E-dating week 5: Gambling on love?

So I’ve got a little confession to make: I’m not quite sure what Kenny Rogers’ advice on gambling means, or how it applies to life, but I might be about to embark on a little romantic roulette beyond the blind date blackjack I played a few weeks ago. (Is that enough cheesy gambling references yet? Yes? Good.)

Can buy me love?

The last lotto ticket I plan to buy.

Yes, I might be about ready to plunk down cash for a dating service. I didn’t have to do it with the first one, since their two free trial periods were sufficient time for most of the guys I met on there to give me their emails or IM handles — and CrazyBlindDate is free of course — but eHarmony wants to charge me through the proverbial wazoo to answer questions from/trade emails with/view pictures of my matches. And by wazoo — in case you haven’t priced such services lately — I mean anywhere from $60 for one month to $251.40 for one year.

Now, granted, they have a vastly better interface than the previous site (though clearly the former had work to do in ensuring their users were actually revenue-generators), but still, the whole thing entails a bigger financial commitment than I’m prepared to make ... at least before my likely first date with e-Prospect #1 this weekend (turns out life in the mujahidin did not exclude some internet use after all). I still have almost no clue what the plan for Sunday is, but we’ll see. I guess you have to play each hand one at a time, eh? In any case, depending on how that all goes, I may be more or less likely to fold ’em, more or less likely to hold ’em, pay up and see how harmonious my matches are.

Either way, this new experiment at “putting myself out there” seems to involve risks with every deal. Obviously that’s inevitable, and some things will turn out better than I feared. Despite the cliché of blind dates being horribly demoralizing and awkward, my first one in a long time resulted in almost no nerves on my part and a very lively conversation that let me talk about things I’d forgotten I had thoughts about or had studied. (Alas, there wasn’t enough there for me to consider him a romantic prospect, but on the whole it vastly exceeded the street rep of such random outings. Props to the e-dating matchmakers at CrazyBlindDate.)

But as I try to get back on the same (or similar) emotional horse that bucked me off the last time and left several nice horseshoe grooves in my heart, it’s hard not to fear that I’m in for more pain this time, whether or not the ride’s half as good as it was the last time, and whether there’s one more thrilling fall involved. Then again, I’ve probably been that sort of romantic gambler/horse-rider who goes all in on the first round, who rides the horse without using stirrups, reins, or other standard safety devices (humor me, and find these two metaphors compatible, will ya?). This, it’s to be admitted, isn’t something I’ve really acknowledged till lately, but hopefully it’s a step toward saddling up again.

Improving on a poor poker face

One thing that may help me learn to ride and fall better is a new Sunday school class on dating that started this last week. Based on a DVD series with the author of How to Avoid Marrying a Jerk, it looks to be a tremendous guide to not so much different ways of dating but the skills, head knowledge and heart-pacing needed to “Pick the Right Partner” the course title mentions. The overview session alone gave me lots of new insights into some of the bruises my heart has sustained, and the book has uniformly high praise on Amazon. Check it out if the title is as new to you as it was me. Even if you’re not “single-and-looking-to-change-that” yourself, odds are you know someone who is.

If nothing else, I can say from experience that the title alone will get you plenty of laughs and stories about others’ ill-fated gambles on jerks/“jerkettes” when you mention what you’re reading.

Which confession of reading/classwork, now that I think of it, is one more social ante-in that went better than my risk-fearful heart might have expected. And if there’s nothing gained without venturing first, perhaps I ought to focus more on improving my game and learning when and how to risk, than just quitting cards altogether.

Kenny, I guess I’m not ready to walk away just yet, but have you got any insider tips on what the winning odds are with eHarmony? I’m still wary of big-money games ...

E-dating week 4: ‘Girl brain’ at its worst

I was talking with a housemate and her guests recently when some faux-superstitious remark on my part (probably joking that some “sign” surely portended her romantic fate) prompted Housemate #1 to dismiss my quip with a snort and the charge of having “girl brain.”

It’s probably been called lots of things, but my favorite depiction of these histrionic, melodramatic flights of analytical fancy is the montage late in Amelie when she imagines all the things her mystery man has run off to do — the only one of which I remember was to join the mujahidin.

I liked that scene. It had the right deftness and briskness to suggest Amelie herself constructing the pastiche of internal mania with a coy self deprecation, as if to say sweetly, “Yes, it’s loony, but haven’t you done it too?”

