It was soon after I left the marital residence for good. The wife had enough of Sid Stein and his book "A Little on the Side - The Married Man's Ultimate Guide to Cheating or How to Save Your Marriage." I am Sid Stein. This is a story about my first internet date.
I decided to try online dating. I had sifted through the local profiles on Match.com without finding anyone appealing. So, I signed up for JDate, a Jewish dating site. I am Jewish and I know my children would prefer me to find someone Jewish. I should probably add my Jewish mother to that list. I still believe in family first. So far, anyway. JDate really should be called Neurotics Online, but that's a blog for another day. For those of you who have never tried online dating, I will offer a brief explanation. Basically, you log on and search for your soulmate. Some have pictures, some don't. Personally, if there is no picture, I don't bother. You can refine your search by geographic area or simply look at all the profiles online. Jews are scattered throughout the world. That being said, the main concentrations of Jewish women are located in the metropolitan area of New York, Los Angeles, Florida and Israel. Since I live closest to New York City, I thought I would look there first.
My first significant contact was with a divorced woman living on the north shore of Long Island, allegedly in a beach house. Near Billy Joel, no less. She had posted one picture which I found reasonably appealing and within acceptable parameters. She was engaging online so we exchanged phone numbers. She had a nice voice and a sense of humor. She was also quite flirtatious. She wanted to meet me. Why not, I thought?
Long Island is quite a shlep from Albany, so we decided to meet in Manhattan on a spring Saturday for lunch. After that, we would play it by ear. This was the plan. I would take the train to Penn Station where she would pick me up. Then we would go to lunch.
Saturday came and off I went, taking an Amtrak train to Penn Station. I love the ride along the Hudson River and was brimming with anticipation. You could even say I was excited.
We coordinated the pick-up by cellphone. I was to wait on 7th Avenue and look for a black VW Jetta. A Jetta? That didn't sound right. She had told me she was a successful event planner. There are quite a few of them in NYC, I am learning. How many events could there be and doesn't anyone plan their own anymore? And, what was she doing driving a Jetta?
After waiting about ten minutes, a somewhat dilapidated Jetta pulled up to the sidewalk. I hopped in and she stepped on the gas. My dear friends, what can I say? Horror! Who was this hideous person behind the evil grin? Could it be the same person in the picture? Had she aged 20 years overnight? And gained 50 pounds? Why were her clothes so messy? How did she get so wrinkled and why were her pores so big? I reached for my pocket defibrillator. Once I gained control of my senses, I said hello. My mind was racing. Why hadn't I asked for more pictures? I was as mad at myself as I was upset at her deception. She, on the other hand, was quite happy. And talkative. I was panicking and thinking exit strategy.
I took long, steady breaths and tried talking. Words sputtered out uneasily. I told myself. Okay, Sid, you made a mistake. You're new to internet dating. How bad could it get? Just suck it up, go to lunch, try to eat without getting sick, tell her you had a nice time, and then get the hell out of there. No problem. Be a gentleman. Somewhere beneath her horrifying exterior, there had to be hiding at least a shred of humanity.
My date took an immediate turn for the worse on E. 27th Street. Quasimodo stopped her unpimped ride in front of the Gershwin Hotel. Interesting facade, by the way. http://www.gershwinhotel.com/english/site1.html As I was admiring the hotel, my heart stopped again. My date meant business. She had reserved a room and wanted sex. Trust me. No way was I stepping foot into that hotel. Not with her anyway and not even if she was a necrophiliac and I was dead.
I decided to try online dating. I had sifted through the local profiles on Match.com without finding anyone appealing. So, I signed up for JDate, a Jewish dating site. I am Jewish and I know my children would prefer me to find someone Jewish. I should probably add my Jewish mother to that list. I still believe in family first. So far, anyway. JDate really should be called Neurotics Online, but that's a blog for another day. For those of you who have never tried online dating, I will offer a brief explanation. Basically, you log on and search for your soulmate. Some have pictures, some don't. Personally, if there is no picture, I don't bother. You can refine your search by geographic area or simply look at all the profiles online. Jews are scattered throughout the world. That being said, the main concentrations of Jewish women are located in the metropolitan area of New York, Los Angeles, Florida and Israel. Since I live closest to New York City, I thought I would look there first.
