Roughly 60 hours to go. Which really means 60 hours of waiting. I've figured out my outfit. I'm not nervous. Not at this particular moment. There is still plenty of time for that. That will happen an hour before I leave. I wasn't feeling any anxiety about this, until I started this post.
My outfit is my go-to, 'I hope I look cute' top that is a tiered type of tank and I wear a brown cotton shrug with it. I have brown capris that look a bit more office than casual. What the hell is office casual, anyway? I will have to dig in my closet to find my brown wedges. I know I have some, I just haven't unearthed them yet.
I thought about getting a pedicure before 'the date'. Then I realized, guys won't be looking at my feet, and certainly won't care if my toenails have polish on them. Guys don't think about such things. I might try to paint my fingernails, but if that doesn't happen, I'm OK with that too. 59 hours to go.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Panic
In between awful allergy headaches yesterday, I had a revelation. This revelation induced instant panic. I don't know how to date. I've been mulling over my dating and relationship past, in the hopes of learning from my past. My past is cause for dating panic.
Let's review.
High school- Coed group of friends in which most were not dating anyone. A couple times one of the boys would date someone. The girl would enter our circle. Then disappear. We had a great time, and relationships weren't a focus. Not dating.
College- Hung out with roommates and sorority sisters. By the time I turned 21, my friends and I hung out at bars to play air hockey and make sarcastic comments about the other girls there. Some of my less-than-moral friends hooked up on a regular basis. OK, not really dating but I still wasn't involved in that. By senior year, I had a boyfriend (who eventually became the Fiancée, the Husband, then the Ex) so I didn't really think about dating. He was 2+ hours away and I didn't see him much.
My Twenties- Married, divorced, hurt. Teaching, grad school, comprehensive exams, new curricula, new jobs, selling the townhouse, moving to an apartment and after five months, moving to a different apartment. Built major walls to shield my feelings. Who had time to date? My favorite term to avoid getting my feelings involved was that I was 'just hanging out' with someone. It was so non-committal and perfect for what I wanted for myself. It wasn't really true, but I wanted to believe that. I used the Internet to meet people. Chat rooms were new and exciting. This led to Shane, Joe, Chuck. Sort of dating, but that was a long time ago. Chuck was the closest thing to dating- all five dates. But I was in my 'just hanging out' phase and he wanted to find a relationship. Joe was arranging dates but I didn't want to admit that- since I never really admitted we were dating.
My Thirties- Relationship with Joe is nearing it's painful end. Again. The cycles of using Internet dating sites, going on various meetings for coffee, getting blown off, giving up, not wanting to date. Then the feeling of not wanting to be alone would set in. And the cycle would continue And I've tried them all. Match.com? I didn't. Eharmony? Not so harmonious. Plenty of Fish? Plenty of losers.
That leaves me in my forties, with very vague memories of some dates. Other than dinner and a movie, I'm not good at coming up with ideas for dates. I'm fearful that my idea will be seen as dumb. Or pushy. Or that I'll be seen as boring. I've always wanted to be one of those girls who could flirt, catch some one's attention and flip my hair with a laugh. The reality: I am long past flipping my hair. Everyone suggests to relax and be myself. I've been myself for 40+ years and I'm still single. That obviously hasn't worked.
So now I'll learn how to date. And you'll get to hear all about it.
Let's review.
High school- Coed group of friends in which most were not dating anyone. A couple times one of the boys would date someone. The girl would enter our circle. Then disappear. We had a great time, and relationships weren't a focus. Not dating.
College- Hung out with roommates and sorority sisters. By the time I turned 21, my friends and I hung out at bars to play air hockey and make sarcastic comments about the other girls there. Some of my less-than-moral friends hooked up on a regular basis. OK, not really dating but I still wasn't involved in that. By senior year, I had a boyfriend (who eventually became the Fiancée, the Husband, then the Ex) so I didn't really think about dating. He was 2+ hours away and I didn't see him much.