Loony or not, girl brain almost always manifests in the absence or maddening silence of a man. Any situation where uncertain possibilities present themselves is an instant opportunity for our ever-active brains to fill in the gaps (naturally as colorfully as possible) until the man acts or speaks, providing us further data to mull over.

I had been mercifully spared of this affliction until recently, as nary a possible prospect was on the horizon (except with liberal stretches of the imagination). It was great. I walked the streets of San Francisco home from work to BART each night, my head busy with the latest baby garment to knit or who I needed to email next for some ongoing task with the book. Although I’ve decided to let myself actually look at the rotating line-up of four wedding dresses I always pass in a shop along Columbus, I’ve generally had a nice long stretch of calm deep breaths and peacefully savored foggy evenings.

Enter my recently married cousin, whom I saw at the end of a business trip last month. Barely one day into our visit, and she declared me in romantic hiding, which she suggested might be tackled by exploring internet dating.

I’ll admit I haven’t exactly been trying to crash every possible party that fills my housemates’ busy social lives, but neither have I been cultivating a shrewish tone with men, pretending to own several litters of cats, or finding other ways to become a SuperSpinster.

Still, I decided she might have a point.

Since this region isn’t exactly known for its seminaries and Jesus freaks, I decided to take her up on it, short of actually putting down money for said services. While this has so far yielded plenty of writing fodder, it’s also — alas — renewed the risk of girl brain (gulp).

Take the guy whom I’ll call e-Prospect #1. If it weren’t bad enough that we started contact shortly before a trip he took (a chance for wild speculation based on his email address), we subsequently resumed contact, briefly but promisingly, which Christmas and New Year’s then interrupted further.

And since he’d apparently rather IM than email, I’m now in the girl-brain hell of logging into a chat program to try figure out when he goes online (at work, in the evenings, or when he’s waiting for laundry to dry?), and then pondering whether or not to IM him or maintain a diffident distance so he can be the one to say hi.

You’d think that after the last romantic ______ (for which I still can’t find words appropriate), I’d be warier of wading back into IM ambiguity. And I am, but with a few hundred miles between us, I’m unlikely to break through that unless my forthcoming trip to see relatives (who just happen to live in e-Prospect #1’s town) leads to a coffee date or something. Assuming of course, that we actually “talk” again and I have a chance to casually mention said trip.

Until then, I guess I’ll just have to assume that laptops aren’t allowed in the mujahidin.

Internet-dating experiment, Days 3-9

Days 1-2

After a few of the painful chats and email exchanges I’ve sat through in the last few days, I can’t decide which is worse: going through this in between doing work tasks and checking email, or sitting there, at a bar, watching as the guy tries to think of something to say.

I’d like to think that some of them (hopefully most) would do a bit better in person, but what exactly is one supposed to say in response to an email that reads, “I’d like to get to know you if your interested” — this from a guy who hasn’t filled in a single short-answer question on his profile?

Then there was the guy who barely communicates in either his profile or our chat session, yet after just a few minutes of scintillating dialogue about the snowy weather he’d like to escape for California’s warmth wants to know if he can send me a Christmas card.

I promise, I could get far more sarcastic about the other tidbits he tossed out, apparently in a bid to establish his sterling, trustworthy character … but I’m trying, dear reader, I’m trying. (To be nice and receptive, that is — not just shoot guys down for working security, offering cheesy compliments, or asking questions about my “experience” within the first few minutes of chat.) Suffice to say, it’s a less-than-thrilling adventure so far, my foray back into the wooly world of Web dating.

At least with the one guy who seemed most promising so far, he had a sufficiently interesting email address that I could start spinning stories about what his job must be on my walk to BART from work that night. But then, of course, since he has yet to answer my first missive to said account, I haven’t had any chance to confirm or dispel my theories about what he does. I probably sent my email too soon after he had provided his address.

With successes like this, it’s probably little wonder that I found myself signing up on another site this weekend, one I’d learned of during a lively lunch chat about my new romance/research endeavor. The female half of a married couple from church had mentioned that she knows the guy who runs the OKCupid site. Apparently he has recently launched a new, free venture in just a handful of cities, called Crazy Blind Date.

