I recently wrote of what does it feel like to arrive in NYC and get swept off one’s feet. After my first couple of months here, my friend talked me into putting up a profile on one of the dating websites, telling me how much fun it was. Of course, I was too lazy to take care of it myself, so she created the profile for me at the aptly named “Plenty of Fish” platform. I have to admit, it was fun.
I spent about 6 months using the service more or less actively, but I ended up going on only three dates. The first meeting, at a bar, was very pleasant, but more in a friend-like way. He came from London (he was sure his accent will buy him extra points, but it didn’t), he was mixed race and we had a great talk, but there was no chemistry. Maybe because he looked different from his profile photo, where there was about 15 pounds less of him? We exchanged a few text messages after that, but the next date didn’t happen.
My second date was with a white American guy from Long Island who was a spitting image of the Ken doll – literally, every muscle was in the right place, as if they were carved out. The date took place at my apartment and I have no regrets, but there was just too much plastic for me. I can’t think of the third date without some amusement since it took place on a Connecticut-bound train; the guy was a ticket controller, so I got to sit in first class. We had lunch in Connecticut, where he told me of his plans of becoming a screenwriter, and the chemistry between us was palpable. Even though the memory of that summer afternoon always energizes me, I still needed some time to forget that in the middle of the road he offered to have a quickie in the restroom (I said no, in case you are in doubt). Still, I don’t regret it, since the guy was so gorgeous I have never seen anyone quite like him. He looked like a young god (you know that God has brown skin, right?). We never met again, not because of the restroom proposal, but because he was never available in the evenings (red flag! Never trust a guy who hasn’t got a single evening free). Sigh… I still can see him in that white t-shirt of his.
I signed off the website for one reason: it was too much of a waste of time. Hours flow like minutes and suddenly you realize you spent the evening talking to some guy you won’t even remember the next day. It’s not for me. I don’t like dating, anyhow. Is there anyone who really takes pleasure in the process? I get bored by it. I believe that once I’m ready, the right guy will simply come along and we won’t have to play all that hocus-pocus-peek-a-boo-show-me-your-best-face-only game. We will go to a bar, we will have some Scotch, we will end up at his place or mine, or maybe not, and two days later he will text me, asking where is it that we’re going to have some pancakes. That’s how I picture it.