I haven't posted anything here in ages, and for that I'm a bit ashamed. The purpose of this blog is to record the trials and tribulations of dating, and I do have some updates to talk about.
There was a person I started seeing in April or so of last year, and we had this on-again, off-again kind of thing, but it never really had the chance to develop into something resembling a relationship. One big problem was the fact we rarely saw each other. I know people make long-distance relationships work, but of course this wasn't a long-distance relationship, yet we saw each other maybe once a month.
What would happen was, we'd stay in contact, get together, and then something would happen (like her seeing someone else) and then losing contact. It wasn't a great situation to begin with, but for some reason I felt compelled to attempt to keep things going. In the end, though, it was simply a matter of being a bad match.
During the off-again parts I continued in my efforts to meet someone via Craigslist (since I'm too poor to afford a real dating site) with the usual results: communicate via e-mail or text; finally meet up; and then never hear from that person again.
Back in October I started e-mailing another Craigslist contact, and I'm happy to say things are going well. She's closer to my age and we see each other every week or so; we even went to Las Vegas and managed not to kill each other, which is always a good sign.
As far as my professional life goes, on December 14th of 2010 I was let go of my horrible, horrible job, which frankly was quite the relief. I'm now actively pursuing freelance and regular writing gigs, so hopefully something will turn up soon. I'm usually a very cautiously optimistic person, but it seems 2011 might actually be a good year. Certainly better than 2010 so far.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
The Stigma of Mental Illness
While the primary objective of this blog is to amuse you, the reader, with my adventures in dating, I wanted to take some time to talk about something else. Something serious. Something important to me.
Mental illness is not an easy thing to talk about. Even now, in 2010, mental illness is not widely understood; it's a broad label for many different disorders, of which modern medicine only has the basic understanding of. I think it's safe to say that when the words "mental illness" are used, what comes to mind for many people is the adjective of "crazy." If someone is mentally ill, they must be crazy. Or dangerous. Quite possibly both. There is a stigma attached to mental illness, one that is not easily shaken.
I've struggled with mental illness for over half of my life. It's a struggle that has affected my life in a profound way. Being ill has impacted both of my marriages, and in one of the marriages was the primary reason that marriage came to an end. It's affected my relationships with family and friends. For several years I couldn't work and was essentially too afraid to leave my home due to crippling anxiety.
I first became aware of my illness when I was 18. In 1987, a good friend of mine died in a senseless accident; he was swimming in a river and drowned. This happened in Portland, Oregon; I was in the Navy and stationed in Hawaii when he died. It was a devastating loss to me, and I wasn't able to return to Portland for the funeral. I was overcome with guilt as well, because at the time of his death I knew CPR, and I kept thinking that, if only I had been there, I might have been able to save him.
In the months following my friend's death, I became increasingly depressed. I started drinking heavily (a struggle with alcohol that continued until I was nearly 30, when I was finally able to stop drinking) and began injuring myself. I started punching walls, desks, anything hard with my fists. It was a way of focusing away from my mental pain, and concentrating it into my hands. When this was all happening I had no idea what was going on inside my head, only that I was no longer happy.
I can even remember watching television and seeing a commercial about depression; it listed several warning signs. All of which I had. Half-jokingly I told one of my friends about it. She took it very seriously, for reasons I would understand later. She insisted I get help, and I made an appointment with the base psychologist.
My friend's name was Margaret. What I didn't know at the time was that she was suffering from severe depression. She would eventually be discharged from the Navy because of her depression. And, most tragically, would take her own life a few months after her discharge. At that time -- and seemingly even now -- the military didn't take mental health issues seriously. Yes, basic services were provided, but the standard course of treatment for someone with serious depression was to simply discharge the person from active duty.
I began seeing the base psychologist, and we met every week for about an hour. I cannot remember what was accomplished in those sessions -- I do recall the psychologist giving me the book Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy by Dr. David Burns. I read through some of the book, and participated in my therapy sessions, but my situation did not really change at all. I began drinking even more heavily, and my incidents of self-injury continued.
I left Hawaii in August of 1990, and returned home on leave for a month. My next duty station was going to be the USS Blue Ridge. While based in Japan, Blue Ridge had been sent to the Persian Gulf in response to Saddam Hussein invading Kuwait. That's where I eventually headed, where I spent six months in the Gulf.
