Hey, guess what?
I changed my mind again. Yeah, about the whole online dating thing. But I upgraded yet again. I hid my profiles on the two free sites, because I think that I should get more than a catfish. Catfish + koi = nothing good in a bad way. Sometimes something + something = nothing good, but in that good dirty kind of way. This wasn't it.
So I got on match.com last night with my fake profile name that isn't really fake, it's just my middle name which no one knows, because I dropped my middle name when I got married and kept my maiden name as my middle name. This was for two reasons: I might have had some unconscious clue that the marriage was going to go south and maybe taking my maiden name back would be easier if it was just my middle name instead. But now I have kids and I don't want to have a different last name from them, at least not right now. The other reason for dropping my maiden middle name is that if I had kept it with my married name, my initials would have been SLT. So my monogram would either sound like a model of a Ford Taurus, or it would sound like someone meant to spell SLuT but forgot the u.
My middle name, or some combination of it is my really anonymous online dating name. I spent hours crafting the right profile, because I think the normal man probably doesn't know how to take my x-rated snark. And, I decided to be somewhat honest. I mean, if I've got to pay for this shit, I should get my money's worth out of being honest. So I was honest, and I'm pleased with that. The only detail I omitted was my smoking. I opted not to even mention it. I won't acknowledge there's such a thing called lying by omission. I figure if I end up going out with someone who doesn't smoke, I can cram about three or four pieces of nicotine gum in the my mouth every so often and they won't be any the wiser. I might try to get some from my mom (cause that shit is more expensive than the damn tobacky) and see what happens if I mix it with Big Red gum. Either nasty as hell or a match made in heaven. Which could be just like the date that I might go on.
I paid my monthly fee, which was the most expensive option, but considering I've been doing this online dating thing for less than two whole weeks and I can't even decide if I want to do this, I probably shouldn't go for the six month commitment. This indecision is killing me. I'm starting to get on my own damn nerves, and that's really something. Not like I don't get on my own nerves periodically, but I usually don't drag it out for this long. Indecision is something that I've trained myself out of, because you can't operate in life like that and it would be the death of my career. I can't be indecisive at work, and I don't think I've ever had that option in my career. Actually, maybe this is just me reverse-compensating for having to do that for 18 years. Maybe this is the first time I've been able to be indecisive about anything and it feels so good (but I just don't realize it yet) that I can't stop being indecisive about this one thing in my life. Nah, that's not it. The real truth to the matter is that I'm retaining water and it's a full moon. My estrogen is way fucked up.
I think what it is is that I know I can't be in a relationship right now, because I'm still putting me together. That, and I don't know what man would put up with me right now because I have no time for anything other than work and my children. Who the hells wants to be involved with someone like that? Furthermore, because The Ex was considerate enough to introduce his girlfriend to the children BEFORE I EVEN MOVED OUT, I feel like the pressure is on me to be extra stable and to make sure that everything I do with them is exactly what the child psychologist recommended. So basically, whomever I end up dating won't be meeting my children any time soon. Like, months and months, because I'm not putting my children through that bullshit. What this means is that this is going to be someone who has to be okay with only seeing me every other weekend and for a random lunch date for the long time being.
I think... I need a friend with benefits. That might be exactly what I need, because I'm not feeling like I'm emotionally at a place to be able to trust yet, to be able to expose myself to an actual person. I mean, damn, that's what my blog is for, and that's somewhat anonymous. Most definitely anonymous to some because I know the people in Lithuania don't know me. So here's the tricky part--I need to troll through all these goddamn profiles and find the hot guys who won't screen me out based solely upon my age. Really, to go off on a complete sidebar, I've determined that I totally don't look my age because smoking doesn't age you. Jogging does. Think of every person you know who jogs religiously and most of them look worn down. Well, that's because they are. Their joints are fucked up, their skin is all wrinkly because they have fat in the wrong places from all that impact making the fat slide around, and they just look old. Yet another reason to not run. I don't run at all, unless a child (namely one of mine) is hurt and bleeding. Blood is a requirement. I don't run for work, and I won't. Fuck 'em. I'll just take a shoe off and chunk it at them because I have a good arm and who wants to get hit with a four inch spike heel? I had some guy email me on this site today and he obviously did not read my profile, which specifically states that I am deathly allergic to jogging, olives and the color yellow. Why this man would even send an email is beyond me, because he has on his profile that he runs more than 100 miles a month. Huuuuuhhhhh????? Whaaaaaat???? Oh my god, why would you do that to yourself? And he looks 51, not 41. Furthermore, 40 is my cut-off. I'm swinging low on my age range, because my cut-on is 30. Oops, he's not the guy who emailed me. He's the guy who made me his favorite. Whaaaaat???? Okay, running will make me look old and my hair won't look super cute, so I don't run. It's also damn near impossible to jog and smoke at the same time. For those who manage to do so, my compliments to that particular skill-set, but you look r.e.t.a.r.d.e.d. Furthermore, I'm not into new age mysticism. Are you fucking kidding me? Hey, jackass, don't get all hot and bothered over the pics, read the goddamn profile. Omg.
Friends with benefits, since that's so much more classy and refined than fuck buddy. That's probably what I need. Hit it and quit it, because I'm all about woman empowerment and women can do that shit, too. So, that's probably what I'll be working on for the next 30 days (I really don't want to pay for this for another whole month), because I've got my game back, feeling slicker than whale shit and I've got my eye on a couple of prospects. We shall see...
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