Insert Clever Headline Here Because I Can't Think of One

Is there anything lonelier than hitting that refresh button on your email page and have it come back up with nothing? Because if there is, I don’t want to know about it.

I mean, I can deal – finally – with Ted, The Sheriff, CyberGuy, the whole lot of ‘em, not calling. But geez. Not to have email from a friend? Even an annoying forward? Or, shit, how about some spam. Throw me a bone. Please.

This likely belongs in the “Things I Never Dreamed I’d Hear This Woman Say (Or Write) Column” but I think I’m giving up on online dating. (Wait – let me qualify that by saying I think I’ve given up on meeting and dating guys via Match.com, anyway.) Yep, me, perhaps the most boy-crazy gal you could ever hope to meet.

The whole thing has gotten old. I’ve grown rather weary of it. It was fun and fizzy and pretty darn cool for a while. But now, between episodes such as those that took place with Craig Who Is Dead to Me, aka Asshole and The Playa, I just don’t know. (Before any of you point this out, I realize I do reference Dead Craig fairly often. This is because I don’t want to forget him. The little shit taught me a valuable, albeit painful, lesson.)

Here’s why I may turn away from online dating. Or from that particular web site anyway: because it’s a freaking meat market.

Dear friend Laura pointed out to me this weekend, whilst we were drinking together via the phone (hey don’t laugh and be glad we do that – otherwise I’d be drunk dialing some of you folks), her theory on why I am, in particular, so susceptible to this particular form of dating. It’s a good theory and I think she’s right. But that’s a story for another post.