Oh My God, I Love Your Accent, Where Are You From?

That was the tagline on the profile of my one and only Match.com date in the last six weeks.

Intriguing, though, to be sure. Further investigation revealed this gentleman to be 28, educated, solidly employed (with a salary of $75,001-$100,000 no less, although I do not understand why some people actually list that) and a lack of kids (lets face it, this is NOT a given anymore!).

Another bonus: The guy can write and clearly has a sense of humor, as his "recent passions include creating iPhone applications, mastering my Spaghetti Bolognese recipe, completing 100 push ups in a row and jumping from wake to wake while wake-boarding."

But the most exciting thing - you didn't forget that accent, did you? - He's from Ireland! Which, admittedly, was a lot more exciting until I thought to check a map and remembered that Ireland, unfortunately, is NOT part of the UK. Why does this matter? Because I desperately want to move to London, and as a kindly alum from the University of Missouri recently pointed out in response to a query for advice, my best hope of doing this is to marry a Brit.

So, convinced this was going to be my future husband (I hadn't checked the map yet), I happily agreed to meet him for a drink.

We initially agreed on Rockit Bar, which immediately had me questioning my future husband's choice of hang-outs. Although I've never been there, for some reason I have this picture in my head of it as a d-bag magnet, so my excitement was mildly dimmed over by the idea that this was his go-to first date spot.

Luckily, he texted a couple of hours before we were to meet and suggested a change of venue to McCormick & Schmicks - things were looking up! Granted, this brought up concerns (which turned out to be very real) that he'd want to do dinner instead of just drinks, and I always prefer to stick with just a beverage on the first night, but on the flip side I figured he must have re-thought just how excited he was to meet me.

I happily walked the short distance from work to the restaurant, convinced this would be a match made in heaven that I would be recounting years later for our kids and grandkids.

SCREEEEEEEECHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Or so the daydream in my head went the moment I met Ireland boy. I should have known that anyone whos posts only a single picture with their profile, and one that's truly a "profile pic" at that, isn't very likely to make me weak at the knees. "But looks aren't everything," I firmly told myself. And it's true - I really do think a person gets more attractive the more you get to know them.

But then he opened his mouth - and sadly, while a very pleasant person, we just did NOT click. To make things worse, as we were making awkward small talk about what to order (he clearly had no idea how expensive the restaurant was and quickly settled on a bowl of soup!), I had a sudden flashback of a near perfect date at the same restaurant (read about it here).

Needless to say, my hopes of being married and living in London this time next year have been squashed. Oh, well. There's always the company exchange program!

A Different Breed Of Men

In a recent meeting at work, someone described the social media voice of a client as a Midwestern cross between the Brawny man and Conan O'Brien – except, apparently the client disagreed with the picture that was presented. Supposedly, the strapping young men in the area aren’t as attractive as what we put forward.

To which I thought, “WHAT?!” Who wears flannel better than a homegrown, boy-next-door type from somewhere in the Minnesota, Iowa and Illinois triangle? (As a random side note, check out one of my favorite YouTube videos here, in which flannel is prominently featured during a parody of Katy Perry's California Gurls.)

However, the client had a point - there does seem to be something a little off with the boys in Chicago. Specifically, a lack of interest in girls. Or at least me!

In an attempt to meet new people when I first moved here last year, I quickly joined Match.com - but despite dozens of winks and emails to the "supposedly" eligible bachelors (I'm convinced some of the better-looking possibilities are actually dummy profiles that have been planted to help keep you interested) in my area, I ended up with only a single date over the course of a month. Some of you may think this is all that can be expected from online dating, and that in fact, a single date with a decent guy in four weeks is actually a good track record.

However, I know better. When my roommates and I were at the height of our Match.com-ing in DC (think Monday nights spent on the couch with our laptops open to better compare potential matches while watching The Bachelor), I would occasionally have two to three dates - per week!

