​Date 27: eHarmony Gabe

Day 3: 
eHarmony Gabe: Hi, it's Gabe from eHarmony. How is your week going? Hopefully not too crazy.

Day 24: 
eHG: What does your Wednesday look like?

...It took us awhile to get here. (Turns out scheduling thirty dates in thirty days is every bit as onerous as it sounds like it would be.)

Me: Wednesday's pretty open ☺

eHG: Can you do lunch on Wed. Or would later work better.

Me: Lunch is perfect.

THANK GOD. This means I'll get an entire night to myself. Oh happiest of happy days. (So few men seemed to be up for afternoon adventures during this experiment. I'm guessing that was largely related to their desire for a cocktail-fueled meet and greet. Either that or they have real jobs to attend to during the afternoon. But this is L.A., so I'm going to go with number one.)

eHG: Let's say Literati Café on Wilshire at 1. I think that's sort of close to you, and it gives me a good reason to leave the valley ☺

eHG: Oh and I just realized my beard is pretty full right now compared to the pictures on eh. Grew it out for a costume party.

Part of me wants to tell him that's a total deal-breaker/the date's off just to f*ck with him, but I (grudgingly) restrain myself.

Come Wednesday, I'm a little nonplussed at the idea of driving out to the Westside for lunch with a stranger, but I'd like to get my eHarmony numbers up, and lunch with a seemingly kind soul seems like a very non-threatening way to accomplish that goal.

eHarmony Gabe's soul is every bit as kind as I had anticipated. There is also every bit as much chemistry between the two of us as I had anticipated -- er, every bit as little? There is zero chemistry. Just zero.

When eHG ducks into the restaurant to place our orders, I check my phone for messages. When he returns, he asks how many questions I have conjured up for him.

...

Oh, right. I was supposed to be thinking about you. (The novelty of the first date as a concept has definitely started to wane at this point.)

...

eHG shares some personal tales from the Internet dating world, and my oh my does he have some doozies. Apparently, I've been lucky to encounter a generally sane lot of suitors. His gold medal winner is a woman who threatened to pull a gun on him, out of nowhere, as they sat on the couch in her home. On their third date. Welp. I'll never feel safe on one of these suckers again.

We somehow manage to stretch our meal over two hours. He says he'll take that as a good sign; I don't have the heart to tell him that I'm sort of just a really good (read: excessive) talker sometimes.

Somewhere along the way, the topic of post-date etiquette is broached.

eHG: I think, in this day and age, if you don't get a reply to a text message, it's safe to assume the other person isn't interested. No harm, no foul.

Excellent. Duly noted. eHG texts the next day, inviting me to the Sunday night Kings game. I uh... don't reply. There goes that whole being a grown-up thing.

I do definitely appreciate the sentiment though, and sort of wish I could like one of these really, really, really nice guys. If they were just a little more confident. A lot more confident. And witty. Just a lot more confidence and wit.

RULE #6: NO BAILING ON A DATE OR A GUY UNLESS THERE IS A REALLY, REALLY, REALLY GOOD REASON.

ZERO CONFIDENCE AND NEGATIVE WIT IS A REALLY, REALLY, REALLY GOOD REASON.

...

I don't have to explain myself to you?

*Not his real name
**As handy/painless as this non-confrontational brush-off seems, it can also be the worst thing ever. Like when your BlackBerry decides to malfunction just two weeks into a new fling and you have no idea if he's been replying to your text messages/you haven't received said replies or if he's just attempting to Irish-exit on the whole dating situation. But that's a purely hypothetical story for another post. Seriously. Totes hypothetical. And it definitely didn't end with me coming off like a stage-five clinger. *hypotheticalfacepalm*

Date 18: Tinder Blake

Good-looking guy from Calabasas. Friends with some of my closest USC buddies. Right-swipe. Immediate match. Immediate hello. We've barely exchanged Konnichiwas when Tinder Blake asks if we can switch to text, as he is mere moments from deleting his Tinder account. Feeling really special to be his last hurrah?

I give him my number on a Monday. He waits until Friday to text. How underwhelming. We chat about my week, his dogs, recreational water activities in general, the usual. Sunday evening, he checks in for the actual date-making.

