Unexpected Dealbreakers

I may have mentioned recently that I am back on Plentyoffish, the online dating site for the poor, lazy, and uninspired. If you haven't heard the details already, basically the gist is that the Gentleman Caller got a job in the wild North and we had to go our separate ways : ( But, onward and upward I always say, like the baller that I am. That means going shopping for new man candies. It's been a while since I've been on POF, but it seems even more pathetic than the first couple times around. I guess it couldn't have been that bad, since I landed three very decent men from that giant and mostly questionable ocean over the course of about eight months.

Awww.

But man-shopping online is not unlike clothes-shopping online. You have to sift through a lot of crap to find something that you like, it's impossible to know what it's really like until you try it on, and it may not end up being that great of a deal after shipping and processing...wait I think I lost track of the analogy. Anyway, my brain has created some shortcuts to eliminate the unsuitable while clicking through the "Do You Want to Meet This Person?" Gallery. I've already written about how my standards for men are not that high. But this process has made me realize that while some of the guys I find myself attracted to are not prize stallions by any means, I do have some rather strange and specific deal breakers. I will list them now:

This rarely happens. And when it does, it's just creepy.

• Proximity. I refuse to commute longer than 30 minutes for a date. Even then, 30 is pushing it.
• Age. I originally had my search parameters set for men ages 21-35. Realistically, it's more like 24-30. It seems so arbitrary, and yet I find myself instantly clicking next if a guy just happens to fall outside of that range. 
• 420-Friendly. I'm in favor of legalization, don't get me wrong. In fact, it's one of the few political issues I actually care about. But marijuana smells gross and the few times I tried it back in the day, I hated the way it made my head feel like a helium balloon escaping my body. It's just not my jam, fellas. 
• Gym rats. I know I've become a gym rat lately (in fact, I just got back from the gym myself). And I find myself loving the way it makes me feel and how it gives me something to do when I'm bored. But if someone lists "going to the gym" or "working out" or god forbid, "working on my fitness" (true story) as one of their hobbies, that's a NOPE! To me, it seems so vain and pointless to spend hours upon hours at the gym, either scamming on chicks or overcompensating for a small penis with large biceps. It also seems like the guy version of saying, "I'm desperate!" And yet it seems to be one of the most prevailing trends on POF.

Bums. Me. Out.

• Pictures with iPhones taken in the bathroom. This often goes hand in hand with the previous offense. It just bums me out. Especially if they're posing with their shirt off or lifted or showing off the aforementioned biceps.
• UFC Fans. They usually go hand in hand in hand with Gym rats and bathroom photo-takers. To me, that just screams DOUCHE ALERT!!!
• Pictures with other people, especially girls and/or children. Sure, every guy says the girl in the photo is just a sister or a friend. BS. At least have the decency to crop her out. And if it's a picture of you and your buddies, crop them out too so I know which one you are! And even if the kid is your niece or nephew, they have no business being on POF.
• Bad spelling or grammar. This is the biggest one behind proximity. I'm sorry, but it's an instant turn-off if you use 'u' instead of 'you' or write poorly spelled words in all caps and/or refuse to use the correct punctuation marks or any at all. I know this makes me sound like a grammar nazi school teacher, but this is important to me. It just shows that you're either lazy and/or an idiot. And I'm interested in neither.

Nope.

• Religion. I guess this isn't an instant deal breaker, but one of the first stats POF lists is a person's religion. And I just could never be with a Jesus Freak or the equivalent in another faith. It's a sensitive subject for me.  I'd hate to be with someone who couldn't share that passion with me at best, or at worst would always try to convert me. And that's not fair to either of us. 
• Height. To be honest, a guy has to be over 5'10'' to date me. And every inch over 6' gets major points. Super stupid and unfair, I know, just like the age thing. But I never claimed this list was especially rational.
• Country music. It is a well-documented fact that I HATE country music and could never understand someone who liked it. (Though to be honest, I did break this cardinal rule for the Gentleman Caller. He also had a white truck, which I swore to myself I would never the owner of a white truck. Fail, Hutch. Fail.)

