Cockblocked by Writer's Block

Technology is amazing. For better or for worse, we live in an era where an eight month old baby who was born deaf is able to hear his mother's voice while millions wasted time with Tamagotchis in the 90's.

One such amazing service of recent times is the advent of online dating. From Match.com to plentyoffish.com to jdate.com to the seedy ashleymadison.com, the opportunities are ripe for finding that special someone. I also happen to know for a fact that you CAN find love online. I personally know two women who are happily married and happily engaged.

For whatever reason, online dating has always seemed like the final frontier. I always resisted, claiming that I preferred to meet men organically. Then I countered that online dating just opens you up to so many more opportunities for rejection. Well fast-forward to 27, single for 2+ years with only one legitimate dating experience and more awkward encounters than I care to admit and the chip in my armor was beginning to crack. While I felt perfectly content not dating, my situation was apparently really desperate to everyone else around me. Girlfriends were dying to get me laid. ("We need to clear the cobwebs down there.") Trips to the adult toy store were offered by my gays. ("Honey I'm telling you, THIS is the model you want. It's got the girth and the length.") My sister threatened to sign me up for multiple online dating accounts without telling me. ("I'm going to sign you up for all of them. And one day you'll come home and I'll say 'Get dressed bitch. You're going to dinner in a half hour.'") And perhaps the scariest of all, my aunt offered to set me up with a nice Korean Christian boy from her church. ("Thank you, I'd rather gouge my eyes out with a blunt spoon. While fornicating. On a Sunday. With another heathen. While taking the Lord's name in vain. Amen.")

The more friends encouraged online dating, I thought about it. And pondered the possibilities. And then it hit me like an epiphany from the Man himself: Oh shit. This would actually allow me the opportunity to just weed out all the incompatible and homely guys (What? Like you wouldn't either? Don't lie to me.) and allow me to filter my results so that I don't have to waste my time! The thought that I could search, point and click my way to a date with some tall 30 year old never married man who loves to run and watch funny movies, all in the comfort of my home in my sweats, was VERY appealing. I was sold.

So one bored Sunday evening I sat down and rolled up my sleeves and began the process. I carefully thought about the qualities I was looking for in a man and gave a lot of thought to my choices as well, as far as my interests, political views and whether or not I prefer cats over dogs. (I'm a dog person, by the way.) I honestly think I spent about an hour on this part - my future was at stake here, people. How could I play Russian Roulette with my life when such serious consequences such as ending up on a bad date with a Sarah Palin-loving, Chinese-crested owning, curling enthusiast could occur? (Actually, that would be freakin' hilarious.)

And then I reached the point where I had to come up with a short "tagline" for myself and write a short "About me and what I'm looking for" description. I was completely stumped. What the F was I supposed to say about myself? Anything I came up with just made me sound like an asshole. I totally get that you're supposed to be selling yourself in these profiles but really? And anyway, I think that one has a pretty skewed version of themself so whatever I write was going to be completely subjective to how I view myself. Hello, I'm basically perfect. I KID, I KID.

In all seriousness, this is what I came up with after several stumped hours:

"My name is __. I like puppies. I run marathons. I hope you're a musician/runner/investment banker. San Francisco rocks!"

Well screw it, I decided to go to bed and finish this later. I'd already wasted enough time on what could be the most self-indulging and vain exercise ever, and I had to go to work in a few hours.

The next day I had this unfinished assignment hanging over my head and it kept looming in the back of my mind. You know that really uncomfortable feeling that you get, like when you know you're down to your last pair of underwear and you need to do laundry but dammit you have no quarters and you're supposed to go bar hopping tonight? Or how you know that you have another two days to return $500 worth of impulse purchases but how can you possibly deal with Union Square on a weekend with *gasp* tourists to fight your way through? Well let me tell you, coming from the world's biggest procrastinator (my Type B side) this writing assignment was stressing me out. Time went by, and every day I felt the growing pressure of that unfinished profile. Of course, I had made the mistake of telling a couple of (very excited) girlfriends about my attempted foray into online dating. Every other day one or all of said girlfriends would pester me.

"Well? Have you finished your profile yet?"
"No. I still haven't been inspired."
"What the hell is there to inspire? It's about you. Talk about yourself. That can't be too hard."
"BUT I DON'T WANNA DO IT! WAHHH!"

I felt like a petulant 11 year old all over again, being forced against my will to go to a summer camp in the woods of rural Korea when I don't speak any Korean at all. (My mother dumped off my siblings and me at this camp under the pretense of having us expand our horizons and learn the language. I think she was just sick of us whining that it was too hot and that we wanted to go home to California.) Yes, it was that dread-inducing and terrifying.

I don't like the feeling of having something due hanging over my head, it gave me horrendous flashbacks of my sad excuse of an academic career during college, but I honestly had no idea what to say about myself. After a month of nothing, I caved under the pressure and waved the white flag of defeat. I deleted the account I never got to finish setting up. I was cockblocked by writer's block.

Correction. I cockblocked MYSELF because of writer's block.

My love life: So pathetic it's hilarious.

*Clarification* Some wondered why there wasn't a guy/awkward situation involved. The point I was trying to make here was "I'm just awkward in general, and here's yet another example of how I can't/don't get dates."