My Twenties- Married, divorced, hurt. Teaching, grad school, comprehensive exams, new curricula, new jobs, selling the townhouse, moving to an apartment and after five months, moving to a different apartment. Built major walls to shield my feelings. Who had time to date? My favorite term to avoid getting my feelings involved was that I was 'just hanging out' with someone. It was so non-committal and perfect for what I wanted for myself. It wasn't really true, but I wanted to believe that. I used the Internet to meet people. Chat rooms were new and exciting. This led to Shane, Joe, Chuck. Sort of dating, but that was a long time ago. Chuck was the closest thing to dating- all five dates. But I was in my 'just hanging out' phase and he wanted to find a relationship. Joe was arranging dates but I didn't want to admit that- since I never really admitted we were dating.
My Thirties- Relationship with Joe is nearing it's painful end. Again. The cycles of using Internet dating sites, going on various meetings for coffee, getting blown off, giving up, not wanting to date. Then the feeling of not wanting to be alone would set in. And the cycle would continue And I've tried them all. Match.com? I didn't. Eharmony? Not so harmonious. Plenty of Fish? Plenty of losers.
That leaves me in my forties, with very vague memories of some dates. Other than dinner and a movie, I'm not good at coming up with ideas for dates. I'm fearful that my idea will be seen as dumb. Or pushy. Or that I'll be seen as boring. I've always wanted to be one of those girls who could flirt, catch some one's attention and flip my hair with a laugh. The reality: I am long past flipping my hair. Everyone suggests to relax and be myself. I've been myself for 40+ years and I'm still single. That obviously hasn't worked.
So now I'll learn how to date. And you'll get to hear all about it.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
One Week
Be careful what you wish for. After obsessively checking my email and voicemail, I now know when my date will be. May 2nd. Seven days. Seven days to think about what I'm going to wear. Seven days to wonder what he looks like. Seven days to consider what we'll talk about. Seven days to think about what I will order (I am always terrified of spilling food on myself.) Seven days to worry about making a good first impression. Seven. Days.
Seven days for insecurity to sneak in. I tend to get a major case of "What Ifs". What if we have nothing to talk about? What if I run into someone I know? What if I spill food on myself? (See?) What if he doesn't show up? What if this is painfully uncomfortable?
My anxiety level is low at this exact moment. But by Thursday morning, I will probably not be able to concentrate on anything else. From the time school ends on Thursday, I will be consumed. The drive to the restaurant will be one filled with clammy palms, a dry mouth and a bit of nausea. Luckily, the drive will only last about 12 minutes. I will feel more calm eventually. Usually about ten minutes after I get home.
Seven days for insecurity to sneak in. I tend to get a major case of "What Ifs". What if we have nothing to talk about? What if I run into someone I know? What if I spill food on myself? (See?) What if he doesn't show up? What if this is painfully uncomfortable?
My anxiety level is low at this exact moment. But by Thursday morning, I will probably not be able to concentrate on anything else. From the time school ends on Thursday, I will be consumed. The drive to the restaurant will be one filled with clammy palms, a dry mouth and a bit of nausea. Luckily, the drive will only last about 12 minutes. I will feel more calm eventually. Usually about ten minutes after I get home.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Patience is a girl's name.
I'm impatient. Some times I can delay gratification. But not now. On Monday, and yes that was two whole days ago, my Dating Director told me my first match was Mike. She got my availability and was going to talk to him and then I'd get info about our first date. I expected to find out where we were meeting and when in about an hour. Maybe the next morning.
It's been two days. For a single girl in her 40s, that is half a lifetime. This is torture. I stay awake at night contemplating what I will wear and things I might talk about and how to overcome the feelings of nervousness and nausea. And I'm paying a lot of money for this torture.
It's been two days. For a single girl in her 40s, that is half a lifetime. This is torture. I stay awake at night contemplating what I will wear and things I might talk about and how to overcome the feelings of nervousness and nausea. And I'm paying a lot of money for this torture.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
The Good, The Bad, The Relationships
In trying to learn from my mistakes, here is the rundown of what I've learned:
The Ex-Also known as "I Needed A Date To My Sorority Formal"- I let him stick around until the formal. I needed a date and he seemed interested in me. Then we had a Spring Hayride and it was nice to take someone without having to get set up by one of my friend's friends or scrounge from some other sketchy means. One more year of college and I immaturely thought it was a relationship worth something. Engaged about two months after I graduated. Married six months after that. You think you know everything at 23. The lesson: Don't do what is next, do what is right.
