This era of my Dating Amelia column (which has been a fixture on this site, off and on, for a couple of years) is not going to last long — just this one post, actually — as I am not really dating anymore. After taking a two month dating/sex sabbatical, I sort of fell back into the dating pool when I unexpectedly met someone awesome and it’s been, for lack of a better word, on ever since. But! Over the course of my sabbatical, I thought a lot about how I would approach dating once I started back up again and I consider following a few different rules that I had either never really considered before or failed at entirely. Here are five of them — two that I have kept and three that I tossed out, not because they may not be right for you, but because they weren’t right for me. Keep reading »
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Last week I complained about the challenging time I was having on my latest foray into online dating. A little while later, Susannah IM’d to say: “You need to change your profile. And I am going to do it for you.” Oh, hooray! To be honest, I had been considering having someone I trust rewrite my profile for me, since I wasn’t sure if I was doing a great job of “selling” myself. Susannah was the first to volunteer, and, as she is rather blunt, I knew she wouldn’t pussyfoot around doing it right. After the jump, read my original online dating profile and then check out Susannah’s version. Stay tuned to see whether my luck with the fellas improves after being Susannified. Keep reading »
Allow me to be neurotic for a few hundred words.
I’ve been back on the online dating circuit for a grand total of 4.5 days and I already hate it. The whole process, frankly, kind of hurts my self-esteem. It makes me feel like the last kid picked in dodgeball. The site that I’m using affords you the opportunity to know who’s been looking at your profile. On one hand, it’s a great way of weeding through the hundreds of “matches” in my area, so I can focus on the men who found my thumbnail photo cute enough to deem worthy of further review. On the other hand, those same men, upon clicking deeper into my profile, did not have their interest piqued enough to send me a message, add me to their “like” list, or grant me a “wink.” Keep reading »
A wise Mind of Man once told me, “Generals are always prepared to fight the last war.” People — well, OK, I — try and work through the crap of their last relationship with the person they’re with currently. This, I think, explains why, for the better part of my adult life, I have been a complete and total spaz when it comes to men and dating. I know, shocking, right? if I was a spaz before the relationship with my ex-fiance, I was a complete and total bunny boiler after he broke up with me. I was an insecure, over-analytical nutter and wasn’t sure how, when, and what it would take for me to stop fighting a war in which I was the only participant. Keep reading »
The last time I went on a date was a month ago and it was decidedly “meh.” I deleted my profile off OKCupid because I was sick of getting new messages from guys who were, at best “meh,” at worst psychotic/illiterate/pervy. To be honest, for the first time since my breakup, I have been enjoying being single. And I don’t mean single as in “I’m dating lots of guys and going out all the time like Samantha from ‘Sex and the City,’ woo-hoo!” I mean I am single and enjoying my alone time. I’m having dinner with friends, catching up on movies I’ve missed (I think I am the last of Blockbuster’s customers), riding my bike, and starting up yoga again. Next month I’m going on a yoga/surf retreat in Costa Rica for a week, and when given the option between coed or an all-women retreat, I went with the latter. Coed shouted two things to me — couples (blech) and single dudes looking to show off their shredding abilities. The latter would normally kind of turn me on, but like I said, MEH. Keep reading »
A few weeks ago I wrote about how I wasn’t sure if I was really ready to be dating again, that I was still dealing with the lingering effects of my last relationship in which my fiance ended things suddenly.
“…I desperately fear, in all sincerity, that I will never again find someone who loved me like my ex-fiance did. And that even if I do, they will likely leave me the way he did. Isn’t that pathetic?”
A friend of mine emailed me, specifically about that line, saying it wasn’t what she expected to hear me say. Keep reading »
I have a confession to make. I hate dating. Except for when I love it, and I only love it fleetingly, before my insecurities set in and I start to go cuh-razy. In those fleeting moments I think to myself, “This is great! I’m young, I’m unattached, and there’s an attractive person sitting across from me who I may or may not make out with later.” And then later, after we have or have not made out, the wheels start turning, and I begin to wait for the inevitable letdown that, as cynical as this may sound, I assume is right around the corner. Keep reading »
Lately I’ve been getting a lot of advice. Solicited, unsolicited, much of it from female friends, most of it contradictory. Many of my female friends are in relationships, including my four closest girl friends, two of whom are married and two who are headed in that direction. They all are living vicariously through my “dating adventures,” though I’ve tried to tell them that it’s about as exciting as a bowl of oatmeal.
People give advice based on their own experiences. What works for them has got to work for you too, right? Like following a cake recipe, if you follow the right steps, you’ll get the end result you want. Except dating is nothing like baking and there’s no “right” way when it comes to matters of the heart. I watched “He’s Just Not That Into You” this weekend (out tomorrow on DVD) and if there’s a takeaway from that movies it’s this: everyone has a dating tale that is an exception to another person’s rule. Which is why all of the advice I’ve been getting has been making my head spin. Keep reading »
”The last few times we saw each other, we didn’t have sex. Considering we hadn’t seen much of each other, this was totally unacceptable. When we did see each other, we had fun — when we weren’t talking about the multitude of things that were making him feel “meh.” John DeVore referred to him as Eeyore.
“Tiggers should not date Eeyores,” DeVore advised. “Tiggers can date Piglets, Piglets can date Pooh Bears, Pooh Bears can date Eeyores. Piglets and Roos can date, but Pooh Bears and Tiggers cannot.”
“OH MY GOD, SO TRUE!” I exclaimed. Now where the f**k is my Piglet?
The other thing that ended it was sparking with someone else. Things with the Sneakerhead could end tomorrow – nothing surprises me these days – but the point is, I am sparking! Spark, spark, spark! With another person! Even as time distances me from my breakup, I wonder if I could meet someone to have that special bond with again. Sparks remind me that I can.
When I told Chick Parm that I thought we should just be friends, he responded, “I agree.”
You agree? That was too easy! It’s not that I expected a fight, but he had been such a limp noodle, such a wet blanket for the last few weeks, nay, months, that I thought he would be as mopey at the prospect of our oh-so-comfortable relationship changing. Wasn’t this supposed to be the moment when he had an epiphany and realized how insanely awesome I am? That I was kick ass? That he would never have a better roasted chicken with brussel sprouts in his life? But Simcha set me straight.
“Amelia,” she said. “He’s been along for the ride since the beginning. Why would you expect anything different?”
Last week I had a new OK Cupid date, this time with someone who fit my type. You see, I have a type that I wish were my type: guys in plaid, guys who are sensitive, guys who look like they’d be friends with Ryan Gosling, guys who are over 5’9″. And then I have my real type: the guy who I’m inexplicably drawn to and drawn to me, too. This type of guy is dark-haired, under 5’9″, and extremely confident.
This latest guy (let’s call him the Sneakerhead) fit my type to a T, but he had some bonus features: a cool sneaker collection (you can tell a lot about a guy by his shoes), a good tan (a product of his half-Argentinian ancestry), he was a hip-hop fan, and he wears glasses. Oh, and he has a tattoo. And he doesn’t have a doughboy body. He’s my real type, plus perfection. Keep reading »