Oh, hey. Just reporting live from Single Twenty-Something Land, going strong for something, like, 983 months. Give or take. Despite my tenure here, it's really only been recent months that I've delved into "dating." Like, actual dating. I mean, going out to dinner, finding out he's Not It, and moving on. Or, rather, meeting people and finding out they're... well, so here are my two favorites: Girl meets boy. They're introduced through a friend. Boy's cute. Athletic. Great job. Seemingly awesome personality. GIRL WINS. They have dinner. Drinks. Movie nights. Repeat. Things progress slowly, but nicely.
Until he finds my blog.
Then it's a Facebook message the next morning stating "the whole blog thing sort of weirds" him out. He "doesn't get it." Consider him "old-fashioned," he writes, while dumping me IN A FACEBOOK MESSAGE. I'm certain that's how things were done when "old-fashioned" was real. Through Facebook. On the Internet. Of course. While we're dumping people because of blogs.
I took it personally at first. Got real self-conscious. Drove myself crazy wondering whether blogging would become the demise of my romatic future. Do I say too much? Am I too forward? Is this blog the worst idea I've ever had? And then I realized the last person I want to date is someone who doesn't "get" blogging. Someone who's too "old-fashioned" to walk confidently into the year 2010 where social networking is the norm. This blog is who I am. Take it or leave it. Bitch.
And then there was my sweet hairdresser. She tried so hard to make a love connection a while back. "There's this guy. He's GREAT. I'm going to introduce you two." She had sparkles in her eyes. Through a series of events, he sent me an introductory email. Introduced himself. Asked if I'd be interested in coffee sometime. Told me to look him up on Facebook, so I did. He accepted my friend request immediately. I replied to his email. "Of course I'd like to get coffee," I said. "Sounds great."
I NEVER HEARD FROM HIM AGAIN.
I find out later that after perusing my Facebook page, he decided I was "too active." She runs "like 10 miles a day," he tells my hairdresser. This morning I noticed he's since unfriended me. Without having ever replied to my email. Burn.
I'm too active?
So in one fell swoop, two men have single-handedly taken my two passions - writing and running - and used them against me. My blog's too weird and I run too much. Again I got paranoid. And then insulted. Too active, dude? Really? Oy. Another reminder that the last person on Earth I want a part of my romantic life is someone who thinks I run too much.
What's funny about all of these stories is that I recently met someone. On the Internet, no less. It wasn't through match.com or the likes (I've yet to venture down that route), but through the tightly-woven net of people I've met through running and Twitter and dailymile. Nevermind that we're on opposite sides of the country. Nevermind that we've never met. But as it is, in this simple little world of social networking, it's perfect. For right now, as it stands, we get along like champs. One day we'll meet, I'm sure. Maybe we'll hate each other. Probably we won't.
But the existence of someone who's not only inspired by the number of miles I log, but can log just as many, and who appreciates the existence of things like Twitter and blogging, reminds me that although I'm most often alone in my head and in my corner of the world, there are others just like me.
And the rest of ya'll can go suck it.
No, just kidding.
Except you. You can go suck it.