The Navy Boy-Head over heels doesn't even begin to describe it. We spent long, LONG hours on the phone each week and a visit was divine. He remembered things I said long after our conversations were over. It was magical. I was convinced I was meant to be with him and thought about moving to Colorado with him when he left the military. He appeared thoughtful and sentimental. And he had another girlfriend. The lesson: Boys suck sometimes.
Unabrewer- When AOL chat rooms were huge, someone from about an hour away from me commiserated on not liking his job, being in our 20s, and general dissatisfaction of our lives. We met for a margarita. Friendly, but no physical contact- OK,he's not interested. I can handle that. It was six months before he touched my arm. It was during a Penguins game. I remember the shock because I thought he was averse to human contact. We'd go to dinner, hang out, chat online. I felt bad when he brought a bottle of wine to my apartment once and I ended up drinking it with someone else. What felt the worst was the PA liquor stores didn't carry the same kind, so I had to replace it with something pretty close. If he noticed, he didn't mention it. I can still remember the night he kissed me. It was past midnight in June and we were in the parking lot of my apartment complex. He brought a geeky piece of equipment from work (laser thermometer thing) and we were shooting the laser part into people's windows. It was a giant laser pointer shaped like a gun...how much more fun could I ask for? He said, "oh hell" then kissed me. I remember walking back to my apartment thinking,"Oh my God. Now what do I do?" I did what I do best; pretend that things aren't what they really are. We spent five years of on again, off again, on again, off again, on again, you get the picture. In all that time, there are a few astounding things. We never used the "L" word. He was never allowed to keep things at my house. And most importantly, he kept coming back after I told him I didn't want to see him anymore. The lesson: One person can't love enough for two people.
The Tool- Not much to say. He was still getting over an ex-fiancee and I was lowering my standards. The lesson: If it walks like a redneck and talks like a redneck, it's a redneck.
My Parents' Nightmare- Parents didn't approve and it didn't help they couldn't understand a word he said. He was generous with a lot of things except his time. I felt like I was watching the clock impatiently and counting the minutes or hours he was late. Yes, I said hours. The lesson: It's OK to admit that I need to feel like a priority and I don't have to wait as long to do that.
The Ex-Also known as "I Needed A Date To My Sorority Formal"- I let him stick around until the formal. I needed a date and he seemed interested in me. Then we had a Spring Hayride and it was nice to take someone without having to get set up by one of my friend's friends or scrounge from some other sketchy means. One more year of college and I immaturely thought it was a relationship worth something. Engaged about two months after I graduated. Married six months after that. You think you know everything at 23. The lesson: Don't do what is next, do what is right.
The Navy Boy-Head over heels doesn't even begin to describe it. We spent long, LONG hours on the phone each week and a visit was divine. He remembered things I said long after our conversations were over. It was magical. I was convinced I was meant to be with him and thought about moving to Colorado with him when he left the military. He appeared thoughtful and sentimental. And he had another girlfriend. The lesson: Boys suck sometimes.
Unabrewer- When AOL chat rooms were huge, someone from about an hour away from me commiserated on not liking his job, being in our 20s, and general dissatisfaction of our lives. We met for a margarita. Friendly, but no physical contact- OK,he's not interested. I can handle that. It was six months before he touched my arm. It was during a Penguins game. I remember the shock because I thought he was averse to human contact. We'd go to dinner, hang out, chat online. I felt bad when he brought a bottle of wine to my apartment once and I ended up drinking it with someone else. What felt the worst was the PA liquor stores didn't carry the same kind, so I had to replace it with something pretty close. If he noticed, he didn't mention it. I can still remember the night he kissed me. It was past midnight in June and we were in the parking lot of my apartment complex. He brought a geeky piece of equipment from work (laser thermometer thing) and we were shooting the laser part into people's windows. It was a giant laser pointer shaped like a gun...how much more fun could I ask for? He said, "oh hell" then kissed me. I remember walking back to my apartment thinking,"Oh my God. Now what do I do?" I did what I do best; pretend that things aren't what they really are. We spent five years of on again, off again, on again, off again, on again, you get the picture. In all that time, there are a few astounding things. We never used the "L" word. He was never allowed to keep things at my house. And most importantly, he kept coming back after I told him I didn't want to see him anymore. The lesson: One person can't love enough for two people.
The Tool- Not much to say. He was still getting over an ex-fiancee and I was lowering my standards. The lesson: If it walks like a redneck and talks like a redneck, it's a redneck.
