Date 16: OkCupid Taylor

First date: Friend vibe-ish sushi dinner at Sugarfish in Beverly Hills.
Second date: Super cute trip to the County Fair.

Third date:

OkCupid Taylor: Are you free Sunday night? I was thinking we could go to one of those full-service movie theaters.

Adorable. I'm totally in.

Sunday night, I'm running late yet again and am weirdly nervous about it. Probably because it's rude and annoying of me. Hopefully not because I'm already starting to get a tiny bit attached.

Thanks to some excellent navigation, I make it to the theatre just five minutes behind schedule. OkCupid Taylor is nowhere to be found. Well, this is entirely odd and uncomfortable. I grab a table over in the bar area and wait it out. Ten minutes later, I wonder if I'm being stood up. Does that actually happen? Like, is that a real thing, and is it happening to me?

I decide to text him to find out.

Me: I'm here! 5 minutes early for my usual 15 minutes delay.
OkC T: Hah just parked on my way.

Amazing. Possibly a real thing. Not happening to me. Thank God.

He already has our tickets in hand and we make it into the theatre just in time for the last of the previews. I learn that "full-service theatre" means "dine-in movie". Comfy seats, a menu with decent enough options, and a full bar -- big fan.

This should be a pretty foolproof date -- I mean, all I have to do is sit there and not do anything weird while staring at a screen for two hours. Perhaps easier for some than others.

I start by kicking out my footrest just seconds before a ten-person group comes down our aisle, forcing every single one of them to maneuver (poorly) around my 6 ft. long legs and dangling feet in the dark. Then, in the middle of the first particularly weighty cinematic moment, I forget how to hold onto a fork and it clatters against the ground for an abnormally lengthy amount of time. Awesome. Really holding it together over here.

About halfway through the movie, OkC T and I both find out that the seats make those never-get-old sounds of flatulence when they recline. Because we're five-years-old, we think this is hysterical. The people around us do not think this is hysterical. OkC T decides to take this special little bonding moment to reach over and interlock his hand with mine.

Oh God. Already? There is so much movie left. How long are you supposed to do this for? How am I supposed to know when it's okay to unlatch my gentle, gentle grasp? (Don't get me wrong -- I LOVE holding hands...but like most things in life, I like to know that I have an easy out in case things get awkward. I'm looking at you, gym membership.)

Fortunately, the whole handholding thing goes pretty smoothly (read: not sweatily) and we decide to decamp to the restaurant next door for a post-movie drink and dessert. Several truths are revealed. Namely, that OkC T was a huge nerd in high school. Like, LAN-party huge. If you're like me and have never heard of a LAN party, Wikipedia defines it as, "a temporary gathering of people with computers or compatible game consoles, between which they establish a local area network (LAN), primarily for the purpose of playing multiplayer video games." Hilarious -- and so very endearing. So many things make so much more sense now.

Back at my car...

OkC T: I really want to kiss you, but I have these cold sore things from the fair last week. It's really embarrassing -- I get them whenever it gets really hot.

Ok, so slightly less endearing -- but also kind of hilarious. We'll just go ahead and hug this one out.

*not his real name

Date 8: OkCupid Taylor

Today is the day of my second date with OkCupid Taylor. It is also the day of my second date with Tinder Oliver*. It is also my third double-header of dates in a row. Something tells me I will be sleeping very hard tonight.

Tinder Taylor: Hey Stacie - how does 7 sound for tonight?

F. Tinder Taylor. How did I forget to put him in my calendar? This multiple dates a day thing is just too damn confusing.

Not wanting him to think I'm a flaky jerk, and somehow feeling like the truth won't really play out in my favor, I decide to blame my rain check request on family.

Me: Hi! Omg I'm so sorry. I ended up having to go up to SB for some family stuff. Sort of a long story. Can we do something this week instead?

A long story I have yet to invent. Being that I'm a terrible liar, I make a mental note to come up with something plausible many hours in advance of our eventual date -- and guiltily beseech Karma to be kind.

OkCupid Taylor's and my first date was a decently entertaining - though somewhat friendzone-y - dinner at Sugarfish. Today's activity is the LA County Fair. My inner six-year-old is beyond excited.

We're set to meet at the fairgrounds around noon, as we're coming from opposite directions. He lives in Sunset Beach, a logistical fact that stamps this dalliance with an inky expiration date, but alas, dally we shall.

I hit horrific traffic en route.

Me: I really underestimated this whole traffic situation. In the parking line thing.

I click to send, realizing with horror that the text is on its way to Tinder Taylor. I am officially the worst.

Me: Oops sorry. You're not my mother.

TT: Hah I was very confused!

Me: Haha this damn touchscreen is so sensitive.

TT: Ha true. Say hi to mom.

