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.

getiin' busy

Last night I went on the first of four dates I have scheduled this week - it's time to get busy.

I was weary of this date from the start, but I wasn't going to worry myself about it because I made a decision when I joined match.com that I was going to give every guy a chance. OK, maybe not every guy, but definitely the guys that I felt I might be able to connect with.

Sweety McAspergers was a really sweet guy. I knew that from the start. He was open, honest, and funny. The only glitch: he was a texter. I don't mind texters, really, but only if the texts are every now and then followed by a phone call. But for over a week, the phone call never came. Everyday, like clockwork, Sweety would text me. It started to get frustrating. I have enough real people in my life that I can text with. An imaginary boyfriend is not what I'm looking for (although that reminds me of the great business idea that D, A, M and I came up with at brunch several months ago...). So eventually I asked him if there were ever going to be plans to go out on a date. He assured me that there would be, but those plans were still not made. He continued to text.

Finally, one evening after work, he called me. I picked up the phone and when he started talking, I realized there was a second glitch (and also, perhaps, the reason he hadn't called me sooner): there was something off about him. Was it Asperger's? I am not quite sure how else to put it, but he sounded just the teensiest bit socially awkward. Or maybe a lot socially awkward. And then it hit me - the reason why he hadn't called me sooner. He - like most texters - was hiding behind his phone. In written form, he was a communication pro. But in spoken form, Asperger's. I didn't want to deny him a date just because he didn't quite sound the way I thought he would, so I agreed to go out with him last night.

He picked an Indian restaurant (which apparently he frequents regularly) in Cupertino. It was fine by me - I will eat pretty much anything. So after some extreme car issues (car wouldn't start, C - our house husband - wasn't home to jump it for me and wasn't responding to my texts to let me borrow the Prius, so I had no choice but to steal his car. Sorry, C!), I headed to the restaurant. As I walked up to the place - which looked more like a cafeteria than a restaurant - I discovered glitch #3 (and the reason, perhaps, he didn't ask me out sooner): Awkward McDorkerson. Don't get me wrong, I love dorks. But this guy was dork to the extreme. And not just that, he looked kind of dumpy. He was wearing some 1989-era faded light blue jeans, a faded greyish long-sleeve sweater-shirt (maybe it used to be black?), and his hair looked like he shook his head when he came out of the shower and then never touched it again. I am generally not very picky about the way someone dresses (unless, of course, he is wearing a denim blazer. Completely unacceptable), but when a guy shows up to the first date in that, which is - technically - the best he can do, then I am just at a loss for words.

The date went fine. He held true to my original judgements of him - very sweet, honest, nice, and so on. But I just did not feel the attraction. And I kind of blame myself here. His profile featured just one picture of him (no doubt taken five or six years ago) and one picture of his dogs (super cute goldens). A word from the wise, ladies: if a guy has just one picture of himself, it probably means he has either let himself go, OR that pic just happens to be the one flattering pic of himself in his repertoire. DON'T FALL FOR THE ONE-PIC TRICKSTERS! He did text me to ask if I wanted to go out again. I feel bad saying no, so I agreed to coffee week after next (I am too busy with other dates this week and have no free time!). After coffee, I will let him down gently. Final vote: bud

In other dating news, I've got Date #2 scheduled for tonight with Flakey McTallGuy (tonight will determine whether or not his nickname gets changed.) So far, he has been redeeming himself with various phone calls and text messages. And now we are Facebook friends, which makes me more nervous than anything, but I am prepared to change my privacy settings!

Tuesday night is a first date with Foody McGradSchool. He seems fairly normal. He's a San Francisco native and worked in the restaurant biz for many years. I am a fan of foodies because that means they will pick really good first-date restaurants. He is currently in a counseling psychology grad program and hopes that this year will be "the most powerful year" of his life. I like that. he seems smart and thoughtful. He called me on Friday evening and we talked for about a half hour. It was good conversation. No Asperger's-ness, so I'm happy.

And then Friday night I have a first date with Whitey McMidwest. I like this guy. He was born in L.A. but moved to Illinois when he was 13. He went to the University of Illinois (where his mom works) and moved here to work in HR at Cisco. He's a big guy - 6'4", a few extra pounds, but also very active. he plays in a co-ed softball league and apparently is an avid bowler. I don't mind big guys, as long as they are not obese. Sometimes it's just genetics and it's not like I'm a super small girl. Either way, I am excited to meet him. He called me yesterday and we talked for an hour! It went by super quickly and I didn't even realize we were on the phone that long. So that's a really good sign.

All in all... three potentially stud-worthy dates coming up. My match.com fortune just might be turning around. It's about time!