Technology murdered dating, but you won’t see that in the news. No front page headline warning: BEWARE!! This guy will NOT call you back after a first date. A security camera photo of him attached.

But that would be nice.

Yelp reviews of online dates do not exist. Trust me, I have checked into this. And I wonder why…why are there zero social media sites where I can warn other women about “dressed nice, some witty banter, I went in for the hug he took out his dick and asked me to touch it. He did pay for the drinks, however. One star.”

There really should be.
And these are questions I ask myself after every failed first date.
Because everyone is doing it. Over 40% of the population are using computers and fast-swiping phone apps to meet someone.

TRY ONLINE DATING: The new recreational drug.

Ohhhhh… that first date high. I run around my tiny apartment, excitement pulsating through my veins. My confidence is bursting at the seams. My heart beats a bit faster than it would a normal night. I text friends photos of outfits to ensure I have the perfect balance of class and sass. I start envisioning our possible new life together. Maybe we’ll move in together if this goes good! How will I furnish our new place ?! What will we name the dog?! Men with cats are weird to me. So me and this new hypothetical man of mine will definitely not be owning a cat. I hope he’s ok with that. Every other dude on these sites have pictures lounging around with cats. Got it, you like pussy. Swipe left.

Enter the date. That first encounter.
On the walk over, I’m high with the excitement of what’s to come. But reality sets in from the first hi. The fantasy of the future starts fading. I feel nothing towards this person in front of me. But wait! There was so much chemistry in our words! Why is his real-person personality not matching his technology personality? AAAHHH!

I try hopelessly to get that initial high back. Maybe if I just get to know him chemistry will follow. I go to the bathroom and stare in the mirror wondering out loud “It’s ok, there’s only 5 of my 15 deal breakers on the table. And what’s with that lazy eye?”. The date ends with a friendly hug. Non-verbal communication that we were better online.

I still wait for a text. Hoping for a “Had a great time. We should do it again!” But it never comes. The radio silence comedown. The confidence break. Anxiety over everything I should have done on the date. Moments of self-deprecation over something I wasn’t even into after a single drink.

Gotta get the next fix. Swipe right. Swipe right.

Let me stop you here though. Because all that stuff I continuously bitch about? I’ve done every single one of those things to the men I’ve dated. But, god forbid they do it to me.

HYPOCRICY: the basic means of O.D. survival.
And I will continue to go back for more with the hope that maybe this one is THE ONE. Because, ultimately we all want to find that person that gets us. We want that real life rom-com, to be swept off our feet, you know, that love at first site story.
So this is how that story starts?! OOOOOHHHHHH, he saw Birdman! …he’s taller than 5’9″! …the most private thing he’s willing to admit about himself:  he cries at Hallmark commercials …yep…soul mates. The whole concept is based on fake chemistry built on superficiality before even meeting someone.

By now the addiction has set in. Waiting for the “GOOD MORNING! winky face” texts before even sharing a single word. Getting your daily dose.

I started talking to this guy, lets call him Ben, via OK Cupid in 2010. I was living in Los Angeles at the time. Which (after living in both NY and LA) might possibly be the worst place to meet someone. Conversation can switch off in a moment should you not share a passion for the “industry“. I have met dudes that completely look past me, eyes darting over my shoulder, searching for a Set Director or a naive PA. They’re not just looking for a lay; they’re looking for a ladder to climb. My rungs got them nowhere.

Back to Ben.
It was late November when we “met”. We admired each others profiles enough to launch the texting song and dance.

Here’s a first lesson I learned: trying to plan a date during holiday season does not pan out well.

First of all; I’m perpetually O.D.ing because I am busiest person in the WORLD!!!!!! I have such an active work and social life (but have yet to meet someone out) and it will already take weeks to meet me! Let’s ice that cake with family obligations, holiday parties with friends, and end of the year self-hatred. Throw in 2 months.. it’s probably the worst tasting cake ever. Let’s put on Counting Crows “Long December” and cry over it a bit. But I digress..

After a week, Ben and I have mastered the art of tell-all texts: the art of getting to know you. Textversation, lets call it. I’m feeling comfortable, flirty, and flattered. So, when he asks to be my friend on Facebook, I think: why not? We CLEARLY have a connection; our apartment will have 7 plants and our first dog will be named Biscuit.

Ben and I try to set dates, but our schedules just don’t match up. I have a white elephant party. He has a tree trimming. It’s the New Year. So many first world holiday problems get in our way. Those two months coast by.

January 2011, Ben and I finally get to meet in person. And I’m on that high. A real face to face date!!! A safe weekday date at Verdugo Bar in Eagle Rock. He drops into textversation that his band rehearses close to there. I give two shits about that, he’s just spreading his tail feathers.

He’s sitting in his Honda Civic when I walk up to the bar.

My first impression: Why is he waiting in his car? How long has he been here? Does he live in his car? Is he napping? Hindsight: smoking weed before the date. Ok, thats cute he was nervous. I shrug it off and hug Ben hello. But seriously; is he living in his car? The glazed over look in his eye indicates this.