...Ha. Lies multiplied and crisis averted, I turn my attention to the date at hand. I'm slightly hungover and weirdly nervous -- not the most charming of combinations. Where's a Bloody Mary when you need one? Ahh glory be. There is a mini bottle of wine in the gift bag I stashed in my car after an event earlier in the week. Hello, small children in pigtails and Dora the Explorer backpacks, pay no attention to the drunkard kicking back a cabernet in the backseat of her car. Just keeping things classy over here.

OkC T and I are both a bit quiet and awkward at first -- on my end, it's mostly because I'm trying really hard not to breathe my mid-day alcoholism into his face -- but the day gradually transitions into one huge carnival of cute. We hold hands on the alarmingly squeaky ride, he wins me a giant stuffed Nemo, we split the trio of fried foods, I get hit on by the old man pirate character and sexually violated by a boa constrictor.

Once we've officially won at every adult event, we sneak into the kids' arts and crafts section to design and assemble cardboard robots, earning the adoration of the elderly volunteers. Our creations even have special little sound effect: A high-pitched "Eeee!" for my wide-eyed girl and a robotic "Mmmmrobot" for OkC T's accordion-armed boy. Living life one rom-com at a time.

I have to speed things along at the end to get back in time to meet Tinder Oliver for our date that evening, but I think we accomplished what we came for. OkCupid Taylor walks me to my car, and once again we stand there awkwardly close and silent-ish at the end of our date. Is he just never going to kiss me? I lean forward for a delicate little liplock. A goofy grin spreads across his face. Oh man, is this what it would have been like to date as a teenager? (I was too busy brown-nosing and, like, being involved, to find out for myself.)

We part ways and I speed home to change, nap, and repeat before the evening's Arctic Monkeys concert with Tinder Oliver.

*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.

That Is So Not Ok, Cupid

OkCupid. Match's cheap little cousin. Free, actually, which means there are about zero barriers to entry. This should be interesting.

I get my profile set up pretty quickly, stealing/or reworking both answers and pictures from other sites:

The six things I could never do without: Wit, sarcasm, charm, favorable aesthetics, coconut water and music.
I'm really good at: Standardized tests. And Mad Libs.
What I'm doing with my life: My father asks me this very question every single day.
I spend a lot of time thinking about: You. And I mean that in the creepiest way possible.

The 'Staff Robot' forbids "full nudity, extreme close ups, pets, cars, baby photos, artwork, images you've added yourself to, etc." Welp. There goes my Instagram.

Fortunately, they've taken no clear position on unenthusiastic model shots from horrifically cheesy Bravo reality shows. (Bottom row, center.) Just trying to showcase my industrious nature?

Next up is the 'Questions' tab. According to co-founder, Christian Rudder, 50 percent of your OkCupid matches come from commonalities. They suss out said commonalities in this section via an optional series of make-or-breaks. These topics range from super basic (Do you believe in showering, can you perform simple math calculations, would you date a smoker, are you a homophobe) to super personal (Would you have an abortion, what's your greatest motivation in life, how long do your romantic relationships usually last, how open are you with your feelings....)

I decide to put that latter half on the back burner for the time being and head over to browse my matches. Like any shopping site worth its e-commerce salt, OkC allows you to filter your results by SO MANY THINGS. Though height is capped at 6'4", which feels a little awkward -- almost as awkward as the "used up" body type option. I decide to let that one lie.

According to OkC, 153, 812 users are online right now. Holy mother of Hades. I brace myself for an onslaught of potential suitors.

17.

There are 17 potential suitors.

You try broadening your search settings. Jerks.

(And no, sexxxysaurus, I don't want to chat right now. On a little bit of a mission here. A mission that doesn't involve frosted tips/or Ray-Bans.)

Perhaps my inbox will yield some unexpected gems??

Unlike Tinder, you don't have to give a green light to someone before they are allowed to message you. This leaves you with a lot of sh*t to sort through.

I expect this to be a lot of creepy sh*t. It's more just sort of a lot of...weird. Cheesy pick-up lines, corny jokes, false bravado, intrusive questions...

If anything, it nails home the fact that hitting on girls is really, really hard for some guys -- usually because they're trying too hard. (I can say that because I'm always trying too hard.) It seems more productive to highlight a few I found decently charming, rather than to highlight the many misfires: 

I like this one because he could secretly be insulting me and I wouldn't even know it. (Just looking for a healthy relationship over here!)

Math puns always work. 76% of the time.

I think there is in Europe?

l will call out this misfire, because he brought kittens into it and that's just not ok:

Gross.

Out of all of these men, I reply to two. The first is a 5' 10", forty-year-old who is not really my type (yay for hitting three of my rules!), but he did work for both NPR and the BBC, does have a British accent, and did call my profile adorable....

The second is this guy, whom we shall call OkCupid Owen:

A 6'2", thirty two-year-old volleyball player who lives in Santa Monica. He describes himself as a kind, considerate, competitive dude with a dry, sarcastic sense of humor.

Game on.

...Not that kind of game.