I was back on Jdate and reading Dave’s profile everyday now for a few weeks.  


It was the early 2000’s and Dave was ahead of his time; he was using his dating profile page as a blog! He changed his “about me,” almost daily and he was funny, well read and insightful. His blogs often took off into verse.  According to his profile he was a musician/composer/poet.  I was intrigued. And he was really good looking, but not in a pretty-boy way, but like where I thought he might be good with a BBQ, be charming with parents and be able to reach my boxes of old video tapes in my closet without a step stool. (OK, I like a guy who’s helpful and useful.)

I hoped that Dave would notice I was checking him out in the see who’s checking you out feature, but he never wrote to me. I finally broke down and Hot Listed him.

If you aren’t familiar with the on line dating etiquette, hot listing means you are “interested” and it’s a feature you can use if you aren’t paying for services so that someone who is paying can write to you and then you can decide to join….

Then I changed my mediocre dating photo to a good photo.

Dave finally wrote to me. “I noticed your blue eyes dancing.”


I didn’t know what to do with that, so I wrote back, “Thanks. You have nice eyes too.”

He wrote back, “Would you like to get a drink sometime?”

We met at a bar of his choice (I like my dates to pick the place so I learn more about them.)

He was good looking in person, just not as good looking as his photos. But for an internet date, it was pretty close to how he represented himself, though on line he never showed his thinning hair or receding hairline; I didn’t mind those things.

He was super tall. He gave me a nice hug when he walked in. I had arrived first.

“Hey, Joe,” he called to the bartender after my hug. Dave gave Joe a high five into a handshake kinda thing. He and Joe exchanged a few words. Dave asked me what I wanted to drink.   

I ordered a scotch, which was what I ordered if thought I liked my date. Beer if I didn’t. Wine no matter if I liked him or not, if we were at a place with really good wine.

Dave brought me my scotch. “I love first dates,” he said as he sprawled out on his side of the booth.

“You love dating?” I asked, not understanding him.

“No, I love first dates,” he corrected. “I have as many of them as I can. And I always sit in this booth.”

So, obviously, he’s trying to tell me that he doesn’t want a relationship. He was a dater. Kind of gross, but actually, I wasn’t looking for a relationship either. I was in my early 30’s and I was a dater too. Both Dave and I were on EVERY on line dating site.  I mostly had first dates too, but not because I loved them so much, I just never wanted second dates.  Maybe we would get along, Dave the dater and I. I mean… I wasn’t opposed to a relationship, if the right guy came along.

We ordered some fried calamari. “I’m addicted,” Dave told me.

I ate it and it was delicious. If I don’t like my date, I’m not going to waste fried food calories on him. But I was eating, so I guess I was liking him.

“You know, we wrote to each other a few years ago on Jdate,” I confessed to Dave, after half my scotch.

“Did we?” Dave didn’t remember, but he seemed flattered that I did.

I felt a little silly that he didn’t remember me, but then we established that he might have been going through a family tragedy at the time.

He was kind of sexy. This was refreshing after all of my duds. Dave and I chatted and drank. I liked his self-confidence and flirtyness.  We talked a lot about his music, though I think he was actually an accountant or something; he was really vague about his work.

Eventually, the date was ending and he said, “Would you like to listen to my CD? I have one with me.” He pulled a homemade jewel case out of his leather jacket.

“Great, thanks,” I said, reaching for it. “I’ll let you know what I think.”  Nice. Nice way to set up a second date. OMG. I never wanted a second date.

He pulled the CD back, “Why don’t we go listen to it when I walk you to your car.”

YES! I liked it. I liked it all and I knew we were gonna make out.

When we got to my car, we got in and he put the CD in the player. I could tell right away it was done on a computer program with an electric piano type sound.

He leaned over and kissed me as his voice started singing in my car speakers. Musicians love to do this making out to their own music thing; yes, I know from experience.

As we kissed I couldn’t help but realize that his music was really bad. The songs were simple and repetitive and his voice was too echoey, covering up not good singing. The lyrics were hackneyed and made me squirm;  “Baby you shine like the moon” and so on and then….. the kissing moans came…. “Ummmmmmmm,” he moaned. “Mmmmmmm. Ohhhhhhhh.”

We were just kissing! It wasn’t even passionate! Moan Moan Moan. Bad music and moans.

And… I was done. It was over. I wanted him to get out of the car. I had to use the old:

“We should probably stop.” Implying that things were getting too hot, but really I was ice cold and a little nauseous.

Dave gave me a wink and then I knew, he wasn’t sexy, just smooth. He wasn’t going to call me or pursue this anyway – he was into first dates.

Though I never went out with Dave again, I did continue to glance at his on line dating blog, occasionally. I knew he might see me show up in his see who’s checking you out list, but I didn’t care. He was a dater.

A few years later, I was at my friend Nancy’s house and she had the TV on in the background. I happened to glance up at it and saw Dave! “Turn it up,” I shouted, “I had a date with that guy!”

It was a reality show about training dogs. Dave and his WIFE of seven years had a very disobedient canine! I’d been looking at Dave’s dating profile for many years within that seven. I assume he was just pretending to be married for the reality show… but then again, being a first date dater, who knows.




photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/derek7272/73969554/”>derek7272</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> < a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>cc</a>

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/sifu_renka/3203326339/”>Renée S.</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> < a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a>

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/zappowbang/323659857/”>zappowbang</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> < a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>cc</a>

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/bellalago/1455473970/”>BellaLago</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> < a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>cc</a>

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