after he hit a birthday party.  I had some friends who were out at Mr. D’s, so I met them until I was to meet Mr. Fb.  He happened to be at the same birthday party my friends were at but he didn’t see me.  My friend walked over to him and they had a short conversation. When she came back she said, “Fuck him.”

“What? Why?” I asked.

“I asked him if he was doing anything tonight and he didn’t mention that he was meeting you,” she answered.

I thought, well, okay, I’m not too worried about that.  He spotted me after that and came over and we had a brief chat.  As he looked over my shoulder as he spoke, I could tell this was no date and this was not a man who knew how to treat a lady.  He spoke freely of cruising the bars with his buddies, as if I was to nod, “YES! Great job at picking up chicks!”  How ridiculously rude and how old are you?

So back to the drawing board of online dating.  This time, I read the tips to a great profile and added some pictures of me “having fun” and “doing activities” and “laughing with friends.”  Too bad it didn’t tell the men to NOT post shirtless pictures, or pictures of them with other women, pictures of them doing shots at Hooters, or with the other woman blatantly cropped out (or worse... ripped out).  

The pictures of toys men put up is astounding—holding their big fish, or better yet, a DEAD DEER!  Some of the “about me” is just short of “Whassup?  Just checking things out.”  As if that’s enough to go on.  It is also mathematically impossible for that many people to be “laid-back.”  I wonder what the ladies write.  Probably a bunch on how they love to fish, hunt, and ride four-wheelers and snowmobiles, as to please the men of the North.

I responded to one guy since his “about me” specifically said he didn’t hunt or fish and that he was no outdoorsman, simply because it was different than 90 percent of the others.  He was sweet, but I felt my plinko disk fall into the “friend” category.

For women and online dating, the emails are abundant.  My guess is the men are casting a wide net, but  I go through the whole profile and watch for any red flags.  The easiest things to spot and then avoid completely are bitterness and woe is me.  That doesn’t sound like any fun and dating is supposed to be fun, dating is supposed to be fun, dating is supposed to be fun, dating IS fun!  I WILL change the way I think about dating or I will resolve myself to a life of solitude and like it.

The ideal situation would be to date someone I already know. Then we could bypass all the bullshit.  We could wear our hoodies, stay in on a Friday night, and catch the Vikings game on Sunday.  Perfection!  So who just got divorced?  Just kidding, they would be too fresh.

As I say to myself, “This time will be different,” and I get myself mentally psyched up to do this, I take a deep breath, let it out, and like a smack to the head, I realize dating isn’t the work I make it out to be.  If I am merely myself, it is labor free.  This is me, and if you like my weirdness and I like your weirdness, maybe we can have dinner next time instead of just coffee.  There is no “best behavior” or only sharing the greatest highlights of your life.  There is debt and divorce (not mine, I’ve never been married, so na-na-na!) and kids and kids’ messes.  There are odd living situations, juggling jobs, and the baggage we all lug around. But at some point, I imagine, all that fades into the background because you can see beyond that and feel that person’s soul.  You can say that no matter what, I would have this person’s back, just as certain as I know they would have mine.  That is what I imagine but have yet to experience.  
I have to remind you that this is a column about dating.  This is not a column about how I am some kind of relationship expert.  I could call myself a dating expert, since I do have 30 years of experience!  That sounds like a very backward, very double-edged brag.  Kind of like saying, I’ve worked in this mail room for 30 years!!  Perhaps it’s time to get promoted.

So back out I go, into winking, flirting, instant messaging, on to texting, calling, then coffee.  I should be choking on the word “flirting” because I am so terrible at it and am completely oblivious when someone likes me.  The only time I can flirt is when I’m about to get a ticket, and then, oh boy, forgive me for saying this, but YOU BETCHA!  Maybe I should imagine my next date in an officer’s uniform, and if he doesn’t ask me out again, that’s like getting a ticket.  Well, I wouldn’t want a ticket, right!?