Beyonce. Mila Kunis. Justin Timberlake. Marilyn Monroe. Adam Levine. James Dean. James Deen. My mother. Zooey Deschanel. I can think of so many sexy people, let alone attractive celebrities. Sexy people have that certain je ne sais quoi. A sly smile. Big green eyes. An amazingly full chest (here’s looking at you, Christina Hendricks). But we’re told to overlook the physical aspects and go for personality. For someone’s sharp wit or their kind, giving heart. Looks do fade sometimes (unless you’re George Clooney) and you should be with someone who you can grow old with. We have heard all this before but is it the case?
For the past couple of months, I took a stab at online dating. Honestly, I had no idea what I was looking for. Sure, a serious relationship would be ideal but I’m still trying to make up my mind about moving back East when this year is over. A boyfriend would just complicate my further decision making and with the exception of my little sister and her man, I know that long distance relationships don’t end well. But Friday night was the loneliest night for me and I deserved something more entertaining in my life other than Ben and Jerry’s Half Baked and old “Heroes” episodes. So, I reactivated my old OKCupid and Plenty of Fish accounts and signed up at Zoosk. (I decided to not place a Craigslist “woman seeking man” ad. I did such when I first moved back to Nevada and went on some particularly odd dates. Surprisingly, I had better luck dating guys I met on “creepy” Craigslist in Brooklyn than I did here, in small town Reno.) I made the decision to not only responsd to every message I received but to send out as many messages as I could, as well. I figured that I had nothing to lose and if I wasn’t attracted to him, we could always attempt to be friends.
SUCCESS! Messages began rolling in and I tried by best to be timely about responding. Within the first two days of revamping my profiles, I was asked out on dates by two different fellows- YES! Of course, I received my fair share of dirty comments (one guy went on a tangent of how much he loved black women and had a fetish of their curvier bottoms- “You and I together would make the perfect chocolate milkshake!”). But a good chunk of messages I received were thoughtful and well written. After a few days, I found myself surprised with the men who were messaging me- the stereotypically attractive men who I would think have no problem meeting girls. They were the type of men I would drunkenly stare down at the club; guys who were on the high school football team that were fawned over by geeky marching band girls like me. I thought I was seriously out of their league. Yeah, I’m a cute girl but I’m in no means Scarlett Johansson. This was a new revelation for me. If these hot guys, with their great teeth, strong jaw lines and muscular arms, were contacting me, could I do the same and message them?
So began my social experiment: I started messaging these so-called “pretty boys” and the verdict was clear: with the exception of one, all of them were interested in meeting me for a date. My former high school spirit nearly passed out- I was going out with BABES. I went on about twenty first dates with twenty different guys. Short guys. Tall ones. Men with interesting pasts and pretty tattoos. It was a great learning experience and yeah. I won’t lie- all this dating did wonders to my confidence (flirting really does boost your ego. Who knew?).
One Tuesday night, I met this good-looking police officer for a drink downtown. After brushing my handcuff fantasies aside, we asked the basic first date questions (where are you from, what do you do for work, etc.). We kept feeding smiles to one another but the date didn’t feel right. The conversation was flowing but I was bored. For some reason, all I could think about at that moment was this gangly geek who I met last week and how he hard he laughed at my Jay-Z impression. I ended the date with the hot blonde cop and called the nerdier guy to come out and get pizza with me.
My stepmother once told me it doesn’t matter what the guy you’re with looks like as long as he makes you happy (she told me that when I was dating a man twice my age) but she was right- THANKS BIMA! Excuse my dating experiences or take a lesson from them. During my internet dating adventures, I met Nathan, a gem of a guy- he’s movie star handsome and sweeter than Splenda- who laughs uncontrollably at my terrible impersonations and who introduced me as his ‘girlfriend’ to his parents last weekend. He likes pro-wrestling and is paler than Edward Cullen but he also dances with me to Nancy Sinatra in my kitchen. He holds me tight until I fall asleep and surprises with nose kisses and a mug of OJ in morning when I wake up (I’m also having the best sex of my life). He may be a geek but I don’t care. His looks don’t matter (and apparently, mine don’t either. He thinks I look pretty sans eyeliner and straight hair)- his soul has that certain something. I don’t know what the future holds for me and Nathan but I can tell you this, dear reader: I am happy.