Let me tell you what I think is one of the major drawbacks of meeting online and trying to develop a relationship with someone through non-traditional — or neo-traditional — methods.
You are paging through your favorite dating site. You see someone who catches your eye. You wink. He winks. You e-mail. A day later he e-mails. It continues, then the frequency increases. Then you exchange phone numbers. You're very nervous when you know he's going to call. What will his voice sound like? Will he like your voice? Will you have anything interesting to say or merely giggle like a silly teenager?
You make it through the first call, and the second, and then the frequency of the calls increases. Soon you're talking several times during the day and maybe the last thing before going to sleep and maybe on the morning commute.
You like what you hear. You look forward to the calls and the conversations and the facts and stories you're going to discuss in the calls. You share your dreams with him, your hopes, your fears — a large part of your memories and your being. Each time you share some detail of your life that is very precious to you, you feel you have have done something very special — you have shared yourself and allowed this new person in your life to get to know you better.
But guess what. He might not even have been listening. He might have been watching the football game with the sound muted so you wouldn't know. Or he might have been doing Sudoku or the crossword. Or surfing the 'Net, shopping for his next car or book or woman.
Or he might have ulterior motives.
But in your mind he knows you better for today's conversation and in your mind you are closer to each other for having had this conversation.
(Okay, in defense of the sensitive men of the world, some of whom are heterosexual, there are men who do actually listen when you talk to them. You can really get closer to a man by conversing with him. If this happens to you, treasure the experience. It can be rare!)
So this pattern continues until some point — a week, a month, three months later — you decide to meet. You go into this meeting already in love with his mind, his speech patterns, his voice. Then you meet him and he's morbidly obese, a fact he's successfully hidden from you. Or he's wearing white socks with his dress shoes. Or he just doesn't light your fire. His mind lights your fire, you love the connection of all the phone calls and e-mails. But he's got a gap between his two front teeth or his hair is unkempt or he's blond and you prefer brunettes.
This, my dears, is why I subscribe to the theory of meeting as soon as possible after establishing that there might be some interest. Interest first, chemistry second, then getting-to-know-you and emotional intimacy thereafter.
And how do I know this so well? Y'know the "morbidly obese" reference above? That was EEFFH. I was absolutely swept off my feet with his long-distance romancing, with his frequent and heartfelt communications, with the flowers and the gifts. Little did I know, separated by over 4,300 miles, that the boy had a telephone addiction. I was in love with his brain. When he walked out of Customs at Dulles the first time I laid eyes on him, I wondered, "What have I gotten myself into?" But in the same instant, the good person inside me replied, "How shallow would I be to reject this wonderful man based merely on his appearance." So in the interest of not being shallow, the good person got to live through four years in hell. Honey, I've paid my dues. When I die, I've got automatic entrance to Hilton Head for time already served.
And how does all this relate to the current state of affairs? First day. Mr. Match winked, I replied, we met for a drink that same day. We got steps one and two out of the way. Now we're just enjoying the getting-to-know-you phase, without having to worry about what we'll think when we set eyes on one 'nother.
A good move, if I do say so myself.
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