Pride

I know it's bad because my BYU-educated, Mitt Romney supporter, virgin-until-married, Mormon friend said this to me recently:

"Maybe you'd have better luck if you tried dating women."

Because times, they are a-changing.

Still Dating

I liked #77 immediately, without even having met him, because his photos on OkCupid were a series of selfies taken in a Safeway bathroom.  He had no pictures rock climbing, throwing fire, posing at the Taj Mahal, or playing a musical instrument.  Rather the 6th Avenue Safeway in Tacoma, he elaborated, best described his personality.  I was ready to roll.

We met up at a Tacoma café, and he was so cool!  He'd recently earned a PhD in Sociology and was faculty at a local university, teaching a class on Gender Studies to undergrads.  Intellectually, out of all the men I've been out with, I enjoyed talking with him the most.  We geeked out together about hate speech, race, social inequality, and the failure of trickle-down economics.  He asked me what I thought about the Affordable Care Act and genuinely seemed to care about my response.  I felt like we could effortlessly hang out all night; we shared a ton in common.

But this was supposed to be a date, not a liberal powwow, and I couldn't tell if either of us was feeling it.  I liked him sooooo much as a human being, yet as he described to me trends in worker job satisfaction since the 1970s, I tried to tune him out and focus on the question at hand:

"Could I picture us sleeping together?"

Try as I did, the answer was No.

I'd had such a good time, I made myself promise that if he asked me out again I would give it another shot and see if maybe, with more alcohol in our systems, we could create some chemistry together.  My friends in loving relationships tell me I need to give men chances, that romance can take time to develop, and while this theory has never worked for me in the past, I continue to take their advice.

Then we parted on a street corner.  "I hope you have a safe drive home," he said, and I could tell by his tone that the feeling was mutual. 

He'd never been arrested.  That was our problem.
 

Rum and Cola

When I returned to OkCupid this time around, I made it very clear on my profile that I have a type.  "Have you been arrested or charged with a misdemeanor?  I'd probably like you."  I've decided not to beat around the bush any more:  I like criminals.  It's kind of a dealbreaker.

So when I got a message from a man who told me immediately that he was arrested in a high-speed chase, I thought "Sweet!  Let's go out and try to fall in love with each other," because that's as good a reason as any.  He had a beard but said he worked in politics, so I took a gamble and told myself I could overlook the facial hair as long as he wasn't in the tech sector.

It was a gorgeous night in Seattle to meet at a patio bar for a drink, and I was feeling quite hopeful.  There was no way I was going to have a bad time, I reassured myself, because he's been arrested.  I'd arrived at lucky number 76, and I was optimistic he was the one.

Then we met...  He was about three inches shorter than his stated height, wearing a too-tight white shirt with a button popped open, hair greasy and matted as though he'd been wearing a baseball cap for several days straight.  Nothing about him seemed fun or even remotely criminal.  I wanted to turn around and run, but that would had been rude, so I asked the bartender for the strongest beer possible and without waiting for my date to order, I paid for my drink in cash.  I was 100% uninterested; we were not starting a tab together.

He ordered a "rum and cola," and I rolled my eyes, deciding on a fundamental level that we had nothing in common as human beings.  It's obviously Rum and Coke.  He was lame.

Then he told me about his job in politics:  "I actually am the only IT guy for the ____ court in Seattle, so I keep all the systems running."  

If working in politics means you do IT, then I work in Mexico because my patients are Hispanic.

I'm not sure what happened for the rest of the date because I was quite focused on my beer.  It was delicious- medium-bodied and a bit citrusy while not too bitter.  My date kept talking and I pleasantly agreed, "Uhhuh...  Yeah...  That's really cool... Wow..", over and over again for about ninety minutes.

He stopped and asked me how I was doing. 

"I actually have to get up really early tomorrow so I should get going."

We left the bar and awkwardly hugged on the street corner (it wouldn't be a proper first date if we didn't).  He made a vague suggestion to hang out again, and I responded with an equally vague "Have a good night!", which didn't address the offer of hanging out whatsoever.  Passive aggressive Seattle style.  That's the way I do.

Oh Yeah, So Glad to be Back

First sentence from a man who is an 89% match to me:

"I am 43 but look younger, 6'2", 210 lbs., no kids/baby safe, D/D free, drink a little (usually socially or weekends), nonsmoker, 420 friendly (rarely use), divorced (ex is now a lesbian and we are good friends), and live alone on Capitol Hill in my condo with two cats."

Sign.  Me.  Up.

Breaking News!!!

I'm back on OkCupid! 

I'm still planning on getting the fuck out of Seattle, but loneliness kicked in, so I took the plunge.

Because really, how is it possible that in the entire city of Seattle there is not a kick-ass, liberal, tree-hugging, mountain-climbing man that I might get along with?