Are You There, Blog? It’s Me, Margaret. I’m Totally Lying; My Name is Jackie.

And everyone else hasn’t. And you have to be okay with that.

I haven’t been on a single date in my skirmish with online dating, and that. is. okay.

I was trying to watch “One Day” with Anne Hathaway, and she’s a good actress and all, but the romantic chemistry was awful. So then I started watching “Deliver Us From Eva”, in which a player is paid to woo a difficult woman so that her brothers-in-law can reap the benefit of Eva getting some, and thought, ahhhh. This is more me. I am this difficult, this stubborn. I can see my friends pooling their money to get me laid and relaxed. Unfortunately, I’m also not Gabrielle Union. So I’m unattractive, stubborn, and difficult. Also a little emasculating, which is like being a little bit pregnant.

But as far as internet dating (a misnomer if ever there was one), I just don’t want to. I’ll keep waiting to meet someone who sees me in action and still isn’t appalled. I’d rather be seen au naturel and still enjoyed than have to put on my I’m So Normal and Great face and hope to lure with… I don’t know what. Not my cooking or my housekeeping. Brain? Library? Cat collection? Hasn’t worked yet. I don’t know who can deal with me, but I’ll wait.

The elevator guy persisted in requesting my company for an evening of alcoholic beverages (even offering to pay for babysitting: a $50 value!), so I had to tell him he smelled married. He invited me to check the court docket online to verify that he has, in fact, been divorced for four whole months. Hmmm, no wonder I thought I smelled marriage. It was just the faint lingering odor, apparently. I told him that if he gave me his last name, I’d run a full background check on him. He blanched, gave me his last name, and then attempted full disclosure before I could find out… stuff.

I really have to admire a guy who is not offended that you need to sort through his online dirty laundry. You don’t have to get drinks with him, but you do have to enjoy his candor in the face of fear.

Thrower of Glass at Wife: Suggested dinner plans soon. Couldn’t think of a decent restaurant that didn’t have glassware, china, or metal cutlery. Had to block.

Guy Who Thinks That An Online “Wink” Earns An Email On My End: Had to block. Even if he did think that “our futurer paths are enterwtined check out my profile and see if you agree.” Also, you’re from GLENDALE. I think that’s more than 100 miles away. Did you exhaust every dating lead in the Phoenix metropolitan area? There’s almost 1.5 million people in Phoenix. Let’s say 20% of them are women of legal dating age. That’s…. I’m not doing math. A LOT OF WOMEN. Support local business and take one of them to dinner. Maybe your paths will be “entertwined.”

Crazy Eyes From New Mexico: I haven’t blocked him yet, but so help me god, I will.

Elevator Guy: You’re here every day, so I can’t block you. Thank you for the guided tour of our new 8′ x 5′ elevator. You smell married, so stop with the mating call of the blue collar. I know how much you make, your union status, what you drive, how much money you used to make, the fact that you have a company car, and that whoever did your veneers should be sued. Did I mention you smell married?

From Fell In A Hole Guy Who Proposed Dinner and Then Disappeared For A Week:

“Hey Jackie,

I just got this note. Do you want to go tonight?
Need to contact my email svc. provider… Looks like this address is not coming through and I never log in directly to match…

Hope your doing very well.

Smile :0)”

Oh, FIAHG. Where to start. Contact your ESP? Do you know how email blocking and spam filters work? How did you receive my other emails? And no, I can never just throw on some lip gloss and meet you for dinner in a matter of hours, unless we’re going to Chuck E. Cheese, because that’s where my babysitter-less kid will want to go. I hate Chuck E. Cheese. Also, I see you changed your profile to say something about how it’s important for you to have positive people in your life. I can’t maintain positivity for more than 50% of the time (which is a 40% improvement from several years ago).

The only thing keeping me from blocking you is the thought of Kim telling me not to. I’m smiling, Kim, but some people say it looks like I’m baring my teeth. Also, please note that I almost didn’t point out the homonym error. Because of my positivity.

I don’t know what I was thinking.

Well, here’s what I was thinking. My friend Kim, who is gorgeous and very, very hip and cool and happily married (the bitch) insisted that I try, try again with internet dating. I don’t know why I would ever listen to her, because of her wedded bliss and hotness and lack of knowledge about the hell of internet dating, but there may have been beer involved. Her optimism, like most STDs, is most contagious after a couple beers.