My depression became worse. My drinking escalated to the point where I very nearly killed myself with alcohol. By the time Blue Ridge returned to Japan in April of 1991, I was in pretty bad shape, and was removed from shipboard duty. I spent six months being "treated" for my depression, which consisted of weekly group therapy sessions. When I first met the base psychiatrist, he essentially asked me if I wanted to just be discharged, to which I replied, "Yes!" The doctor then changed direction and decided to to have me try medication. I did, for about two days, and the side effects were pretty bad, so I was just taken off the meds. The group therapy sessions continued, and after six months I was deemed well enough to return to shipboard duty.
I, of course, was not anywhere in the neighborhood of "well" at that time. I completed my military service and was honorably discharged in June of 1992.
In September of 1994 I got married. My mental illness remained untreated. And in the course of that short marriage (just three years) my illness would impact the marriage, driving my wife away by the changes in my personality. At the time this was happening I wasn't even aware that anything was wrong.
When marriage #1 came to an end, it did not take long before I was dating the woman who would become my second wife. We dated for three years and were married in 2000. Those first three years were good years; my illness was apparently in remission.
With mental illness, things can change quickly and without warning.
It was becoming clear that something was very wrong with me. My personality was changing again. My temper was short. I was arguing with my step-son all the time. I developed insomnia. I started having psychotic symptoms (I didn't know they were psychotic at the time) and episodes, as well as crushing depression.
In July of 2001 I attempted suicide. I found a bunch of pills and starting swallowing them. Anything I could get my hands on.
I started to panic, and I told my wife what I had done. She called for an ambulance and I was rushed to the emergency room. I was given liquid charcoal to soak up the drugs, and spent several hours in the emergency room for observation. And instead of being admitted into the psych ward, I was sent home, where the responsibility of getting help for me essentially fell on my wife's shoulders.
I found myself unable to work, so I left my job -- a great position with Intel as a hardware/software QA technician -- on disability.
I would never return to that job.
In the years that followed, my wife and I discovered just how difficult it was to get treatment for mental illness. Trying to find the right psychiatrist. Trying to find the right therapist. Being diagnosed. Becoming a guinea pig to many, many different combinations of drugs in the hopes that the right ones would make me better.
During this time period, I started having auditory hallucinations. The episodes of psychosis intensified. I became agoraphobic. I rarely left the house. I didn't see friends or family. My anxiety levels were always high. I could barely drive a car. I developed OCD symptoms.
My wife was in mourning; she frequently made references to the "old" me. Of course, the "old" me was gone. The new me: not so enjoyable to be around.
We went for months without sleeping in the same bed together. We were no longer intimate. It was a horrible situation to be in. I felt incredible guilt over what was happening. An incredible burden was placed on my wife's shoulders.
By mid-2006, I seemed to be getting better. My wife remarked that I was more like the "old" Scott again. We were communicating, we were intimate again, and while my sleep schedule had changed for the worse, we were back to sleeping in the same bed again.
Unfortunately, this would prove to be temporary, and by November of 2007 the marriage was under strain. In December of 2007 my wife had had enough, and kicked me out of my home.
I was homeless. I hadn't been working for years, so I had no money. Over the next several months I lived with family, and it wouldn't be until 2009 that I actually came to having my own place to live.
In June of 2009 my insomnia took a turn for the worse: I went several days without sleep, and my depression returned. I became suicidal again. I was discovering that sleep meds were not helping me at all. Nothing was helping. I stopped taking my medications. My depression got much, much worse. I started researching how to take my life.
By February of 2010, my depression had reached a new low, and I was very much ready to kill myself. I did manage to become lucid enough to check myself into the hospital, and spent a few days in the psychiatric ward.
At the hospital I was put on a new medication, a mood stabilizer called Depakote. It's used to treat manic-depression. It's helped me a great deal, in combination with an anti-depressant. I'm sleeping -- not well, but getting a few hours each night. I'm finally stable. I'm relatively happy. I'm dating again, which quite frankly I didn't think I'd be doing. I've been at my job for almost two years, which is quite the accomplishment for me, seeings as how I spent much of the years 2001-2007 not working.
I'm not cured. There is no cure for mental illness. You can treat it, and with the right combination of medication and therapy, live a life where the illness isn't in control. I'm thankful for the support of good friends who have helped me through this. And I've been inspired in unexpected ways by people I don't even know. You know who you are.
I'm not crazy. I'm not dangerous.
I'm Scott. I have a mental illness.
