INTERNET DATES FROM HELL (2 page)

Part I
Internet Dates from Hell
 

1
 

Talk on the Phone At Least Once Before Meeting
 

February 1997

I became tired of clubs, bars, setups, and waiting for a “spontaneous meeting,” so I began to surf the Web. In the search box, I entered the word “singles,” and up came hundreds of singles sites! There were singles sites for lovers of cooking, golf enthusiasts, scuba divers, and ski bums. There were sites for Jewish, Christian, Asian, and Russian singles. Next I tried searching the word “dating.” Since I was using AOL, “love@aol” emerged at the top of the list. I clicked on the link and then scrolled through what seemed to be hundreds of ads with photos of both men and women. It looked simple enough, so I posted an ad that day. Since I didn’t have a scanner at the time, I didn’t include a photo. How bad could this be?

The next day I checked my e-mail, and twelve responses to my profile appeared! All of them looked pretty normal. However, the responses were from men much older than I. My request was for men between the ages of thirty and forty. Of the hits I received, some were from the Midwest, a few from Long Island, and several from New York City, but all were without photos. It now made sense. The sooner I attached a photo, the better the responses would be. From that point onward, not only would I attach photos to my ad, but I would also request photos in return.

Although in my spare time I dabbled in photography, where would I get a recent digital photo of myself? Also, how could I attach the photo to my profile? I had no scanner, nor did I know the procedure. This quandary was soon solved by a visit to my best friend and new neighbor, Greg, whom I’ve known for the past twenty years. Greg is not only technically proficient in the latest digital photography but is a self-described “Trekkie” as well.

After an hour-long photo shoot in Greg’s apartment, he downloaded the best photos—a black-and-white head shot, along with a flattering full-body shot. I was satisfied. The moment I attached photos to my ad, the number of responses increased tenfold. In less than twenty-four hours, I had 144 responses in my mailbox! After reading each and every one of them, I came up with five potentials, two maybes, and 137 deletes.

Of the five potentials, the first was a thirty-year-old architect named Chris who lived in the East Village. Chris’s interests included black-and-white photography, golf, cafés, listening to classic rock, and mountain biking. His attached photo was in JPEG format, and he appeared attractive. He had spiky, short blond hair and was standing in front of a famous landmark (the cube on Lafayette Street and St. Mark’s Place). Although the sunglasses bothered me, I was intrigued, so I wrote back.

What ensued was an exchange of e-mails lasting a number of days. As a result, Chris expressed an interest in meeting me and suggested a Starbucks located in the East Village. Racked with anticipation, I lay awake the entire night before the meeting. One good thing about that experience was I realized that putting off calling the plasterer was not an option. A once unsightly tiny crack had overtaken my entire ceiling! I realized that I had to tell the newlyweds who lived in the apartment above me that they had better cool it or they would come through my ceiling! Isn’t love grand? How in the hell did that ugly little nymph find such a good-looking, polite acrobat? Some girls have all the luck.

As I lay awake, my mind wandered. I hope he’ll like me and be attracted to me. I hope he won’t be put off when he sees that I’m not a size two. What would it be like to marry an architect? Most women engage in imprudent daydreaming; it is a fault none of us can overcome when the possibility of romance is in the air. I was planning our walk-in closets without even meeting him! My mind raced on. I was picking our style of home and community! In my case, imprudence is an understatement!

The next day, fearing tardiness, I barreled down Ninth Avenue to Penn Station an hour before our rendezvous. I was in luck—no sooner did I pass through the turnstile when a C train pulled up to the platform. Reveling in my good luck, I realized that I was heading north when I should have been headed south. I got off at the next stop and proceeded up the stairs to street level, bringing me to the corner of Broadway and took the 4 train and headed south. It seemed like an eternity before the little illuminated man instructed the masses to walk. Did you ever wonder why it isn’t an illuminated woman who gives us the “go ahead”? I scuttled down the steps to the southbound E train just in time, and was East Village bound. I got out on 14th Street and briskly walked to my transfer train. As soon as I was comfortably seated, my old nemesis arose again. Damned daydreaming! Now, it was “Josh” if it was a boy and “Karla” if it was a girl! Ironically what brought me out of this next bout of surrealism were advertisements for Internet dating. This particular train car was littered with promos for a matchmaking service only a few blocks east of my destination. After what seemed like eons, I arrived at my stop at Lafayette Street. As I approached street level, I saw the cube (famous landmark), bringing me back to the initial photograph that started this journey. My watch screamed lateness! I briskly arrived at the coffee shop in a fashionably late manner.

As I entered the coffee shop, the aroma of myriad coffee beans filled my nostrils. The sensory overload was rudely overpowered by the loud noise permeating the coffee shop. I couldn’t decide what was worse, the sound of the milk steamer or the useless chatter from a table of Goth teens sitting in the back. I chose the milk steamer, as I have been taught to forgive immaturity.