There's actually a lot more, but I think I'll stop here. Eleven is a nice non-round number. I actually made a whole other list of pet peeves that occur whilst you're interacting with another fish. But that deserved its own blog.

Time and Space

I probably won't advertise this post on Facebook or Twitter, but I feel the need to write about something that only my devoted (haha) fans will care about. It took me a long time to finally give in and start online dating for real. I first started looking at plentyoffish back in October 2010, and was so dismayed at the horror that I gave up. I looked into it again a few months later (whilst tipsy), and again couldn't do it. But in August 2011, something changed. I decided to take control of my life and not just wait around for things to happen to me. That's when I started eating healthier, working out, and finished filling out my online profile. Not that I believed I had to be thin in order to date, but it was a matter of self-confidence.

I actually had fairly good luck with the site. I dated a few guys pretty casually until I met the Gentleman Caller in November. If you've been reading my blog, you may have picked up on the fact that I haven't referred to him as my 'boyfriend.' This is for a few reasons: 1. I hate that word. For some reason, it seems really smug. I used to want to slap girls who talked non-stop about their 'boyfriend' as if they were lording it over those of us who didn't have them. And 2. Being a total commitment-phobe, this label and inherent definition freaks me out. Ain't no ring on this finger, I do what I want! And yet, for all intents and purposes, that's what he was. He fought by my side when the cockroaches tried to take over my apartment. He basically carried my old dead fridge down the stairs and brought my new sparkling one back up all by himself. He even came to my rescue when Stan decided to die on my lunch break at Baja Fresh. He taught me how to golf, fish, and shoot clay pigeons with shotguns. He's good people, that one. We had good times too.

At least it gives me an excuse to eat chocolate again.

But he told me from (almost) the start, that his work might take him elsewhere. Like, other side of the country elsewhere. Basically we had an expiration date from the start, but we didn't know exactly if, when, or where. With that in mind, I really tried to maintain a certain level of distance (which is the third reason I avoided the 'b' word.) No reason to get attached when the axe could drop at any moment. He called me a few weeks ago to let me know that his boss needed him for a wildlife survey in Southern Oregon beginning April 24th and lasting until the end of August. Which is just about how long we've been dating. I don't believe in long distance, especially when the relationship (*shudder* another loathed word) is still new. To be honest though, I was sort of considering it. But he could just as easily get another job in St. Louis or South Carolina right afterwards and not return at all.

Since my work, well what I really want to do, doesn't really allow for me to be anywhere other than Los Angeles, I'm kind of stuck. Plus, as a modern kind of girl, it kills me when a woman uproots her whole life just to chase some guy. Or who sits around at home knitting, waiting for him to come home. It just kind of sucks though. This relationship (blech) didn't really get the chance to fizzle out and die of natural causes like the others. We didn't have time to get bored of each other or make some colossal deal breaker of a mistake, leading to a dramatic and bitter end. So now we're just kind of in this awkward pause. Not exactly broken up, but not really seeing each other either. We're free to date other people, but if he comes back and we're still free, I guess we pick up where we left off?

It seems weird to even think about that right now. I went back on plentyoffish to see what other fish were in the sea, but it just seems tiresome now. I refuse to put myself in cold storage, but every other guy just seems repulsive and lame. Not that the Gentleman Caller was by any means a perfect Adonis (see my list of Fictional Men Who Have Ruined Real Men For Life). But I kind of dug him and that was enough. According to several sitcoms, it takes half the length of a relationship to get over someone. If that's the case, I have a bit of a rocky road ahead of me. My heart isn't broken by any means, but I think I'm entitled to a tiny bit of angst.

We decided to "keep in touch," the long distance variation of "let's still be friends." But part of me thinks that may be harder than just quitting cold turkey. Like ripping open the stitches over and over. (That's a tad melodramatic. It's really not that bad.) So, quick poll for those of you who stumbled upon this semi-hidden post: long distance, yay or nay? And if you decide against long distance, do you stay in touch?