Update: June 4, 2013
In the three years that have passed since I wrote this, I have remained (largely) symptom free. I still experience anxiety-related symptoms from time to time (mostly social anxiety and some OCD stuff) but I haven't had a psychotic episode in so long I can't even recall the last time. While I still get down or experience the blues, I haven't had an episode of depression since 2011 or so. I used to have a pretty severe driving phobia, and now I can drive without issue.
This has all happened without me being on any kind of medication. Back in 2005 I wouldn't have even thought it was possible. I'm grateful for this period of recovery. I'm definitely the "old" Scott again.
Mental illness is not an easy thing to talk about. Even now, in 2010, mental illness is not widely understood; it's a broad label for many different disorders, of which modern medicine only has the basic understanding of. I think it's safe to say that when the words "mental illness" are used, what comes to mind for many people is the adjective of "crazy." If someone is mentally ill, they must be crazy. Or dangerous. Quite possibly both. There is a stigma attached to mental illness, one that is not easily shaken.
I've struggled with mental illness for over half of my life. It's a struggle that has affected my life in a profound way. Being ill has impacted both of my marriages, and in one of the marriages was the primary reason that marriage came to an end. It's affected my relationships with family and friends. For several years I couldn't work and was essentially too afraid to leave my home due to crippling anxiety.
I first became aware of my illness when I was 18. In 1987, a good friend of mine died in a senseless accident; he was swimming in a river and drowned. This happened in Portland, Oregon; I was in the Navy and stationed in Hawaii when he died. It was a devastating loss to me, and I wasn't able to return to Portland for the funeral. I was overcome with guilt as well, because at the time of his death I knew CPR, and I kept thinking that, if only I had been there, I might have been able to save him.
In the months following my friend's death, I became increasingly depressed. I started drinking heavily (a struggle with alcohol that continued until I was nearly 30, when I was finally able to stop drinking) and began injuring myself. I started punching walls, desks, anything hard with my fists. It was a way of focusing away from my mental pain, and concentrating it into my hands. When this was all happening I had no idea what was going on inside my head, only that I was no longer happy.
I can even remember watching television and seeing a commercial about depression; it listed several warning signs. All of which I had. Half-jokingly I told one of my friends about it. She took it very seriously, for reasons I would understand later. She insisted I get help, and I made an appointment with the base psychologist.
My friend's name was Margaret. What I didn't know at the time was that she was suffering from severe depression. She would eventually be discharged from the Navy because of her depression. And, most tragically, would take her own life a few months after her discharge. At that time -- and seemingly even now -- the military didn't take mental health issues seriously. Yes, basic services were provided, but the standard course of treatment for someone with serious depression was to simply discharge the person from active duty.
I began seeing the base psychologist, and we met every week for about an hour. I cannot remember what was accomplished in those sessions -- I do recall the psychologist giving me the book Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy by Dr. David Burns. I read through some of the book, and participated in my therapy sessions, but my situation did not really change at all. I began drinking even more heavily, and my incidents of self-injury continued.
I left Hawaii in August of 1990, and returned home on leave for a month. My next duty station was going to be the USS Blue Ridge. While based in Japan, Blue Ridge had been sent to the Persian Gulf in response to Saddam Hussein invading Kuwait. That's where I eventually headed, where I spent six months in the Gulf.
My depression became worse. My drinking escalated to the point where I very nearly killed myself with alcohol. By the time Blue Ridge returned to Japan in April of 1991, I was in pretty bad shape, and was removed from shipboard duty. I spent six months being "treated" for my depression, which consisted of weekly group therapy sessions. When I first met the base psychiatrist, he essentially asked me if I wanted to just be discharged, to which I replied, "Yes!" The doctor then changed direction and decided to to have me try medication. I did, for about two days, and the side effects were pretty bad, so I was just taken off the meds. The group therapy sessions continued, and after six months I was deemed well enough to return to shipboard duty.
I, of course, was not anywhere in the neighborhood of "well" at that time. I completed my military service and was honorably discharged in June of 1992.
In September of 1994 I got married. My mental illness remained untreated. And in the course of that short marriage (just three years) my illness would impact the marriage, driving my wife away by the changes in my personality. At the time this was happening I wasn't even aware that anything was wrong.
When marriage #1 came to an end, it did not take long before I was dating the woman who would become my second wife. We dated for three years and were married in 2000. Those first three years were good years; my illness was apparently in remission.
With mental illness, things can change quickly and without warning.