TB: Hey! Good weekend?
Me: Hi! It's been great. How'd yours end up?
TB: Good thanks! If you want to grab drinks this week lmk.
Me: This week's a little crazy, but maybe over the weekend or early next week?
TB: Ya let's do next week. Tuesday!

Friday he asks about my weekend plans. I answer. I ask about his weekend plans.

...

No answer.

His silence rings like a procedural sound check. Courting by numbers over there, TB?

Monday we set up the whens and wheres for Tuesday. Tuesday I reschedule to Wednesday.

Shuffle shuffle. Shuffle shuffle.

Our date eventually happens over beer and wine at 3rd Stop. He is very attractive and very my type, aesthetically speaking. Conversation is easy, if not remarkably simple. "Let's start from the beginning." Seriously, though -- what handbook are you reading from, TB?

His friends are having a joint bachelor-bachelorette party that weekend, complete with matching T's. He's less than excited about it. What he is excited about is the@abikiniaday Instagram he recently discovered. I get to see pictures. Somehow, we manage to keep this conversation going for two and a half hours, at which point my brain gives up. In the midst of answering one of his standardized questions, my train of thought completely derails.

Me: Wait. I have no idea where I was going with this.
TB: It doesn't matter. Should we head out?

Yes we should. But also... it doesn't matter? How... abrupt.

TB: We should do this again.
Me: Yeah, that'd be fun.

Should we? Would it? Did that go well? Why do I feel so off-kilter?

The next day...

TB: Had fun last night. I look forward to my blog article.**

Welp. Here it is!

(In case you're wondering how this one ends -- he texts through the weekend... and then I never hear from him again. Guess I'll have to find someone new to chat with about my new favorite Insta account.)

*Not his real name
**The guys did not know I was doing this as part of a social experiment, but I did tell them that I have a blog where I often dissect my dating experiences. You know, for like a sort of heads up and stuff without completely coloring the whole thing.

Date 17: Tinder Taylor

Tinder Taylor works as a sports agent, so it doesn't take long for our Tinder tête-à-tête to segue to a shared love of college football. Two days later, he sweetly asks me to dinner. Common interests and visible manners? I accept.

We set a date for that coming Sunday, which I manage to completely forget about. (Really need to step up my Outlook game.)

He waits a week to ask me out again. I wait a day to reply. (Not purposefully - just having a little trouble keeping up with all this communication. This experiment has turned into the full time job I've always tried to never have.)

TT: Hey Stacie! Hope you had a good weekend. I'm pretty open this week if it looks good to get together.

Really hoping he can do tonight - I just had a cancellation and need to squeeze someone in to stay on this whole thirty dates in thirty days schedule.

Me: Hey! Weekend was great, thanks. This week's a bit packed bc a friend's coming in town. I'm actually free tonight, though, if you happen to be around.

TT: Ya that sounds good. Have you ever been to Gyu-Kaku? We could meet there at 8 if that works.

Me: Make it 8:30 and that's perfect ☺

Tinder Taylor turns out to be an absolute doll. Shorter than I expected, but a huge sweetheart. And Lord knows my 4.5" heels aren't doing much to help the height discrepancy.

Seconds after our hello, we run into a friend of mine in the entrance of Gyu-Kaku. I introduce TT, immediately adopting the most friend-vibey of mannerisms. The whole blindish date aspect of this thing is still a little weird for me.

As we fire up our Japanese BBQ, we talk. TT is super fond of his job and adores his family - - we discover we both have an autistic brother/it's quite nice to chat similar experiences. We cap it all off with a s'mores sesh, before grabbing the check and hitting the pavement.

Post-goodbyes, I turn to walk toward my apartment. TT gawkily inquires (half at my back) if I'd like to go on a second date. This is the best situation when you like a guy and are so stoked to say yes. This is the worst situation when you think a guy is such a nice guy, but you sort of don't want to say yes.

I say yes.

I say yes knowing I'm probably going to ignore his text messages. Because I'm a child who avoids even the smallest confrontation like the plague. No, you know what - this will be such good practice! Practice being a grownup and saying, hey, I think you're a really great guy, but I just don't think we're a match in the board game of love. But yay to both of us for passing Go?

One week later, I tell him I have gotten back together with my ex.

It's a work in progress.

*not his real name

Date 10: eHarmony Andrew

My first eHarmony date! FINALLY.