At the time, I chalked it up to the fact that we were in the middle of the holiday season. After all, from a strategic perspective, who wants to risk the possibility of having to Christmas shop for someone you've only known two weeks?

But now that it's August, and I'm having the same problem, I realize there must be something more going on. You could make the argument that during the summer, everyone is out and about happily meeting (and hooking-up) easily enough between happy hours, weekends at the beach, etc. Except that summer is winding down, and still no uptick in dates. And it's not just dates - it's responses in general. In the last six weeks, I've had a total of four qualified men email or wink at me (and by qualified, I do not mean they meet all my standard criteria - only that they're under the age of 40, and relatively nearby!).

So what gives? Are the men in Chicago just not as active in the online dating scene? Definitely a possibility, given that so many in this city seem to have moved here as a group with their college friends, limiting the necessity to expand their social circle (as opposed to DC, where everyone's looking for new partners-in-crime). But that can't be the only reason. If anything, there seem to be far more boys - particularly cute and gainfully employed ones - on the site in Chicago than there were out East.

Which leaves me to wonder what's the story? Is Match.com in this city a hoax? Is eHarmony the way to go (if you can get through that questionnaire, more power to you!)? Are the men here really aliens disgused to look like nice Midwesterners?

Please share your theories - I really want to know! And I'll keep you posted on any new clues I discover as I sleuth around the Windy City.

On The Prowl Again

That's right, I said it - I'm ready to do some man-hunting! Granted, it's been awhile and my instincts may be a little rusty, but I'm ready to put them to the test.

But hold that thought - first, you have my sincerest apologies for the months of silence. Turns out that getting acclimated to a new city takes a lot out of you, and when I can't blog at work anymore - because I actually have WORK to do - it's a lot harder to find the time to write!

To bring you up to speed since I last filled you in, sadly, things with DMV Boy did not have a fairy tale ending. Sadly, DMV boy did not turn out to be a match made in heaven. As lovely as the story was of how we met, it just wasn't meant to be. He DID call (call, mind you, not text!) and we hung out several times - he even made me dinner and scored us tickets to Conan O'Brien's writers' show last fall. In the end, though, he was just a little too vanilla/Minnesota nice. I know - sounds horrible, right? I'm NOT looking for a bad boy! But unless there was alcohol involved, the conversation was far from scintillating, and when added to the fact that it took 45 minutes to get to his house on public transportation, I decided to cut my losses sooner rather than later. He remains a gchat friend, but we haven't met up in awhile.

Since then, a lot and yet nothing at all has happened. I'll let you in on a secret - one of the perks of leaving DC (in addition to an amazing job opportunity and the chance to live in the Windy City) was leaving behind a bit of heartbreak. A drastic change of location certainly helps a girl move on - until the boy in question suddenly reappears again. Too make a very long story short, a relationship I thought I had left behind with all my furniture and other castoffs turned out not to be as over as I thought. Unfortunately, although this boy is someone I now consider to be a very dear friend, he remains the object of some unrequited affection. And although I've done my best to convince him otherwise, repeatedly stressing how CRAZY he must be for not wanting to give things a go, it's time to truly leave the past in the past.

Which leaves me ready to take Chicago by storm! To that end, I'm meeting and greeting all over the city. To further hedge my bets, I've also joined Match.com again - after all, 1 in 5 relationships now begin online (or so their ads proudly proclaim!). At the very least, I'm hoping to expand my circle of Midwestern friends. Although I love my co-workers, a girl occasionally needs some non-Type A, less than uber-organized, self-professed "not" planning fiends to hang out with on the weekends.

So keep reading in the coming months for what are sure to be some hilarious dating stories:).

I've Got a Date!

Helloooooo Chicago!

I'm happy to report that dating prospects in the Windy City look good...VERY good. In fact, I was asked out less than 48 hours after moving to town. And, it happened in the cutest way. What more can a girl ask for?