It was becoming clear that something was very wrong with me. My personality was changing again. My temper was short. I was arguing with my step-son all the time. I developed insomnia. I started having psychotic symptoms (I didn't know they were psychotic at the time) and episodes, as well as crushing depression.
In July of 2001 I attempted suicide. I found a bunch of pills and starting swallowing them. Anything I could get my hands on.
I started to panic, and I told my wife what I had done. She called for an ambulance and I was rushed to the emergency room. I was given liquid charcoal to soak up the drugs, and spent several hours in the emergency room for observation. And instead of being admitted into the psych ward, I was sent home, where the responsibility of getting help for me essentially fell on my wife's shoulders.
I found myself unable to work, so I left my job -- a great position with Intel as a hardware/software QA technician -- on disability.
I would never return to that job.
In the years that followed, my wife and I discovered just how difficult it was to get treatment for mental illness. Trying to find the right psychiatrist. Trying to find the right therapist. Being diagnosed. Becoming a guinea pig to many, many different combinations of drugs in the hopes that the right ones would make me better.
During this time period, I started having auditory hallucinations. The episodes of psychosis intensified. I became agoraphobic. I rarely left the house. I didn't see friends or family. My anxiety levels were always high. I could barely drive a car. I developed OCD symptoms.
My wife was in mourning; she frequently made references to the "old" me. Of course, the "old" me was gone. The new me: not so enjoyable to be around.
We went for months without sleeping in the same bed together. We were no longer intimate. It was a horrible situation to be in. I felt incredible guilt over what was happening. An incredible burden was placed on my wife's shoulders.
By mid-2006, I seemed to be getting better. My wife remarked that I was more like the "old" Scott again. We were communicating, we were intimate again, and while my sleep schedule had changed for the worse, we were back to sleeping in the same bed again.
Unfortunately, this would prove to be temporary, and by November of 2007 the marriage was under strain. In December of 2007 my wife had had enough, and kicked me out of my home.
I was homeless. I hadn't been working for years, so I had no money. Over the next several months I lived with family, and it wouldn't be until 2009 that I actually came to having my own place to live.
In June of 2009 my insomnia took a turn for the worse: I went several days without sleep, and my depression returned. I became suicidal again. I was discovering that sleep meds were not helping me at all. Nothing was helping. I stopped taking my medications. My depression got much, much worse. I started researching how to take my life.
By February of 2010, my depression had reached a new low, and I was very much ready to kill myself. I did manage to become lucid enough to check myself into the hospital, and spent a few days in the psychiatric ward.
At the hospital I was put on a new medication, a mood stabilizer called Depakote. It's used to treat manic-depression. It's helped me a great deal, in combination with an anti-depressant. I'm sleeping -- not well, but getting a few hours each night. I'm finally stable. I'm relatively happy. I'm dating again, which quite frankly I didn't think I'd be doing. I've been at my job for almost two years, which is quite the accomplishment for me, seeings as how I spent much of the years 2001-2007 not working.
I'm not cured. There is no cure for mental illness. You can treat it, and with the right combination of medication and therapy, live a life where the illness isn't in control. I'm thankful for the support of good friends who have helped me through this. And I've been inspired in unexpected ways by people I don't even know. You know who you are.
I'm not crazy. I'm not dangerous.
I'm Scott. I have a mental illness.
Update: June 4, 2013
In the three years that have passed since I wrote this, I have remained (largely) symptom free. I still experience anxiety-related symptoms from time to time (mostly social anxiety and some OCD stuff) but I haven't had a psychotic episode in so long I can't even recall the last time. While I still get down or experience the blues, I haven't had an episode of depression since 2011 or so. I used to have a pretty severe driving phobia, and now I can drive without issue.
This has all happened without me being on any kind of medication. Back in 2005 I wouldn't have even thought it was possible. I'm grateful for this period of recovery. I'm definitely the "old" Scott again.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Dates Two and Three
Much to my surprise (okay, I'm very cynical) my dinner date at that tasty, tasty Thai restaurant led to a second date. Since all of my dating knowledge was formed in the 1980s (because I'm old) my idea was to go see a movie. Not very original, I know, but still, it's something to do.
We went to a theater in Vancouver, WA called Cinetopia. This place is awesome. Movies are projected in high-def on huge screens, and the seats are nicely spaced so that there's plenty of room. The downside is that it's expensive.
We went to see How to Train Your Dragon in 3D and had a good time. Like Roger Ebert, I'm not a big fan of the whole initiative to make every single movie in 3D. But HTTYD was done well, and the 3D was effective. And now I've officially gotten off target.
