Ding Ding Ding – Round 1

Contestant #1:  Number 1 added me first.  There is no rank intended in their labels just convenience and chronological order.  Number 1 has very little information on his profile but he could spell.  His photos were locked and opened for me for a short time and I was surprised by how good looking he was, albeit his photos pictured him shirtless.  I accpeted his request and a ‘chat’ began.  Our first interaction was short and seemed pleasant enough.  I mentioned I was moving a friend and he bantered about the going ‘mates rates’ for such jobs.  He ended with, ‘it should cost a beer and a handjob.’ I laughed.  It was quite funny and clever at the time and I followed with a much cleverer follow up.  He then signed off with ‘if you need me to move your couch across the room, I’d be happy to oblige.’  While I am no prude, it was slightly presumptious but I am online dating.  The next conversation, several days later revolved around TV.  What I should, shouldn’t be watching, theories on GOT and The Walking Dead and all such conversations of frivolity and fun.  Immediately proceeding TV, he offers to visit me for what some would call ‘late night take out.’  While stunned at his upfront offer at first, for about three seconds I thought about it.  He could be here in ten minutes and back out the door in fifteen.  That is when sense tried to kick in.  The man went from tv to oral sex in the same line of conversation.  Not sure I need to combine the two, or introduce my brand new flatmate to the wannabe slut that sometimes hides at my house or break the safety house’s number one rule of letting in strangers.  Particularly one I met on the internet.  Every now and then one slips through the filter.

Contestant #2:  Is a chubby red head.  So he’s winning from the start.  His profile reads like a bad country song and he promises that he’s making choices for happiness now.  He has a son, an ex-wife and from what I can tell, some baggage.  He’s honest about it and I am prepared for baggage. It’s very hard these days to find a man aged between 28 and 35 that doesn’t have a child floating around the atmosphere somewhere.  He is friendly, inquisitive and seems to be worth a shot.  His messages are infrequent and didn’t appear to be obsessive.  By day four, the conversation is slow and stilted.  He is still unimpressed with his ex, and mentions it, a few times.  He is excited by spending time with his kid and definitely has a job.  Miscommunication has become frequent and sometimes I don’t really get what he means.  But the only means of communication we’ve tried is the online chat room.  While the conversation is not free and easy, it’s also not about TV and blowjobs.  (Although he did make a joke about teachers being sexually frustrated.  I honestly think he’s never really met one.)  I sent him an email that expanded on my profile and sent it.  My iPad battery died and he never got it.  It’s not screaming, ‘stop the world, date me!’ but I do think that chubby red heads deserve second chances and I should write him another email.

Contestant #3:  Has just gotten home from three months of travelling.  His profile photos show him in different parts of the globe, as do mine.  He likes to drink.  As do I.  And messaged me on his way to the Big Day Out in Perth.  On paper, that’s pretty awesome.  We spent over an hour trying to outdo each other in travel stories and somewhere in there, I became concerned that I’d gotten myself into a nut scratching competition.  Just as soon as I thought it, he complimented me on my eyes.  In a typical me response, I laughed (or in this case hahah’d electronically) and then came back with, ‘they’re brown like a cows.’  No, it was not my finest moment, but we did then spend the next five minutes googling to see if it was actually true.  (They can be.  He said, some are some aren’t.  Turns out neither of us like to be wrong.  He had maintained they were black.)  I gave him my real name and my real number and he asked if I’d like to meet up.  I said yeah, keep me updated when you get back to Brisbane.  Two days later, Contestant number 3’s profile picture changes and it looks nothing like any of the others he’s given me access to earlier in the week.  He’s become a shape shifter.  While that could be an amazing skill to pass on to future children, I am concerned about recognising him in public.

Well, Greg, that’s our contestants for the week.  Now just to choose my first ever date.  What perfect stranger am I going to meet at some point in the next week?  And will any of them be ok that I just ousted them on a public forum?  Probably not, but it does make an interesting talking point.  (I can just see my married friends laughing, kissing their husbands and feeling grateful that this isn’t them anymore.)  If any of you have a Dexter floating around at home somewhere, please feed him my blog and get him to shake his arms with an answer that won’t result in complete dating disaster.  Surely someone can find him at a garage sale?