We grab a couple of beers and head to a back booth. Ben slides in next to me rather than take the seat across from me. Inherently our bodies now have to turn into each other. Well played Ben, well played. Within 2 minutes he is doing the whole arm-over-the-back-of-the-booth. I keep a reasonable distance and steer clear of the arm bend. The chitchat begins. It’s quite a letdown from our textversations. SHOCKER. I realize that although he’s looking at me, I don’t think Ben is actually listening to me.

Yes, men, we notice.

I get very uncomfortable and self conscious when conversation doesn’t flow back and forth naturally. The way I deal with this: talk more. The more I talk, the more Ben has this staring-into-a-black-hole face on. By now I can’t even keep up with my own words.

So I pause from my enlightening story of a near mishap in the shower earlier that day to take a fourth sip of my beer. As I’m setting it back on the table…

BOOM…

Ben goes in for a full on make out session. We are a quarter of a drink in!!! And he’s going for it. There is no stopping Ben on his make out mission with my mouth. His tongue is everywhere. His hands grabbing the back of my head. This is a 5 drink in, end of the date kind of make out. It’s 7pm and we haven’t even finished drink one.

DAMN. Confidence? NO! Cockiness? YES!
I’m speechless. Maybe he just wanted me to shut up?!? “Well, I guess we got that out of the way.” Ben was good kisser I will not deny him that fact. Timing however. The first ten minutes?! Put it back in your pants, Ben.

All Ben wants to do now: make out. What I wanna do: get to know him more. I want to get to the heart of Ben. I want to know his stories. I want to know who Ben is. I’m on this date because I legitimately want to find someone. All he wants to do is kiss. I guess you can say we came to some compromise. I ask Ben questions while his lips are on permanently on mine. Our teeth bump together. So do you have any siblings? What did you go to school for? The only time his lips are on something else is when he sips on some beer.

I am not enjoying this. It’s uncomfortable and bizarre.

When you O.D., things that might not make sense 30 minutes before, all of a sudden seem normal.

So Ben and I continue doing this new found form of communication: the kiss talk. He actually pulls away for a moment to ask how my holidays were. I start in on my story of a 20 hour experience. Lightning storms, emergency landing to refuel, missed connections. Ben cuts me off while I’m in the second layover part of my story: the part with my new found and likely lifelong airline friend to say: (insert aggressive tone here) “OH, is that the guy who’s been posting all that shit on your FB page?” And quotes the comments, WORD FOR WORD.

Great meeting you on the flight!! So. Much. Fun!  Always remember: Sky Mall Sperm Shoes.

GIIIIIRRRLLLL… miss ya. Saw this and thought of you! Come back East soon.

It’s been 3 weeks since those posts. Clearly, this has been scripted into his head.
He’s been cyber stalking me.

Lesson Two: never add someone on social media before meeting them in person. Though pre-screen stalking is perfectly ok.

I realized at that moment the reason why Ben’s eyes read distant. He thought he knew me. He thought he knew everything about my life because of what he read on a social media platform. He probably spent hours combing through all my photos and timeline posts creating an even more fictitious version of me than what we had started in textversation.  I also think Ben thought we had taken the fast track to relationshipville and I had to answer to him. But these comments from my new friend weren’t anything would warrant me having to explain what they meant and who they were from.

Ben had shifted his body, leaning back and away from me. His eyes a bit wild, still wanting an answer. I’m thinking: what the fuck just happened. Is this guy bi polar?!

“Oh, Roberto?! We read sky mall together and laughed over graphics that looked like sperm on sneakers. He’s gay.”

I’m the girl paddling her way back to the shore on which Ben stands. I’m feeling like I have to account for the moments I shared with my new best friend. Ben is threatened by my interactions with other men via web postings. How would this ever play out in real life?! I introduce Ben to a male friend of mine, he punches them in the face?

Men do not want to hear you talk about other men. But if the man you are talking about is gay, their shoulders relax. And Roberto was gay, so at least I had my dignity that I wasn’t lying. Ben settled back down after that.

And that’s the side effects. Holding onto the last shred of self worth rounding out a first date. The moment you realize: maybe this wasn’t the best decision I made this week. But at least I put myself out there. Trying to find some validity to the past hour I will never get back.

I took myself home. Alone.

Ben texted me the next day for a second date. I think he forgot how to speak to me without his lips all over my face. Or possibly he reread more Facebook feeds. “That was fun! Let’s do it again soon”. Being the O.D. hypocrite that I am, I never responded.

My phone exploded with 3 angry texts.

1.Really? You’re not gonna respond? 2. Oh, you’re gonna be a bitch and ignore me? 3. Good luck out there you’re gonna need it. Bitch.

I take full accountability that I should have simply texted Ben back. It’s what I would want someone to do to me. Honesty. But that’s like finding a unicorn in O.D.ing. “Thanks for the date, but I’m just not feeling it” was all I needed to say. Instead, I blocked Ben from every form of technological interaction I could possibly have with this man. Why keep holes in the lid on that jar of fireflies when you just want them to die. Let me just add this one to the shelf and reach for an empty one.

I’m addicted to that first date high. The compulsive engagement of staring at a computer screen in search of THE ONE. I ignore everything else to read through countless profiles of faces and names to find my fix. My hands sweat as my fingers hit the keys. Swipe Right. Swipe Left. Left. Left. Right.

There he is, my next firefly: let’s call him Collin.