There is no worse feeling than realizing that your own therapist - a man who literally high-fives himself when he brings me to tears and a man who is paid to listen to me whine - is bored. I mean, there I was, sitting on his couch, pouring out my heart, weeping politely, and he's yawning and tapping his foot! I got a little snippy.
Princess: "Pardon me, Elf. Is my mental illness keeping you awake? Why don't we switch spots and you can stretch out on this couch and take a little nap?"
Elf: "Princess, do I look stupid to you? Because I know exactly what you're doing, and you're right. It's so lame that it's exhausting."
Princess: "I'll assume your first question is rhetorical, Elf. But honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Elf: "You're wasting half our session time talking about the same stuff we've already been over so there won't be time to talk about the stuff that really matters. Like why you're afraid to date. But, I cleared my scheduled tonight. And I am willing to stay here until we make some progress on this."
What can I say? He's good. He's busted me on just about every therapy scam I've tried to pull. In this case, I didn't even know I was playing him until he called me out. Needless to say, it was a marathon therapy session. Many Kleenexes died in noble sacrifice as we discovered that I am afraid of abandonment, and we agreed that I am not ready to start dating.
The next day, I was commiserating with another single friend who was also wrestling with the whole "Am I ready to date?" question. And we did what any desperate single woman of a certain age does next. We decided to try internet dating on Frogs.com.
Now, by we, I mean, I pushed my friend into doing it first. After all, I wasn't sure I was ready. We popped over to our local Caribou, where I commandeered her laptop and we spent almost two hours completing surveys and quizzes designed to find compatible frogs. When we finally finished, I hit a button and voila! There were 30 frogs, some of them very normal looking, identified as potential matches for my friend. Fun! Interesting! Good for the self-esteem!
I was intrigued, so I thought, why not? And the next day, I signed up. Of course, unlike my friend, after investing two hours of my time and energy, I was matched with . . . . no one. Millions of desperate people are trying internet dating, and there is not a single heterosexual male human on earth that I'm compatible with. Which, if my math is correct, is about right.
After laughing uproariously at my bad luck, I reviewed the FAQ on the internet site and actually spoke to someone at Frogs.com. They encouraged me to lower my standards (I don't know how much lower you can get than "I will accept a male human", but okay). They also indicated that there were a few changes I might want to make to my own profile to make myself more attractive. These included:
1. Lie about my height. Apparently, men don't like tall women. What the rep actually said was, "Now, are you sure you're 5'11? Is that, like, when you're wearing heels? Because I bet you're really closer to 5'8."
2. Don't disclose my education. The conversation went like this, "Wow, Princess! You are really smart. Your I.Q. and education level are probably very intimidating. Maybe you want to let men know about that as you get to know them - not upfront." Or, put another way, dumb it down, Princess.
3. Pretend to be poorer and less successful than I actually am. My income and career success? Also not attractive.
What I learned from this experience is that basically, who I am as a person? Not attractive to the opposite sex. Even the losers who live in their parents' basements, playing Dungeons & Dragons, and downloading internet porn. I mean, I thought beggars weren't supposed to be choosers, but apparently, all bets are off in the land of virtual dating.
I wish I could say that I laughed the whole thing off and moved on, but I am a stubborn princess. I was pissed off at Frogs.com and frankly, the entire frog population as a whole. You slimy creatures, who are you to tell me I'm too tall, too smart, and too goal-oriented to be attractive? It was game on with Frogs.com.
I altered my profile, cast a wider net, and suddenly . . . I had a net full of virtual frogs. Frogs, everywhere! In the beginning, it was exciting to check Frogs.com to see what new creatures they found for me. But then I realized that this wasn't a game. It was real and I was going to have to do something with it.
If you've never suffered the humiliation of using Frogs.com or similar, let me explain how it works. The website identifies a match for you. You and the Frog are notified and you can check out each others' bio. If you like what you see, you can move to the next step. There are approximately ten million steps you take before you can actually contact the Frog directly, so there are many, many options to opt out. But, if you don't like the way that Frog looks or his bio, you can reject him right out of the gate. That part, I like. What I don't care for is being rejected by frogs I haven't met yet based on a dumb-ass bio and a photo.
Every day, when I log on to Frogs.com, I have been rejected by a minimum of 15 frogs since the previous day. And I'm not going to lie to you. A 50 year old frog with 3 kids, baby mama drama, a bald head, and a fat ass has rejected me. On multiple occasions. Not fun! Not good for the self-esteem! Not interesting! In fact, it kind of sucks. Who are these guys to reject me? I'm Princess!
After weeks of faceless rejection, I caught a live one. I was so excited that a frog existed that didn't hate the sight of me that I took the next step, even though he had a visible unibrow in his photo. And that is how I came to go on a date with Frog #3, "The internet said we should date" Frog.
© 2010 Princess D
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