My Parents' Nightmare- Parents didn't approve and it didn't help they couldn't understand a word he said. He was generous with a lot of things except his time. I felt like I was watching the clock impatiently and counting the minutes or hours he was late. Yes, I said hours. The lesson: It's OK to admit that I need to feel like a priority and I don't have to wait as long to do that.
Memory Lane
In order to get to the good dates, maybe I need to get past all the memories of bad dates. And there have been many. To put them behind me, I am going to bid them a final farewell. Please bear with me through this random catharsis that is in no particular order.
Initiation- The very first date after my divorce was final- George. I am serious. An AOL chat room fellow. The plan was dinner and a movie. A bit ambitious I realized early on. During dinner at the I-am-in-my-mid 20's-and-this-is-a-great-place-for-a-first-date chain restaurant TGIFriday's, we were discussing my salad. He didn't eat salad because he didn't like the things that go in salad. Carrots, tomatoes, lettuce. LETTUCE? I believe my reaction was, "Lettuce? How can you not like LETTUCE? It doesn't taste like anything." I'm sure my volume level was much louder than socially acceptable for a first date. Next, the movie. I used the bathroom at the theater and when I came out, George was standing next to a long line of people waiting for some other movie. And right across from him is my ex-husband. I'm talking within arms reach. If I had noticed 30 seconds earlier, I would have hid in the bathroom a lot longer. Now, I'm walking up to this train wreck, each man smiling and thinking I'm walking up to him. All I could muster was a quick, "hey, how ya doing?" to the ex while I tried to appear breezy and together to my date. Awkward.
Grandpa Paul- He was my age, but his outfit screamed Grandpa. Especially, when he put on his 'driving cap' when we walked out of Barnes and Noble. And this wasn't a, "I wear your granddad's clothes" thing. This was a, "dang, you look old" thing. Paul was talking about gardening, a common interest. He was having buyer's remorse over a lilac. Who has second thoughts over a lilac? If you want to date me, you are going to have to spend money that amounts to more than the cost of a shrub.
Inappropriate Rob-Not sure if there was a cultural difference here that I wasn't aware of. After my favorite first meeting of Barnes and Noble for coffee (if disaster strikes, down your drink and get the hell out....scalding your throat might be the price you pay), he insisted that we go have dinner. He was persistent that I needed to eat, and ordered way too much food, including dessert. This part was OK with me. I'm thinking this might have potential. Next, he offered to make dinner for me. A man that wants to cook? Sign me up. After dinner in his apartment, he put on music and he wanted to dance with me. I didn't understand that 'dance' was a euphemism for "rub my aroused man parts on you". Before he could convince me it was a good thing and it meant he was a healthy man, I was out of there.
The Giant- Nice guy, but he was close to 7 feet tall. And he had bad breath.
Basie the Dachshund- I don't actually remember the guy's name, but I do remember his dog. This was an Eharmony guy I met right around the time of a big storm and significant flooding near York. He lost power and somehow he ended up at my house with his dachshund. I love dogs, no problem. One of the first things he did at my house was shower. Hygiene is important and I'm glad he was concerned about being clean, but it was weird. They stayed overnight. At one point in the middle of the night, he moved to the sofa because he was worried that his dog was sleeping in the living room. Shortly after, he fell off the face of the earth.
The Penguins Fan- I love the Penguins. "This will be awesome," I thought. The Barnes and Noble beverage and witty conversation went well. I got the 'let's get together again' hug at my car. Then he fell off the face of the earth too. Maybe Pennsylvania is plagued with unexplained black holes that go unreported.
Just wait, there's more to come.
Initiation- The very first date after my divorce was final- George. I am serious. An AOL chat room fellow. The plan was dinner and a movie. A bit ambitious I realized early on. During dinner at the I-am-in-my-mid 20's-and-this-is-a-great-place-for-a-first-date chain restaurant TGIFriday's, we were discussing my salad. He didn't eat salad because he didn't like the things that go in salad. Carrots, tomatoes, lettuce. LETTUCE? I believe my reaction was, "Lettuce? How can you not like LETTUCE? It doesn't taste like anything." I'm sure my volume level was much louder than socially acceptable for a first date. Next, the movie. I used the bathroom at the theater and when I came out, George was standing next to a long line of people waiting for some other movie. And right across from him is my ex-husband. I'm talking within arms reach. If I had noticed 30 seconds earlier, I would have hid in the bathroom a lot longer. Now, I'm walking up to this train wreck, each man smiling and thinking I'm walking up to him. All I could muster was a quick, "hey, how ya doing?" to the ex while I tried to appear breezy and together to my date. Awkward.
