Online Dating Vol. 2 - Response Rates and LL Cool J

Communication, I think we can all agree, is one of the most delicate, beautiful, tragic, complicated, important, moving, poorly done human tasks. It is a wonder we have managed to populate the planet at such an astounding rate when very many in our midst are incapable of exchanging even the most basic information.

Particularly mystifying appears to be communicating with someone who interests you on an online dating site. Now, let's not forget that the whole point of online dating sites is to connect a person with another person and enable them to contact each other easily and efficiently online. In other words, this is a communication tool.

And it even takes a lot of the work out of it by restricting how you'll do it. You get to send a message. That's it. You don't get to use your expensive cologne, enchanting blue eyes, or syrupy voice. That LL Cool J head nod and lip pucker you've been perfecting since 2001...you don't get to use it. The best wingman in the world...nope, not gonna help you here. Peacocks have more to work with so you really need to make it count, ladies and gentlemen!

I worked hard to make my "homepage" welcoming and optimized for conversion, being sure to include little tidbits you may use to craft your message of introduction. If you ignore those tidbits, it confuses me and indicates how attentive you're likely to be should you manage to get my clothes off; two things that ensure my clothes are staying absolutely put.

I work as an email marketer and I know that statistically you have between 1-4 seconds to make an impact when a recipient opens your message. If your shit is beige, you're going into the deleted folder faster than you can say "WTF." If you have the good sense to use the only tool available to you, the gift of human prose, you might just get your shit read. And that, kiddos, is why you're wasting your time and mine on this site to begin with.

I'm sorry to report that 37% of messages I've received have been this: "Hey, how are you?" 

Really?! I just picked my phone all the way up and pushed the screen twice to read that P.O.S. Forget it, dude. No, not even forget it...fuck you for interrupting my life and making a piss-poor example of the male species. Your comrades should kick your ass.

On the other end of the spectrum, I've had a good ~30% of messages exemplify wit, intelligence, a careful read of my information, and genuine interest. Some of them have downright sex appeal! I applaud you, sirs. I respond to about 75% of them.

The remaining 30% is just uncreative crap about how we have a lot in common (we don't) and that they just want to find a soul mate (because it is JUST so easy) and it would be nice to make two sets of footprints in the sand on those long walks on the beach (these people all live in Cedar Park, have bad haircuts, and don't know what ACL stands for which means I'd rather die alone, bless their sad, lonely little hearts).

Only 1 message in about 150 said I was ugly. I kindly asked he remove himself from the gene pool. I also cursed him with the fury of 1,000 suns.

Honestly, I too found it a bit difficult to start electronic conversations with strangers, especially if they didn't offer up any of those nifty little morsels that can be used to make a meaningful connection in a message. It's damn hard to tap into the sweet, clever, panty-dropping poetry of Mr. Cool J or the confident sensuality of Sade. But, as a professional email consultant who advises paying clients on writing engaging, action-oriented messages, if I couldn't pull it off,  I'd really feel like an epic failure and would probably just join a nunnery. I must have managed to not look like an asshole because I have a 95% response rate. If only I could have that kind of success on the actual dates. More to come...

Online Dating for the notbeige Vol 1

The next couple posts will be a series on my personal observations of online dating. My 3 month trial was both exhilarating and educational. And I got taken on a ton of amazing dates so I consider it a wild triumph. I've always loved dating, however unsuccessful I've been at it...the thrill of something new; the funny little games we play with each other; first kisses. It is the comedy and the grief of the human condition at its finest. Also, I was tired of my usual dates and felt compelled to release them to the wild to find more suitable mates.

I've never been very picky when it comes to dating luckily which can been verified by the long list of idiots, jerks, and losers I've allowed to waste my time. So, I considered myself an ideal candidate for online dating. I had low expectations and high hopes, just like everyone else who puts their mugshot online for all the world to criticize. Surely I'd meet someone that rides my same wave.