Creepster Fish

It's been a few weeks now that I've been on Plentyoffish.com. So far I've had one date (a rather uneventful trip to the Sherman Oaks Starbucks where we didn't really have anything to say to each other and it was terribly uncomfortable). Other than that, I've just been e-mailing or chatting with a few blokes. Nothing to write home about, that's for sure.

"I have a grande chai tea latte with

a shot of stilted conversation for Hutch?"

I was online today when I got a chat request from this guy without a picture. I don't trust profiles without pictures because a) the guy is either too lazy/stupid to upload one or b) he's ashamed of the way he looks. If I have to upload one, you do too. However, I decided to give him a chance because he mentioned in his profile the fact that he actually is familiar with English grammar and if he doesn't know how to spell a word, he looks it up on Dictionary.com. I think I've said before that guys who can't spell worth a crap or prefer ridiculous abbreviations are a major NOPE for me. And since I do the same thing (google a word before making a fool of myself), I thought maybe that's enough to build a relationship upon.

We went through the usual, "Hi, how's it going, what do you do, blah blah blah." Then he asks,

"Would you mind if I had a fetish?"

All I could think about was this episode of Sex and the City,

which is (almost) every girl's worst nightmare.

Um... I resisted the urge to block him because my interest was piqued. Here was a guy who was completely upfront about what makes him a weirdo. And we're all weird in some way, (like me with my correct spelling fetish), we just usually try to hide it. You have to respect him for that. Why waste time when you know there's something that's important to you that might be a dealbreaker? Curious, I responded,

"Depends... what kind?"

It took him a few moments before he wrote, "I'm really into it, so I'm looking for a girl who can accommodate." Now he was really starting to freak me out. I replied, "Are you going to tell me what it is?"

Finally he said, "I like girls in pantyhose, the ones that go all the way up."

I don't get it. But I guess the point is that it's irrational.

I guess as far as fetishes go, it's not as disturbing as others. And like I said, I appreciate his honesty. But seeing as I loathe pantyhose (they're scratchy, expensive, inconvenient, time-consuming, they rip easily, and they just get in the way. I also despise the word 'panty'), I'm thinking this is a big fat NOPE. More importantly, when you've been talking to someone for about three minutes and don't even know what they look like, much less if they're a decent person or not, it's a little soon to be talking about specific plans for the bedroom.

Maybe I'm just old fashioned that way.

Plenty of Awkward

The past few weeks have been filled with awkwardness of the most acute variety. Mainly from two sources which I will now proceed to break down like a late 80s neon-clad subway busker on a cardboard dance floor:

PART ONE: Here fishy fishy!

I have mentioned before that I have twice dipped my toe into the proverbial ocean of online dating via Plentyoffish.com. First, I just looked around, was disappointed in the kind of menfolk that were available, and ran away screaming. The second time, I gave it some more thought and actually tried to fill out a profile. This just made me depressed and caused hours of tipsy self-analysis. Since then I hadn't really given plenty o' fish another though. My life is complicated and stressful enough without adding some guy's baggage to it.

My own baggage is already full enough.

But a few weeks ago I was clearing out spam from my personal e-mail, already bored with my weekend. I noticed an e-mail with the headline "Hutch, you have 17 new matches!" Woop-de-doo. Doesn't mean jack. But still, it piqued my interest. Why the hell not take a look? So I finished my profile (queasy the whole time) and started fishing for real. It seemed like every guy listed 'working out' or 'going to the gym' as one of his interests. Whether he really is a gym rat, or thinks that by saying he is, he will get more girls, I don't know. But anyone who views exercise as fun and not a necessary evil is clearly someone who will not be interested in me (who works out faithfully for months at a time, only to go months without working out at all.) Not that staying healthy and active isn't important. But if you spend over twelve hours a week in the gym running in circles and lifting heavy things, your priorities are out of order. Or they just aren't in sync with mine.

