Tuesday, May 20, 2008

The Numbers Game

"You know Elizabeth, and let me preface this next statement by saying I shouldnt even have to say this to you but whatever, here goes: Its a numbers game", Daisy said.

"This is not sales Daisy," I began, rolling my eyes at how in my time of need this is the crap I get served.

"Psssshhhh! Of course this is sales! Everything in life is "sales", so youve got to play the odds but then also remember that once you do get those appointments, you cant sell everyone...", she continued.

"Thats not true," I retorted. "You can sell anyone........except stupid"

"Exactly. The defense rests." Daisy said with what I imagine was a rather wry smile.

"What you need is a nice, down to earth kind of guy."


As I hung up the phone, I felt even more discouraged than when I had first began recounting the incident with Officer Granny Panties. I mean seriously! Couldnt she luxuriate in my misery with me for just a moment?


My morning commute was even more hectic than usual, and served to only further exacerbate my irritation with life in general. Deciding that I was right, and Daisy was, not only wrong but insensitive to my plight, I began to contemplate my possible courses of action. After a few minutes reflection, I was not happy with the options:


1) Give up.


2) Play the numbers game.


Daisy was right.


Damnit.


With this realization, I decided I needed to be proactive and start really searching for someone new. As was the case the last time, I searched only for the men who said they did not mind dating a woman who has a child, and began emailing away. The only difference was that this time instead of sending out 4 or 5 emails, I took Daisy's words to heart and emailed like 40 men.


Hey, its a numbers game, right? Someone would respond, and it would be someone wonderful! Resolutely, I closed my laptop, pleased with the evenings progress. Tomorrow would be a great day!


The next day I opened my laptop up, excited once again to see who wanted to date me NOW.

Sadly, just like the last time, my inbox was empty.


All the men I emailed had read my witty flirtations, viewed my profile, but decided against responding. WTF?! I was starting to feel like this was the Twilight Zone. Instead of getting all bent out of shape, I decided to give all my potential suitors a couple of days in which to respond. Not everyone has mad writing skills and can bust out something fantastic at the drop of a hat- it was not entirely out of the realm of possibility that some men might need a few days to form a proper response.

As the days passed by, I diligently checked back, my hope waning each time that I found no new messages. I became more and more discouraged as now not even the degenerate losers were emailing me any longer. I could practically see the cobwebs and dust begin to form in my little match.com inbox, and felt like I was living that scene from Bridget Jones' Diary where her answering machine declares: "You have no new messages. Not even one. Not even from your mother."


Instead of doing as Bridget did, and forming a relationship with two men simultaneously (Ben and Jerry), I decided to do something more proactive and began planning for the future. I began looking for a home in Boca Raton, Florida because clearly, I was going to die a spinster.


Thankfully, these moments of indulgent self pity were only occasional, and ended after about a week.


It was about two weeks after I had last wallowed in the pit of despair that I finally got an email back. Being the hopeless romantic that I am, I was flying high as I logged in to view my new matchmail. Unfortunately, it was one of my degenerate loser fans who decided to send me another email letting me know he was indeed serious about dating me.


Oh Goody.


My campaign of hardened indifference continued.


The next few days saw quite a few hits to my beleaguered email inbox, but I remained steadfast in my apathy, confident I would find the same type of depressing requests. I was too busy anyhow with my new job, friends, and my child to dedicate time to a failing enterprise such as dating I reasoned. Life continued on at break-neck speed.


The next week, after making another sale at work and feeling quite pleased with myself and the renewed spirit I was finally feeling again I decided to give my inbox a little peek. Cautiously I sorted through the rubble and immediately felt myself starting to slip into that familiar funk that seemed to overtake me anytime I logged in. Ahhh, here it comes! And no sooner had I began to get that sour milk taste in my mouth then I saw an email that looked promising. Without conceding that perhaps someone decent had finally emailed me, I warily read through the short note.

"Hmmmmmmm. Not bad", I thought. Lets check out the profile....

27, Executive Management, Marathon Runner, Non Smoker, decent looking.

"Not bad, not bad at all," I thought, a faint glimmer of hope defiantly rising up within me.

Hesitantly I emailed back, not wanting to get my hopes up, just in case his email had been the product of late night perusing under the influence.

Two hours later, I received a response and it was a rather nice email from a bona fide nice, down to earth guy.

Crap. Daisy is going to gloat. Damn her and her conventional wisdom.

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