**Editors' Note: An anonymous post today about dating online.**
Dating is weird. The weirdness gets brought to a new level when you involve the internet.
But hell, why not give it a shot, right? I have.
And it was fine. Perfectly fine. We exchanged a few emails, we met for a couple of beers and a snack. He was cute enough, decent conversation, but no spark. No problem. Just a decent conversation with someone in town I might not have met otherwise. We even had a few things in common, so we chatted about that.
He was describing a painting he had made years ago. There were a couple of figures, and over them, he had pasted a newspaper clipping.
“Probably some depressing story,” he said, “Or the classifieds or something.”
Thinking of the shit-state of the economy, the lack of “help wanted” ads and the proliferation of people selling off personal possessions in order to stay afloat, I said, “Well, classifieds can be pretty depressing.”
“Yeah,” he said, snickering, “especially the personals.”
Awkward pause.
“Oh, that was bad. Sorry,” he said.
I moved on.
But, please. Are you kidding me? You answered the fucking thing.
Dating is weird. The weirdness gets brought to a new level when you involve the internet.
But hell, why not give it a shot, right? I have.
And it was fine. Perfectly fine. We exchanged a few emails, we met for a couple of beers and a snack. He was cute enough, decent conversation, but no spark. No problem. Just a decent conversation with someone in town I might not have met otherwise. We even had a few things in common, so we chatted about that.
He was describing a painting he had made years ago. There were a couple of figures, and over them, he had pasted a newspaper clipping.
“Probably some depressing story,” he said, “Or the classifieds or something.”
Thinking of the shit-state of the economy, the lack of “help wanted” ads and the proliferation of people selling off personal possessions in order to stay afloat, I said, “Well, classifieds can be pretty depressing.”
“Yeah,” he said, snickering, “especially the personals.”
Awkward pause.
“Oh, that was bad. Sorry,” he said.
I moved on.
But, please. Are you kidding me? You answered the fucking thing.
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