Since I was hoping to check out an Adam Levy show Sunday night and didn’t want to go alone, I decided get a little … well … “crazy.” Based on my registration experience, I give them props for the interface, though not the ease of changing from a double to single date. The optional profile questions you answer later also touched on some interesting issues, but frankly some of them got more deeply into personal hygiene and moral positions than I care for strangers to know when they’re deciding to take a chance on schedule and geographic alignment.

At any rate, I didn’t wind up with a date, either crazy or blind. Whether I was too restrictive in seeking a Christian blind date to trek out to the Tenderloin (SF natives will doubtless start laughing hysterically here) or they don’t have enough people registered yet, it’s hard to say. Next time I think I’ll try them when I have a free night I’m looking to fill, instead of a set event I want to attend.

If you’re in Austin, Boston, New York or SF you can give ’em a spin yourself. Since the site is still in the beta phase, all services are free. And that’s this week e-dating report! I probably won’t blog much next week with the holidays, but after New Year’s I plan to take another site’s trial run. Look for comparative reporting in a week or so.

Internet-dating experiment, Days 1-2

Well, I’ve done it. At the goading of a recently married cousin I saw this weekend, I’ve signed up for a short-term trial with a new-to-me dating site boasting an “all Christian, all single” pool of, um, eligibles. She claims that if I’d put myself out there in face-to-face settings — to the extent of some makeup and being reasonably civil, if not witty with any unattached men who should happen to chat me up — that there’s no reason for not doing the same online.

While I could argue that face-to-face settings don’t cost as much, I suppose the trade-offs of more time spent on fashion/make-up but less or no cost for admittance (unless you add up the number or drinks bought or snacks brought to parties) are about equal to the online trade-offs: getting “out there” in my PJs if need be (as long as a few good photos are handy), but paying a bit more to stay there.

We’ll see. I do admittedly have relatives on both sides of my family who met their spouses online, and two readers who met each other on this blog later got married! At least it turns out that Christmas is a good time to join, financially (however much it might inflate their ... I mean, our ... ranks with lonely singles). Already I’ve gotten offers to park my profile there more long-term at a nicely discounted holiday rate.

My plan is to wait out the 10-day trial period (although it has already inexplicably dropped to 7 days left despite my signing up yesterday — apparently they count your days from midnight on something like Greenwich Mean Time??) and see if anyone truly interesting contacts me. No browsing the profiles, no contacting men who appeal to me. All I plan to do is see if anyone actually emails, browse their profiles perhaps, and send appropriate responses.

I realize that might sound a bit half-hearted, but if all I’m doing is putting myself out there, why do more? Besides, to neither write an “I dare you to write me profile” nor spend hours scoping the prospects marks a major sign of growth — or at least adjustment — for me. Three years ago (and the last time I tried a dating site beside Craigslist) for instance, I wrote the following:

What I’m looking for in a Soulmatch
Nothing. Because I’m not looking. For a “soulmate,” anyway.

From the standpoint of divine destiny, I understand why people want to believe in one. And I do think God is involved in our lives. But all too often the desire to know how God is involved creates an abdication of responsibility. People would rather be told what to decide than how to decide.

But I suppose I’m dodging the question. Or rather, its intent.

I used to have so many lists of “qualities,” but they were often slanted by the guy I liked most at the moment.

Honesty matters, of course.

But the most important thing — the hardest to find — is sincere, thoughtful passion for God and His glory that manifests itself in humble but courageous leadership. That, right there, is probably asking a hell of a lot. But I really feel that God designed spouses to have complementary roles. The strength of the woman is displayed more in the seeming weakness of submission (though that in itself is about five conversations alone!). But I am only prepared to submit to a leader I respect. I realize that, if I marry, I will disagree with my spouse. But if I can at least respect his thinking and decision-making process, it will be much easier for me to abide by a decision I would not have made.

Needless to say, that didn’t exactly flush out too many prospects. I’m not sure this round will be any more successful, but at least I’ve tried to be less standoffish, and if early outings on Craigslist are any guide, I may be in for some interesting stories. In the interest of research, then, I’ll try to keep some record here of my week-long attempt to be “out there,” wherever “there” is.

So far ...

Day 1. Visit site, create profile, upload photos, wait for their approval.

