Men on blind dates are so deceptive.

Blind Date from Hell

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Some guys will do anything to get your sympathy.

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Confessions of a former infantile, self-absorbed commitment phobe

I posted the previous essay in an edited form on Craigslist and got a deluge of mail from men who commented on it. This was the most astute comment I received:
I wanted to give you my feedback in response to your post. Up until
a year ago (43) I was definitely the guy you describe; infantile,
childified adult, self-absorbed, active-running thrill seeker, rode
(red) motorbikes like a madman, was looking for commitment-phobes
just like me and was also striving for more adventure than I could
handle.

Then, a funny thing happened. I met this woman of about 36
who was exactly the SAME as me. She subscribed to all of the
behaviors that I and (you) have listed and more. I took on the
passive pursuer role and she took the active running role. I got
emotionally attached and she became highly ambivalent.

Then I ran, again, because I could not stand to face my fears. But this time it
was totally different. I spent many nights pondering what happened,
consequently breaking down dramatically. I tried to make sense of it
all not really realizing that all along, the issues were deep within
me. I spent the last 3 months doing serious self-analysis and finally
understanding and reconciling my actions.

So, what is all this leading to? Basically, don't give up. I
learned first that I jumped in too deep, too fast with someone who
was also not emotionally available (a reflection of me), and
consequently, was terrified at having to face my own fears of
inadequacy, abandonment and infidelity.

You are echoing the feelings of our generation. Especially those who
have finally matured and are ready to face reality. I feel and have
felt exactly the way you do and now I am trying to just relax and
become more introspective.

I liked the line you wrote:

"The cul de sac and barbecue are finally not the big boring threats
they once were"

I agree....

Peace

ABin

Is cyberspace better than your place?

I was wearing a red shirt and a black mini skirt that night. I felt gorgeous. I felt alive. It was the way you were supposed to meet the love of your life--with 20 of my friends there as witnesses, surrounded by everyone I love, surrounded by people who should have known better than to invite us both there.

He was standing in the kitchen. And the moment we saw each other it was like, POOF instant recognition. Sparks. Lightning bolts. The kind of spontaneous combustion that happens two or three times in your life. My life at least.

Within hours we were on the couch, and I was crying in his arms. He felt like someone I knew already. Someone I could trust.

He later told me that the smell of me was intoxicating. He would dream of that smell.

And I thought: "Yes, this is the way. This is the way it's supposed to happen. In the real world where the pheremones are there, where all the senses are engaged and you can touch and taste and smell and see, where the attraction is obvious, where you're one degree of separation apart because you both know the same circle of people.

Yes, this was the real world, not an Internet Personal so it had to be better. It had to be right.

The next day he wrote me a long letter. He said he was really interested in getting to know me better, and that he was glad that I could trust him like that.

As we walked back to the car, a homeless man said: "You two are beautiful together."

And people always said that. You two are beautiful. You look like you are so in love. We seemed to be rolling on the same cloud. I guess I forgot that clouds eventually swell and burst and the rain comes.

I was thinking: Yes, this is the way it's supposed to be when you meet someone in the real world. This is the way you fall in love.

He was calling every day and every night. He was driving 200 miles round trip, twice a week, to see me.

By our second month together, he joked, if we kept seeing each other at this rate, within two weeks we would be living together.

And then, something changed. I can't put my finger on it, but reality intervened. And we finally learned the ugly shocking truth about each other:

We wanted the exactly the opposite things from life.

He was a hardworking single Dad in a house on a cul du sac with a lawn and a barbecue who was finally on the home stretch, looking at freedom ahead, plotting his escape -- early retirement and a freewheeling life of rediscovering the adolescence he never had. Parties, concerts, raves, drugs, a different woman every night...this was the light at the end of his frustrated, middle aged tunnel. Somehow he thought I was the perfect woman to explore the world and head off on this existential journey with.

I'd sown my oats and then some -- free and unencumbered, Lonely Planet book in hand, exploring any and everything I ever wanted to discover, nothing tying me down, no responsibilities but to myself. And I was sick of all this freedom -- I wanted to take care of someone. The cul de sac and barbecue were finally not the big boring threats they once were. I was a grown up and ready to take on some responsibility and drill some roots into the turf and nurture something beside my own self indulgence.

I was attracted to that hardworking dedicated single Dad and thinking, wow, I'd love to settle in and help him raise his kids, be the woman that his ex couldn't be.

We wanted not what each other was becoming, but what each other had been. Once this realization emerged, it was over. The cloud burst and it rained and rained.

But what if we had met online, on the Internet?

The big, nasty ugly questions:

- Do you want (more) children?

- Where do you see yourself in the next ten years?

- Are you looking for a casual short term fling or a life partner?

On the Internet, you didn't even see a man's profile before those questions were out of the way. You didn't even click. You didn't even stand a chance of accidental spontaneous combustion with someone whoose path was only crossing yours because you were just getting ready to do a u turn.

So here I am, a bit humbled. Wondering if, indeed, the Internet might be a better way.

Or if finding someone on the same path is indeed such a monumental task that we just have to keep bouncing back into cyberspace, keep clicking, keep hoping, keep that flicker of fearless irrational optimism alive in our hearts that makes love possible.

Why do they look like mushrooms?

I found this hysterically funny and beautifully written post today in WOMEN SEEKING MEN on Craigslist. Yes, guys, we really don't get turned on when you send us photos of your dismembered, detached, disembodied members. We're looking for a heart, not a head. But that occasional penis in my in box is at least always good for a giggle.

