Today is confession day. Truth time.
Many moons ago a friend, who I will not name here for fear that she might reach through the bowels of the internet and bludgeon me, and I took advantage of a free seven-day pass to match.com. Much winking ensued. Then came the witty banter via email — which took hours to craft and only seconds to read. Then there was a date. That’s right, I went on a date with a person from the internet. There, I said it. Judge away.
I know a lot of my peers think that they/we are too young to internet date. I think that it’s less about your age and more about where you are in your life. At the time, I was bored and a little lonely and felt like it was hard to meet people because I already knew everyone in my itty bitty law school. And it was free. I mean, come on.
The guy I went on the date with was incredibly funny via email and had a cute, kind of edgy profile pic so when he suggested we meet I accepted. I planned an emergency phone call/text to my friend just in case he was a serial killer and told my roommate where I was going to be. And we had drinks. And he was nice, but came off much more feminine in person. I’m not saying he was a girly-man, but he just wasn’t as masculine as I prefer. (Alas, no beard.)
And he had one of my biggest turn-offs: small, slender, delicate-looking hands. He was perfectly nice and we had enough to talk about but there was no chemistry. I also kind of felt like he was way too excited about me. I know that sounds ridiculous, but he kept telling me how pretty I was and how this was his best match.com date ever, etc. and it made me feel like he thought I was too good for him which made me think that maybe I was. Yes, I was a shallow, vain 22-year-old. Sue me.
After the date, I told him I had a nice time, which wasn’t a lie, but when he tried to follow-up a few days later to hang out, I blew him off. And after my free trial, I gave up on the ole match.com. And I never told anyone else about the date.