Day 2. Visit site a few times to check Inbox. Messages so far received: announcements that my photos have been approved, offers to extend membership at the holiday rate and ... wait for it ... a couple emails from guys! One sends what seems to be a generic post he proffers to multiple women (bad move, never mind that he mentions both wanting to live and honeymoon with me, claims four denominational allegiances, and breaks the site’s rules about leaving links to blogs, websites and other ways of finding the person for free). The second, whose profile I actually looked at, only answers questions in brief sentences, most of which sound like he’s trying to convert the possibly unsure-about-their-faith.

And this is why is I do research, folks! Any stories about your own successes/failures/adventures in e-dating?

Days 3-9

The e-dating redux

In the ongoing effort to be of some public service here, today I’ve decided to dig into the mailbag a little. A while back I got a Craigslist-response email so unique I felt the guy really deserved some attention on this blog. But before I make a few suggestions on how I think he can improve his e-dating act, I wanted to get some reader feedback.

Thoughts ya’ll? Be gentle, now ... I know I have a reputation for being a little hard on guys — but that only applies to men I’ve actually gone out with! :D

Hi There!

Well, I’m sure you’ve gotten a million and a half emails already, because that was a pretty rad post you put up! I always sit down, with the great intention of writing a really awesome post, and then it just never seems to come out saying exactly what I want it to say.

Sorry, i’m totally being rude. My name is Heart in the Right Place, i’m 24 and originally from Pennsylvania. I have a BS in political science, and another in american history. I’m also a certified massage therapist, which is what I do for a living here in san diego. So if we really hit it off, i’m sure you could talk me in to a free massage fairly quickly...i’m a sucker for cuties!

Anyway, on to more exciting things about me. I’m about 5’10, weigh about 160 lbs, have brown hair, and hazel eyes. I have three piercings and one tattoo, all tasteful, and some fun! I’m such a jeans and t-shirt person, but think i can clean up with the best of them. i’m most comfortable in jeans and a flannel shirt, in the field or on the water, love to hunt and fish so much! I haven’t been able to find anyone out here, whether guy or girl who loves to hunt and fish as much as I do, i think it would be amazing to be able to meet someone who enjoys that stuff as much as I do.

So this is usually the part of the email that brings about 99 percent of everyone to a screaching hault, but i’d rather not waste either of our time, so it goes in to every email of mine. I’m visually impaired...not blind, but visually impaired. that means that i have usable vision, just not enough to do things like driving/surgery/flying planes/things like that. I really try to respond to posts that I think the people who’ve written them won’t even be effected by that, but you just never know. i think it intimidates a lot of people, either because they don’t have any experience with it, or it just plain bugs them. haha i hate pitty or patronism, and won’t take either, and i think that leaves some people with very little to say to me when they first meet me. I do use a guide dog, A for my safety, B because I absolutely love dogs, and C let’s be honest, a bitchin cute lab is such a great ice breaker! :) I’m actually between dogs right now, and really miss the random people I meet everywhere because of my dogs. Camping/hiking/bondfires at the beach are some of my other favorites to do outside...basically i love doing anything outdoors when possible. I also love to read, listen to music, play guitar, sing (mostly alone haha) and i’m sure all the other things that 99 percent of the rest of the world love to do. i’ve done everything from living and working on a farm in pennsylvania (hi mom and dad! haha) to living/working on capital hill as a lobbyist, to working directly for president clinton for nearly a year, to sitting on boards of directors at the age of 20...there isn’t much i haven't done or seen already. But what I want most in my life right now is someone to just kick it with, and see where things lead to. I’m not looking to get married tomorrow or next year, but I’m also getting extremely tired of the first date game, or even the 2 week or month-long dating thing. i’m hoping to find someone to connect with, start out as friends, and possibly a bit more if the chemistry is right, and then to let everything else develope from there. Trust is something built, not immediately given, and i think trust is probably the most important factor in any relationship, whether it be friends or more. I’m looking for someone real...someone sweet, funny, sensative, passionate (physically as well as about life) touchy-feely (i am a bodyworker, my enjoyment of touch is part of the reason i went in to the field) intelligent, whitty, likes to play yet is girly at the same time, someone who isn’t flaky or ingenuine, someone who can make me laugh and think, someone who i can kick back and split a six of new castle with, someone who doesn’t have an issue with dogs, someone who doesn’t think my roommate is hotter than me (yes, it’s happened! haha), someone who loves to curl up on the couch and cuddle, with or with out a movie or tv, someone who is comfortable being honest and open, and someone who doesn’t mind my obvious need for a period at the end of this sentense already! lol I’m adicted to the gym right now, but have absolutely no care what you look like, as long as your heart and personality are beautiful the rest is just like fancy wrapping paper on a great gift...it’s nice to look at, but what’s really important is what’s in the box. cheesy analogy i know, but it’s true.

