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a.m.: Begin feeling the urgent need to get dressed and go back home before I hear any more. She’s attractive and apparently able to distinguish between ‘there,’ ‘their,’ and ‘they’re,’ a rare talent among those prowling the web for love.
a.m.: Impulse to run away instantly crushed as the Double P begins massaging my penis until I get hard, a prelude to round 11 a.m.: Wake up with a slight headache. p.m.: Receive e-mail from a teacher via the dating site.
Two tables away sits her best friend’s recent ex-boyfriend with another woman. Very awkward introductions, followed by even more awkward chitchat.
The last column shows the education level of most visitors to each dating site.
I am a recent Ph D graduate in mathematics, and I will be starting a tenure-track position this fall at a small liberal arts college in a northern US city.
Think it might be time to abandon my experiment with online dating.
Midnight: Jerk off before bed to half-baked fantasy I concoct involving Joan Jett rep suddenly looks as if she’s seen a ghost.
p.m.: Trying to decide which online experience was worse: tonight’s, or the one with the woman who confessed to sleeping with her college professor freshman year, breaking up his marriage and then contemplating killing herself when he broke things off. p.m.: Consider masturbating, but feeling worn out and disappointed from this latest online train a.m.: Intentionally do not get on the same subway car as before. p.m.: Get a call from the Persian Princess, an old friend and occasional no-strings-attached sex buddy, wanting to know if I feel like getting together over the weekend at her place to watch a movie. p.m.: We have a few laughs poking fun at the film, which soon turns into kissing, followed shortly by some petting before she goes down on me.
We’ve been watching movies together regularly over the past several months since we both became single again. 7 p.m.: Meet a buddy of mine for dinner at a midtown Irish pub. 10 p.m.: We move from the living room to her bedroom.
p.m.: Right on schedule, thumping ceases; shelves and their contents thankfully rep I met online asking if we’re still on for tomorrow night. 7 p.m.: Get home and decide to stay in for the night. p.m.: Start trolling a dating site for possible connections.
p.m.: Horrified that I’ve spent two hours mindlessly scanning this stupid site.
p.m.: The familiar loud thumping of my roommate’s headboard slamming against our shared wall as her boyfriend frantically pounds out his three minutes of glory.