The Online Dating Scene

Hollah. It’s your boy, Ravon. So I’ve signed up to numerous online dating websites and I’ve been perusing the detritious swamp that is online matching.

Let me tell you, it’s not pretty my people. I’ve done the research and I’ve read the data and quite frankly we’re in for one raucous ride. And by we, I’m invoking the royal “we”. I’ll be your personal messiah, I’m placing myself in the lion’s den, quick beneath her paw, her nibbling at my ear. I’m making this sacrifice so that you may learn the vagaries of online dating scene. Just think of me as the Bear Grylls of online investigations.

In the past post I’ve set-up the terrain for us and inform you, my faithful, readers about the intending rules. Today I’ll hit you off with the archetypes:

1. The Cougar: Married or recently divorced. Wants to recreate the college experience with guys twice her age and stamina.




2. The Condemned to be Angry: Constantly pissed off. Not much will ever make her happy or satisfied.




3. The “Shy” One: Quiet. Demure. Rapacious and not in a good way. More than you’ll ever bargain for. She’s bait and switch. Watch your back.




4. The “Feminist”: Now before you attack me, “What’s up with you, Rave, are you hating on women?” No. I don’t. I haven’t read Wally Lamb but I’m in love with Alice Walker. Check the reference. That said our quarry in this taxonomy is an independent womyn with no need for a man. In order to be deemed worthy the man needs to be well versed in feminist lore, politically competent and habitually attentive. Basically he must be emasculated. Good luck with that. Be aware while complete male dependence is professed you are expected to pay for dinner; hold and open all doors, remove all chairs, open all car doors; walk on the outside facing the street; and fend off all other men. You are expected to weather all snarky remarks to the contrary and observe all rules of 1990’s political correctness. Again, have fun.

These are the main individuals to be concerned with that I’ve spied so far. Your boy posted his profiles. I got my editors to spring for a budget for the actual dates, think "steakums" as opposed to steak.

I’ll get back to you as the replies come in.

After all, I am one sexy mother--.

The Genesis of my Social Experiment on your behalf!

That’s incredible! What you ask? You really want to know, well just wait and I’ll tell you. But first just let me take a deep breath because I’m out of breath and my eyes are squinting and I’m trying to settle myself so I can get a quick life sustaining sip of the Chai tea waiting patiently for yours truly.

…

Aah.

Right. So what has your trusty scribe all in a tiffy: why are my boxers bunching up around the taint… well here it is…

I’m tired.

So tired I’m slumped over my laptop and Davey, my local barista, who serves up the best Chai this side of Brooklyn, has been kind enough to play Elmer Bernstein. Yes people, I’m listening to the soundtrack of Ghostbusters and I’m just plain damned weary! I’m so tired of the scene. You know what scene I’m ranting about. Every other post I bitch about it: the dating scene. It’s ridiculous. Preposterous. But what’s more preposterous…?

The online dating scene.

Alright, let me back up here.

So you know I’m single. (Currently accepting applications ladies.) And you know there’s rules to the scene. You know the rules. For those of you cherries not savvy:

1. When you get a potential mate’s number, you don’t call that very night, or the next night. You must wait 3-4 days before you make the call.

2. When you make the call you must not stay on the phone longer than fifteen minutes, any longer makes a desperate and/or creepy.

3. You don’t set up “date” you initial meetings should be coffee or some such trivial social lay-over to the actual date. The coffee greet is a stopgap to see if you’re witty enough for the date.

4. This ameliorates the pressures of the big first day, which mind you will usually suck serious stank ass. This is so because of the inherent pressure of the 1st date and women’s conditioned expectations of an immediate divine declaration of the suitability of “oneness.” You know when G-d [all do respect to members of the Tribe] sends that bolt of lightning flash that announces you have met the “one” true love of your life. Which never happens… all that is going on is that biochemical response hardwired in human genetic conditioning that bases attraction on visual cues is signaling that the girl or boy with the pretty plume of feathers could quite possibly have enough genetic material to create offspring. Simple.

And let’s just say you get past the coffee clutch and make it to date one status.

This is followed by certain protocols we must follow as guys:

1. You must walk on the side of the street, less a maniac driver should attempt to plow your date, you can shield her body with… get this.. Yours! (I kid you not faithful readers; it’s a social axiom.)

2. You must pick up the tab on date one. Failure to do so results in no date two.

3. You must hold all doors open.

4. You must pull and push all seats in and out.

5. You must hold out for a goodnight kiss but not actually expect nothing more than a peck kiss.

6. If she offers you coffee at the door, you’re expected to decline, no matter how colorful that plume of feathers.

These are just a few of the protocols; there are an innumerable set of cues and subtle leads you must master in this day and age.

What does all of this have to do with the tea in China you ask?

Well here it is… yours truly will be engaging in a social experiment on your behalf. Yes. Your eyes do not deceive you. Your scribe is going to partake in some investigative journalism. I’ve signed up to a few online dating services, none of which I can reveal or so the legal department says. (Rest assured it’s not Myspace. I have no endeavor to be meet Chris Hansen or guest star on MSNBC’s TO Catch a Predator.) But know this, for you readers, I will brave the rough terrain of the online dating scene and report to you the intricate ins and outs of how these people operate the rules we must follow and the hidden protocols and mine (or mind) fields that exist.

Ravon’s internet dating. Fathers grab your guns and hide your thick daughters.

You know… the ones of legal age, but since I like’em with a social pulse and a little pop cultural reference; I’ll keep it to 26+.

Just because...

Back when the show was a nail biter.