My first foray into online dating was a boy I call Nemo. We met on Plenty of Fish, get it? Anyway… I change the names to protect the nice people who deign to go out with me.
Nemo had a great opening message to me. Most people were saying “hi” or “hello” or “what’s up” or my personal favorite “Hello my Queen”. Nemo actually spoke TO me. He said:
• A. You look familiar
• B. Why were you walking down that street in your pictures?
The picture he refers to is one of my profile pics of me walking down 5th St in Southie. Right in front of his childhood home.
So, I clicked his pic and he was beyond HOT. Like so cute. Fine as frog hair if you will. And, if you have not done the online dating thing, this is a HUGE deal. I personally had not gotten a lot of responses from super hot dudes, so I was psyched and a little crazy. I stared at his pictures, I obsessed over his messages, I wanted him to be the next Mr. Kennedy. This is the problem with online dating. You get one cute guy and you lose your freaking mind. He ended up coming by my place with his dog so we could take our dogs out on the beach for a run. ARE YOU SERIOUS? HE LOVES DOGS TOO?? When he arrived at my place his first comment was “you shouldn’t give out your address to strangers”. Shit.
Off to the beach we go. I was trying so hard to be cool, but I was just a hot mess. He was cool as a cucumber. He even picked up my dogs poop. I was smitten. We parted ways with a hug and I went home to draw Mr. and Mrs. Nemo on my Trapper Keeper. I really wanted to make this work. I wanted my first online dating experience to be validated!
I wanted too much too soon.
I stalked his Facebook page and evaluated all our mutual friends. Our schedules were in no way conducive to, well, anything and to be honest I was a bit of an over-texter. But, I was persistent and he came back over one day to play with the dogs. He brought iced coffees. We ended up back inside my house and talked and talked. Well, he talked. I didn’t. You’d think as I talk for a living I’d be real good with the talking thing. Nope. I was completely tongue tied and had nothing to add to the conversation. I was just praying he was at least remotely interested and that I didn’t look fat.
He went to leave and he kissed me. I knew it was coming and I was awful. I mean really bad. He was smooth and he smelled so good and I was awkward and weird. He would go left and I would go right. It was, I’m quite convinced, the worst kiss in the history of kissing. I wanted to dig a hole in M Street Beach and jump in. Needless to say, that was the last time Nemo and I saw each other in any kind of romantic fashion. I’m currently searching the internet for articles titled “how to be a better kisser”.
EDITOR AT LARGE
CHIEF FASHION CORRESPONDENT
Anna Paula Goncalves
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