Funny thing is I don't have an issue with online dating. In fact, I know lots of people who've met their SOs on sites, and it's totally cool. And with the only viable prospect of late being Mindfuck ala Royale (Yeah, it was a guy. Duh.) who came around The Canary last week to purportedly 'check his cellphone reception' (???), I figure why the hell not at this point. We'd run into each other at a barbecue the Sunday before and apparently the hangover I'd feigned made me hot or something because all of the sudden, there he is, checkin' in and sayin' hi....Whatever, dude. Hmmm...though the fact that our houses are 20 yards apart and he is still pretty cute...hmmm...never mind....
For me, the trepidation is more about the profile. The idea of creating a profile about myself that essentially sells me is a very very uncomfortable idea. I'm the sort of person who's pretty much what you see is what you get, though once you know me and I'm comfortable enough with you, I'd like to think you'll get a little bit more of me. So, the thought of having to expose those parts of me that I reserve for people who know me isn't exactly natural. Or appealing.
And let's not even get into the picture. The fuckin picture. Blecgh. Obviously I have body/face issues and having to post a picture of myself is perhaps the most nauseating aspect of this whole endeavor. Superficial? Yes, incredibly so. Sure. But hell, isn't looking at the fricking picture the first five seconds of the Match.com experience? For real?
So, the thing to do, clearly, is to get drunk and create a profile. With a friend I can trust of course. Yeah, that's the ticket. Look out Boys of Philly...HA.