Thanks, but no thanks.

Let’s take a little mid-week, mid-family-drama laugh break, shall we?

This was in my inbox this morning:

Well, the guy was, the commentary was in my head. If you know this man, please tell him THAT is not going to work out for him.

I signed up for six months on Match, so naturally Lucky was the first man I went out with.

My profile is hidden, but I still get these match blasts every day and I like to look at them to see who I know. I recently got matched with two guys I’d already gone out with during different stints on the site and shortly after meeting Lucky, I got matched with his bestie (very glad I met Lucky first)!

Poor, Poor Pitiful Me

Okay, out with it…I’ve had nine dates with six men in the past eight days.  And what has it gotten me?  Too much food, too much wine and three men who may or may not think we have plans tonight.  All I want to do is go to a yoga class, come home to put on stretchy pants, bake, do laundry and watch Hulu.  

I’ve still fit in all my workouts, seen my fam and slept a good amount, but I’m so burnt out on the whole thing.  And okay, maybe developing a little guilt.

Five of the men I met online, so they have to assume I’m dating other people, at least at this stage, but even I can admit it’s a little extreme.  It’s one thing to have coffee with a man on a Saturday afternoon and then meet up with someone at a wine bar later in the week after he returns from a business trip, but it’s another thing to pack dates in between them like sardines. 

However, I’m not doing it just to do it and tick off my numbers (last night was #10 BTW…getting scary close), these are all men who I was genuinely intrigued by and interested in after connecting on Match, which leads to another point…

I’m getting good at this.  None of the five guys was a walking red flag.  Those are not odds I’m used to.  Usually I’d end up with a least one disaster, but they were all nice, made me laugh and I had a good time with them. 

One came off as a bit of a music snob and talked over me a few times, another was a bit too “Scottsdale” for my tastes (while claiming to not be “Scottsdale”).  One had shaved legs and wore Vibrams on our date.  It was a little strange, but kind of awesome because he’s a pretty serious triathlete.  And last night I cringed a bit when my date asked to see the wine list for a second glass, but it was less about getting away from him and more about just getting in my PJs.  Not one had me considering ditching him via the bathroom.

That being said, four of them are not getting second dates.  It’s all about the intangible and the 4:1 ratio there is much more what I’m used to.

The sixth is a Rebel 2.0 (he’s nice and fun and not for me, but likes me and I was hurt by Non-Mush, so the cycle continues).  We’ve been out a handful of times, but I think it’s time to come clean.

Rebel 2.0 was one of the guys I made tentative plans with tonight, but since starting this, he got the “I’m super burnt out, let’s rain check” excuse.  So much for coming clean.  I’m bad at this.  No Name got the “you’re too busy and I’ve met someone who’s not” line because I can be honest with him like that and it’s a dance we’ve done a few times now. 

As for the “someone who’s not,” he’s the third for tonight, and the one I’d most like to see if I wanted to see anyone besides Erica and Dr. Tom.  We’re spending a good chunk of the weekend together anyway so I think he’ll understand.

A Tale of Two-Point-Five Rejections

It was the worst of times, it was the worst of times.

Six months ago I got my personal training certification. It expires after two years and I didn’t want to sit on it and suddenly realize it’s December 2012 and I hadn’t yelled at a single fat person, so I’ve been looking for part time opportunities. The local Y chapter, which has 17 branches, is doing a major overhaul of its personal training program, basically trying to keep up with the explosion of CrossFit, and had a job fair to hire a bunch of new trainers.

I submitted my resume, which impressively lays out the fact that I read a book, took a test and really like to run, and got a call with a time to come to their job fair at the ghettoist branch they have. It was like when the kids go to the city in Adventures In Babysitting, except it was light out and there were no bad guys after me, so mostly I was just being a sheltered wuss.

I met with two friendly ladies, one old man who thought he was Jack LaLanne and one younger man who was the head honcho and looked like freaking Josh Duhamel, so you know…HOT. Since Joshy has played both bad guy and bad boy, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of bad this man had in him (bad guy = bad, bad boy = good). Josh Duhamel 2.0 had had a quite unfortunate name. Like Drew Barrymore’s teasing nickname in Never Been Kissed, except it was his real last name.

Considering I don’t have any experience, I thought I did well in the interview, but it was one of those interviews that when you leave, you’re not sure if you’d be happier if they offered it to you or kind of relieved if they didn’t. I mean, if they did, I’d get to work with Mr. Not Grossy, but he’d be my boss.

If they didn’t, I’d keep up with the status quo. I had gone in thinking it was potentially a part time gig, but it was full time and had a “competitive salary,” and although we didn’t talk numbers, I’m pretty sure “competitive” in the PT world is not really anything compared to what I’m used to – and still struggling with – currently.

I hit the hiring fest at the end and the group was making decisions the next day, so I went home to wait it out with my men of Match.com to keep me company. And WHO do I see?! Mr. Not Grossy! Not only is he not married – did I mention I had noticed his lack of wedding ring in .8 seconds? – he’s single and looking, and oh yeah, still HOT. He had viewed my profile, which might explain why he was looking at me like he was trying to place me during the interview. But, alas, he had not emailed or even winked at runningmj. How rude (and completely silly).

Rejection count: .5

Now, I’m a great online dater and have no problem winking or emailing, but I decided if I was potentially going to be working with Mr. Not Grossy, I’d do best to leave the winking out of it.