Now, the one unusual aspect of this experience (aside from it being unusual in the sense that I'm actually spending time with a woman) is that my lady friend is a bit younger than me. Okay, she's a lot younger than me. As in I'm a walking middle-aged cliche at the moment. I'm not always the most conventional person you'll meet.
I've never actually dated someone who was significantly younger than me. The most has been a two-year age difference. And dating someone who is a lot younger than you requires a change in thinking, in the sense that I can't really expect her to think and behave the same way I would; I have to look at things from her perspective.
After the movie date I didn't hear from her for a while, and of course I started to get a bit paranoid as to why. Was this a case like so many women experience, where after a date the man doesn't get in touch with you? No, just turns out she was busy. We did finally reconnect and made plans for date number three. Which would be another movie. I know, I know. I'm working on coming up with better dating ideas.
We returned to Cinetopia, this time to see Iron Man 2. We had a good time, despite not liking this movie as much as the first one. Our time together was short but we made plans to see each other again. Our next outing will probably be to the Portland Zoo. She's expressed an interest in horseback riding, something I probably will not do, in large part due to my fear of being flung off of the back of the horse and breaking my brittle bones (I'm old, remember?)
Whatever happens, we're enjoying each other's company and slowly getting to know each other. We're not rushing into anything either, which is a smart thing to do.
We went to a theater in Vancouver, WA called Cinetopia. This place is awesome. Movies are projected in high-def on huge screens, and the seats are nicely spaced so that there's plenty of room. The downside is that it's expensive.
We went to see How to Train Your Dragon in 3D and had a good time. Like Roger Ebert, I'm not a big fan of the whole initiative to make every single movie in 3D. But HTTYD was done well, and the 3D was effective. And now I've officially gotten off target.
Now, the one unusual aspect of this experience (aside from it being unusual in the sense that I'm actually spending time with a woman) is that my lady friend is a bit younger than me. Okay, she's a lot younger than me. As in I'm a walking middle-aged cliche at the moment. I'm not always the most conventional person you'll meet.
I've never actually dated someone who was significantly younger than me. The most has been a two-year age difference. And dating someone who is a lot younger than you requires a change in thinking, in the sense that I can't really expect her to think and behave the same way I would; I have to look at things from her perspective.
After the movie date I didn't hear from her for a while, and of course I started to get a bit paranoid as to why. Was this a case like so many women experience, where after a date the man doesn't get in touch with you? No, just turns out she was busy. We did finally reconnect and made plans for date number three. Which would be another movie. I know, I know. I'm working on coming up with better dating ideas.
We returned to Cinetopia, this time to see Iron Man 2. We had a good time, despite not liking this movie as much as the first one. Our time together was short but we made plans to see each other again. Our next outing will probably be to the Portland Zoo. She's expressed an interest in horseback riding, something I probably will not do, in large part due to my fear of being flung off of the back of the horse and breaking my brittle bones (I'm old, remember?)
Whatever happens, we're enjoying each other's company and slowly getting to know each other. We're not rushing into anything either, which is a smart thing to do.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Two Dates in One Day? Really?
Lest you think that every single entry of this blog will be a documentation of my ongoing humiliation/rejection, I am happy to report that I met not one, but TWO very nice women today courtesy of Craigslist. I know, amazing, right?
Date #1 was a coffee date. Now, I'm not a huge fan of coffee, and meeting at a Starbucks may not be the most original idea, but hey, baby steps, right?
For those of you who know me (which would be no one at this point, unless I have readers I'm not aware of), you know that in person I can be...nervous. Especially if I'm meeting someone for the first time. That's just how I'm wired. I'm keenly aware of this nervousness and do my best to get through it. In the past I would have received liquid courage in the form of booze, but those days are long behind me. Now, I just have to step outside of my comfort zone and make the effort. It's hard. I live in my head a lot of the time, which makes socializing a challenge.
Still, I think date #1 went well. Not really a date, I suppose, more like a pre-date. At the end she asked if I'd want to meet up again and I said, sure!
Now, date #2...wow! This was more a "real" date in the sense that we met for dinner and I, being of that generation (i.e. OLD) paid for dinner, because that's how I roll. Did I say wow? I really enjoyed date #2 for several reasons, chief among them the fact that we share a passion for writing. Also: damn good Thai food! Yum.
