A few months ago I up and moved back to my home state for grad school. I promptly decided to be stupid and sign up for an online dating service... again.
Let me tell you how one of the Wilbur dates went..
He used the word "Esoteric" to describe everything he liked. EVERYTHING. He used the word 17 times in the span of one meal.
I counted.
Esoteric-
understood by or meant for only the select few who have special knowledge or interest; recondite: poetry full of esoteric allusions.
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/esoteric
In the words of Inigo Montoyo "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
Another Wilbur had super Photoshopped his photo to remove any and all potmarks and skin issues, was skinny as a chair, and had added a good three inches to his height. I' 5'11" so when you claim to be 6'1" you sure as HELL better be 6'1" or I will be able to tell, cause out of wariness I always wear flats or my shortest boots (only a 1/2 inch adjustment to my height which brings me to around 6 feet).
Needles to say both Wilbur dates in my new city ended with "yeah so.. umm BYE" and my running away. I live in an area full of restaurants and stores so I can walk to a place meet them and then run away home without them ever getting to know where I live. It's my anti stalker plan. That and mace.
Had a guy who was 5'1" message me on one of the sites and his letter said "hey your tall and sexy, let's do something"... and yes, he used the wrong version of "you're". Cannot say I have never done the same (ok, I have done that quite often.) but when sending a (poor imitation) of a come on letter, at least use semi proper grammar!
And while I am not 100% opposed to dating someone slightly shorter then I am, there is a friggin minimum height to ride this ride buddy. And you are about 8 inches off!!
Thus far looking for love in the new city is dead end. My few friends here are all married couples. Who have all married friends. Well, married or engaged. All the guys are around my age or older, and their wives/soon to be wives are all younger and way shorter. When we stand in a group I can see over all their pretty little heads and look their hubbys in the eye, or at least the face as they glance adoringly down at their little women.
Am I a bit jell? Yes, yes I am. But for most of them, I am happy they found someone. It's all "wooo" but I do wish they had left some of the tall ones for us tall ladies. When asking one, a former bf at that, if he knew any single guys, he insisted he did. He stood thinking before his lovely wife (whom i adore and think he deff scored on landing such a fine lady) patted him on the stomach, moved past him and said "no you don't". She was very sad they had no single friends, but the steam staring to rise from her hubbys ears as he struggled to think of an impossible thing was starting to worry us both.
Le sigh. Also, it seems every guy in my new city loves working out, being outdoors and dogs. Now I like dogs, but I have two cats and the giant scary poodles pictured on some guys profiles gives me visions of my poor kittens dangling in their mouths like chew toys. Or how angry the guys would get when my fluffy kittens beat up their teacup.
But I love room temperature. And you know where it is room temperature? IN A ROOM! And I hate working out. I drag myself screaming and crying to the gym and force myself to walk at a brisk pace for 20-45 min depending on how long I think it will take me to then wash my hair.... and how many shows I have on my ipad2 (horribly low wifi so no hulu or netflix first world problem). The only working out I enjoy is punk rope (no class in Austin that I can find and I don't own a jump rope nor have the room for it) hula hooping (have the hoop, but no room and miss my darling teacher Choppy) or roller skating (which isn't so much a workout as it is me flailing about in a circle)
In reality I work out because my mom is now in better shape then I am and can walk for longer and we have a 5K we are walking together in feb. And I want to be able to fit back into my skinny jeans which holiday emotion eating have rendered a bit tight.
Ok, enough update. More dating stories to come as long as grad school allows. Promise... kinda. Next time may just be old stories from childhood. I have a great one about not being kissed.