A message:

You are too good to be here, why no luck yet? I can feel the passion in your face,so please let this be for me,i can going to be all yours and honest.You can text me now on [xxx xxx xxxx]. Waiting patiently.

It was his profile name that caught my attention, however: whitesociety1

Umm–that means he’s a racist, right?

Slightly less, but still notably, creepy fact about him: in his answers, he says contraception is immoral.

Why no luck yet indeed.

Context: Our match number was in the mid 80s (I usually end up on a date with someone in the 90s). In his answers to OKC questions, he said he wouldn’t be okay with a partner having pictures of her exes or spending time with them. This is the entire conversation, plus what I wanted him to hear.

Him: hey there, pretty girl.. excited about the long weekend? We seem to match pretty high on this site (some topics more then others, lol), wanna put it into a test to see if this site works? 

Me: I’m getting caught up on a lot of work this weekend, which is important if not exciting. 🙂
We match up on some things, but from your answers to questions, it looks like you wouldn’t be comfortable with me being friends with exes–that’s a deal breaker for me. 

What I wanted him to hear: I DON’T DATE JEALOUS GUYS. IF THAT’S YOU, GO AWAY.

Him: Well, I guess we could cross that bridge when we get there.. 

Me: Usually, when guys say that, they mean they’ll try to change my mind.

What I wanted him to hear: I’M NOT FALLING FOR THAT. IT’S CALLED A DEAL BREAKER FOR A REASON–IT’S NON-NEGOTIABLE. NO JEALOUS GUYS NEED APPLY.

Him: Is that how you feel? Don’t want to even meet up first?  

Me: Not if you would need me to change that part of myself. My friends are very important to me–and some of them are exes. I’m not going to throw their pictures away or cut them out of my life.
In two weeks, I’ll be in London for a conference. While I’m there, I’ll be staying with an ex, whom I was with a decade ago, and his wife. Three summers ago, I was [. . . ] in their wedding.
I believe in being honest with myself and with other people. This is who I am.
So even before we meet, you would have to be accepting of that. I don’t want to waste a lot of time trying to change each other into what we want. 

What I wanted him to hear: UNLESS YOU WANT TO CHANGE, FUCK OFF.

He hasn’t answered, so I think he got the subtext on that last one.

There weren’t as many dick pics as I thought there were going to be.

As some of you may remember, several months ago, OK Cupid asked me to be a “moderator” on their site. Users can “flag” photos, profiles, and messages. Several moderators make recommendations. I’m not sure what happens after that–whether the majority vote trips an algorithm or whether a professional moderator makes the final call.

I was ambivalent about doing this. It is, after all, unpaid labor. I would have been a lot more willing if OKC had offered to upgrade my membership for providing this service.

On the other hand, I was curious.

So for a couple of weeks, I looked at flagged items. I wasn’t asked to weigh in on messages, though they were what I was most curious about. (Just last week, someone with a blank profile sent me this lovely message: “u ready for my guuuuuuu?”)

Instead, I was mostly asked to look at pictures.

Several members do violate policy–dick pics are not allowed, neither are pics with nipples or labia. A pic of a mostly naked person, however, as long as it doesn’t include those three things, is allowed (and there are lots of both the disallowed and allowed forms of nudity).

Members are supposed to put up pictures of themselves–the two violation types here are pics of nonhumans (a dog, an inspirational quote, a sunset, etc.) and pics that clearly aren’t the user. In that second type, most people post pictures of models or porn stars. However, some users post a picture that could be them–it’s just that someone believes it isn’t, since they could find that picture on the internet. In those cases, I remind my fellow moderators not to jump to conclusions–my pictures can be found both on google and on OKC.

Extreme close ups are also banned–a close up of your tramp stamp, your right eye, etc.

However, many people flag pictures that shouldn’t be flagged. It’s not forbidden to include another person, even a child, in your photo. Many dads do the latter–it’s easy to see why–they want to emphasize their fatherhood AND guys usually don’t have any pictures of themselves unless another person’s in them.

Another piece of confusion: some believe that the photo must include the user’s face. Although an extreme close up of your elbow is not allowed, you are allowed to post a picture of yourself facing that cliche sunset picture, facing away from the camera.

So what have I learned?