Like any good law-abiding citizen, I headed to the DMV immediately after settling into my new apartment (ok, admittedly, I may have learned the hard way that it's far easier to deal with this stuff on the front end than to fix it later, but that's not the point).

And, like anyone that has a driver's license, I dreaded the visit to this office. In an attempt to limit the amount of time devoted to the less-than-pleasant experience, I hopped on the bus with my newly purchased CTA pass before 8am.

Unfortunately, it was raining. A lot. And I got lost. Thus, I spent twenty minutes wandering around downtown looking for the right building, well aware that my chances for a good driver's license picture were vanishing with every wrong turn.

Anyway, I eventually arrived at the DMV, bedraggled, but determined. I had done my research and had every document I could possibly need - and then some - to prove my new residency in Illinois. There was just one thing the multiple state, city and DMV websites failed to mention - they don't take Visa! Discover, Mastercard, Amex and check - all a-ok. But Visa, the most widely recognized credit card in the world, known for being accepted globally, is NOT a valid form of payment in th eyes of Chicago driving authorities.

Out I went back into the rain to track down two different ATMs before I could compile the necessary cash for the day's expensive transactions (seriously, $200 to transfer the title of my car!).

Finally, finally, I had everything I needed and all I had to do was wait for the office to open. Luckily, I was second in line. Thinking it might be a good idea to silence my cell phone to prevent any untimely interruptions, I pulled out my new Nokia and began to fiddle with it. Except, I could not for the life of me figure out how to put it on vibrate, or worse, turn it off. At this point, I turned to the guy next to me and laughingly explained my problem. With a grin, he was kind enough to help me out (I knew I had missed Midwesterners for a reason).

As we followed each other from station to station within the office, filling out the required paperwork, I eyed him up and down. My age, blond hair, runner's build, 5'11"ish and definitely cute.

Hmmm....this has possibilities, I thought. Granted, he was there to register his new moped, but since I didn't know anyone else in the city yet, it wasn't like I really had a ton of people knocking down my door to hang out.

And then it happened. In true Jerry Springer-style, proving perhaps every stereotype about government employees, the DMV erupted into a legitimate cat fight. Two of the clerks, at windows across the room from each other, began to scream back and forth about how neither knew how to do her job - and the rest of the employees took it in stride as though it was a regular occurrence!

While entertaining, this ridiculous situation also afforded me the opportunity to chat with DMV-boy. Turns out, he went to a neighboring high school in Minnesota! With great happiness, I concluded my business, but sadly turned to leave. I started to wave good bye, while wondering if I should ask him to get a cup of coffee, when he read my mind and asked ME if I wanted to go out sometime. The Chicago dating stars had aligned!

Even better, as he was getting my number, it was his turn in line, and he told the DMV clerk "Just a minute." The shock reverbrated around the room - someone was telling a state employee, a person who had the power to make his life miserable, just a minute?

"I'm trying to get a date here!" he said loudly.

Sigh. If this works out, it's going to be an adorable story for the grandkids.

Date Diary DC Relocates to Chicago

That's right! Date Diary DC is about to become Date Diary Chicago!

I've recently accepted a new position in the Windy City, and will be moving there at the end of the week.

Look for updates as I get settled and learn my way around a whole new dating pool!

Follow Up: Defining the Relationship, or Rather, Non-Relationship

A couple of you were kind enough to comment on last week's post and praised Jamie's succint rejection of Josh. In the same breath, you also criticized me for my inability to follow suit. But that's ok - I totally agree with you. I am a coward in this area!

On the plus side, though, I tend to end up with funny stories to share with others (and write about in this blog) as a result of my middle-school behavior. And, turns out, I'm not the only one who doesn't like to define the non-relationship.

My experience with Cory and the embarassing situation at O'Sullivans (where I unsuccessfully tried to hide my face behind my scarf, a girl's back and finally the collar of my jacket to avoid being recognized) was bad - but my friend Julia's got me beat on the mortification factor.

