A few years ago Keith bought me flowers. I know he was trying to be sweet, but we had been fighting, and I felt so misunderstood and I’m the kind of practical gal who thinks ‘flowers, really?’ And I told him so. I know it hurt him, because he had been trying to be sweet, but I think I remember shouting something like ‘flowers don’t fix things? they don’t change things, I don’t even really like flowers all that much?!’
I might have been a bitch.
It’s not that I’m opposed to flowers, but I have sorta never seen the point in getting a bouquet of things that will die in a few days. I’m not the sentimental romantic like my sister, who still probably has every corsage and bouquet from every high school prom date. She seriously used to hang that dusty shit from her ceiling and it always felt like a graveyard of broken relationships. I’m a little more Daria and a little less Suzy Sunshine. But, I do appreciate sweet gestures.
Like books. The time Keith bought me a book for my birthday, that was this book within a book idea, that I loved and felt really special.
Or like today, after our ‘discussion’ on finances, where he comes home from Costco grocery shopping and says:
“Don’t pay attention to the sizing, because I wanted ones that were long enough for you, but here are some $15 sweatpants that I thought you would like.”
And I swooned.
Because seriously. That kind of shit is sexy. I put the on and they are so comfy and long enough (hard for a 6’1 girl, without buying men’s pants) and a lovely charcoal gray. And I thought “fuck flowers, buy me sweatpants any day.” Yeah, that is my kind of romance.
I think I could possibly make 14.56 million dollars for coaching people in the fine art of online dating. You know where I would start? Profile pictures. I get it poly/bi/queer ladies…you’ve got hair. Brightly colored hair. Dreadlocked hair. No hair. That’s cool. But why do you take pictures of your hair with a 1.2 megapixel camera from 2004? Also, are you so drunk that your hand shakes constantly, because BLURRY.
Seriously, that’s what I’ve noticed so far. Online dating is full of special snowflakes who feel the need to pick 4 pictures of them in costumes or with dia de los muertos facepaint. I get it, you’re into cool and edgy and offbeat things. So am I. I went barefoot for a year (there are no pictures of my feet online). I was kidnapped by a taxi driver in India while living there in 2006 (no pictures of me in front of the Taj Mahal). I have my wrists pierced and a tattoo on my ribs (also not visible in my profile pictures). I don’t get it. I want people to know all the cool things about me, too, but I am not my wrist piercing. I am not my tattoo. I am a cool person WITH these cool things.
Maybe I’m just a bitter Betty after sending like 25 messages to seemingly ‘normalish’ people online, and only getting 2 back (1 lady was clearly cray cray, and another is really boring in her messages, so I have no idea what to talk to her about). I’m not turned off by flaming purple hair or the giant rose tattoo on your thigh, but think that could possibly be an element of our possible relationship, and not the whole thing.
Thoughts people? How do you feel about the pictures people post? The quality of the pictures? How shallow and ‘like a man,’ I am for judging these ladies based on their profile pics?