1. Women put up some very explicit photos too.
2. I generally hate it when people put up pictures that don’t have them in it–your Ghandi quote does not make me like you. However, I find the pictures of guns and confederate flags extremely helpful–they do tell me a lot about you.
3. Many, many people are fakes–that picture isn’t of them. I’m not sure what they’re after, but they’re inherently annoying.
4. There are many, many other people who apparently do a google image search of every picture they see, so they can report you. Beware.

At any rate, my curiosity is sated enough, and I’m generally bored enough, to stop doing this.

As someone who scores straight down the middle on those left brain/right brain tests, I often use science and scientific concepts in my work. (My dissertation was an ethnographic study, and I’m constantly irritating other Atwood scholars by bringing neuroscience into my presentations.)

One thing I particularly want to integrate in the humanities, as a teacher, is the hypothesis. In the sciences, we propose a hypothesis, we conduct research, and we see if we’re right. As long as the research is sound, we’ve done a good job, whether the research proved us right or not. Whether the hypothesis is confirmed or not, we’ve learned something (even if it’s that we need to redesign the study to get clearer results).

Yet when my students approach their papers, they think they need to have a predetermined thesis before they even start to research.

This is an especially bad habit to instill in our students who will go off to grad school, where they will have to tweak their ideas and even abandon their ideas if they discover someone else has already published on that idea–something the grad students will only learn once they do enough research to position themselves in the discourse.

The basic problem: students who have their thesis set before they research will research poorly. They will discard research that complicates or contradicts their thesis (when it could at least be helpful in developing counter-argument). Also, when they’ve found the teacher mandated minimum required sources that confirm their ideas, they stop looking, stop researching, stop thinking completely.

Going into the research process with a hypothesis would allow for better work–the student’s opinion would be more informed, more complex. The student might do what we want her to do–to find more sources than will actually be cited in the essay.

Of course, we would still structure our papers the old-fashioned humanities way. I don’t need my students to tell me their hypothesis in the into, take me through the work (“To test this idea, I googled ‘Shakespeare actually a middle class ten year old girl from the Isle of Skye?’ and then read the first paragraphs of the first thirteen results . . .”), and then conclude with their results. We “show” our work in a different way.

But wouldn’t the paper be stronger if, when the student polished up the piece, that thesis in the intro was for sure an informed opinion based on thorough research?

Earlier, I posted news about my denied raise. Because I know how to process that. But it’s not at all the worst news of the day.
(And there have been five contenders for that title.)

My Daddy–my grandfather who raised me for several years when my mother couldn’t–has been officially diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

And he doesn’t know yet because my mom doesn’t want to tell him yet even though she told me I’d better tell her if it happens . . .
Anyway, I just can’t really write about this yet.
I can cry in my chiropractor’s office, but that’s different.

While I’m processing a bit, here’s a poem about him. I wrote it many years ago when he went in for heart surgery.

Atlas Has Surgery

They do tests
stress tests
which we joke about.
They schedule the time
and so you move
unfamiliarly
away from the burden
taking no relief
in the respite
of a short forced sleep.
This too is a burden
if you don’t do it,
you can’t get back to work.
You leave the earth to hold itself.
I don’t know if you trust it to stay
if you’ve read the physics;
even if you have
there may be little comfort;
Newton and Einstein are at odds;
better to do it yourself
so it’s done right.
Newton says we fall because of
weight and mass;
Einstein says we fall because of
the curve of time and space.
Either way, we start to shift
imperceptibly.
The issue is not the fall
but the landing.
In a picture of our fried egg shaped universe,
we do not think of above and below
we fall off the edge of the page;
in a diorama—the bottom of the box;
in a middle school science fair project—
we simply land on the table.
This is where most end up—
on a table
our gravity sinking hard
onto a surface
that does not yield
as your shoulders
sometimes do.

I’m fairly certain that the men who message me grew up on Looney Tunes, as I did.

I’m now fairly certain that many of those men learned the wrong lessons, especially a lesson about taking no for an answer. In the world of Pepe Le Pew, no doesn’t exist. Penelope (the cat) makes her position clear. Pepe doesn’t listen. And sometimes, he wins.

I have a vivid memory of catching one of the cartoons as my son watched, years ago. Pepe chased Penelope. She was running for her life. She ran into a cave–an ice cave. The last shot of her showed her terrified face, reflected in the ice shards, as she realized she was trapped. Pepe rolled a boulder in front of the entrance and hung a “Do Not Disturb” sign.

