So never mind what logic says I say logic's a guy who oughta empty his pockets

So I’ve been meaning to write a post about the whole conceptof internet dating but then this weekend happened and now I feel like this is not the post I should be writing and I keep yelling at my computer “Just stop sending me notifications OkCupid because right now I just don’t give a damn, ok?”

Anyways, I was going to write about how it just doesn’t seem to be working for me. I mean 90% of the men that send me messages are over 35 and write things like “Hey, how was your week?” or “Oh, I like chocolate. Want to teach me how to make it?” neither of which really make me want to respond to them. Plus there’s the whole, you’re closer in age to my mother than me (granted my mother is really young, but still) thing. The other 10% are boys my age trying desperately to sound sarcastic and intellectual. This part is probably my own fault because it totally says I can’t live without Russian literature or sarcasm on my profile, which is is probably true but was obviously meant somewhat tongue in cheek. Except it’s the internet, so nothing is tongue in cheek. Also, sarcasm really doesn’t come across well in type without lots of ridiculous winky faces or tongues being stuck out and if you put those in, and I don’t know you, I’m going to think you’re silly and if you don’t, you sound like an ass. And if your writing just seems really labored (which for most of this 10% it does) you’re kind of going to fail at impressing me with your intellectualism.

Then there’s also the “this is not my fairy tale” aspect of it. It doesn’t matter how much of a feminist or a pragmatist I am, I want my god damn fairy tale. I don’t want to carefully calculate whether or not some person’s profile is compatible with mine. I don’t want to have all these expectations before I meet someone. I don’t want to have to try to impress before I even know if there’s face to face chemistry. I just want to meet somebody through a friend, a chance encounter, a trip to the bookstore and be swept off my feet. I want to wonder if somebody is also trying to slyly look at me out of the corner of their eye. I want that to turn into the “give me an excuse to stand near you, talk only to you, touch you” game. 

And if from there we could proceed to acting like ridiculous giddy teenagers who can’t control themselves and break a bed, that would be good. (I’m probably not going move on from the bed breaking for a while- I just find it so frakkin’ ridiculous and amusing).

Crap, I totally just confused my hypothetical wants with reality.

Anyways, I was all set to give internet dating a go and give these seemingly faux intellectuals a try and had even started sending messages back and forth but now it all seems a bit pointless.

Because I said I wasn't going to settle.

And I'm pretty sure, as ridiculous as it sounds, I know what I want. And what I want is 3,000 miles away.

(God it's really weird writing things that sound this over the top when you know the person they're referring to is probably going to read them but I'm trying really hard to not let that affect me)

While rationally I know that I can't really date somebody on the other side of the country the majority of my thoughts are more along the lines of

"Well you could go on a date but is that person going to be cute and charming and nerdy and if you were in another state would they text you to let you know they're working on solving matter to energy algorithms to build a transporter? Would their friends vouch for their ability to build you a galaxy class starship? Would they after two days of knowing you say all sorts of ridiculously sweet things to convince you they'd make a great boyfriend?".

And if the answer to any of those questions is no, well then, that date is just going to be a little bit disappointing for both parties because my mind is pretty much going to be on someone else.

And if the answer to all these questions is yes, you must secretly have found my blog and read it first because I'm pretty sure those are some oddly specific standards. Or you're a certain Mr. Trouble.

That's right, I have standards now people.

And they involve a cross country road/moving trip, the Enterprise, sex that breaks beds, choosing me over Brazil and being completely irrational and ridiculous.

Well, fuck.