First of all, let me publicly acknowledge that I am as fucking random as the day is long. Like totally. I’m the equivalent of a human non sequitur in my own life. It’s just how I roll, dude. I could attempt to connect the dots but it may or may not form a coherent picture to myself let alone anyone else so I don’t even try anymore. If you love me anyway, awesome possum! and if you’re simply confounded, join the club.
Now I’ll let you in on an open secret: dating is actually a synonym of random. “Odd. Unusual. Unexpected.” Or my favourite: “happening without method.” #boom I had no idea when I first began my POF journey how not straightforward and not logical and not 1+1=2 it was going to be. NONE. I was adorably and heartbreakingly naïve and as you know, it took me QUITE a while to even get over my first date stage fright let alone begin to understand how the very concept of success with online dating ie two people agreeing to spend time together based on some pics and words on a screen in search of ? is ??!
If I was mathematically inclined instead of severely challenged, I would then talk about the number of factors involved times the number of things that could go wrong exponentially fucking up the already smallest percentage of chemistry and the possibility of the first meeting becoming multiple. Instead, I will put it in simple laygirl’s terms:
No fucking idea how anyone ever gets and stays together. AT. ALL.
You know how women keep having babies every second and we all take the holiest of holy miracles for granted? I’m not saying it’s THAT big but it is definitely on that same damn list. Like fucking top three. Seriously.
Now you would think if I’M uber random and dating is out of control random, surely the two randoms will either dovetail or cancel each other out, ending up with me meeting Mr. Right, right? I mean mathematically speaking? No?
OMG, soooo no.
The reason I’m ruminating about the nature of this specific arbitrariness comes from a great first meet which then inevitably lead to the great first date…that never was. All the key ingredients were present, so I thought, and it was obviously mutual SO I THOUGHT but in POF math, 1+1= pi or as I interpret pi: an infinite non repeating number, all but one of which means you’re still online. Oh, did I say YOU? Fuck.
Here’s the background: MaGarrett, who was a COP, and I had messaging back and forth for months with big gaps in between and just when I thought he was GWTW, I’d hear from him again. Looking back, I’d have to say red flag much? We finally did a brief coffee while I was on a break from work because he was going out of town and wanted to meet before he left. So far, so good. I wore a pair of shorts and looked definitely doable; he looked fit, just like his pic – always a bonus – and we had immediate chemistry, both verbal and physical. It was an obvious segue to an actual date which felt confirmed when he asked me to call him when he was away. I thought: SCORE. However, he didn’t ask me to go out for when he returned - also a warning sign - but then he texted me right away after the meet with something witty which threw me right off track, damn him. I left that coffee corner with my hopes held high. HIGH. Tricky bastard. Suffice it to say, when I did try to call him AS HE ASKED, he plead poor reception and said he’d get back to me. Fyi girlies, still waiting on that call. Ha!
At the time, I was puzzled and a fair bit disappointed. I wondered: wtf? It was as if you had all the ingredients and followed the recipe for a cake but when you opened the oven door there was diddly squat. Like fuck and all. And you’re like: but all the ingredients were there! And hot! Where’s my damn cake?
My point? When you’re dating, random is what rules. Hard. Oc, I was still a newbie so I didn’t even think about let alone factor in how many other women MaGarrett was most likely messaging/ meeting/ dating or NOT. He was a good looking dude; he must have been inundated. His less than stellar contact history should have told me that. Instead, I went in and left that coffee shop without a clue and was therefore shocked when he didn’t follow through. Looking back, I’m now surprised he even bothered to meet me at all, instead of just stringing me along, stingy by spotty message.
Now I can see with 40/20 hindsight that reading all sorts of anything into what was just a quick meet and greet was more inexperience than anything. All the signs were there; he was just sending out one signal and I was receiving another. Welcome to the world of online dating.
It was nothing personal, in all the best and worst interpretations of that worn phrase, and to take it as such would be a waste of time. Back then it was something brood worthy; now non starters just slide off me like my tan in October. Buh bye!
Can there be a straight and dedicated path from first look to last mate? Apparently. Is it possible for everyone? Possibly. Is it more likely to be meandering and convoluted with many a dead end and cul-de-sac of confusion then suddenly Susan sharp turns, road blocks and detours? Pretty much. Completely “unsystematic, haphazard and casual”.
Now you can be bitter about a less than direct connection or you can just have fun in the moment without expectations. That’s how you deal effectively with random acts of dating – by skipping lightly down whatever path you’re led down and being human Teflon while always remembering: high hopes are transferable, dude. #FTW.
How random have your dating experiences been? Because I KNOW you've got tales to tell. Pull up a wine glass and spill it all because here at Lucy and co. ie me and my cats we're always interested.