The End.

For a couple of days, I’ve been nicely explaining that I don’t want a long distance relationship. In fact, this is the only conversation I’ve had with the gentleman in question. He complimented me. I thanked him. He said he wanted to talk more. I said I didn’t want to pursue anything, since he was far away. We exchanged this information several more times–him saying he wanted to talk, me saying I didn’t. (I’m also inherently not interested–his profile is generic and he hasn’t really answered OKC’s questions). This is the end of the conversation:

Picture Pepe bouncing after me; a French accent may even help some of the grammar/writing problems:

Him: But I do you think I’m suppose to find that’s perfect woman, if not by getting so close with me woman that my spirit tells me much about. ​

Him: I don’t care about the distance, because I can’t get my eyes of you. ​

Him: You are a good looking woman, if you don’t really believe in long distance relationship, why don’t you give it a try.. And what about talking and texting you on phone? ​

[That last one confuses me, causing me to stumble. So because I’m pretty, I have to do something I don’t believe in? I pick myself up, keep running, calling this out.]

Me: I’ve done long distance before; it’s not what I want for my life. And I don’t want to spend all day talking and texting on the phone for a relationship I don’t want to pursue. […] Look–you don’t know anything about me, really. You just seem to be attracted to me based on my looks.

Him: Yea I know I don’t really know you, but I know it only takes a day to know someone and be close friends.. You are attracted to me by your looks yea.. And that makes you a woman and I’m proud saying you are attracted to me and I’m interested in you. I’m the the kind of in-person that likes meeting someone that is been attracted to me, and that who my spirit accept as a woman. My spirit tells me you are a good looking pretty woman. I follow what my spirit tells me, I just wish things will work out between us, I’m going to make you proud and you will never regret having an meeting me. I’m not ask you of that forcefully, take your and think about it. ​

[His spirit tells him what? And when did I say I was attracted to him?]

[I raise the mallet.] Le sigh.

So many men say on their profiles that they’re just looking for someone who loves them for them.

I know where that feeling comes from–they’ve been asked or expected to change before–finding out too late that love came with conditions.

I’ve been asked/expected to change

into a Canadian

into a blood letting dom

into someone “laid back” instead of driven and alert

into a good Christian woman

into a stepmother

into a trophy wife

into a dog person

into a woman with more than one child

into a biker babe

into a sports fan

and so many other things.

Naturally, these guys haven’t gotten what they wanted, since any hope of change has to come from a desire to change.

There are some attractive, interesting guys out there, but there’s usually something that keeps me from messaging them–it’s that I would need them to change.

If a guy smokes, I don’t tell him to stop; I just don’t tell him anything at all.

It’s the same with guys who want kids, guys who want someone really thin, guys who want someone who’s up for a spontaneous hiking/fishing/camping trips all the time, guys who need someone to watch sports with them . . .

There are also a lot of guys I’m not tempted to message because, and let’s be brutally honest here, they would have to change into someone who can come across as interesting in a dating profile, but most guys are desperately normal, with interchangeable, instantly forgettable profiles.

I’m really tired of guys who want me to change–especially when a major change would have to occur for a first date to happen.

In addition to the changes listed above, there are lots of guys who would like me to change into someone who wants to be poly, or who wants “no strings” sex, or who will be thrilled to enter into an adulterous relationship, or who is open to long distance, or a combination of the above.

The oddest (to me) request I get, though, is the frequent request for friendship. Dating sites generally allow you to say what you’re looking for: casual, long term, new friends, etc.

I am very clear that I’m looking for a long term relationship.

Some men, when I tell them I won’t date them because of x or y, will ask to be friends. I get it: they’re lonely, but I’m so not. My friends are wonderful and plentiful. Between them and my workaholism, I am never, ever bored, never wondering what I’m going to do for any given stretch of time.

And then there are conversations like this recent one:

Him: Hello there. I love your smile. Maybe we could be friends??  hope to hear back from you..

Me: “Friends” always seems like a weird word to me on dating sites. Some guys use it to mean they want dating with no strings (and of course there shouldn’t be strings at first, but they mean ever). Some guys use the word to mean sex without even dating. Some guys are lonely and need someone to watch tv with. I’m not bored or lonely–I have a vibrant groups of friends. What’s your definition?

