Is this the online version of drunk dialing?

My reply: "I don't know. Do you always do what the OkCupid computer tells you to?"

I knew there was a reason why I never trust a man with a mustache. A goatee however, I can really get into. But a mustache? Creepy.

Most of the conversations we've had are short and sweet. He's an obvious fan of netspeak (which irks me), and hasn't managed to write more than two lines in reply no matter what the topic of conversation. I get he's a single dad and probably doesn't have a lot of time on his hands to chat though, so I've given him the benefit of the doubt. For now.

All of our "conversations" have happened on OkCupid so far. In one email, he told me that raising his son and watching him grow into a toddler was - literally - better than sex. HUH?!

I wasn't sure how to reply to that one. I mean, I love kids. Really. I adore them. But, I also love sex. Quite a lot. But I've never thought of comparing the two before. Uh... yeah, no.

I basically said just that, after pondering my response for a couple of days. His reply? He hasn't "gotten any" since he had his son, so he was trying to convince himself that caring for a child could replace (or at least make you forget about) physical intimacy with an adult you're romantically involved with.

Hm. I dunno about this guy.

Fast forward ten or so years. Now there are billions of people looking online for love. Meeting people virtually is more socially acceptable (although still has a stigma attached to it in some circles, albeit not my own), and almost everyone has a story of a friend of a friend who got married to someone they met online.

And yet, I find the actual meeting of people much harder than it was ten years ago.

I'm not sure if I can attribute this change to a societal shift with regards to dating (i.e. casual dating or hooking up is more the norm than the exception) or the fact that I've become stodgier at the ripe age of 33. Or perhaps I see things differently now. No matter really. What I find is that I get a lot less dates than I used to when I was single.

Which isn't to say that I don't chat with a lot of people. I do. With some, forever, with no intention of ever meeting face to face. Of course if *I* knew that there was no intention to ever meet face to face, I'd never start chatting in the first place. I'm one of those people that finds communicating difficult when you can't imagine the person with whom you are chatting's facial expressions or body language. Well, I guess I can do it if the person on the other end either has their web cam on or is an exceptional writer, but neither of those options are really palatable to me. A man with a web cam usually means I'll get an "accidental" picture of his penis at some point or another, and good writers are usually solitary sorts, like me. I need sociable people, dammit! And not the kinds who like to flash their privates to unsuspecting women online. I mean, penises are fun and all, but why would anyone say or do something online that they would never in a million years say or do in person? How many men do you know who would drop their drawers and start jacking off only after exchanging a cursory, "Hello, very pleased to meet you," after meeting you while waiting in line at the grocery store?

Anyway. I digress.

I wonder if I may be shooting myself in the foot by continuing to try meeting people online. I have the same expectations of people from the online daters of ten years ago: intelligent, articulate and well-intentioned. Now, I frequently get messages along the lines of merely, "a/s/l?" or, "Hey. u r hot. Whazzup?" - both of which tell me a lot about the person sending the note, and none of whom I'd make an effort to get to know better.

So maybe I'm an online snob, and that's why I'm finding it so hard to meet people. I've been called worse. But is it really too much to ask to see someone's profile you are interested in, exchange an email or two, and then make plans to meet? Because these days, in my world, it seems like an insurmountable feat.

One recent communication made me laugh. A gent in his early 40's messaged me, so I checked out his profile before reading his email. His photos were badly overexposed and he was making odd hand signals in both that I couldn't quite decipher (a W, maybe?), and his profile housed some odd phraseology such as, "I like to read but think reading is boring," as well as references to his love of the Bible. Upon reading his email, which was comprised of, "Read Between the Lines???" and a request to go for coffee, I quickly decided I wasn't interested. So I replied kindly that I wasn't able to meet people out of town right now, but best of luck with his search. (He lives more than an hour's drive away).

A day later, I get a response. "ty, moron!"

I look at his profile again. What did I miss?!

Oh.

He's now added at the very bottom something along the lines of, "I'm not embarassed to say I am 6.5 tall and have a great head."