So anywho, before this becomes a novel, I’ll send it off to you. I hope you’re having a wonderful beginning of your weekend, and if you’ve liked any of this that you’ll get in touch with me! I appologise for the horrible picture, i definitely have better if you’d like to see another one...just haven’t gotten to take a good one small enough to send over craigs yet. I hope you’re well, and hope to hear from you soon!

Heart in the Right Place :)

ps. not sure if it gives me any points what-so-ever, but i was part of a first-place-winning swing and tango duo through out college...not sure how much i remember anymore, but would love someone to go with! :)

Anna says: Hint to contest-minded readers ... keep in mind things Heart and I have in common that are also clues to this month’s Broadway trivia questions...

And in other news, dinner with Hippie the Groper has been confirmed for tomorrow night. Should be interesting. No word on the Politician’s election results — which is probably a good thing.

Earnestly seeking handbaggers

Blog readers, I regret I must report to you what is a sad, sad day in the life of Anna Broadway (pauses, looks away to carefully compose e-self). Some of you may recall my recent announcement of an offer that made Reader Frasier term me a “confident, ballsy lady who can boldly lead the Shock and Awe team on the Quest for the Chocolate Vagina or publicly offer herself up for handbagger swap.”

Said swap, I intended to report, was very gallantly taken up by none other than my very own Blogfather.

(Frasier to Anna: “Rather restores my faith in him; was wondering why he didn’t step in earlier. And who knows how things might develop with him. (After all, he is on the rebound!)” I told you he fancies himself my matchmaker.)

After some discussion of open bar, closed bar, no bar ...

(AB to Blogfather: “It’s going to be a Protestant wedding so, um, may be dry and religious (if that’s not redundant ;)). Still, the peeps are pretty cool, and the girl has not been known to hide her cleavage (generally a good sign of religious moderation ;)).”)

... all appeared to be set.

Well-made plans run amok
All, that is, until a recent wedding-themed blog entry that caused the first shadow of doubt to cloud the happy twilight of summer which my heart has recently enjoyed. A sudden rush of weddings was mentioned. And worse yet, a chili cook-off was announced, the very Sunday after my Nov. 6 wedding in DC (not mine, literally, of course — but you understand).

And then, this afternoon, the email sure to drive a stake into even the most resistant-to-meat-tenderizer of hearts* (Anna sniffs a covert sob into a most-unladylike handkerchief):

Dearest blog offspring,

I think I may have to rescind my offer for the D.C. wedding, withdraw my hat from what I’m sure is a crowded ring.

... Don’t hate the playa, hate the game!

(Anna dissolves into noisy sobs)

So this is it, then, readers: I may be well and truly doomed to not just a date-less wedding, but an empty dinner-table chair beside mine — the shame of a “Miss Anna Broadway and guest” RSVP whose bluff has been called (sniff, sniff).

Possible Plan Bs to choose from (just not Bill Murky)
Now, I can of course put it out to Craigslist (or hope one of the men who ogled my chest at last night’s party is reading this entry), but that would sort of compromise my reform efforts.** Maybe the church classifieds? Hm ... don’t recall noticing a personals section among all the roommate ads before ...

And I can’t go back to eHarmony or Soulmatch.*** People use that site for things like long-term relationships— not month-from-now wedding dates. Besides, all the guys I met were really weird. One Soulmatch dude from LA sent me messages in both Spanish and English far worse than that of Bush. Another guy (off eHarmony) exchanged messages with me a few times, then mentioned he was possibly coming to New York City for a visit — all the way from California. Now if this had been someone I knew, that’s one thing (I’d probably be excited, volunteer my tour-guide services, etc.). But when it’s some weirdo I’ve only barely gotten to know certain basic-but-mostly-useless facts about — and when he furthermore takes offense because I’m cautious and a little weirded out by the whole thing — that’s another story.

Bottom line: since my proposed e-dating club for unfreakish Jesus Freaks has yet to launch, and since other religious matchmaking services are out (at least in terms of wedding dates) I’m doomed. If only there was some sort of Christian Craigslist ... you know, like, Lukeslist (although that sounds too Star Wars) or Paulslist (though feminists would probably rage) or ... Godslist. That would be the perfect venue to find a wedding date consistent with my campaign to reform.