I did it the next day, before I had time to realize that my blood alcohol content was .000. I’ve had accounts with various online dating sites, which I usually closed after a brief time due to a barrage of alerts, notices, “winks,” and my disbelief at how men will try to fuck anything via email. After doing some perfunctory online research on the best dating websites (or the highest rated ones), I paid Match.com for a month (ONE MONTH, KIM) of ability to actually read the emails that would-be suitors send.

After less than a week, here are my findings:

Normal Guy Who Has Apparently Had A Stroke Or Was Kidnapped: He seemed normal via messages, and wasted no time in inviting me to dinner. Then he virtually disappeared. Kim speculates that perhaps he has fallen into a hole, and is trapped. I should hope so!

You’re A Liberal And That’s Amazing!!!: This guy was amazed that I had the nerve, or stupid honesty, to list my political views as “very liberal.” As a blue-collar “very liberal” himself, he could appreciate that. Now, he started messaging me in the evening, and I can only speculate that maybe he was drunk when he sent a message about “welding the ass of a goat shut.” I don’t know where he was going with this. I didn’t start picking out curtains for our new place. Luckily, he then messaged me to say he was going to bed. Unluckily, he did not go to bed. After a couple more unreturned messages, I guess he passed out. I still worry about the goats, though.

Devilishly Handsome, Throws Glass At Women: This charmer seemed to have it all– a stable, lucrative career, lots of travel photos, looks, liberal views… and a disclosed full name! Tsk, tsk. A disclosed full name just means I can start stalking running a background check on you. And that’s how I know about your domestic violence conviction. Sure it was in 2007, and I’m sure those court-ordered anger management classes helped, but… you threw broken glass in your wife’s face. Allegedly.

This is but a small sampling of the last few days offerings, but things are looking up, because the elevator installation guys are heckling me to go to happy hour with them. According to what I’ve seen thus far on online dating sites, I could do a lot worse than Makes 3x What I Make/Has No Student Loan Debt/Doesn’t Seem Interested In Goats’ Asses.

I feel like your $260 yard cleanup quote, followed by your revised $150 quote (after I looked at you, horrified) suggests that you think there’s a possibility that I’m made out of money. I am not.

I found myself mentally composing two blog posts this morning when I woke up, freezing, at 5 a.m. I also had to pee pretty bad, but blogging seemed the more likely of 1) blogging, or 2) getting up to go to the bathroom. In the end, I went for 3), which was: snooze for the next hour.

I don’t remember what these blog posts were, but I recall that they were inspired. Probably in the same way that my dreams are (asleep: “This dream would make a kick-ass movie!”; awake: “Um, no it wouldn’t.”).

My son got me a lovely vintage ten speed for my birthday. I love it. Riding a bike is like riding a bike. You never forget. I did, however, used to be a lot better at it. In an effort to get my 8 year old on her bike (the one she begged for, the one with training wheels), I skipped cajoling and pleading (already tried; didn’t work) and went straight to comparisons (“I learned how to ride a bike when I was 5. By myself. Without training wheels.”). That didn’t work, so I had to go with, “Get on that bike and ride it or I’m giving it away tomorrow.” So she rode it, reluctantly and with much drama, for a little while, but the bottom line is that I’m never going to be able to ride my bike. And I need to practice so I’m road-ready and can ride it to work. I’m tired of being passed by bicyclists on my morning commute. Also, I’m tired of being fat and out of shape.

*Not an actual representation of what I’ll be doing this weekend

I’m not a horrible person, no matter what this version of WordPress would have you believe. Even if WordPress now decides to cooperate fully and publish my post without grievous error (thus making my complaints seem the rant of a crazy woman with no legitimate grievance), I promise that I am a person who likes and loves and who perceives self-fault. I am a person who wants to be wrong, who wants to apologize, who wants everything to be well. Or well enough. I’d settle for that.

I’m a good person, a person who wants to be happy, who wants others to be happy. I want my children to never hurt and I’d bear their pain if it was allowed. I’ve hated and loathed and I don’t think it’s served me well. I want to be what my cat thinks I am. I’m willing to work on it. I’ll do what I can.

In return, Universe, please send me some sign that I try so hard for a reason. I know I’m a carbon-based life form and inherently flawed and prone to death and dismemberment and eventual decay back to carbon, but I like to think I matter, despite these truths.

Edited to add: I will take WordPress’s cooperation with my Android phone as a sign.

Not, old old people, just old people I used to work with.

Work is boring without them. We’re down to a handful of fun and entertaining coworkers. It’s not just me; other people I like at work are noticeably lagging. We’re a dying breed.