Him: I hadn’t really thought about it. I guess this might paint a better picture: I don’t really have time to “date”, just hoping to find someone who wants to hang and watch stupid tv shows and fool around sometimes NSA. If something more develops, fantastic. But it’s hard with 2 little guys and 50/50 custody to really get into anything serious right away. So I guess it sounds like I’m being a typical male pig but it’s more necessitated by my lack of pure free time

He’s not a pig, of course, for wanting what he wants. But I’m clear in what I want–and it’s not a bad tv companion whom you get to fuck sometimes.

There are Japanese sex dolls for that, right?

As my faithful readers know, politeness is a double-edged sword in online dating. Men hate it when their overtures are ignored, yet polite nos are met with badgering bullshit. The overwhelming advice I get from men and women is to quit with the politeness already.
Today presented a new challenge.
A man “liked” me. In other words, he didn’t send a message, but hit a button indicating interest. A quick perusal of his OKC profile led me to one conclusion: No.
He’s homophobic, thinks creationism should be taught in science classes, rates his faith as “extremely important” in his life, etc.
So I logged back off.
Unfortunately, some lonely people spend all day hoping that someone, anyone, looks at their profile.
Him: No hello
[Please note that I did not comment on the irony here. He didn’t say anything to me when he read my profile; he simply clicked on a star.]
Me: I don’t think we’re very compatible. You seem to be more old fashioned than I am. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!
[This is me being nice. It is code for “go away, you homophobic bigot.”]
Him: Why would you say that how do you know?
Me: I read through some of your answers to questions. You said homosexuality was a sin, that creationism should be taught in science classes, etc. As I’m a passionate advocate for gay rights, for science, etc., I don’t think we’re compatible.
Him: Omg I don’t give a shit about that

Once again, I wished him well. I did not mention how he just took the lord’s acronym in vain, etc.
And then I blocked him.
I’m so sick of this.

One of my exes thinks I’m too emotional because I get stressed out when my cars die.
The man I was with after him thinks I’m emotionally repressed, that the only reason we’re broken up is because I was raised by alcoholics (because in his version of the story, we’re perfect together in every way), and that I’m high maintenance because I didn’t want to sleep in a car for three days at a Shakespeare festival (I insisted on a hostel instead).
In my version of the story, both of these men are wrong.
We all have our narrative about our relationships.
In my own narratives here, I’ve mentioned the narratives of the men who talk to me–the guy who thinks I’m “crazy” because I called him out on putting up a model’s picture instead of his own; the guy who thinks I’m a racist because I didn’t want a second date; etc.
Usually, those alternate reality narratives are just funny.
And then, sometimes, they’re not.
I went out on several dates with a guy I really liked, and he seemed to really like me too.
One Thursday, we were texting/flirting.
On that Friday, I asked him out on a date for the next night.
He told me he’d made a date with someone else since I’d ignored his text asking for a date on Thursday night.
I never got that text.
Of course, I searched my phone. I searched my mind. How many times had I dropped it that day?* Could something have happened if I was erasing a text from another friend and that one came in at the same time? (My phone, a really old flip phone, has trouble when I’m in text when someone sends me another one.)
I called and left a message apologizing.
I also apologized by text, explaining that I would have definitely gone out with him–and answered him as a matter of course–if I’d gotten the message.
He didn’t answer.
And I was thrown–I’d been the one who instigated our dates. I’d been the opposite of stand-offish. Why would he think I suddenly became a bitch who would just ignore him?
On that Sunday, I sent him another message, explaining that while I didn’t know what happened to the message, I did know I liked him a lot.
He told me he didn’t know why I was lying–that his phone told him I got the message. He said he wasn’t interested in my games.
Of course, I have my own narrative about all this–he must have been really hurt by someone before.
In the words of my therapist, his response is “diagnosable.”
Usually, diagnosable responses to me/my words are easily tossed aside. Hell, I’m going to be using the story of the guy who thinks I’m a racist in my stand-up routine this Thursday.**
It’s different, though, because I liked this guy. I care about what he thinks of me.
I care that there’s a narrative out there about me that so different from my own.

*Yes, he knows I have an old flip phone. When I showed it to him on our first date, I told him that I have it because I drop it all the time.

**My students have their stand-up final this Thursday, from 1-3 in 6 Wellman. As usual, I’m opening for them. As usual, you’re all invited.