And then there’s Plan C (still not Bill Murky)
Alas, dear readers, since no such venue yet exists, I am forced to reiterate my plea to you. If nothing else, maybe you can send me PayPal donations to fund the purchase of an inflatable wedding date? The upside is, it would certainly lead to most-entertaining photoblogging. And if donations were great enough, I might even be able to spring for a bonafide digicam.**** But on the off chance that one of you is actually prepared to embrace this once-in-a-lifetime chance to be Anna’s date at a DC wedding the very weekend after our nation’s election, let me enumerate certain benefits:

• Should you journey with me from NY to DC, you’ll find the Chinatown bus service a most reasonable $35 (round trip).

Now, I’m assuming international readers such as Frasier cannot contemplate such a trip at all, but since I have many readers beyond New York, consider advantages for you. New York is a major destination and on some airlines (such as Jet Blue) a fairly affordable weekend jaunt. For such guests, the Anna Broadway handbagger tour package could include:

• accommodations on the futon in our living room (famously recovered during New York’s 2003 blackout, and subsequently fitted with a brand-new futon pad smartly covered in sturdy, wine-colored canvas) OR housing with one of Anna’s wealthier friends (should you prefer more space, privacy, etc.) OR one of the many fine hostels, hotels and homeless shelters this city provides
• most meals home-cooked by Anna’s infamous hands-that-also-write-blogs (note: meals taken in the kitchen wherein Anna perfected that dairy-free cinnamon recipe)
• unlimited, personal tour-guide service provided by the intrepid blogstress herself
• amiable road-trip conversation during both the to- and from-DC bus trips
• introductions to an eclectic group of New Yorkers (aka, my friends)

And finally, guests could enjoy the exclusive Sexless tour of the city:

• visit the church where Anna has met many a stalker
• scope out the Lower East Side surroundings of Burlesque Bar
• pound cheap Dos Equis at the famous honky tonk where the porn-career-that-wasn’t was launched
• stroll the Meatpacking District sidestreet where Anna and Best Friend took in public masturbation
• visit the lawn where Anna suffered that famous sprained ankle, trying to show off sexy, “athletic hustle” for the Captain’s benefit
• frequent the Starbucks where Anna met Leather Daddy (guests might even get to meet the man himself and — with luck — the Big Guy)
  
• snap a picture with the desk from Anna’s famous days as a stripper
• take yoga at that center where the celibates wear orange
• walk the hallway through which reverberates sounds of Anna’s neighbors having sex (if you’re lucky, you might even get to join Roommate and I in determining whether or not she’s faking)
  

Hey, with an offer this good, I’m sure available weekends will go fast. Don’t delay to book your trip today! And if you’re up for handbagging November 6th, please, please, please let me know before I break down and lower my standards.

An ongoing aural assault
One last matter. As mentioned above, our ground-floor neighbors are proving to be rather noisy. Just tonight in fact, around the normal dinner hour, I was distracted from a nap by the sounds of moaning across the hall. I’m pretty sure it’s the same girl my hapless roommate has heard (first moaning in fine theatrical performance, then shouting in post-coitus argument), and tonight we discussed our suspicion that she’s more than likely faking it — at least the drawn-out, very-imminent-orgasm shouting part. Following tonight’s experience of just-how-thin the interior walls are (though of course the exterior walls are so thick that no one but Verizon customers gets a cell phone signal), I’ve decided that next time a soundtrack is called for. You know, some strategically blasted music that sends a sex-appropriate message.

At first I thought to dig out my Nine Inch Nails CD and play “Closer” — but Roommate thinks this would just encourage them. My second thought, however, is to play the bitter celibate card (maybe I can find some at the yoga center). On that wonderfully eclectic mix CD my gmail-craving reader made is a gem of a song whose singer warbles: “Are we ever gonna have sex again?”

But now, readers, I put it out to you: any other tunes with which the roommate and I can appropriate retaliate? I await your suggestions ... and Anna Broadway handbagger-trip bookings. ;) No By-by-buy for today; put your pennies toward my tote-a-date fund; unless you surprise me, looks the Sexless fake-a-thon (e.g., last week’s Katz’s adventure and cinnasoy experiment) may carry on into November with experiments in fake-man dating.

