Hopeless. Romantic.

The day was off to a good start, minus the splitting headache that greeted me as I opened my eyes.

I managed to make a decent cup of coffee this morning — something I often mess up by over-creamering or over-sweetening, I had a little bit of time to relax in my jammies and bond with the TV, and Sleepless in Seattle was on. Score.

I almost watched the DVD of it last night, but was too tired. Big thanks to the universe for making sure I managed to get my fix before the weekend was up.

One of the things I adore most about the movie is that it takes the term “hopeless romantic” and cuts it in two. They cover the hopeless angle pretty well, as well as — of course — the romantic aspect. I’m pretty sure we’ve all been on both sides before. As for me, lately I feel more hopeless than romantic.

I joined a dating site earlier this week and, true to form, promptly hid my profile two days later. I have no idea what I was thinking. I guess it boils down to this: multiple friend recommendations to try Match.com do not a good idea make.

I have slight financial guilt about hiding out so soon, being that — for some unknown reason — I bought six months instead of one at a time. But I decided that if I just don’t go to the grocery store for the next few weeks, things should even out….so I plan on eating a lot of soup, frozen vegetables, canned tuna and pudding during April — all the things I seem to accumulate and ignore.

So, yeah. Six months. Really, who do I think I am? Have I not learned from past forays into the world of online dating and a plethora of meetings-gone-wrong?

The most recent disaster isn’t recent at all — it was about six years ago when I figured I’d give eHarmony a shot. A guy invited me to an Angels game, and I said yes — realizing that I could very well end up regretting my decision sometime during the first inning. But it was summer, it was a weekend, and a cold beer and a ballgame seemed like a great way to spend an afternoon. My mistake. By the fourth inning the guy wanted to make out, and by the sixth inning I had excused myself to go home. He sent me a lovely follow-up text calling me the C-word. Awesome.

Shortly after that, I was delivered a new “match” by the site, and the photo made me gag when I opened his profile. It was my client.

Who was married.

I peaced out on my membership three months early, and that was the end of my online dabbling — until this week. And this week lasted a whopping two days. Fantastic.

There’s a scene in Sleepless in Seattle where Tom Hanks’ character is explaining to his son that he isn’t interested in replying to the myriad letters flooding their mailbox as a result of having been on a national radio show.

“I’d much rather just see someone I like, and get a feeling about them,” he says.

Yeah. I guess that’s the same for me. I’ve always admired the old-fashioned: typewriters, donuts, drive-in movies, oil lamps. The problem comes in when your feeling is wrong. One example out of many: I’ve had serious crushes on two guys — one in college, the other about four years ago — and both of them were gay. Sigh. Am I that clueless?


Tonight, despite being 97% hopeless and 3% romantic (as an aside, that 3% is currently reserved for wine, cake and cheese), I am thankful for the Sleepless reminder that it’s OK to not force myself to dabble online, and that it’s fine to let things happen the old-fashioned way. Maybe a letter in a bottle or a note tied to a bunch of balloons is the way to go?

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