My initial reaction was one of fascination with how people portray themselves and how I am meant to interpret them. Dating profiles are an amazing wonder to behold. You are trying to connect with a complete stranger based on their synopsis of themselves which is undeniably bias. As the "shopper," I'm obligated to browse sleuth-like, sniffing out biases, omissions, and untruths. One doesn't read an online profile like one reads greeting cards, with an open heart and a genuine curiosity as to what lies inside if the front of the card strikes your fancy. No. Instead, you read them as one would read an invitation from a pharmaceutical company to go on an all-expenses paid cruise to the Seychelles; with suspicion and incertitude.

I'm not buying your "sense of humor" or your "kind heartedness." These things simply cannot be qualified in an online dating resume. In fact, I'm not even buying your photos at this point. So, let's stick to the facts and I'll be the judge if I find your sense of humor notable, ok?

It was also an incredible exercise in how I portray myself. On my profile I tried to omit bullshit like laid back and fun (terms that every single man on Planet Earth looks for in a woman according to Match.com). I mean, who would admit to being an uptight, boring fun-hater anyway? And you know those people are out there whether they admit to it publicly or not.

Instead, I tried to give real-life examples that would allow the reader to decide on their own if they liked the sound of me. I have a Shih Tzu. I stay up late. I went to college. If you are a quiet, conservative person who is fearful of dogs and hates live music, we're not going to get along and I assume you'll come to that conclusion naturally. And if not, I'll just ignore you. This isn't hard.

Also, I had expert input from one of my smartest female friends. The best part was that after her and I completed my profile and answered a few of those bogus personality questions, the site rather presumptuously indicated that I'm a disorganized junkie which I took as a compliment.

One curious observation was that people often try to mask their insecurities and flaws with snarky humor. I did get a laugh out of some of them but I could tell they probably wouldn't make for good conversation in real life and probably have small penises and huge egos. Moving on but thanks for adding a smile to my search, fellas. Clever writing is infinitely sexy...in my very unbiased opinion.

Quality and Quantity

Enjoying SXSW is sort of like moving to a new city. I moved here almost 3 years ago and it has truly taken this long to get the hang of things and feel comfortable. The same principles apply to one of the biggest, most rowdy, most complicated music festivals and conferences in the world.

At first, you hang out with the wrong crowd, the first group that will have you, because you're too scared to brave the crowded, filthy streets of Austin by yourself. You make mistakes like inappropriate footwear, drinking too much, showing up too late to get in, and pledging blind allegiance to your boyfriend's favorite shitty band. Skinny jeans and garbage filled alleys are intimidating at first but then seem almost normal by the end. You learn a few street names and survival skills. You don't regret it but you're not convinced you had as much fun as everyone else claims to have had. Your head aches and you don't really like your friends as much as you thought (and definitely don't trust their taste in music).

Alt J at Stubbs

The next year you feel much more independent. You get your own wristband during pre-sale. Your research is your own, carefully curating a list of bands that you want to see. Convincing people to come with you is easier since they are beginning to trust your judgement and can't deny your commitment to music. You're on a text list and eek out an RSVP existence. You totally call one of the next up and coming bands and you get a high five from someone you really admire musically. Breaking away from the group to see your chosen playlist is nearly tolerable and you see way more bands than you did the year before because you're not hauling drama or naysayers along with you. Not quite part of a group yet, but bolder, braver, more equipped. Your head still aches but you feel happy you came and look forward to the year to come.

The third year you nail it. The perfect balance of toxins, water, and sleep deprivation is mastered. Your playlist is the perfect combo of worn-in must-sees and experimental must-trys. Your pack members are carefully chosen but expendable and scattered evenly across many venues. When an accomplice gives you trouble or has an opposing lineup, you shed them sans guilt like a free t-shirt. You run into people you know everywhere and the shared experience turns acquaintances into friends and friends into lovers. You learn that you'd give up toilet paper before you'd give up your bike. Your head still aches, but you accept it as a natural bi-product of a week's worth of smoke, chemicals, alcohol, loud music, and sheer exhaustion.

