Monday, September 6, 2010

Delilah Skye Takes on the Panic-Inducing Process of Putting Herself on the Internet

So as you've probably figured out (unless you're really thick), the Triumvirate has decided to enter into the arena of online dating. I was the last of the Triumvirate to cave and get a profile, because I was feeling hesitant about the whole thing. Everything I've ever learned about online sites comes from my mother's rocky (to put it mildly) journey on various dating sites. The outcomes are never super great, and always lead my mother to pronouncing that men are stupid/assuming/dickish in the middle of our cluttered kitchen. To which I would always sagely nod while eating a piece of cheese, because she was usually right.

When I finally got the profile a world of scariness opened up to me. Within an hour of signing up, I had two messages from a guy saying nothing more illuminating than "Dang you sexy". Aw, thanks. Except no thanks. That's almost as bad as being honked and leered at as you're walking somewhere.

When I finally managed to strike up a conversation with one guy, I had to try and stop hyperventilating with my hands. Which really doesn't work as well as a paper bag, let me tell you. The Triumvirate had to try and calm me down via Skype.

On the site, Okcupid, you can see who has visited your page. Which really sucks. Because it means that I can't be a stalker and not have to worry about the repercussions. Suddenly I'm constantly thinking that I'm being watched. It's like Chuck Woolery-style Big Brother. He's always watching, looking to make a Love Connection. And if you think I'm being paranoid, I'm not. I got a message from a guy saying we should talk. After visiting his profile and determining that I'm not interested in someone who spells "takeing", can't capitalize, and describes himself as "country and proud of it", I didn't respond back. To which I got a second message saying that he saw I checked out his profile and we should talk. Now whenever I look at anyone, I'm nervous about the fact that they can see me looking at them. Awkward.

It's so bad that Liza Meadows refuses to look at the profiles of any of the guys that I'll talk about with the Triumvirate, for fear of being seen back. I seriously can't deal. When I told a friend that I couldn't sleep until 4 am because I was kirking out about this stuff, she told me I was a mess. Which I usually am, but for her to say I'm more of a mess than my usual messiness is really bad. Ask Robyn and Liza, I can sleep through anything. Including drunk Australian ninjas.

One thing I'm really not getting about this whole deal is profile pictures. Most guys do a pretty decent job choosing one, but others fail completely. Guy with a cat in his arms? K. Dude who includes a picture of himself with his back turned to the camera? What are you thinking?! It wasn't even a good picture of his tight butt, it was just him in a suit. Myspace photo dudes? Prove to me that you have friends that will take a picture of you. And last, but not certainly not least, shirtless arrogant guys. Thank you for leaving some mystery. Douche. In a subcategory of this humongous group, I've seen 2 guys with head shots that show just enough to prove that they are shirtless. Why? Put on a shirt for godsakes. I don't take pictures of myself just randomly sitting around in a bra. So don't do the same.

Despite my constant panic attacks and hyper-messiness, I'm trudging forth with this. Wish me luck!
~Delilah

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