About a month ago, I was reluctantly dumped by a guy I've been dating for the past eight months. We will call him G. I could tell it was hard for him to do it, but it was probably harder for me to take given that I haven’t been broken up with since eighth grade by a guy so douchey his own sister sprayed Windex in his eye. Normally, I would say this was a blow to my ego, or the shell of one I have been developing since my beautiful nose job, but it was much more than that. G was the first guy I dated after breaking up with my boyfriend of six years, and coincidentally a decent human being (clarification: my opinion of what constitutes "decent" is slightly skewed due to my overall low expectations). Anyway, I thought was a great match for me in many ways—we had the same inappropriate sense of humor, pension for fast food, and love for pugs.
I met G on JDate shortly after my first big break up. I originally decided to do online dating because it is really hard to meet people in NYC, especially when you are a graduate student and have little time to go out, and thus, fewer chances to find fresh meat. I figured going on random dates would be a nice way to break up the monotony of school and get my bearings in the single world. I also wanted free food and someone to fund my Jameson’s addiction. Given the length of my last relationship, I had purchased six months outright thinking that it sounded like a reasonable amount of time to test out my goods. Ironically, G was the first guy I agreed to meet with from the site, and the only one who actually got the goods.
While from the outside, the match seemed just peachy, the aforementioned low expectations definitely blurred my judgement of what constitutes a good boyfriend. While G was an enormous step up from my first boyfriend with regard to looks, personality, and overall tolerance of me as a person, my ex was such a prick that by the time I was done with him, a night out Chris Brown was looking like a pretty good option. G sucked at communicating (I mean if you only want to text, that's fine, but when a message surpasses three paragraphs maybe picking up the fucking phone is more appropriate) and perhaps more annoyingly, he never came to my apartment. I live above 96th Street, so my address did not comply with his modified map of NYC that includes about three neighborhoods outside of his own small pocket of the Upper West Side.
I made a LOT of excuses for his lack of effort because I thought I was happy with him despite the fact he wasn't happy with himself as a person. Womp womp. If I woke up every morning in fucking Trump Towers I probably wouldn't be whining like a little bitch. Nonetheless, It wasn't until after he admitted his selfishness and lack of preparedness for a girlfriend during his personal quarter life crises, that I began to see that he probably did me a great service.
My friends think it’s hilarious that I chose JDate, because lord knows I grew up in the WASPiest town imaginable and was always the token Jewish kid. To be honest, G was the most Jewish thing I've done since my Bat Mitzvah. I don’t know exactly why I chose JDate, but it probably has to do with the fact that I knew it was the least intense. There are just so many dating sites out there, with their creepy advertisements about matching people on 9038409384034 levels of love and devotion, and they ask too many questions for my taste. JDate, on the other hand, cuts right to the chase by making obvious the one thing I actually give a shit about when selecting a new victim: Looks. Each page is set up with a huge picture (you have the option to upload more) with basic information next to it. Perhaps my favorite part was how when you go to the “Activities/Interests” portion of your profile, you literally have a checklist for personality traits, hobbies, etc. In other words, you don’t even have to attempt to be witty and creative. Save that shit for the actual date—a date you are not even going to get unless I think your picture looks promising.
So here it goes, my second trip into the dating world. Am I ready? Debatable. Will I make some poor decisions? Most likely. Do I have “needs”? I am a redhead, after all. Boom.
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