No, you don't just accept it...you embrace it with pride and congratulate yourself on being one of the survivors. Three years in and I've finally got both quantity and quality and easily the best SXSW memories to date.
Sunday, March 10
Ume
Cloud Nothings
Portugal. The Man
Azari & III
Zeale

Tuesday, March 12
Elle King
ZZ Ward
Divine Fits
Cirque du Soleil
Whoever was at Lucky Lounge

Wednesday, March 13
Cafe Tacvba
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Alt J

Thursday, March 14
Capital Cities
The Sheepdogs
Fitz and The Tantrums
City and Colour

Friday, March 15
Clairy Brown & the Bangin' Rackettes
Doldrums
Austra
Toro Y Moi
Alt J
Some cool jazz band at the Camel House
Walk Off the Earth
Lissie
Savages
Youth Lagoon

Saturday, March 16
No
Some awesome gypsy violin band from Ireland
Kids These Days
Field Report
Hacienda
Some other bands at Outlaw Roadshow??
Neon Lion
Drop City Yacht Club
Small Black
Haim
Vampire Weekend

SXSW, a most lovely disturbance

In preparation for the upcoming SXSW orgy of toxins, filth, and sound, I've been doing a bit of thinking about those three components, attempting to understand their delicate necessity and devise of plan of surviving each of them. I'll start with sound.

The vibration of sound is ethereal and powerful, even if quiet and subtle. There are some sounds that can take your breath away or leave you panting with excitement. A baby's first cry, the whisper in your ear "I want you," a tornado passing overhead can give you chills. Some of the most deafening sounds I've heard are silence...when the fight is over, when the last guest leaves.

As everyone knows, I live for sound and have a carefully cataloged brainfile of sounds I treasure and those I wish I had never heard. We all do I assume, though how carefully filed seems to be personal preference and aptitude for self awareness.

Mine are usually filed by emotional response. The feeling I get seems more memorable than even the sound itself. To be mentally shoved by sound requires a reaction. But, to have a vault of sounds and how they have already made me feel has proven a very useful tool. I often know whether to ignore it, run from it, or soak it up.

This makes sense because sound, by scientific definition, is a disturbance. Disturbances are memorable. Disturbances can't easily be ignored. Disturbances change you, sometimes forever. Tom Robbins, one of my favorite authors, probably said it best:

Perhaps sound carries farther across time than across space.

Looking forward to a week of music and all the ways it will make me feel, I can't help but be excited and a little scared. Being 'disturbed' for that many days in a row requires a steadiness I often lack. But, at the very least, there may not be a more comforting sound than your name being called by the friend you couldn't find at a show. That is SXSW. And it is a most lovely disturbance.

Only Allow Good

Adrenal glands are perched on top of your kidneys and primarily regulate stress: physical, emotional, and psychological. Basically, your adrenal glands manage your fight or flight response, which is something that all humans deal with all day, everyday in various intensities. You don't have to be a superhero or be running from the mafia to have your adrenal gland throw in the towel. Millions of people suffer from an overworked adrenal gland. Conventional medicine doesn't recognize this as a problem since the symptoms are rarely life threatening. I can, however, promise this issue is dreadfully serious.

My acupuncturist nailed it. She asks (about a year ago), do you have an excess of any of the following:

Alcohol
Caffeine
Sleep deprivation
Cold hands and feet
Prolonged, traumatic emotional stress
Seasonal allergies

Um, yes, check, check, and check. Now, I can't say that Texas is responsible for ALL those things. I had excesses of alcohol, caffeine, cold paws, and nightowlism long before moving here. I guess the addition of the final few culprits finally did my poor hormone machine in. The sad thing needed a break, big time. I was a nervous mess; sleepless, tormented, blotchy skinned, puffy eyed, chubby, unable to concentrate, near my wit's end.

I had to turn this around and fast. How, do you ask, does one accomplish such a thing, especially in the midst of mean people, low financial backing, and Mopac traffic? This is Texas after all...people don't help you unless all you need is to borrow a truck. I'll tell you.

Step 1: Only allow good. (May require a rather rigorous housecleaning)
Step 2: Cope with repercussions of step 1.
Step 3: Survive and begin to notice happiness fill the spots left empty by the removal of toxic stuff.
Step 4: Repeat with fine-tuned modifications.