*Mine being, as well known, considerably less tough than that.
**Not that swearing is required behavior for wedding attendance or part of good-date etiquette ... or that my reform was limited to swearing, but still.
***Which I was, of course, only trying out for strictly research purposes. I mean, come on. Internet dating? Me?! Nawww...
****Since certain readers not to be named (or, either, their notoriously governed, large state) have dissed my photophone pics.

The handbagger swap

Light blogging today, especially since !@(*&$)(@#&%)(@#&$()@#$ Blogger* just erased all 20 minutes’s work of witty blogging.

A summary:

• Poster Boy’s prize is now in postal service hands following extensive labors in the Betty Crocker test kitchen, Brooklyn chapter.
• “Buttery Sticks” did not figure in any of Anna’s dreams, though maybe they should have.
• Now on my business-letter rant list are the “pastry flour” people at Arrowhead, who helped to wreck Batch #2. Extra fiber is great and all, but who really eats sweets to keep themselves more regular?
• Frasier is hopeful his Most Favored Reader status includes certain matchmaking privileges. While that remains to be seen, one idea I will follow up on is using this blog to find a wedding date.

A professional wedding guest?
In fact, I will now go on record as extending to readers one and all the same deal I gave to the Sexless Blogfather yesterday: come with me to DC, and I’ll be your “handbagger” at some wedding in the future. Travel included. I mean, seriously now, how many of you actually read this from DC? Since travel would be required for you, I’m prepared to use my AA frequent-flyer ticket to fly to whatever wedding you have to attend. And since I’ve got my eye on cities beyond New York, it could be quite educational.

To bolster my wedding-date swap appeal, a few wedding-guest advantages I provide:

• ready conversationalist
• not known for grating laughter
• unlikely to get shit-faced
• ready to deal (read: fade into the background) if you spot a hot goy or gal
• can seamlessly transition between secular and religious weddings (particular expertise in Protestant rituals)
• eager and able dance partner (including some ballroom and swing dance; willing to even macarena if needed)
• won’t put you to shame in meetings with that newly-matched-to-someone-else ex
• licensed driver who can drive stick shift in the event of car trouble
• available for pre-wedding gift consultations, if needed
• and — NEW! — now available for cross-program chat to discuss pre-wedding details (don't you want to make my duck quack**?)
  

If this sounds like the deal for you, shoot me an email. Review of handbagger applications commences immediately (well, upon receipt of such). Besides, you want to help my reform efforts, right? History suggests that other PK ain’t likely to say yes, but Sexless commenters agree I need a date — especially since I might not know anyone besides the bride and groom. Don’t make me resort to Craigslist!

— your favorite incorrigible blogstress

*There’s language reformation for you. :D
**Adium, the new chat “whiz” in question, emits a strange sound between a moan and a groan, each time a message posts.

The spam approach to pick-up emails

Last night when I got home, I arrived to possibly the most appalling email, ever. I say this not because I, personally, am appalled, but because I am appalled on behalf of the hapless sap who sent it — who clearly does not even grasp the egregious nature of his mistake. Hell, I’m appalled on behalf of his mother!

At first glance, it looks pretty harmless:

Hi:
I am a 27 year old male who lives in Philadelphia. I work in the construction business as a planner. I am still fairly new to the city after moving here from California after college about 5 years ago. You sound like a nice girl. You can find my picture attached. As for me, I enjoy a little of everything but it would probably be nice to spend some of that time with you. Who knows.....maybe!!

Looney Tune

Maybe NOT
Attached is a grainy j-peg of our antihero, holding what appears to be the head of a cartoonish blow-up doll in his lap. I am utterly at a loss to otherwise identify the object, unless it is some sort of basketball painted to resemble a Looney Tunes figure. It is clearly an inflated object. With semi-human features.

Now the photo’s not great, by any means (reminds me of the terrible pictures posted by one of my first-ever chat — I mean “whisper” — buddies on Udate; that guy lived in the midwest somewhere, and thought I’d appreciate him regalling me with accounts of the local, possibly underage, Udate conquest he fucked in his kitchen) ... but it alone is not enough to provoke such horror. Mainly my initial reaction is, Unfortunate photo. And why he’d email me? Another one who didn’t read the ad well. (Sigh)

But then I glance up. I glance up to the subject-line area. And I see to my shock not “danzfool@netzero.com” (which he would have gotten from reading this blog), but the “anon1234987@craigslist” email of the personal ad.

