Leo Straub's Admonishments of Doom

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Internet Dating Is a Sham

Among the things I once presumed I'd never do -- a list which includes skinny-dipping, water-skiing and cliff diving, which might lead you to believe I can't swim, but which would in fact be an incorrect assumption on your part; I just don't want to die a watery death -- was internet dating.

Sure, the scantily-clad women in ads for True.com make logging out of MySpace a daily temptation, and sure, I've been known to peruse the personals on Nerve.com now and again -- usually while waiting for some anime to download on BitTorrent -- but I never thought I'd actually get involved in internet dating.

And I didn't. Technically. Unless you count dating someone you meet online "internet dating."

To make a long story short, I was approached online earlier this summer by a girl. We'll call her "Tina." Tina seemed very interested in Leo Straub, the writer. I quickly learned that Tina was also very interested in Leo Straub, the man. Who could blame her?

Flattered, I allowed her entry into my personal thoughts, and then my personal space, eventually culminating in a relationship of sorts. I say "of sorts" because I consider it necessary for certain events to transpire in order to, for lack of a better word, consummate a relationship. Exchanging phone numbers, IMing for hours on end and even attending one another's work or family functions in the same car could be construed as a relationship, but by that rationale, I had a relationship with my high school debate club captain, and I think we'll all agree that Jim Schweitzer is categorically not my type.

Suffice it to say that Tina developed cold feet precisely at the juncture where heat was called for. While I wouldn't go so far as to say she was "a prude," I could definitely detect a set of training wheels were still in place where a pair of rollerblades with the brakes sawed off would have been preferred. What was the disconnect?

The answer, I believe, lies in Jesus.

I could tell she wanted me, but something from her strict Catholic past was preventing her from acting upon the animalistic urges behind her eyes. I did the best I could to coax her into tomfoolery, but her libido would have none of it. Thus denied, I realized this relationship would need to be abolished henceforth, to save us both the awkward displeasure of fumbling through an excuse as to why we were no longer "on the same wavelength," if indeed we ever were. I emailed her several times to indicate that we were probably through, unless she was willing to slide out from her shell, so to speak, but shame, shyness or patchy internet service prevented her from responding.

I decided it was best to leave bygones as bygones AND allow sleeping dogs to lie, and resumed my business of not dating people with numerals in their names.

O! Tina, Tina, Tina. Ye hardly knew me.