One year in, I'm on step 4 and I haven't felt this good in ages. I've eliminated all of the major offenders except alcohol. Through a random recipe of holistic medicine and soul searching, I've managed this without a prescription, lottery winnings, or even much inconvenience. I don't even have allergies anymore! It must be a miracle because last January I was very near cedar death. I daresay I may even survive without coffee. I never thought it possible.

Why does it matter? It doesn't, really. But, if you feel like crud all the time, have a chat with your adrenal glands. They might be warning you your life sucks. They aren't going to kill you like if you mistreat your heart or lungs or brain. But they will fuck your shit up. Keep in mind they may be the only thing between you and a state correctional facility...I suggest you take them seriously and give em a break. Also, a healthy adrenal gland makes your skin glow and your sex better. Just sayin'.

Alcohol makes you smarter and more attractive?

I completed day one of this detox project with my wits still about me.  I've received both positive and negative feedback but my favorite was a text message from a fellow booze connoisseur saying "I'm really disappointed in you." I'll abandon this healthy living bandwagon shortly, do not fear.

In the meantime, I've added some fun challenges to keep things interesting. Last night, I was invited to accompany some friends in a band (Horseshoes & Hand Grenades) to a show outside Austin. They were opening for The Damn Quails so the night had serious potential for fun and good tunes. I was reluctant to go at first though. I feel sleepy and hanging out with a bunch of rowdy male musicians for a solid 10 hours sounded a bit iffy.

But, I realized that detox isn't just of the body. If I am to really clean up this trailer I am going to need to make sure I'm not boring without the warm, snuggly cloak of inebriety. My only live musical experiences so far involved moderate to severe amounts of liquor and the occasional illegal drug, so much so that when I thought about it I realized that I rarely remember people I meet at shows and sometimes don't even remember the music very clearly. This is sad I've decided. So, I packed up my juice and met them for drinks before getting on the "tour bus."

To hang out with band members, one must be pretty independent. I don't know many of their friends yet and my phone died as soon as we got there. I was definitely on my own. At first I was shy. My inhibitions and insecurities were fully intact. I wondered if booze has really been a crutch for me and that I am as stupid and unoriginal as I believe some boozers to be. This prospect terrified me and I was determined to let the self I have come to know as "my"self enjoy the show and have fun with strangers without a drop of liquid courage, a shred of false bravado, or even another person to guide me.

Finally, I spotted someone with a Nebraska coozie so, much like the times I've found myself alone in cities around the globe, I put on a smile and perused the room making friends along the way. It was incredible. My mind was sharp allowing me to remember nearly everyone's name. I heard every note and remember which songs I have to download today. I stayed out until my usual 3am and slept until 11 but I feel great! Just food for thought...mostly since I'm not eating any other sort of food. Last night was a satisfying morsel.

Day One: Prep

The detox program was delivered yesterday in 18 colorfully terrifying bottles. The realization that I am to have no booze, food, or fun for the next few days began to set in. Cashew milk, really? How do these healthy people do it? The instructions are simple: Don't consume anything except the specially prepared juices in a specific order and water with lemon. No problem for someone who gets normal amounts of sleep, water (without whiskey), exercise, and nutritious food. (I just had trouble spelling nutritious which is indicative of my familiarity with it.)

In preparation, I completed the following tasks:

1. "Cleaned" out cookie and milk supply for breakfast
2. Gave dog a bath (she'll be used as a stress ball over the next few days)
3. Put clean sheets on bed
4. Ate an inappropriate amount of pasta for lunch
5. Ate an amazing, amazing dinner at a new Thai restaurant 
6. Ate a spicy chocolate cake ball
7. Drank 3 bottles of wine
8. Stayed up until 3:30am

Ok, I'm ready. I can totally do this. 

Juice #1 down. It wasn't terrible. It wasn't butternut squash and goat cheese ravioli with walnut cream sauce either. But, the Donkey episode of Ab Fab is still funny for now and the sky appears to still be blue. Only 68 hours left.