Why do they look like mushrooms after all?

I would like to point something out. "They" are not cute. "They" look like mushrooms, and generally speaking it's a good shape for the purpose but not to look at.

You guys must know that while you want to see us - we do not care so much what your parts looks like. We are after a feeling. The picture may be a shorthand - or a kind of "I owe you", but as such a picture of a penis is just so much human compounded by so much ego.

Yes, I like them. (You have no idea...) But isolated from the frame of a man, from the face of a man, from the voice and interests and violence of a man - it looks to me like some austere shrub - like some peculiar hothouse flower. (Native, perhaps, to the tropics).

I'm not clear on where I'm going with this. I just think you all should know. The girl thing - we want the composite, not the close-up. "It" is an accessory. Make love to me me with your brain. With your arms or your heart. Mean it. Care more. Study more. Take the time and you'll get it all back. I will wait on you. I will defend you to the world, comfort you, care for you. The whole thing. Deep clean desperate screwing?

Yes.

Degraded, fine, guilt-ridden, unharnessed subservience? Yes. Yes already.

I do want it - but not the picture, the real thing - the push and pull of hope and fear, of wanting the other person to meet you half way and never being sure where that is. Give to my giving and you will be overwhelmed. That is the difference between men and women. We actually have more to give. It's because of what nature makes of us. We're always ready to be transcended.

You - your funny mushroom flower.

Is it Match.com's fault you didn't get a date?

I know this is old news: Online daters have filed a lawsuit and are seeking class action status against the cyberspace love connector Match.com. The suit claims employees from the Internet matchmaking service sent out bogus romantic e-mails and even went on sham dates with subscribers as a marketing ploy.

But the new news is that yours truly, Brain Dancer, has signed on and joined this lawsuit. I got some very suspiciously perfect looking dates in my in box just as I was getting ready to cancel my membership -- and was hooked into staying in hope of giving the service "one more chance." I'll keep you posted as I learn how it's progressing.

I saw many complaints about Match.com about this issue that I referred to in a post earlier this year in Braindancing, but I had no idea it would go as far as a class action suit. It seemed like paranoia -- online daters insisting that Match was sending them phony ads to lure them into joining the service. But I have to admit, some of the guys they sent me seemed way too good to be true, and never replied to my emails.

And after paying them good money for over two years, I found Match's success record in actual dates with online personal ads significantly than the old tried and true method: meeting guys in the real world at parties or events. Match would have a much better luck at retaining customers if they solved the real problems that plague the service -- people who lie, people who post bland profiles, too much emphasis on photos and looks rather than real values, not "alternative" enough and too mainstream (out of touch with the real values of today's hip young singles), not specialized enough (there should be specialized communities, as Friendfinder has), and a system that doesn't ask questions that coax the personality out of shy people (Smart Cupid/Nerve does a much better job of drawing out presonality with provocative questions like: "What is your favorite sex scene in a movie?" or "What is the worst lie you ever told?".)

Register your Match.com Complaint

If you are Match.com member and feel you have received bogus e-mails, you may qualify for damages or remedies that may be awarded in a possible class action lawsuit. Please fill out the form below and we will have a lawyer review your Match.com complaint.

Your complaint will be sent to Arias, Ozzello & Gignac - H. Scott Leviant at Lawyers and Settlements.com.

I admit it, I was rejected 7,365 times

Can I admit here the embarassing fact that during a year, 7,365 men viewed my profile on Match.com -- and yet I got only about five actual dates from it? So does that mean I'm a total babe and everyone wants to look at my photo -- or that I've been rejected by a staggering seven thousand men? (That could be every man in my age range in the entire city of San Francisco!) It might be painful, but useful, to know why they clicked on to the next. Is it because I'm unconventional and one of a kind and too gorgeous and brilliant and out of their league? Or wierd and repulsive and needy and clingy?

A feedback loop might give me insights into what I'm writing in my profile (or scary relationship ideals I'm admitting that I want) that sends these guys boomeranging back into cyberspace.

Over at Online Dating Insider, David Evans writes: "Who's Viewed Me Is Only The Beginning"

"The ability to know who has viewed your profile is a mixed blessing. On one hand, you may be exposed to people who are out of your normal search criteria. On the other, lack of people viewing your profile can be taken as a sign it's time to revise your essay and photographs. Or that you will never get another date unless you get a haircut. There is room for some sort of peer review service in there somewhere.

One one hand, I want to know who and what type of women find me appealing. On the other, I don't know anything more than that they have seen my profile and clicked on my photo. I want to know what their immediate reaction was. Mild butterflies or disgust? Were they reaching for the delete key or the Wink button?

Until dating sites provide (in a non-threatening comfortable way) greater transparency into the searcher-searchee process the majority of singles will continue to choose traditional matchmaking and social interaction over online dating sites (which are really introduction sites, as no one actually dates online.)"

A rating service (anononymously, perhaps) would really add value to online dating. I think David has a brilliant idea.

Hot -- or not so hot?

Here is are actual photos I found on Hot or Not.com, an online dating website that gives us all a chance to get rated like a cut of USDA meat.

Could these guys really seriously think they're hot, sexy guys on a scale of one to ten? Or are they just pulling my leg? (Hey, one guy pulled it so far it's amputated.)

Or is there truly someone for everyone out there in the vast online dating smorgasboard that is cyberspace?