Just seems rather pointless, doesn't it?

I also noticed an inordinate amount of guys with pictures of themselves in the bathroom mirror taken with their iPhone. Whether they were fully clothed, shirtless, or lifting up their Ed Hardy shirt Situation-style, this was a major turnoff (*salutes* "Major Turnoff!"). I don't know why it bothers me so much. Some guys may just not have a good picture of themselves, but can't they have their friend or mom or cat take two seconds to snap a photo that doesn't have a toilet seat in the background that clearly hasn't been cleaned in years? Nothing says sexy like seeing which kind of deodorant and shaving cream a guy uses while he throws up some lame peace sign. Of course I'm judging these guys, but I'm sure my profile is just as lame in other ways. Because as I observed previously, it's impossible to create these things and not come off as some type of tool.

Typical. And just silly. Stop it, boys.

Within a few minutes with my face permanently fixed in stinkeye position, I already had a couple guys interested in meeting me (meaning they probably just pushed the 'yes' button while scanning my picture for .5 seconds without actually reading my profile. Not really flattering, but I'll take what I can get). I also had a message from one guy. It wasn't much, but it was a start. So I started e-mailing back and forth with this one guy, as well as a couple others. The problem is, what on earth do you talk about with a complete stranger?

The basic theme of the conversations seemed to be "Hi, how are you today?" Me, being the witty conversationalist that I am, always tried to throw them off with something adorable and quirky, but they didn't seem to really appreciate my sense of humor. Many of them just wanted to get my phone number so we could text. Like I'm going to give out my number to someone who could be an axe murderer. (Which could conceivably happen in a bar or other socially acceptable arena, but at least then I would know what he was really like in person first and if it was worth the risk). Plus, and more importantly, I don't have unlimited texting and this could get expensive.

This kind of messaging went on for a few days until one night when I got a chat request from some guy I had never heard of. He was kind of cute, and had a profile I would actually consider. (The ratio seems to be one in twenty-four profiles is not completely abhorrent to me. That sounds like I'm really picky, but I just don't want to waste my time with Douches. Note the capital 'D.') So we're chatting away, which seems to be slightly less stilted than e-mailing back and forth. Discussing relationships, men and women, even sex (but in a general, philosophical sense). Then he started getting dirty. Like really dirty. Which freaked me out big time. Aaaah! What the heck? Am I here just for some cyber one-night stand? Plus he still lives with his parents at 26 and uses 'u' instead of 'you'. NOPE!

"Well as far as I'm concerned, the internet is just another way of being rejected by a woman."

-George from "You've Got Mail"

So that put me off the whole process for a while, but there were a few nice guys I was still talking to. I like that you can sort of get to know each other first before giving out any personal information lest they turn out to be an uber-creeper like the aforementioned. And you can always block a guy if he says something really random but cruel like one guy did. I won't repeat what he said, but it didn't warrant a response. Just a swift click of the 'block user' button. I got that message, another chat request from dirty perv boy, and made a connection with one of the good guys all within about 10 seconds of each other. A little overwhelming ride of emotions, from pain to disgust to delight. I'm meeting one of the guys for the first time in a few hours (in a public place in mid-day). We'll see how that goes...

PART TWO So when did you get saved?

Yesterday I was invited to my neighbor's birthday party. He's a nice guy that I've talked to a few times since moving in in March. I always kind of got the feeling he dug me. Which put this whole fantasy in my head a la Friends or Big Bang Theory of falling in love with the guy across the hall. Not that I was that into him, but that's a pretty powerful pop culture image. Plus, it sure would be convenient seeing as it's the complete opposite of a long distance relationship.

I miss "Friends" a lot.

I stopped by about 30-45 minutes late because I thought it would be awkward to be the first one there. Hah. Also I was watching Friday Night Lights which is my new favorite thing in the world. (Sorry Desperate Housewives, you've been replaced. I don't give a crap about high school football, but this show is riveting and so well-done! Plus I met one of the actors and wanted to get more familiar with his oeuvre of work. Tee hee, oeuvre sounds dirty doesn't it? Anyway, back to my story.)