Here’s the kicker: I can’t actually tell which one is my email address because it’s not just sent to me! There’s a total of six, yes, six anon@craigslist email addresses in the “To:” line — plus two more cut off by my email program!!

Literally, I am in shock.

I mean, yes, he’s a construction worker. But for God’s sake. He’s a planner in construction. Is it really possible to be this clueless?!!

A recap of the strategy errors

• Bad picture — OK, understandable. Easy mistake.
• Writing to a personal ad that’s really not a date-solicitation at all — slightly less-excusable, but still he’s in good company (maybe four other such emails have so far been directed to me).
• Writing-in-hopes-of-a-date to a woman who lives in New York — stretching the limits of judgment, but hey, Philly’s only two hours away, right? Wouldn’t you be willing to drive that distance just to meet a “nice girl”? (Surely he drives; he’s from California.) Regarding this geographic gaucheness, he’s actually not the worst. Two days ago I got emails from men in San Francisco and London (yes, I promo’d myself on Craigslists there). Then again ... re-reading the Londoner’s email reveals he also sent his email to multiple women. He at least was clever enough to BCC us (British men are so much smarter), resulting in “Undisclosed-recipients” as his message-object. That does explain a few things ...

Hi,

I'm [Name] and I work in a bank.

I'm an honest and genuine caring kind of guy.

I enjoy ethnic foods - especially chinese and indian - going to a movie - and travelling.

Have been to Canada 3 times - including coast to coast by train - and have also been to Ukraine.

If you want to know more - or meet - then email me or call 01234 678903.

But back to Looney Tune:


• Sending the same email to multiple women — unproductive in the resulting vagueness, but something you could easily conceal ... with a little common sense!!! Take this sample:

Hi. I saw your profile and I would like to get to know
you better. I’m looking for some fun. I’m a 22 year
old white male. I’m 6’2” 200lbs. I live in NE Philly.
Let me know either way.

This guy probably multi-sent the email too (note the same geographic mistake). But at least he took the time to use one email address! Joey from SanFran even used my real email, suggesting he cursorily read the blog (although he didn’t mention it).

If you’re going to spam the wimmin, do it right
Our antihero, Looney Tune, however, has clearly never heard of BCCing. Too bad. He could’ve still only sent one email but either followed the British banker’s approach or put the first “anon@craigslist” email in the “To:” line, then stuck all the others in BCC. Who really keeps track of what random-generated email address you get? Unless you’re measuring the success of multiple ads ... but even in that case, would you really remember which set of numbers is yours?!

And yet, on balance, the logic is so clear. Most efficient thing to do, right? You’re interested in eight women, you’re hoping for a little weekend action ... but you don’t want to write eight emails. So you craft a generic email — the e-dating equivalent of a stock pickup line. Hell, maybe you even recycle the same damn email every week you skim the ads! If you’re dating as many women as some guys are, it’s a pretty efficient strategy (some men I know of use spreadsheets to keep all the women straight).

But efficiency only goes so far. (Bangs head against laptop.) In this case it’s very likely to backfire.

I wish that someone, somewhere, could’ve taught these guys to just be themselves. Then again, that might be just what Looney Tune did. However, if he takes this kind of scripted, short-cut approach to merely meeting women, he probably takes the same route when talking to them. There were times when I was still sort of dating Sgt. Ex-sessories that I felt like he was saying whatever; I had no confidence he was being genuine. Rather, he seemed so terrified that Sgt. John wouldn’t get his fix that night, he’d say anything to the further the cause. Smile and nod. “Sure, honey, that sounds great!” Smile and nod ... remember to maintain eye contact! And now, maybe casually touch her thigh ... Smile and nod ... Sometimes I wanted to say to him, “Relax and be yourself! I’ll like you much better that way. I promise.”

Light at the end of the ... flashlight
On the upside, there are probably women out there just like him. Maybe one of these days, Looney Tune will happen to email Lady Loopy — along with five other women. And maybe she’ll have the heart to say:

Wow, that’s so sweet. You sound like a nice guy, Jim/Todd/Frank/Sam. Let’s get together real soon.

By-the-Buy


I Can't Believe I'm Buying This Book: A Commonsense Guide to Successful Internet Dating


Online Dating For Dummies (For Dummies Series)


Once Upon a Blind Date