ok, so about 9months ago, on a rainy saturday afternoon my friend did something silly. after bullying me about joining match.com, and me refusing (no judgement just this, and this and this prove it’s not for me) repeatedly, he signed me up.
he created an account, filled out the profile with his best ‘me’ impersonation, included the requisites (ice cream, love love love, bike rides, parks, place pigalle, astrology, and laughing), uploaded photos from fb and that was that.
then he told me to go on it. that i’d like it. i’d get hooked. i was skeptical. and played around for a few days, logging in to see who looked at my profile. but after a while (read: two weeks tops) it just didn’t feel right. i wasn’t responding to any of the emails. because, well a) i hate formal dates, and b) i wasn’t interested in any of the guys. something like 35 emails, and none of them seemed right. and then i started to get down on myself. and blah blah blah remembered why i don’t do online dating in the first place.
i hate dating. in it’s formal and totally awkward sense. because, well, i have absolutely no idea how to act, and i focus entirely on making sure that everything is good for the other person, and i have extreme weird issues with the rules of a date like paying and making plans, and then um the goodbye. dear lord. it is all so whacky that i become some crazy cuke that looks like steph, sounds like steph, but is absolutely NOT steph. so WHY would i do all of that when the person i’m on some sort of set up date with would not even get to experience me?
also, i’m a sucker for words. i obsess. can’t get enough. so really, it’s totally crazy for me to be reading 75 perfectly crafted paragraphs written by you telling me all about you. because i like stories, and writing, and words, and meaning. so i’m all outta whack with my ‘into you’ radar right off the bat. it’s like excitement transferral.  i mean, let’s just say it how it is. most likely i don’t like you (sorry, it’s just rare that i like people, trust me, it’s worse for me, a curse in fact), but i like the fact that i am reading antagonizingly written prose. carefully crafted words.
so yea. for all of those reasons, i completely forgot all about match.com and my friend’s little experiment. until a few days ago.
i have no idea what made it pop into my head, but i remembered that silly day in march and logged in the account (that’s name is totally NOT wholesomemidwesterngirl sounding, ps.).
and i started spiraling through all of the same crazy thoughts that i tempered above. and then, before logging off, i decided to do a search. for men, in my area, with my physical, personality, educational, and recreational preferences.
and that’s when i got it. what i needed from the silly site. after perusing through the 200 profile photos and 20 word descriptions, coming up basically dry on anyone i’d even be interested in meeting, i remembered that all of these guys are out there ‘wanting it.’ believing in relationships, and dating, and looking for a “cute girl who I can hold hands with at the farmer’s market” or “Someone that I can make laugh and visa versa. Someone with a good head on her shoulders (keep up in intelligent conversations as well as goofy banter)” or “a woman that is charming, intelligent and beautiful, with a sense of adventure” or however else you want to say it. and they are trying. and going for it.
and though this realization didn’t make me change my mind whatsoever about the rightness, or lack thereof, that i feel about online dating, it did give me an overwhelmingly rejuvenating kick in my dating reset button for good old twenty ten.
so yea. he’s out there. waiting to serendipitously experience our meet cute. and with him i’ll get drinks. i’ll get dinner. i’ll go to a baseball game. i’ll go for a trip down the coast. i’ll get bi-rite ice cream and  spend the afternoon in the coffee shop reading. i will go on ‘dates’ that feel right, and know they’ve seen the actual steph. cause there is way more cuke to this girl than meets the eye.
so thanks match.com. not for any actual dates, but the refill on hope. and i’m ready, 2010, for whatever dating life you throw my way.

she led the modern sunset to your window, gestured with a plane jane hand, she said, “let’s go.”