Three strikes and you're OUT!

*Sigh*

This was an eventful and emotionally draining weekend, and for a brief moment (approximately 1 hour), I gave up on match.com. But I did some thinking and I'm ready to get back out there.

So here's what happened...

Strike 1: Friday night, I had my first date with Whitey McMidwest. Oh man, over text message, he was the perfect guy. And I had really high hopes for this one because we really seemed to connect and, in his words, "it [felt] like we already [knew] each other." Our first conversation over the phone lasted for one hour! That conversation took place on Saturday, January 7th and we made plans that day to do dinner and bowling the upcoming Friday night. Each day following, Whitey texted me and we had riveting textersations. We seemed to have so much in common, including an intense love for the show, Jersey Shore. He would text me things like, "Friday couldn't come sooner" or "I can't wait to meet you" in addition to things like, "We should do this..." or "We should go there together..." Things that, as a vulnerable single woman who tends to read into things sometimes, I was weary of getting excited about.

I've been in the non-relationship before where the guy talks up all the great things we're going to do together and then dumps me for some unexplained reason (before, of course, any of those things ever happen). So in order to prevent myself from getting too excited about Whitey, I continuously responded to his comments of "We should..." with, "We'll have to see how Friday goes!" No one wants to set themselves up for disappointment. I've done it before and I am learning not to read into everything a guy says.

So, with that in mind, we meet for our date Friday night. We enjoy a nice dinner and split a bottle of wine. We have great conversation - talk, laugh, learn about each other. It's nice. I feel like it's going well. After dinner, we head to the bowling alley and we bowl two games. When our games are over, he suggests we hang out in the bar where karaoke is about to begin. We are having a fantastic time. He doesn't appear to be bored nor disgusted with me as a person. Phew! Then, nearly five hours after it began, we finally decide to end the date. As we walk out, he gives me a small kiss on the lips, tells me he had a great time, and that he'll call me. I leave feeling excited and optomistic. I am even more optomistic when he texts me to tell me he's excited to do all those things we had talked about doing "after Friday." I smile as I fall asleep.

Fast-forward to the weekend. I do not hear from him. I become Crazy. I am even crying at some points because I do not understand WTF is going on. Three days go by and I finally hear from him on Monday evening when I get this text: "I've been doing some thinking and I just don't think we're a good match after all. I've had fun getting to know you and wish you the best of luck!" Don't cry for me because here's the honest truth: when he didn't call me for three days, I already knew that that was the text I'd be getting. It's called Women's Intuition and it involves the sick feeling you get in your stomach when you know something isn't going right. Ladies, DO NOT IGNORE THIS FEELING! It is real! No, something didn't happen to his phone. No, he's not just busy with his buddies. No, he didn't die suddenly. No no no. He is just not that into you (even though the guy who wrote that book is an asshole, he's right!) And only God knows the reason why he's not into you. But don't obsess over that either. Just do what you can to overcome the Crazy, and then move on.

So after a few tears shed - not over a simple white guy from the midwest, but over the disappointment of another lost possibility of finding love - that's exactly what I did. I moved on. Final vote, obviously: bud.

Strike two: I went on a first date with Foody McGradSchool on Saturday afternoon. I was not feeling nearly the connection with Foody that I did with Whitey, but who am I to turn down a free meal, right? I broke my first date rule and agreed to let him pick me up because he was driving all the way down to Sunnyvale from San Bruno. I found this guy interesting because he had a very positive outlook on life and he seemed to be really spiritually centered. I find that attractive, as long as it isn't too in-your-face. When this guy picked me up, I'll admit that he definitely looked like he did in his profile pictures, except for the fact that he was probably 100 times skinnier. I have actually never seen a skinnier man in my life. He was a beanpole. When he turned sideways, he disappeared. I felt like a giant beast next to this guy.

Other than his lack of body fat, I found him to be attractive and genuinely nice. We drove to a local Mexican restaurant. He had a white Acura with Dr. Dre playing on the stereo and it was at this moment that some things he had said in previous conversations ("I grew up in parts of Daly City and Vistacion Valley, near Hunter's Point," and "Growing up in the projects..." - btw, this is the whitest guy you've ever seen) caused me to realize that this guy is San Francisco's Slim Shady. He even had the ghetto driving swagger down, with the seat tilted back, extreme lean to the right, resting practically the entire right side of his body on the center console (which, btw, put his head about two inches from mine), and just one arm - his left one - draped loosely over the steering wheel. Man, this guy really IS from the projects, I thought. Oh, and did I mention that he was practically sagging his jeans all the way down to his thighs? I could not tell if he was going for the gangsta style or if he simply couldn't keep his pants up on his 25-inch waist.

At the restaurant, we enjoy a lovely meal and talk about many things, including how we are both really, really RIDICULOUSLY good at Words with Friends. So he asks me what my user name is and we have been playing since that afternoon (I am beating him). We even have a candid conversation about what it's like to be on match.com, dating multiple people at once, etc. I like how honest our conversation is. After lunch, he drives me back to my place, gives me a hug, and we say our goodbyes. Overall, no sparks, but a nice date. Final vote: bud.

Strike three: As you may recall, this weekend I was supposed to have Date #3 with Flaky McTallGuy. Well, guess what? Yep, that's right - he flaked. I had pretty much decided I was over him by midweek when I hadn't heard from him. Then, Wednesday night, he sent me a message. We texted back and forth for a bit until he finally asked, "What time on Saturday?" I told him anytime after 5pm. "I have plans at 7," he texts back. "What about Sunday?" Seriously!? Ugh, this is the flakiest guy I have ever met! I agreed to Sunday even though I was thinking, "You are a loser and I am done with you." A couple of days go by until he texts, then calls me at approximately 11:30pm on Saturday night. I had just arrived home from my date with Whitey. He shoots the shit for a bit until I start yawning. Sorry dude, but I am exhausted and have to get up hella early for Saturday morning triathlon practice. He tells me he has some ideas for what we'll do on Sunday and that he'll call to finalize plans. "Ok, sounds good. Good night."

Flaky seems to know when I am on a date with another guy because that always seems to be the time he calls or texts. So just as my date with Foody is ending on Saturday afternoon, I get a call from Flaky. I don't answer, of course, but listen to the voicemail when I get home." I am not surprised by what it says: "Hi Natalie... I've been thinking about things for a couple of days now and I feel like there's sort of a friend vibe coming down and I don't know if it's just bad timing for me or what, but I think you're a great girl and blah blah blah..." And then, at the end of the message, he says, "So let me know your thoughts." REALLY!? What, like I'm going to call you back and say, "NO! There's no friend vibe! You must take me out on Sunday!?" Whatever dude. I texted him back to say, "I agree" and told him to have a good life. But what I really wanted to say was: 1) grow a pair and don't leave something like that on a voicemail; 2) I think you might be gay (for real, I need to figure out how to post a snippet of a voicemail); and 3) learn how to manage your schedule so you aren't so flaky, you bonehead. But I decided to be nice. This time. he did text me back saying, "You are smart, funny, and have a lot going for you. Take care." Barf. Final vote: bud.

So now you might be thinking - well, three strikes and you're out, right? That is EXACTLY what I was thinking. For a second, I was totally down in the dumps. I wanted to give up on dating, give up on men altogether. BUT THEN... Blondie McSmartyPants gave me some good advice. After showing me an excerpt from a book she's planning to read (My Half Orange by Amy Spencer, which I will be reading as well), she decided that our problem is not that we can't find the men of our dreams, but that we're not putting all of our effort into attracting them. And she's right. I've got to focus on what I really want and use the power of optismism to attract Mr. Right. It WILL happen, I just know it.