There is a tentative plan for a date #3 this coming weekend. Crossing fingers. I suppose, in the very least, even if there wasn't a date #3 I know that the possibility exists for actually meeting someone. It may take a lot of time. "Good things come to he who waits" as the old saying goes, and I've been waiting a long damn time. Good things: I'm looking at you.
Date #1 was a coffee date. Now, I'm not a huge fan of coffee, and meeting at a Starbucks may not be the most original idea, but hey, baby steps, right?
For those of you who know me (which would be no one at this point, unless I have readers I'm not aware of), you know that in person I can be...nervous. Especially if I'm meeting someone for the first time. That's just how I'm wired. I'm keenly aware of this nervousness and do my best to get through it. In the past I would have received liquid courage in the form of booze, but those days are long behind me. Now, I just have to step outside of my comfort zone and make the effort. It's hard. I live in my head a lot of the time, which makes socializing a challenge.
Still, I think date #1 went well. Not really a date, I suppose, more like a pre-date. At the end she asked if I'd want to meet up again and I said, sure!
Now, date #2...wow! This was more a "real" date in the sense that we met for dinner and I, being of that generation (i.e. OLD) paid for dinner, because that's how I roll. Did I say wow? I really enjoyed date #2 for several reasons, chief among them the fact that we share a passion for writing. Also: damn good Thai food! Yum.
There is a tentative plan for a date #3 this coming weekend. Crossing fingers. I suppose, in the very least, even if there wasn't a date #3 I know that the possibility exists for actually meeting someone. It may take a lot of time. "Good things come to he who waits" as the old saying goes, and I've been waiting a long damn time. Good things: I'm looking at you.
Monday, April 26, 2010
"Looks are not important"
One of the biggest lies told in online dating (this includes the strange world of Craigslist personals as well as dating web sites) is the sentiment that "Looks are not important." People will say that in their dating profile, or in a CL posting. Hell, I say it.
The truth is, of course, that looks mean everything. People really don't want to get to know what's on the inside if they don't like what's on the outside. Now, obviously not everyone is that superficial. But those folks are few and far between. If they exist, I certainly haven't met them. The one person I actually know who did in fact mean it when she said that looks weren't important was my ex-wife. Although, I did see her Facebook picture with her new boyfriend and she definitely has traded up.
Even I mean it, although I'd like to think that I'm not as superficial as others. Given a choice between a super-model with a double-digit IQ, and a "BBW" who is smart, funny, and creative, I'd go with the BBW each and every time.
Now, you may be asking this question: "Scott, you're just being paranoid. What proof do you have?" I do have anecdotal proof.
First up: online dating websites. I'm too cheap to pay for a membership at Chemistry.com or Match.com, and forget eHarmony (they rejected me after filling out the personality profile as not being compatible with anyone). I do use OK Cupid and Plenty of Fish.
I've been a member at OK Cupid since June or July of 2008. I've sent out a few dozen messages to other members. My response rate is something like 7%. No, I'm not e-mailing photos of my genitals. That may seem like a strange statement, but apparently it's not uncommon for men to do just that. In the time I've been a member of OK Cupid I've been on exactly ONE date, and that was just for coffee. When I do message someone at OK Cupid I try to write something that is witty and interesting and not obnoxious. Yet virtually no one responds, even when I have a lot in common with the person I'm writing, nor do they ever say why.
Plenty of Fish is even worse. I've received one response to over 30 messages I've sent out. And in virtually every case, the person I'm writing to simply deletes the message without reading it.
Moving on to Craigslist, I've had the opposite experience. The women who read my postings will respond, and we'll correspond for a bit. And then, when it gets to the point where we exchange photos, guess what? As soon as I send mine, the e-mail exchanges end.
Here's a perfect example. Back in October a woman responded to my ad, where I had mentioned enjoying video games. She did as well. We exchanged several messages, and then fired up our Xbox 360s and played a game online. We had a good time. When we were done I sent her an e-mail saying how I had enjoyed playing the game with her. She responded by saying she wanted to know what I looked like, so I sent a photo. And...never heard from her again. It's very weird, but it happens all the time. Doesn't exactly do wonders for the old self-esteem, you know?
I've even gotten to the point where I'll mention my physical appearance in an ad. I'm losing the battle with my hairline, so I've brought that up several times. And I've had some responses along the lines of "I like bald men!" and of course, as soon as my picture is sent, the truth comes out: no, she really doesn't like a balding man.
