When I last left you, my online dating profile was set to expire, and so was I — burnt out and desperately seeking ... absolutely nothing.
I have since canceled my subscription, recovered my energy, found more balance, and am actually gearing up for a trip to Vegas to *gasp* give my flirting (and dancing) skills the ultimate IRL test. And yet, the telltale stories of the remaining four online men have gone untold. Until now, that is.
Man #10 — The Texan Computer Graphics Guy
I should have seen the red flag waved high on this one when he invited me to his (widely known) company's holiday party simply after two emails and an IM conversation (i.e. We hadn't even met yet). Was he desperate? Ridiculously eager? Both? Whatever it ultimately was, I didn't stick around long enough to really find out.
Plus, on our first (and only) date, I shattered my own pint glass with a wild hand gesture, splashing Hefeweizen, glass shards and — yes — blood everywhere, a wound that constantly soaked through band-aids for 24+ hours (in hindsight, I might have needed stitches...) and left a half-moon shaped scar at the base of my middle finger. God was telling me something: Fail.
Man #11 — The Texan Software Consultant (and Narcissist)
11 is my lucky and favorite number. And, over the course of two months, #11 has been a mixed bag of fabulous and fail. Fashion-wise — Seven jeans, BR cashmere sweaters, a Brioni suit and leather loafers — he has me swooning.
His bathroom is metrosexually well-stocked with Bumble & Bumble hair products, two kinds of exfoliating face wash ... even oil-free Kiehl's moisturizer that's ideal for my problem skin. (What's missing, though, is Kleenex. No sign of it. Anywhere.)
His king-sized bed has provided me with some of the most restful nights sleep I've had in a long time and has been the backdrop of some incredible sex. He has a cousin who lives in a fancy penthouse whose steam shower, grand piano and amazing views of the bay we can borrow when he's out of town. Did I mention he plays the guitar? Writes his own songs? And plays them for me ... naked? Um, fabulous.
So what's on the this-would-never-work-in-a-million-years list?
For one, his narcissism. A guy who takes 10 minutes to respond to me asking him how his day was without asking me in return? Fail.
A guy who will order a Crock-Pot® and 20-pound bag of protein powder off Amazon while I'm over ... and in his bed? Fail.
A guy who won't shut up about how he can't gain weight or how his company hasn't sent him his almost-five-figure bonus yet? Come on.
Speaking of coming, he constantly refers to his excessive masturbation — so much that he plainly admitted to me once, "I'd be such an accomplished young professional if I stopped jerking off so much." Um, fail. (Plus, stop complaining about your finances and inadequate success. I saw your W-2. And your six-figure salary!)
His ultimate fail? After two months of dating, he's been to my place once. I need a guy who's occasionally willing to give as much as he gets and go out of his comfort zone — and zip code! — especially if it means getting to know me better.
Man #12 — The Software Architect & Technologist (= Consultant?)
When he was 24, #12 was a paid go-go dancer. Yes, a male go-go dancer. We're talking cages, body paint, the works. I'm guessing I could accurately list spandex here, too, but honestly, at the time, I forgot to ask. It's also too bad that I never got to take him out dancing to test said bump-and-grind abilities. Why not? Aside from general lack of spark and him not being "my type," he:
1. He doesn't like ice cream. Not sure how I could deal with that in the long run.
2. His profile said he was 27. Turns out, he's actually 31. The age isn't the problem. I'm not going to prematurely judge the eight-year age difference. It's just the fact that his profile lied. Thus ... fail.
Points, though, for the delicious sushi dinner!
Man #13 — The Animation Designer
I couldn't get past #13's undershirt fail. I know. That's harsh. But really: how hard is it to button up your button-down? Is it that uncomfortable? We're not in eighth grade anymore. Visible undershirts (and for girls, flashy bra straps) were left behind once we got to high school. His late-90s Volvo stationwagon with torn leather seats, his excessive hairiness (It stuck out everywhere! At the cuffs! The collar! Oy.) and over-baggy jeans cinched tight at the waist with a belt didn't help his case either.
I'll admit, we had great email and IM chemistry, but in person, there was absolutely nothing that, for me, could sustain a romantic connection. And the 50-mile distance between us makes even platonic friendship difficult to explore.
Lessons Learned: Signs That You're Just Not That Into Him
1. You find yourself ragging on him (a lot) more than you're raving about him.
2. You're thinking about someone else mid-coitus — utterly distracted, making you (or him!) unable to enjoy the shag ... or finish.
3. You don't really care if he doesn't return your call, your text, your IM or email. Or rather, you just haven't called, or texted, or IMed or emailed.
4. He just doesn't cross your mind. At first, eventually, or ever.
5. When you ask yourself, "How would I feel if I just ... never saw Grant again?" and your answer is, "Meh." Or anything else along the I-don't-really-care lines.
6. It's the first night he sleeps over and you have noooo problem taking your sweet time in the bathroom doing your normal habits while he waits for you in bed — a full 3-minute brush, your cleanse-tone-moisturize facial regimen, eyebrow maintenance, examining your pores, undereye circles and developing wrinkles ...
So, out of all 13, who is still in the running? Stay tuned!