My first significant contact was with a divorced woman living on the north shore of Long Island, allegedly in a beach house. Near Billy Joel, no less. She had posted one picture which I found reasonably appealing and within acceptable parameters. She was engaging online so we exchanged phone numbers. She had a nice voice and a sense of humor. She was also quite flirtatious. She wanted to meet me. Why not, I thought?
Long Island is quite a shlep from Albany, so we decided to meet in Manhattan on a spring Saturday for lunch. After that, we would play it by ear. This was the plan. I would take the train to Penn Station where she would pick me up. Then we would go to lunch.
Saturday came and off I went, taking an Amtrak train to Penn Station. I love the ride along the Hudson River and was brimming with anticipation. You could even say I was excited.
We coordinated the pick-up by cellphone. I was to wait on 7th Avenue and look for a black VW Jetta. A Jetta? That didn't sound right. She had told me she was a successful event planner. There are quite a few of them in NYC, I am learning. How many events could there be and doesn't anyone plan their own anymore? And, what was she doing driving a Jetta?
After waiting about ten minutes, a somewhat dilapidated Jetta pulled up to the sidewalk. I hopped in and she stepped on the gas. My dear friends, what can I say? Horror! Who was this hideous person behind the evil grin? Could it be the same person in the picture? Had she aged 20 years overnight? And gained 50 pounds? Why were her clothes so messy? How did she get so wrinkled and why were her pores so big? I reached for my pocket defibrillator. Once I gained control of my senses, I said hello. My mind was racing. Why hadn't I asked for more pictures? I was as mad at myself as I was upset at her deception. She, on the other hand, was quite happy. And talkative. I was panicking and thinking exit strategy.
I took long, steady breaths and tried talking. Words sputtered out uneasily. I told myself. Okay, Sid, you made a mistake. You're new to internet dating. How bad could it get? Just suck it up, go to lunch, try to eat without getting sick, tell her you had a nice time, and then get the hell out of there. No problem. Be a gentleman. Somewhere beneath her horrifying exterior, there had to be hiding at least a shred of humanity.
My date took an immediate turn for the worse on E. 27th Street. Quasimodo stopped her unpimped ride in front of the Gershwin Hotel. Interesting facade, by the way. http://www.gershwinhotel.com/english/site1.html As I was admiring the hotel, my heart stopped again. My date meant business. She had reserved a room and wanted sex. Trust me. No way was I stepping foot into that hotel. Not with her anyway and not even if she was a necrophiliac and I was dead.
There was no parking in front of the Gershwin, so she pulled into a land lot about half a block up the street. As we got out of the car, she handed me the parking stub. I placed it in my pocket.
I will give my date credit for one thing besides deceiving me. She apparently sensed my panic and asked if I wouldn't prefer to get a bite to eat before going to the hotel. Maybe I was hungry after my journey. Honestly, I was speechless. I could only think about how to get out of there in one piece.
She continued the conversation without my contribution and asked a strange question. "So, do you think I am pretty?" Stunned, I thought about all the profiles I had read on JDate. As you might expect, many women stress the qualities of honesty and integrity. Many of their husbands were liars and cheats. Most are looking for that one honest man. Armed with that knowledge, I let out a simple "no." For once, she was quiet. Then she laughed. "Surely, you are kidding me," she said. "No, I really don't think you are pretty," I replied. Now she was horrified. She wanted to know how I could possibly think or say that. No one had ever said that to her before. She exclaimed that everyone thought she was pretty. What a collection of liars live in this country! I softened my comments by saying that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. That did not appease her one bit. Her eyes began to well up with tears. I was making Quasimodo cry.
She sat on a bench and looked at me. "You really don't think I am pretty?" she asked for the third time. And, for the charmed third time, I said "Sorry, no I don't."
She stood up. She spun around once, obviously contemplating the situation. Then she asked the most absurd question I have ever heard. "So, are you disappointed?" I didn't have it in me to answer her directly. Even I have retained some humanity.
So, I did the only thing I thought was reasonable. I reached into my pocket, handed her the parking stub and told her that I was going to go. And, dear readers, off I went.
It was a nice spring day, and since I had just arrived, I thought I might as well take advantage of what Manhattan has to offer. I walked to the Museum of Modern Art. Why not make the best of it? I had a lovely time. It's a great museum.
I took the earlier train back to Albany and still made it out Saturday night. Had a great time by the way.
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