End of the Match Experiment

I decided not to renew my Match.com membership this month.  The whole experience was a little overwhelming in truth and it was often times just a cluster fuck.  Over the period of 30 days, I received about 10 emails a day on average.  Some were clearly cut and paste jobs and others were quite thoughtful and charming...until you looked at the picture.  That's the sad part, you think you can be above the whole superficial aspect of attraction.  I'm here to say that you can't.  Even if I don't want to have babies, I'm still going to look for the best looking person so that I can have beautiful half-Asian babies.  You all saw what happened with Rob Schneider.  Lord help me if I'm going to make that same genetic mistake.

I went on my second to last Match date last Sunday night at a bar at the bottom of my apartment building.  He's British, dark hair, brown eyes, probably only about 5'10" (I let him squeak by due to the accent).  We talked for a couple of hours over some beers.  When we drained the rest of the first beer, I offered to buy the next round and to say that he was blown away is certainly an understatement.  Ladies, I know it's nice to have men pay for drinks, buy dinner, win a teddy bear, etc. But if we are making the argument that we're equals, then it's time to chip in for a beer or two.  I'm just putting it out there.

As the night winded down, I became a little intoxicated (mostly by the beer and a little by the accent).  I'm not sure I was entirely attracted to him.  Don't get me wrong, he was very handsome...but a little petite for my tastes (I'm sure any man would love to be described as "petite").  Throwing all caution to the wind, I kissed him good night.  And then...nothing.  I felt absolutely nothing.  I guess that means we're kicking that one to the curb.

I always feel a little badly when I meet someone for drinks (with the romantic subtext) and I feel nothing.  That's in part because I'm still hurting a little from the breakup.  I hate it when I say that I'm not completely over it yet and people assume that I mean I'm not over him.  That's completely inaccurate because I'm over him as in I-would-like-to-run-OVER-him-with-a-environmentally-unfriendly-car.  I guess it takes time when you try to recover from being completely humiliated with sightings of him around town with other women, while you're at home with the laundry and the dog.

Don't get me wrong, I have had genuine feelings for men post-AH (asshole).  Those feelings (and the men's identities) will remain private, however.  I'm sorry to disappoint but there are some things that should be considered sacred and that should be held close to the vest.

Lesson learned: Internet dating is EXACTLY like internet shopping for clothing.  Sometimes it looks better in the picture and if it doesn't fit, you can always return it.