Not knowing Internet dating etiquette, I decided not to sit and wait; I got in line and ordered a cappuccino. As I waited, I turned to face the door. Several men came in, and each time one entered, my heart stopped as I nervously wondered whether each one was Chris. After a few minutes, my cappuccino was ready. Just as I received my change from the cashier, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Hey,” the person said. The voice was female. I numbly turned around.

“Hi, I am Chris,” the woman said. Confused, I replied, “I don’t understand. I thought you were a guy!”

“I am not a guy, but if I told you I was a woman, you wouldn’t have wanted to meet me.”

“Well, you’re right. I’m not a lesbian and that’s your mistake.” I was so pissed that I inadvertently knocked my cappuccino all over the counter, and onto both of our shoes to boot! Realizing my stupidity, I scurried for the door while overhearing Chris yelling, “Don’t knock it unless you’ve tried it!”

To think that I had stayed up late the night before plotting my next course of events and had lost sleep over this date! I felt like a fool. However, when one plays with fire, one gets burned. With Internet dating, the inexperienced cannot only get burned, but also scorched and charred, if not careful.

This concludes our first lesson. Talk to the prospective date on the telephone at least once before going out on a date. If I had done so, I would have detected a subterfuge. I also think I should have asked for a photo taken without sunglasses. People who insist on wearing sunglasses in photos normally are hiding something. When I got home, I wanted to take my ad down and forget the whole damn online dating thing. And get rid of my outdated sunglasses. Yet, as fate would have it, when I opened my inbox, 132 new responses were present! I guess the head shot worked! From this point onward, my technique would be different…

2
 

Ask for a Recent Photo
 

March 1997

A month later I adopted a better procedure. Sifting through all the e-mails, I would first read the response and then download the photo. Based on chapter 1’s lesson, if a person wore shades in the photo, I would request another photo taken without sunglasses. A day later, I would contact the person by phone if he supplied his phone number. For safety’s sake, I would call him from a blocked number. It’s a good idea to leave only a few crumbs in the beginning of one’s dating trail.

Some have even suggested using *67 to block one’s caller ID. In today’s world where identity theft is so prevalent, using this method may be advisable.

If the person sounded eccentric or freaky, I would politely excuse myself from any further discussion. If the person was interesting to talk to, I would plan to meet him at a public place such as a diner or coffee shop close to my apartment, so I wouldn’t put myself in jeopardy. Being within a three-block radius of your home is a great idea for a first date.

A stage actor named Paul contacted me. He described himself as a six foot one inch thirty-four-year-old living on the Upper West Side. He fit the requirements of my request. As did I, Paul enjoyed travel, biking, and museums. He included two photos of himself. The first photo, a black-and-white head shot, was reminiscent of a young Sylvester Stallone from the early Rocky films. This made me a tad apprehensive. I remembered the character as good-looking and dull-witted. The last thing I needed was another good-looking, dim-witted celebrity-like character. What’s worse than waking up after five years of marriage to a husband with the intellectual capacity of a twenty-year-old? (Although haven’t some of us met some very mature twenty-year-olds?)

The second photo was a group shot consisting of a foursome outside the 19th hole at his country club. Standing third from the left with his arms around golfers’ number two and four, he seemed gregarious, athletic, and jovial, which intrigued me. What bothered me was I couldn’t discern the year the photograph was taken.

I wrote back to Paul telling him that I liked his profile and thanked him for his photographs (learning from my first mistake, I began to insist on at least two photographs to confirm gender). I also requested his phone number. It didn’t take long for him to respond with an e-mail that included not only his cell phone number, but also his home and work numbers. I decided to call him at home in the early evening. After talking on the phone for more than an hour, I found out that the group golf photo was taken a few years back. Although the photo wasn’t recent, I went ahead and planned to meet him the next day at a diner across the street from my apartment.

I got there early and took a seat in a booth facing the door so I could see him enter the diner before he would see me. I waited in anticipation for what seemed to be hours, but only five minutes had passed when a huge guy entered the diner, waved at me, and sat down next to me. “Hi, I’m Paul,” he said as he picked up the menu. He didn’t look anything like his photo. He must have weighed at least 280 pounds, and none of the additional weight was muscle! In the photo he was at least 80 pounds lighter! I didn’t want to say anything about his weight, of course, but I had to say something. He also looked at least fifteen years older than in the photos, which perturbed me more! If this is what Internet dating was—deception—I needed to decide whether this was for me.

“Your eyes are even bluer in person,” Paul shared. Just when I had generated enough courage to say something, a tired waitress interrupted the moment as she came to our table and said, “What will you have?” I imagined telling the waitress that I wanted the fastest way out of the diner, but instead I ordered a Diet Coke. Paul ordered a cheeseburger deluxe with a side order of onion rings and a chocolate milk shake. I was sure his present weight was a direct result of frequently ordering healthy meals like this! I thought to myself, “Boy, this date will turn out to be over an hour long.” Paul didn’t even notice that I only ordered a Diet Coke; he was too busy drooling over the food photos on the menu.