Hell yes!!

I walked across the way to my neighbor's apartment where several people had already crammed in the tiny one-bedroom. Picture this, a room full of nicely dressed though slightly douchey looking dudes sitting in silence around a veggie tray watching a subtitled kung fu movie. There was one other girl, but she didn't seem to have anything to say other than "Are you sure you don't want any potato chips?" Maybe she was just as bored as I was. I could tell something was off about this party. But not wanting to sit awkwardly much longer, I asked, "So, how do you guys all know each other?"

"Oh, we all go to the same church."

Oh....

I should have suspected this when I noticed the cutesy angel sign reading 'God Bless This House' over the bedroom. Not that there's anything wrong with going to church. By all means, if it makes you feel good and provides the social atmosphere that people crave, that's fantastic. I just knew I was even more out of place than I thought (besides being underdressed in just jeans and a t-shirt). So more awkward silence persisted while the kung fu movie gave us something to look at besides our shoes.

Hell no!

Then one of the guys turns to the guy to his right and asks, "So when did you get saved?" The guy responded, "Once when I was seventeen, then again when I was twenty-six and gave my life to god to be a pastor."

It was at that moment that I knew I had to get out of there. Luckily, I had a good and true excuse that I had to go meet up with a friend. But our host was hiding in his room talking on the phone and folding laundry. I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. Because we were all sitting silently, I couldn't just slip out unnoticed. So I counted the minutes until my neighbor was done with his laundry so I could say "Happy Birthday" and take off. He gave me a hug, (which I am not a hugger, but whatevs) and said to stop by when I got back.

Finally I was free!!!! I drove off like I had the devil after me (tee hee). I went to my friend Eric's house for our Sunday tradition of quiche and True Blood (which is a whole lot more satisfying than church in my opinion.) Why quiche you may ask? Because it's effing delicious for one thing. And for another, Eric and I have been making quiche ever since his 21st birthday almost exactly five years ago when we got drunk and were craving quiche even though we had never made it before and ended up making the best quiche ever even without any recipe or soberness and proceeded to eat it on the floor of my kitchen with two random girls we met at the supermarket at midnight after work. So that's my quiche story which I've probably told a million times, but it was such an awesome memory I don't care.

After True Blood, I headed back from Koreatown to NoHo only to find an ambush waiting for me in the parking lot. My neighbor's "party" had turned into a late night bible discussion. My neighbor called me over and I couldn't very well say no even though it was late at night and I was tired. True Blood takes a lot out of you, you know. He asked me about my faith, which I tried to sum up succinctly. "I believe in something, but I'm not a fan of organized religion." Of course, my religious history is a hell of a lot more complicated than that, but it was too late to get into it.

But he kept goading me in the polite, well-meaning way Christians often do. And I just couldn't deny my Hutch heritage to debate circles around an opponent. Normally I hate debating, but he wouldn't let it go. So I let him have it. And I explained how many horrible things I have witnessed under the guise of religion. How I don't believe in the bible, so don't use that to support your arguments. How my biggest political believe is that religion has no business in politics. How I don't agree with a large majority of what is considered to be a sin. How pretentious, insincere and commercial religion has become. How religion has mistreated a large number of my friends who happen to be gay and caused them so much pain and heartbreak. For all the good things religion does, it destroys and divides just as much.

It was a calm, respectful discussion for the most part, but it did raise my hackles quite a bit. Especially when an older gentleman got involved and tried to convince me that people aren't born gay. I tried to make him understand that why would someone choose to be estranged from their family, bullied and beaten at school, not given equal rights under the law, and suffer so much derision from people like him if they weren't being true to themselves?

Anyway, so now it's going to be suuuuper awkward whenever I see my neighbor. I used to think he wanted in my pants, but now I know he just wants to save my soul. Which is kind of hurtful to my ego, but whatevs.