“Just think of all the stories you’ll be able to tell,” my friend said, leaning across the table at the bar. Our other friend nodded enthusiastically over her spinach artichoke dip.
This wasn’t the first time in the past three years since moving to Michigan that my friends had attempted to get me to sign up for online dating.
But it was their most successful attempt. Later that weekend, I pulled out my credit card and signed up for a popular online dating site.
I mean, STORIES, you guys! I will do pretty much anything for stories! Weed rice paddies in Malaysia! Hurl myself down an icy luge shoot! Camp in the woods by myself with bears! Pay cash money so I can look at blurry selfies of random strangers with their dogs/kids/speedboats on the Internet!
I’m sure if you’re a regular reader of this blog (or were a regular reader of this blog back when this blog was actually regular), you’re probably like, “Umm, stories, Sally? What stories? Because it’s been over three months and you haven’t posted a thing. WE WANT STORIES!!!”
Umm, yeah… about that.
In the two months since signing up for the online dating site, I’ve been on a handful of dates. And absolutely none of these dates were what I would consider “story-worthy”. And this is coming from a girl who has been known to write entire blog posts about split pea soup. So my definition of “story-worthy” is pretty broad.
There was the man ten years my senior who told me that if I were his sister he would be worried about my camping alone. To which I really wanted to respond, “Umm, wouldn’t you be more concerned about the fact that your sister is out on a date with her brother?”
There was the college professor who corrected me on my use of the word “artisanal.” Admittedly, he was right and I was wrong, but, umm, here’s one way to really annoy an English teacher while you’re on a date with her: correct her English.
There was the guy who called his recently deceased dog “The One.”
And, then this past weekend, I drove an hour to sit in a loud sports bar, eating a soggy panini across from a man who detailed the long list of foods he refuses to eat including tomatoes, onions, peppers (especially green ones), dark chocolate, blue cheese dressing and pretty much every food ever.
Meanwhile, the list of foods I would rather not eat includes exactly two things: sea urchin and puffer fish. Mind you, I’ve eaten both of these things in the past because JAPAN, you guys. And I would totally eat both of these things again if a kindly Japanese person was sitting across from me expecting me to eat them.
So, yeah, me and Mr. I Hate To Eat Totally Rational Foods That Don’t Come Out of Something Spiky and Potentially Poisonous From the Bottom of the Sea?
We did not exactly hit it off.
The next day I cancelled my online dating membership and hid my profile even though I had another paid month of meeting bereaved-dog-lovers and picky-tomato-haters to go.
Sure, maybe, I could have met someone really great in that month — someone who wouldn’t dish out creepy brotherly advice on my solo camping tendencies or correct my adjective usage.
My friends have told me that it takes time to meet someone. It’s a numbers game. You have to kiss a lot of frogs, they say.
I wish that’s all it was.
I could TOTALLY kiss frogs. I mean, you guys, I once ate a frog the size of a rabbit in Malaysia, and it was delicious.
So kissing frogs?
No problem.
But eating one more soggy panini while trying to pretend I care about some guy’s aversion to tomatoes because “It’s just the texture, you know?”
No, thanks.
Also, sir, talk to me about “texture” after you’ve eaten a sea urchin, okay? I mean, have you even seen a freaking sea urchin? It’s basically like this big squishy glob of snot inside a poisonous porcupine that lives in the ocean.
So, with all due respect, sir, you don’t know a thing about texture.
Have you tried online dating? Were you successful? Or did you WANT TO DIE THE ENTIRE TIME? I’m asking for a friend…
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