In college, we spent a summer in London, and after spending the second half of the trip hanging out with Matt, she finally went on a date with him when we got back to school. Except, turned out she really only liked him as a friend (and she was busy being infatuated with her eventual husband who she met at the same time). In Julia's words:

So Matt was the proverbial "nice guy" -- nice, funny, but not exactly Heath Ledger (who's always been my fav). We became good friends when we studied abroad together, and upon returning home, he asked me out. I thought to myself, "Why do
nice guys always have to finish last?" and set out to change the world by saying
yes.

The night of our date came, and I decided to wear slacks and a nice shirt -- an in-betweenly dressy outfit because I wasn't sure where we were going. I opened my dorm room door to find Matt in jeans, a T-shirt and dirty tennis shoes. Uh-oh, I was overdressed, but, seriously, at least a polo to impress a girl on a first date would have been nice.

He took me to a hole-in-the-wall Mediterranean place, which had good food but not good first-date atmosphere. Afterward, we played bocce ball on the lawn in front of my dorm, which turned out to be a fun post-dinner activity.

We talked and laughed, but I still wasn't feeling "the vibe." I had conveniently made plans after the date as an escape clause, so I mentioned it was time to go. He walked me to my car, and as I proceeded to awkwardly end the date with a handshake (yeah, I'm lame, I know), he swooped in for the kiss.

There's no way to describe that kiss besides that I thought a salamander was in my mouth. All I could think was "Get it out!"

Not that Matt himself was horrible. It could have been my own mortification that made the kiss weird, but we just didn't click.

But rather than just giving Matt the "let's just be drinking buddies" spiel, Julia instead became very, very busy in the next several weeks.

To further put a nail in his dating coffin, I had met my now-husband the night before my date with Matt, and I ran into him at the party I went to with friends after our dinner / bocce ball evening.

There was no hanky panky going on there, but, unlike my experience with Matt, I felt the vibe right away.

When Matt called a few days later to try to set up date No. 2, I made up an excuse. When he called later on, I let it go to voicemail and never called back.

There was just one problem - Matt, like the rest of us, was a journalism major. And rather than stalking Julia incessantly with text messages (crazy I know, but this was back before we were all attached to cell phones), he chose to write a column about it in the Maneater, Mizzou's student newspaper.

Framing it as a how-to guide about blowing him off, Matt shared with the entire student body (around 27,000 at the time) exactly how he felt about the situation in "Hey girls, don't let Pierson happen to you."

The column was clearly based on his experience with me, and I was ashamed and embarrassed. I should have just done the mature thing and told him it wasn't going to work, but I thought I was sparing his feelings by not saying outright: "Matt, I don't want to be with you and your salamander tongue."

Guess not.

So I'm not the only one with problems.

Scraping Bottom

Yep, it's official. I am now scraping bottom of the dating barrel.

I actually looked at someone on Monday, who I would never normally date and who's definitely off limits, and thought "Hmmm...I wonder what it would be like to be in a relationship with him?"

It is very definitely time to try Match.com...again.

I've been on a bit of a hiatus from online dating because - ok, excuse time now - I broke my foot last July on my first day of vacation in Italy and used it as an excuse to eat everything in sight. By the time I was able to run again, it was the holiday season, and I think we all know how that ususally works out, even for those with the best intentions.

Moral of the story is, I've been a bit scared of blind dates because I'm not sure my pictures match the real me at the moment. But that's all finally changing. I'm running Grandma's Marathon in June again this year, which puts me smack in the middle of the training program right now. And even better, this week I've actually STARTED the training. So, I'm giving myself a deadline.

I have until April 15 to shape up, and then it's back to fishing in the online dating pond.

Watch out boys...I'm going to be back before you know it

And in the meantime, I still have lots of other funny stories to write about. Here's a sneak peak: The Dating Radius, Lei Boy, The Year of the Lobster and many, many more. So keep reading!