Having successfully typed our way through the gauntlet that is eHarmony's Guided Communication, eHarmony Andrew and I decide to switch over to regular old email, where we lay out details for a Monday night date.

I have a 7:00pm basketball game on Monday evening. I'm thinking we meet at or near the venue around 9? Sound like a plan?

- A

p.s. When I entered your info into my phone, I accidentally dialed you, assuming my frantic "end call" flailing didn't save me in time. Sorry about that.

Huge fan of the over-honesty.

We meet at Frolic Room in Hollywood, with the intention of continuing on to Bardot for School Night. Spoiler Alert: We never make it to Bardot.

I first walk in the door to find a tall, corn-fed guy sitting somewhat awkwardly amidst the dinge in his lawyer uniform. Adorable. Apparently a few of the bar's finest had him pegged as a limo driver, so I get to play celebrity client. Totally one of my favorite games?

My initial fears of stilted conversation are immediately vanquished by our impressive list of commonalities: We're both from Nebraska/can chat Pelini, Osborne, and the option for at least a solid few hours. eHarmony Andrew is a former Navy man. My grandpa is a former Navy man. eHarmony Andrew's sister used to model in NY/lived in the East Village, but now lives in Beverly Hills/owns a pastry shop. I used to model in NY/lived in the East Village, but now live in Beverly Hills/consume so many pastries. eHarmony Andrew is a lawyer. I still have an LSAT book on my shelf.

Unsurprisingly, eHarmony Andrew and I close down the dive bar. We then realize we're starving and head over to K24 for some late-night grub. Over a lovely spread of veggie burger and steak, he discloses that he did click on my blog for a second, but x-ed out of the screen immediately, because felt like he was spying on me - he understands that creative people need their freedom.

...Swoon. So cute. Except for the excessive hair-flipping going on over on that side of the table. Let's maybe not do quite so much of that.

eHA: I don't mean to be too direct, but I really enjoyed last night. I know we are both busy so I didn't want to wait too long to try to make plans again. Are you free this weekend? I was thinking dinner on Friday or the NU game on Saturday (SC has a much needed bye).

Love direct. Totally free.

Back at home, one of my besties and I engage in a little girl talk recap via email:

Bestie: How did dates two go? I don't think I can wait for the blogs. Will there be a date three for either of the date twos? Agh! xoxoxo

Me: Bahaha. Both dates were spectacular. Seriously. It's so confusing haha. The fair was basically the quintessential carnival experience - we held hands on the scary ride, made robots in the kids' craft section, he won me the biggest prize, we ate fried food, and got molested by snakes lol. And then he spent half of yesterday sending me links of John Krasinski acting like a marionette.

Arctic Monkeys was super fun. We ended up going to a dive bar after and having a very serious dart competition. And then made out like teenagers. We're doing dinner downtown Saturday (read: right by his apartment) and then this haunted house thing the following Friday.

Tonight was my first eHarmony date with a man who is also from NE. We were supposed to grab a drink and then go to School Night, but we ended up talking for five hours, never made it to Bardot, and went to K24 at 2am.

Tomorrow is date two with Match Nathan. I don't really think there's any chemistry - at least not on my end - but he's SO nice, so I figure it's worth another roll of the dice. He's picking me up at 5:30 and we're going downtown for dinner and then to a show at Mark Taper Forum.

DEEP BREATH.

XX

*Not his real name

Date 7: Tinder Edward

Tinder Edward, 3:50p: Hey it’s Edward. So, I just bought a house today and I have been sent a million things that need to be done by tomorrow. Can we reschedule? Sat or tue?

God, I hate when that happens. I was slightly annoyed – 3:50p on the day of? Really? I’m trying to squeeze in 30 dates over here. I was also slightly relieved. I may or may not have been dying for a night off.  I take him down off the hook and switch the date to Saturday.  Saturday between my 1p coffee date and my friend’s 9p birthday party, to be exact.

He texts me a photo of his mangled leg that evening, stating that he should have skipped his soccer game and gone out with me. I thought you were busy with brand-new-house things? I am both confused and underwhelmed, and reply in kind:

Me, 11:36p: Ouch.

Two days later, we meet at 6p at Duplex on Third. Love a date within walking distance.

He’s a little rough around the edges, but attractive. Add one Australian accent to two Tito’s sodas, and drinks quickly turn into dinner. We do our very best to out-charm and over-friendly one another, but tragically remain a Bunsen burner short of any chemical reaction.

