"I think I live you."

Well known fact. One cannot meet new people without one taking some form of risk and putting herself "out there".

Warning: "Out there" is not a pretty place to be.

So I decided that over the next month or so I will begin to reintegrate myself into society, through work and socializing. Step one - I submitted a resume. Step two - I made a profile on an internet dating site. The resume is out there and in the pile waiting to be read. Twenty-four hours after writing my profile, I'm already wanting it to remove it. I'm starting to realize that either I'm too picky (given my twenties, I HIGHLY doubt that) or there are very few men in my city who are... of my style. Oh fuck it, I'm just trying to be polite and inoffensive. There are no interesting men on internet dating sites, and if they are, they are very well hidden - possibly by terrible grammar. I have browsed for hours (what the hell else do I have to do with my day) and was shocked by how immediately I was weeding people out.

10% - pictures of bad gang lettering tattoos on their acne-scarred backs. Don't get me wrong, I love a good acne scarred back - it's the crap lettering and the fact that they seem to think that's the only picture I'm interested in, that's my problem. Show me your face, or you and your pets, whatever. Don't think that a woman is only interested in the one piece of (should be) regrettable ink you own.

80% - okay. There's a section that asks you to list your favourite books/movies/television. I ruled out 80% because none of them mentioned A SINGLE BOOK. Call me a Judgy-Mcjudgy-pants, but really??

8% - eliminated for: *terrible* grammar (I'm okay with bad grammar, but some was just downright unforgiveable), pictures that included their children (don't pimp out your cute kid just to get laid), being my ex-boyfriend (seriously.), mentioning "UFC" as a passtime, or talking about how much they love to travel. The last is, I will admit, a huge judgement, simply based on the last travel-lover I met online, fell in love with, and then was left because he... went travelling. That's all me, not you.

The last two percent. Well, there was a really lovely guy who I almost messaged until I noticed that in his profile he spoke about how much he loves his girlfriend. And then there were the two guys who messaged me.

Man 1: "Awesome tatties!!! Do u have more than the 1 on ur arm?"

Man 2: "I think I live you." ....... Did I miss that version of the David Cassidy hit?? "I think I LIVE you, so what am I so afraid of? I'm afraid that there's no sure of, a LIVE there is no cure of."

Sigh. For the record, I'm sure there are single men out there who have just as many horror stories. I believe you. I'm simply telling mine, because these are my experiences.

Though I refuse to give up on internet dating so quickly, I was feeling a little discouraged and decided to take another first step - going out on a Friday night. It has been a looo-oooong time. So. I gussied up, texted a dear friend to meet up with her and another friend in a relaxed lounge atmosphere, and set out on my way. After all, I realize that I need to dip my toes in the water before diving straight in. Good place to start - drinks with close friends in a quiet joint. Bonus - the quiet joint is a five minute walk from my apartment. What could go wrong?

As I begin my walk, I notice across the street that my favourite sex-trade worker is begging for change outside of a seedy club. I had no change, but as I know she's a smoker I cross the road to give her a smoke and say hey. As I cross the road, she is accosted by two mid-twenties "dudes" and, for lack of a better term, harassed. I brush past the guys, give her a smoke, and continue on my way. The guys decide to follow me. The more rambunctious of the two, unable to get my attention (imagine that) decides to jump in front of me and get really, really, uncomfortably close. As in, touching me, and two inches from my face. I elbow him *hard* in the ribs and continue walking. He clearly decides in his cheap-draft beer haze that since the "coming on strong" routine didn't work, that he would simply follow me, trying to get my attention.

"Hey you! Sorry, man, I didn't mean to get that close, you know I just wanna..."
"Fuck you."
"Woooooah! We have a live one on our hands! Hey sweeti..."
"Fuck you."
"But I thought I could...."
"Fuck you."
"YOU HAVE A SHITTY HAIRCUT."

Well that put me in my place.

I went to the lounge, met up with my friends, and had a lovely experience. Good laughs, good company, an all around good time, and definitely worth getting out of my jammies and gussying up. That being said. I closed the door on my apartment at 11:00 and breathed a deep sigh of relief after cruising past hoards (no really, hoards) of rude, disrespectful, mysoginistic wankers in the five minute walk home.

If I want to meet new people, and if I want to go out with good friends, I need to put myself "out there". But mark my words - "out there" is not a pretty place to be.

Climbing back into my jammies with relief,
PS