Adventures in Wonderland

Awhile back, I posted about my foray into the world of online dating (The Not-So-Young and Restless).   I’d like to report that the three sites I joined (E-Harmony, Our Time and Plenty of Fish) resulted in a shower of eligible men who wanted to meet me.  Unfortunately, I can’t.  As of early June, I’d met one guy, and while he was nice enough, there just weren’t any sparks at all.  For me, anyway.

I also had what looked to be a promising prospect with a guy from Sweden who’d settled in Jacksonville.  Ruggedly handsome, gainfully employed as an engineer in the construction industry, about my age—he was perfect!  He was on a project in Texas and wouldn’t be back in Florida until it was done, which he anticipated would be in about a month.  We’d traded e-mails for about two weeks when he sent this really effusive, overly mushy e-mail about how much he loved me and how I was his soul mate, etc. etc. 

That set off my alarm bells (hello! stalker!!), and I told him so in no uncertain terms.  He backed off, pleading a language barrier, and I gave him the benefit of the doubt.  After all, the only Swedish I know is what’s in IKEA.   We got back on track and he proposed we text.  I told him I don’t do texting (which I don’t), so he suggested internet messenger.    IM didn’t work for several days, because we could never seem to connect at the same time.

Finally, one night the stars aligned and we were online together.  I was in an airport waiting for my flight home, and had a few hours to kill.  I was sitting at the power-strip counter at my gate, and was soon joined by two other women about my age.  My Swedish Meatball and I were only a few minutes into our conversation when he started bemoaning the fact that he’d run out of materials.   He needed more materials to finish the job and come home.  I asked him several questions and got increasingly suspicious from his answers.  Finally, he mentioned that $7,500 was all that stood between him and the project’s completion.

“Oh my God, it’s a scam!!”  I have the annoying habit of talking to myself (or Margeaux) out loud.  To those of you who’ve been subjected to this habit, I apologize and thank you for not killing me.  I didn’t realize how annoying it was until I was subjected to it by a co-worker who kept up a running monologue throughout the day.

The two women sitting with me at the counter looked up from their own computers.  I briefly explained the situation.  One suggested that I try to put the bite on him for money.  I vetoed that idea—the last thing I needed was for him to claim that I was scamming him.  After that, we started coming up with everything we could think of to portray me as a most undesirable target.   By the time I caught my flight, I was sure he’d written me off.  Just to be on the safe side, I blocked him from contacting me again.

Another seemingly promising prospect also fell suddenly by the wayside.  This guy was retired military, now teaching at a local community college.  He was around my age and, from his e-mails at least, seemed normal.  He advertised that he was looking for a sane, mature woman who was drama-free.  After trading correspondence for about a week, he asked for my phone number.   All the dating sites advise against daters disclosing their personal information, like, oh…phone numbers.  Aside from safety concerns, I generally hate talking on the phone, so I politely declined and suggested a Starbucks meeting instead.

Imagine my surprise when, in response, I received a flaming e-mail from him stating that he WOULD NOT meet someone he hadn’t first talked with by phone.   I tried e-mailing a reply, but he had blocked me.  Huh?  I guess he was looking for a sane, mature and drama-free woman to balance out the qualities he lacked.  I still can’t figure out what’s so special about talking on the phone, but a lot of these guys want to do it.

After that encounter, I decided that Plenty of Fish should rename itself Plenty of Shit, because that’s what I was finding there.  I deleted my profiles from all three sites and decided to fish elsewhere: Match.com.  For any of you looking to join the world of online dating, I highly recommend this site.  It’s very user friendly, and it offers a money-back guarantee is you haven’t found a match within six months. 

As soon as my profile went live, I started seeing some traffic.  Not an overwhelming amount, but a few potentials a day.  Plus, the site suggests eight or nine matches a day.  One Daily Match’s profile, in particular, caught my eye: the tag line read “Semper Ubi Sub Ubi” (Always Where Under Where).  His answers to the standard questions were quirky and funny.  He was at the top of my age range—65—divorced, retired, Jewish, and in my town.  The profile photo showed a deeply tanned man with a gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard to match.  His eyes were warm and inviting, a bit guarded, but twinkling with mischief.   I sent him a wink and he winked back.

After about a week of exchanging Haiku-like e-mails, we arranged to meet.  Drumroll, please.  We hit it off immediately—what started out as a happy hour meeting turned into a full-fledged, six hour date.   We’ve seen each other once or twice a week for the past month and we usually Skype at least once a day.  He’s wicked smart, funny and adventurous.   His name is William.  Having never lost my Louisiana penchant for nicknames, I’ve tried to give him several, but haven’t hit upon the right one yet.  I usually call him Will or Will.i.am.

It’s interesting how my outlook on dating has changed since my younger days.  The goal to dating back then was to find the best husband, father and life-mate I possibly could.  I found that person in Bunny, and now I don’t feel the need to fall in love or find my soul mate or get married again.  My only dating goal is to have fun with people who make me happy.   

Will and I enjoy each other’s company, whether it’s over dinner or moving furniture.   One of his favorite amusements is riding shotgun while I drive—I’m prone to mild, profanity-laced road-rage—and roaring with laughter over my comments.  We make each other smile and constantly learn things from each other.  I’m having a great time with someone who makes me happy, which is exactly what I set out to do.