Apparently I'm a glutton for punishment as I don't let this continued rejection stop me. Maybe I should just give up and become a monk? Or a priest? Seeing as I've been essentially celibate for over two years, it seems like it'd be the perfect fit.
The truth is, of course, that looks mean everything. People really don't want to get to know what's on the inside if they don't like what's on the outside. Now, obviously not everyone is that superficial. But those folks are few and far between. If they exist, I certainly haven't met them. The one person I actually know who did in fact mean it when she said that looks weren't important was my ex-wife. Although, I did see her Facebook picture with her new boyfriend and she definitely has traded up.
Even I mean it, although I'd like to think that I'm not as superficial as others. Given a choice between a super-model with a double-digit IQ, and a "BBW" who is smart, funny, and creative, I'd go with the BBW each and every time.
Now, you may be asking this question: "Scott, you're just being paranoid. What proof do you have?" I do have anecdotal proof.
First up: online dating websites. I'm too cheap to pay for a membership at Chemistry.com or Match.com, and forget eHarmony (they rejected me after filling out the personality profile as not being compatible with anyone). I do use OK Cupid and Plenty of Fish.
I've been a member at OK Cupid since June or July of 2008. I've sent out a few dozen messages to other members. My response rate is something like 7%. No, I'm not e-mailing photos of my genitals. That may seem like a strange statement, but apparently it's not uncommon for men to do just that. In the time I've been a member of OK Cupid I've been on exactly ONE date, and that was just for coffee. When I do message someone at OK Cupid I try to write something that is witty and interesting and not obnoxious. Yet virtually no one responds, even when I have a lot in common with the person I'm writing, nor do they ever say why.
Plenty of Fish is even worse. I've received one response to over 30 messages I've sent out. And in virtually every case, the person I'm writing to simply deletes the message without reading it.
Moving on to Craigslist, I've had the opposite experience. The women who read my postings will respond, and we'll correspond for a bit. And then, when it gets to the point where we exchange photos, guess what? As soon as I send mine, the e-mail exchanges end.
Here's a perfect example. Back in October a woman responded to my ad, where I had mentioned enjoying video games. She did as well. We exchanged several messages, and then fired up our Xbox 360s and played a game online. We had a good time. When we were done I sent her an e-mail saying how I had enjoyed playing the game with her. She responded by saying she wanted to know what I looked like, so I sent a photo. And...never heard from her again. It's very weird, but it happens all the time. Doesn't exactly do wonders for the old self-esteem, you know?
I've even gotten to the point where I'll mention my physical appearance in an ad. I'm losing the battle with my hairline, so I've brought that up several times. And I've had some responses along the lines of "I like bald men!" and of course, as soon as my picture is sent, the truth comes out: no, she really doesn't like a balding man.
Apparently I'm a glutton for punishment as I don't let this continued rejection stop me. Maybe I should just give up and become a monk? Or a priest? Seeing as I've been essentially celibate for over two years, it seems like it'd be the perfect fit.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Coffee Date #2 for 2010
Here I was ready to discuss OK Cupid rejection when I managed to arrange a coffee date for today. I will get to the OK Cupid rejection soon, as I'm sure both of my readers are anxious to learn more of.
I have taken to reading Craigslist personal ads lately; they can be addicting. I post there as well of course.
One ad caught my eye, from a woman with a graduate degree. In the ad she shared an anecdote about how her father suggested she should act dumb in order to land a man to get married to. Now, I am the kind of man who finds intelligent women extremely appealing and sexy. Much more so than looks. A vapid but pretty woman is not attractive to me at all.
We began exchanging e-mails and eventually got to the point where we were ready to meet in person. That day was today.
Now, a bit about me: I'm not only a classic introvert (ISTJ as a matter of fact) but I'm quite shy. Incredibly shy. When I'm meeting someone new for the first time I tend to get very, very nervous. I suspect it's quite off-putting. I've been told I do not make a very good first impression.
We chatted for an hour over coffee and she then had to leave. I enjoyed talking to her but I'm not sure what she thought of me. I suggested a second meeting and received a noncommittal reply. So, not really sure if there will be a second meeting or not.
I suppose these sorts of encounters are at least good for me in the sense that I will have practice in chatting up strangers. And maybe, just maybe, I'll get better at it.
I have taken to reading Craigslist personal ads lately; they can be addicting. I post there as well of course.
One ad caught my eye, from a woman with a graduate degree. In the ad she shared an anecdote about how her father suggested she should act dumb in order to land a man to get married to. Now, I am the kind of man who finds intelligent women extremely appealing and sexy. Much more so than looks. A vapid but pretty woman is not attractive to me at all.
