This past Valentine’s Day, I was inspired to get a date. I had been without a Valentine for two years. Maybe it was time to break out from the comfort of my introversion and put myself out there. I was tired of hearing people discuss their dinner plans, gifts, romantic kisses and blah. So I decided to venture out of my shell and seek out a date.

In January, a close friend that I greatly admire had set up a series of meetings with men to determine if they were indeed “dateable.” She found two men as prospects.

Dating is difficult since I really like to keep to myself, read a good book, or go to a movie solo. I made a mental list of prospects. After crossing off my list the men suggested by my friends, my own pitiful collection of men (the dudes who I keep in my contact list that are “meh” but, in a pinch, will suffice), and hoping to bump into someone special at Whole Foods, I decided that I had to do something innovative. Something fresh. Something wild enough that it should yield results.

The thought of dating scared me. Enough of meeting guys at concerts, or at work, or some other public place where he gets up the nerve to approach me (sending vibes to the cute guy smelling like Michael Moore). Waiting for the phone call (checking the screen like a fiend). Waiting to be asked out (I’m not doing it). Scheduling the date into my calendar (its open). I like a traditional boy needs girl, boy asks girl out deal. Real life ain’t like that, though.

So I called my friend, aka the date pimp, and asked her for advice. I soaked up her recommendations like I was Drake to her Lil Wayne, looking for a way for my career to blow up. I needed my dating life to blow up.
We decided that I should date online.

The profile had no photo and was vague, dull, so not sexy. It felt weird to market myself to strangers online. Shy Drake.

One guy had a picture that made him look like a model. He was fine. Tall, local, and had an exciting profile. I emailed him a photo since there was no way I wanted my image to live online. No way. He said I looked pretty (giggles) and we decided he would call me Monday evening.

Monday I left work all excited that I had a prospect. When I arrived home, I was suddenly paralyzed with fear. What was I doing giving a stranger my picture, my number and my real name? Was I crazy? Hell, was he crazy? I could not believe I was online dating, because I hated scrolling through profiles looking for a guy. I felt uncomfortable being the aggressor. I needed to calm down before the phone call so I poured a glass of wine. What started out as a sip became a gulp, which became an empty bottle in the recycling bin.

He called. I slurred. He made a comment that I sounded inebriated. I felt mortified yet the alcohol comforted me from any insults.

The excitement was short lived. Tuesday, I received a call from an angry chick demanding to speak to me. I assumed it was his woman. Not hearing from him again confirmed that I was probably right.

It was a noble idea to break away from the comforts of introvert “snuggie” life, but hell I like Netflix, chips and a cocktail.