On decision day, I got pushed off to a different branch, went for round two there and again had mixed feelings about it, so when that D-day came and I heard nothing, I was bummed and relieved at the same time. I didn’t have my heart on it, so that was fine, but still!

Rejection count: 1.5

I figured there wasn’t anything else to lose, so I logged on to match, found Mr. Not Grossy again and sent a quick “since I didn’t get the job, do I at least get a date?”

Not as cute typed out as it was in my head, but I was hoping that even though he didn’t like my profile enough on its own to email me, pair that with me in real life and it’s a no-brainer.

It’s been a few days and I have not yet heard back from Mr. Not Grossy. Maybe he’s not a member? Or maybe he is and…

Rejection count: 2.5

And I Dated Him WHY?!

No Name is back (ish).  He reappears every now and then and tries to make plans and sometimes I blow him off and sometimes I meet up with him.  Last week I met up with him, and here’s why – and by here’s why, I mean, he asked why I hang out with him and I told him:
 
  1. Because I want to find out why he keeps coming back randomly and wanting to hang out with me.
  2. Because it gets me out of the house.
  3. Because it will give me a good story for my blog.
  4. Because maybe when he goes to the bathroom, a cute guy will come hit on me.
  5. Because now I have something to tell my dad when he asks me who I dated this week.
  6. Because when I have an answer to that question, my parents get a glimmer of hope that their younger daughter isn’t going to die alone, and by alone, I mean surrounded by cats.
  7. Because I like sushi.
  8. Because it gives me legit plans so I don’t feel bad turning other men I don’t want to hang out with down.
 And the unspoken:
 
  1. Because he pays for the sushi.
  2. Because I can be abrasive and say what I think (mostly) and talk about my love life, but still flirt with him and he sticks around for all of that.
  3. Because I wanted to see if he’s grown a pair and/or if he’s learned how to kiss in a way other than that which can only be described as “my aunt smells like mothballs but I have to kiss her anyway.”

He never told me why he randomly wants to hang out.  The obvious answer would be because he gets a little something-something, but as per unspoken #3, he doesn’t.  It got me out of the house, but didn’t keep me away too long.  I’m obviously currently writing about it.  I didn’t get hit on while he wasn’t at the table.  No name was in real estate as was my dad, so it’s love already.  My parents did glimmer a bit.  The sushi was delish.  And I probably would have preferred the other guy who asked, but you never know which rando is going to ask you out for which day.

No Name did pay for the sushi, he did stick around during the MJ show and no he didn’t grow a pair and I’m assuming he hasn’t improved his technique.
 
Now, three has always been my favorite number, so let’s focus on that one – the first #3 that is.  He didn’t question it, so I’m not sure if he thinks I was joking, but I’ve noticed a trend in single lady bloggers lately – we are awesome and are not afraid to embrace a bad date for the sake of sharing it all over the internet. 
 
It wasn’t bad, wasn’t good, probably won’t do it again anytime soon.  And while nothing really blog worthy happened on that sushi date, stay tuned for other blog worthy tales.   
 
As a mini-update, this weekend, I went out with Bachelors #6, 7 and 8.  So, yeah, thanks to Match I’m back at it.
 

Matchmaker, Matchmaker

So….I signed up for Match over the weekend.  Just created a profile, really. 

But, the functionality of the site as well as the seeming quality of men on there – seriously, and we all KNOW my standards are actually getting higher, which makes no sense – got to me.  That plus the 29 emails I had received, but was unable to read or even see who they were from, had me reaching for my credit card. 

Yes, after bitching about money all weekend, I gave in and signed up.  For SIX months, which assuming failure, gives me another six for free.  Match Guarantee, they call it.  Match is actually guaranteeing me love.  And I’m sitting back like a surly teenager, arms crossed, showing them what a challenge they have on their hands.  I should probably read the fine print because I’m not sure what exactly counts.

The 29 emails quickly pared down to 15, but that’s still not terrible. 

I came up with these new rules for this new adventure:

This is about keeping my options open and I’m going to make it fit my life however I want. 

No younger men.

No out of area men, which may even include no west-siders.  Although I may or may not have already emailed a sexy lumberjack from Boise because that’s where I’m currently dreaming of living.

No lame jobs.

Be nice about height.  (Something new I’m trying after realizing how silly these people look.)

Deleting emails without responding is perfectly acceptable.  It’s a freaking smorgasboard, after all.

The emails are pinged to my email address attached to this blog, which is – gasp – a fake email address (well, real, but fake, but, well whatever) that I don’t check too often and that is not sent directly to my phone so I won’t be dealing with constant overload.

Skipping days between logging on is completely acceptable.  If I’m going to be at this for a year and spend an hour or two every time I log in, I could do it once a week and still kill 100+ hours of my life.  Ugh.

There are no dates per week or even month minimum.  And I’m not changing any plans for first or second dates.

Per Patti Stanger, online dating is just 1/3 of my dating search.  I’m still trying to be approachable IRL and asking to be set up – although I never actually have been.  The guys who it didn’t work out with don’t seem too keen on introducing me to their friends.  And the normal people who tell me they have someone for me never close the deal.  I’m not kidding here, folks, I’ll try anything!

No responding to men who lack originality.

No Cowboys fans.  This is not a new rule.  This is a non-negotiable.