His next stop is a boys’ night at No Vacancy – the exact location of my girl’s shindig. I return from the restroom to catch him texting as much to one of his buddies. We make theoretical plans to bump into each other there.

Fast-forward to later in the evening when I think I see Tinder Edward across the room, but I’ve already spotted a starving artist in the corner with my name on it. (So refreshing to have a bit of real-world serendipity come into play!)

Don’t stop believing?

Date 6: Tinder Lucas

I wake up exhausted from the prior day’s double-header of dates and sigh grudgingly at the thought of doing it all over again.

Dark circles under my eyes. Excessively large pores. Super excessive bloating from carbs and liquor. I better lock one of these guys down quick before this experiment wipes out my aesthetic value.

Today’s schedule:

9a: Wake up, breakfast, etc.

10a: Check messages/reply – all sites (This step always includes a brief meditation period prior to delving in. And by meditation period, I mean several deep, measured breaths accompanied by a full body cringe or twelve.)

11a: Find ­SOMEONE on eHarms. A N Y O N E. (I like to think of this one as less desperation and more…opening myself up to new possibilities. The 5’ 11” and over crowd has proven to be quite sparse on eHarmony and most of my suggested matches are distressingly pale. Our children would never stand a chance against the sun.)

11:45a: Update pics on JDate. (The only chosen people choosing me thus far are around 5’ 4” and seem to speak solely in Hebrew characters – a joke that does, shockingly enough, get old. I mean, it’s hard enough figuring out what guys are trying to say using the English alphabet.)

12p: Read Lucas chats/walk to Le Pain. (After that mutual friend gaffe on my first Tinder date, I’ve taken to reviewing all correspondence prior to each meet ‘n’ greet.)

3p: Recap, etc.

4p: Workout/or nap. (Let’s be honest, we all know how this one ends. I am going to be so out of shape at the end of this month.)

6p: Refresh on Tinder Edward/Walk to Duplex.

9p: No Vacancy for A’s birthday.

This is going to be the longest day ever.

The Scene: Le Pain Quotidien’s outdoor patio. I’m about to enter into a coffee date with TINDER LUCAS*.

I’m casually strolling up to the restaurant, jamming out to something embarrassing on Spotify, when I spot him. Holy sh*t. You gotta be...kidding me. This dude’s hot. Those Tinder pics did him not one iota of justice.

Great, now I’m, like, nervous and stuff. And this stupid idiotic grin-smirk won’t remove itself from my face. Please Lord let me be cool.

TL stands as I stumble toward the two-top.

TL: Stacie?

Of course he has an accent. I nod a little too eagerly. Seriously -- calm yourself, woman.

TL: (In an almost comically soothing tone/cadence) Wow, you’re beautiful.

Is this real life right now?

Me: Ha. You’re one to talk. Did you, like, hire that halo of light to follow you around all day?

TL: (Amused eyebrow raise. Piercing stare.) I don’t like leaving things to chance.

Gulp.

Me: I totally know what you mean. Huge fan of making my own luck. You know, bare hands, dirt, knives, the whole frontier kind of thing.

Please stop talking.

TL: (Two amused eyebrows raised. Piercing stare has become almost penetrating.) I don’t know too much about the frontier, but I do believe in creating your own future – and I’m not afraid to use my hands.

I’m sure you’re not. I feel myself flushing. Everywhere. Where’s that waitress? Can a girl get an iced tea up in here?

...

Me: So, how ‘bout those Knicks?

(Yes, it is sometimes hard to have this much game.)

TL: (Laughs and suddenly seems to get a little shy.) So, uh, I know this is a little strange, but I feel like I should get this out right at the start. I haven’t been completely honest with you.

Welp, that was quick. This is real life.

TL: My name isn’t really Lucas.

That's...not what I was expecting.

Me: It’s about to get really weird, isn’t it.

TL: Ha it’s not that weird, I promise. Well, it’s a little weird. Basically, I just – well, not just – but earlier last year, I ended a really long relationship. And my ex’s friends are still my friends on Facebook, and they can be pretty ruthless. So I didn’t want them coming across my name on Tinder and having it get back to my ex. So, I created a fake profile and linked it to that. My real name is actually George.