Grandpa Paul- He was my age, but his outfit screamed Grandpa. Especially, when he put on his 'driving cap' when we walked out of Barnes and Noble. And this wasn't a, "I wear your granddad's clothes" thing. This was a, "dang, you look old" thing. Paul was talking about gardening, a common interest. He was having buyer's remorse over a lilac. Who has second thoughts over a lilac? If you want to date me, you are going to have to spend money that amounts to more than the cost of a shrub.
Inappropriate Rob-Not sure if there was a cultural difference here that I wasn't aware of. After my favorite first meeting of Barnes and Noble for coffee (if disaster strikes, down your drink and get the hell out....scalding your throat might be the price you pay), he insisted that we go have dinner. He was persistent that I needed to eat, and ordered way too much food, including dessert. This part was OK with me. I'm thinking this might have potential. Next, he offered to make dinner for me. A man that wants to cook? Sign me up. After dinner in his apartment, he put on music and he wanted to dance with me. I didn't understand that 'dance' was a euphemism for "rub my aroused man parts on you". Before he could convince me it was a good thing and it meant he was a healthy man, I was out of there.
The Giant- Nice guy, but he was close to 7 feet tall. And he had bad breath.
Basie the Dachshund- I don't actually remember the guy's name, but I do remember his dog. This was an Eharmony guy I met right around the time of a big storm and significant flooding near York. He lost power and somehow he ended up at my house with his dachshund. I love dogs, no problem. One of the first things he did at my house was shower. Hygiene is important and I'm glad he was concerned about being clean, but it was weird. They stayed overnight. At one point in the middle of the night, he moved to the sofa because he was worried that his dog was sleeping in the living room. Shortly after, he fell off the face of the earth.
The Penguins Fan- I love the Penguins. "This will be awesome," I thought. The Barnes and Noble beverage and witty conversation went well. I got the 'let's get together again' hug at my car. Then he fell off the face of the earth too. Maybe Pennsylvania is plagued with unexplained black holes that go unreported.
Just wait, there's more to come.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Nightmares of the wrong clothing
Anyone who says they are equally comfortable in a little black dress or in jeans and a tee is lying. Either you love getting dressed up or you'd rather be casual, but not both. I like looking girly- makeup, nails, sparkly jewelry, shiny lips. I pretend I'm hot. Hahahaha. I make myself laugh. But I want to look girly in jeans and a tee. And comfortable shoes. I don't want to have to worry about being fancy. I think that is why I like beer- it's not fancy. I'm not a fancy person. I'm a witty, albeit sarcastic, non-fancy person.
So then what do I wear on a date? How do I look like I have my act together, but not in a stuffy, "I'm wearing a pantsuit" kind of way? I wish I could just wear jeans. Granted, I know I don't look fabulous in jeans, but at least I'm comfortable. And then I can pick any solid colored shirt, since that is mostly what I own, and be fine. I don't have to match anything, or coordinate or iron.
But I don't think it works that way. So now I face that "what do I wear?" dilemma. I need help. Really, what I need is liposuction. But there's no time for that. I need to define business casual because I don't work in a business. My dad used the phrase "casual but elegant" when I was growing up. I hated that. I couldn't be both things at the same time; it was physically impossible for me. I may have to stage a fashion show at work because I need to call in the reinforcements. And I haven't even been on a date yet.
So then what do I wear on a date? How do I look like I have my act together, but not in a stuffy, "I'm wearing a pantsuit" kind of way? I wish I could just wear jeans. Granted, I know I don't look fabulous in jeans, but at least I'm comfortable. And then I can pick any solid colored shirt, since that is mostly what I own, and be fine. I don't have to match anything, or coordinate or iron.
