How I met my wife Somara has never been a secret nor have I ever been evasive about our usage of Match.com (aka, the Internet as most say). But on this day, 10 years ago, began a disaster in online introductions that felt like the pitch for a Ben Stiller movie. It definitely put me off on using the Internet for making friends, buying things and especially meeting women for a almost a year.
I was home sick from work that day, but by evening I was feeling much better. So while I checked my e-mail on AOL (it was 1997), an instant message appeared from a stranger. Naturally I would ignore the stranger but the messages were persistent. I decided to confront the pesterer but it evolved into a conversation that led to a meeting with the source, a woman named Allison. She seemed okay on the phone and I decided to go out with her, see what kind of person she was and practice my interaction skills. I wasn’t out to land a girlfriend, just apply the pseudo-pact Jose and I had made with the Idiot’s book were bought a couple months ago.
Allison was a nightmare from the beginning and it was no exaggeration. I think she had already told me on the phone about her past alcoholism so I wouldn’t be surprised if this came up later. The nature of her voice also told me that she was a smoker, another variable I could handle temporarily. These two factors were no big deal because I wasn’t serious, I only wanted to follow what the book recommended; put aside old, unhelpful expectations and maintain the casual strategy. I don’t know if Dr. Judy Kuriansky took the soap opera of this woman’s life into consideration. Just on the first date I got her whole life story, whether or not I wanted to hear it, regarding the booze, the drugs, her time at the local mental institution (Shoal Creek I think), her trust fund, the horrible sexual crime done to her and her experimental period of being a lesbian. There’s worse stuff I recall but I don’t want to make my site Unsafe to read at work or mentally scar children but let’s just say it sounded like the first draft of A Million Tiny Pieces. My friends wondered just how did I keep my jaw from dropping to the floor as she spoke. I think I was going through the mantra of, “it’s just a rehearsal of listening and being polite.”
We went out two more times before I sought out advice on how to politely dump her. Two more? I was “practicing” not trying to turn her around, mislead her or do anything more than have dinner and a movie. Besides, I thought I’d go with the old tradition of baseball’s three strikes before declaring her “out.” Despite our second time being less revealing than the first, the third date with her was it and all the danger signs were blaring.
- Allison showed some creepy signs of attachment (even when I was a teenager I never did this soon.
- She smoked in my car when I asked her not to.
- The final straw was her expectation of me to give up my weekend to help her move. I doubt Dr. Kuriansky has an opinion on the third danger sign yet I know you don’t want to take the risk of throwing your back out unless you’re really involved with the person, ask my wife.
I managed to dodge a committment on the moving assistance but I knew I’d be in for more than I wanted to deal with if I didn’t do something quickly. Thankfully Sonia, my de facto dating coach had the winning strategy on dumping I have always used from then on; get to the point, say it’s done and don’t explain nor elaborate since it will create an opening in the conversation you don’t want to answer. Armed with this plan I lucked out and got Allison’s voice mail. Must’ve worked, I never had another message on my anwering machine from her.
What then? The old means of meeting women were used, namely Sonia introducing me to candidates she liked because she stated a goal of getting me married off in five years last Fall. Looking back, it did sound more like a threat. She meant well though. When I returned to Austin in late 1998, I did decide to give online means another try as the flashbacks of Allison had worn off and the services of Match.com had rules for screening out disastrous people, unless you had the same profile.