We began exchanging e-mails and eventually got to the point where we were ready to meet in person. That day was today.
Now, a bit about me: I'm not only a classic introvert (ISTJ as a matter of fact) but I'm quite shy. Incredibly shy. When I'm meeting someone new for the first time I tend to get very, very nervous. I suspect it's quite off-putting. I've been told I do not make a very good first impression.
We chatted for an hour over coffee and she then had to leave. I enjoyed talking to her but I'm not sure what she thought of me. I suggested a second meeting and received a noncommittal reply. So, not really sure if there will be a second meeting or not.
I suppose these sorts of encounters are at least good for me in the sense that I will have practice in chatting up strangers. And maybe, just maybe, I'll get better at it.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Join Me in my Journey of Humiliation!
I have decided that the focus of this blog will be to document my ongoing rejection/humiliation as I swim through the murky waters of online dating. Please feel free to laugh with me. If you laugh at me you're a jerk.
Some background: I ended a 10-year relationship (with seven of those years married) in December of 2007. Or, more accurately, my ex-wife ended the relationship. While there are several things about my ex that makes me angry, the one thing that really sticks in my craw is the fact that she took a balding middle-aged man (me) and thrust him into the world of being single. Something I was not at all prepared for. My dating knowledge was gleamed in the 1990s, and seeing as this is the 21st century, completely antiquated.
It took several months after the marriage ended before I was ready to even attempt dating again. By July of 2008 I was ready. Now, if you know me at all, you know that I'm a tad introverted. Okay, more than a tad. Extremely is a better word. As such it seemed to me that online dating would be the way to go.
I hit up some of the major pay sites. Eharmony is known for its exhaustive personality test. I took that test and was informed by Eharmony that I couldn't be matched to anyone. Seriously.
As I'm cheap, I hit Google to see about free dating sites, and I found OK Cupid. It has a good reputation, is always mentioned in top-10 dating lists and is well reviewed. I signed up and prepared myself for an end to being single!
In September of 2008 I received a notice that someone was interested in me. A user I shall call...Woman #1. We chatted via IM and sent many e-mails back and forth. We talked about meeting in real life (if you're hip to online lingo that would be RL). Things seemed to be going well and then...she stopped responding to messages and e-mails. This, I would discover, is a very common thing in the world of online dating. I guess people just lose interest and move on to the next available man/woman. I was disappointed at the time. And now? I'm used to it.
OK Cupid has continued to vex me. It seems that most of the people there aren't really interested in meeting anyone. Which is a theme that would become increasingly obvious.
Next time: more OK Cupid rejection! And how about Plenty of Fish? Hint: rejection.
Some background: I ended a 10-year relationship (with seven of those years married) in December of 2007. Or, more accurately, my ex-wife ended the relationship. While there are several things about my ex that makes me angry, the one thing that really sticks in my craw is the fact that she took a balding middle-aged man (me) and thrust him into the world of being single. Something I was not at all prepared for. My dating knowledge was gleamed in the 1990s, and seeing as this is the 21st century, completely antiquated.
It took several months after the marriage ended before I was ready to even attempt dating again. By July of 2008 I was ready. Now, if you know me at all, you know that I'm a tad introverted. Okay, more than a tad. Extremely is a better word. As such it seemed to me that online dating would be the way to go.
I hit up some of the major pay sites. Eharmony is known for its exhaustive personality test. I took that test and was informed by Eharmony that I couldn't be matched to anyone. Seriously.
As I'm cheap, I hit Google to see about free dating sites, and I found OK Cupid. It has a good reputation, is always mentioned in top-10 dating lists and is well reviewed. I signed up and prepared myself for an end to being single!
In September of 2008 I received a notice that someone was interested in me. A user I shall call...Woman #1. We chatted via IM and sent many e-mails back and forth. We talked about meeting in real life (if you're hip to online lingo that would be RL). Things seemed to be going well and then...she stopped responding to messages and e-mails. This, I would discover, is a very common thing in the world of online dating. I guess people just lose interest and move on to the next available man/woman. I was disappointed at the time. And now? I'm used to it.
OK Cupid has continued to vex me. It seems that most of the people there aren't really interested in meeting anyone. Which is a theme that would become increasingly obvious.
Next time: more OK Cupid rejection! And how about Plenty of Fish? Hint: rejection.
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