But I don't think it works that way. So now I face that "what do I wear?" dilemma. I need help. Really, what I need is liposuction. But there's no time for that. I need to define business casual because I don't work in a business. My dad used the phrase "casual but elegant" when I was growing up. I hated that. I couldn't be both things at the same time; it was physically impossible for me. I may have to stage a fashion show at work because I need to call in the reinforcements. And I haven't even been on a date yet.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
One year
I've just signed up for a rather expensive matchmaking service. They have one year of my life (and a lot of my money) to find me a match. It's going to take three different people to get me dating apparently: A Dating Specialist, a Dating Director, and a Dating Coach. I'm already intimidated. I have roughly six million thoughts rushing through my head at the moment. I may not even share this blog with anyone but I need to get these ideas out before my brain bursts.
One year. I feel like I am venturing on some kind of worldly expedition. When really, I won't be leaving the state of Pennsylvania. Grant me strength. All of the fears of dating will be amplified because I'll have to be truthful after each date and report in. Then, and even more unnerving, I'll get feedback. About me. Who wants to hear that they are a loser? Or physically not up to par? Or that they are boring?
Two days ago (technically since it is after midnight), I answered an hour's worth of questions. And a lightbulb moment came to me. When asked about past relationships and qualities that I didn't like about him, a common thread appeared. I wasn't a priority. In hindsight, I never felt like I came first. I say that now- I'm sure there were fleeting moments when I felt important. As an educated woman, I should be able to do something with that vital piece of information. Damn if I know.
I'd be all set if I could read a book, then study all the right answers and take a test. I would rock that. I'll let you in on a secret. It's a secret you don't even consider until you're at least 32 and single. There. Is. No. Book. I'm beginning to think, there aren't really right answers either. It's like a cruel joke and somewhere a deity of dating is laughing her ass off.
I'm 42 years old and I have my shit together. I own my house, my car, have a fabulous job for which I thank my lucky stars each day and my family loves me. I have great friends. I've tried to fill the void with many things. I've joined some direct sales companies to try to fill my time and get me out of the house a bit. I've tried more community activities. The beagle rescue thanks me, but all it's gotten me is the self-proclaimed title of "Crazy Dog Lady".
Truth be told, I am a catch. Well, except for the sarcasm. And the delusions of grandeur. But after many cycles of trying to date, not wanting to date, trying some more, feeling repulsed by the thought of it, here I am. I've tried internet dating, speed dating, asking everyone I knew to set me up (no one even bit at that one), chat rooms to meet people, and even an odd sort of phone dating thing where you left messages for people and they could leave messages for you (about 15 years ago, lord help me). So yes, I've tried it all. And here I am. And I'm giving it one year.
One year. I feel like I am venturing on some kind of worldly expedition. When really, I won't be leaving the state of Pennsylvania. Grant me strength. All of the fears of dating will be amplified because I'll have to be truthful after each date and report in. Then, and even more unnerving, I'll get feedback. About me. Who wants to hear that they are a loser? Or physically not up to par? Or that they are boring?
Two days ago (technically since it is after midnight), I answered an hour's worth of questions. And a lightbulb moment came to me. When asked about past relationships and qualities that I didn't like about him, a common thread appeared. I wasn't a priority. In hindsight, I never felt like I came first. I say that now- I'm sure there were fleeting moments when I felt important. As an educated woman, I should be able to do something with that vital piece of information. Damn if I know.
I'd be all set if I could read a book, then study all the right answers and take a test. I would rock that. I'll let you in on a secret. It's a secret you don't even consider until you're at least 32 and single. There. Is. No. Book. I'm beginning to think, there aren't really right answers either. It's like a cruel joke and somewhere a deity of dating is laughing her ass off.
I'm 42 years old and I have my shit together. I own my house, my car, have a fabulous job for which I thank my lucky stars each day and my family loves me. I have great friends. I've tried to fill the void with many things. I've joined some direct sales companies to try to fill my time and get me out of the house a bit. I've tried more community activities. The beagle rescue thanks me, but all it's gotten me is the self-proclaimed title of "Crazy Dog Lady".
Truth be told, I am a catch. Well, except for the sarcasm. And the delusions of grandeur. But after many cycles of trying to date, not wanting to date, trying some more, feeling repulsed by the thought of it, here I am. I've tried internet dating, speed dating, asking everyone I knew to set me up (no one even bit at that one), chat rooms to meet people, and even an odd sort of phone dating thing where you left messages for people and they could leave messages for you (about 15 years ago, lord help me). So yes, I've tried it all. And here I am. And I'm giving it one year.
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