Hesitantly detailed in that delicate European accent of his, this is, somehow, the most adorable story ever. We can get around to color-sorting flags a bit later on.

Turns out, TL is more than just a man of many names (and presumably stellar abs) – he’s also a man of multiple occupations. The first of which is professional triathlete. (Swoon.) He generally doesn’t drink due to training requirements, but thanks to a recent Achilles injury, he’s down to hop off the wagon for our next date. (Yes, please!) The second through eighteenth or so of his occupations are of a more entrepreneurial nature. He’s a little vague on the nitty-gritties, but I’m pretty sure they sound legitimate. And I’m one hundred percent sure he sounds passionate about them. Hearing so much passion.

The old me might have balked at the quiet demeanor and Euro-ish qualities, but this is a new Stacie. A new, open-minded, lookin’-a-little-deeper Stacie. And today I’m stepping out of my comfort zone and into a pair of perfectly toned arms. (You know, for, like, a super sincere, post-date hug.)

I think this is what they call a moment of growth?

* Not his real name.

Date 2: OkCupid Taylor

Some things you can never unsee. For me, most of those things have come courtesy of OkCupid. Smarmy pick-up lines, over-sexual innuendo, offensively poor grammar – you name the Creep tactic, I’ve shuddered tigerishly at it. And I’ve only been on this thing for a week. So when my eyes finally land on a normal, “Hi Stacie, How’s your day going?” I write back with almost gleeful abandon. Meaning, I babble nonsensically for about five lines too many.

Fortunately, OkCupid Taylor seems to take my nerdish excitement in stride, countering with all the typical get-to-know-you questions.

I try my best to scare him off, mentioning red flag modeling years, waxing poetic on the merits of green juice, and linking him to my blog.

Man, can nothing deter this guy? According to OkCupid founder, Christian Rudder, interactions that exceed four messages are likely headed straight to the friend zone, and OkC T and I are capping off at a hearty fourteen, but I’m willing to play through to see if we can prove him wrong. Dinner it is!

OkCupid Taylor offers to make the drive up from Sunset Beach for a mid-week meal at Sugarfish in Beverly Hills. I graciously accept. Being a girl definitely has its perks when it comes to the logistical side of dating.

With everyone presenting the best version of themselves online, I find myself unconsciously building these guys up in my head before we meet. Walking over to the restaurant, I realize I’ve got OkC T pegged as tall, witty, charming, sweet – and a perfect match in the chemistry department. But, you know, my expectations are totally, reasonably low.

He meets me outside, thankfully alleviating that whole, hi-I'm-here-to-meet-a-stranger-like-a-high-class-hooker hostess stand situation, and we cozy up to the bar for a plateful of sushi and a couple shots of sake.

OkC T is tall, witty, charming, and sweet – the chemistry is questionable. Maybe Rudder was onto something with his BFF metrics.

Conversation is easy and entertaining. OkC T works in the superfoods industry, but doesn't believe in superfoods. I proceed to make him tell me all about his company, attempting to discern the exact number of dates it will take for me to qualify for the friends and family discount. Because I definitely believe in superfoods. He does offer to send me the files for the complementary P90x workout regimen. I choose to not take that as a hint.

Post-dinner, OkC T insists on walking me home. This is where things start to get weird. I live close, but not that close. I just happen to be one of approximately three LA residents** who actually enjoy a pedestrian lifestyle. He pauses every few blocks thinking this is finally going to be the one we turn at.

Me: Oh no, just a little up this way still. You really don’t have to walk me the whole way.
OkC T: No, are you kidding? I’m having a great time. It’s such a nice night for a walk.

(Repeat six times.)

Finally outside my building, we chat awkwardly for a bit, with him standing just a touch too close. Are we just talking here, or are you working up the nerve to kiss me? He reaches for my hand. Uh, ok, we can do the whole romantical thing, I guess. Oh, nope. Nevermind. Going for the BlackBerry. Right.

OkC T: How does this thing even work?
Me: You just swipe up!

I demonstrate on the phone he’s now holding in his hand. The screen glows out with messages from Tinder Brandon, OkCupid Kevin, and eHarmony James. Welp.

…

We hug it out goodbye.

He walks back to his car. Alone.

Two dates in, two decent guys. Maybe this online dating thing isn’t so bad after all!

Then again, maybe it is.