I logged into my Myspace account for the first time in a while and much to my surprise I found a plethora of new emails from random men wanting to chat. I am not going to respond to any of these emails for reasons that will become clear as you read along; However, these examples will illustrate the variety of approaches a person can take when “cold calling” a random stranger on a social networking site.

Let’s start with the right approach (if there is such a thing), shall we?

From a 29 year old man who lives in my area:
Hey there, Nice profile and pics :)

How are you?


This is a pretty good tactic: Friendly, short, and sweet. He is about my age (ahem, no heckling) and he is local (i.e. not looking for a mail order bride). He did not say anything offensive and/or offer up reasons why I should let him into my pants. He just thought I was cute and tried to make a connection. If I was looking to date someone new (and if I wasn’t terrified of online dating) perhaps I would write back. However, this person’s photos are all of him in various stages of shirtlessness so that’s a big strike against. He’s not unattractive, but those of you who know me personally will know that this kind of machismo is not really my thing. But that aside, this one is probably the best example (at least in my inbox) of how to approach women online.

Here is the runner up:

From a 45 year old, who is also local:
i think ur very pretty ,im wondering if we could chat sometimes. thanx

Again, the message was sort of sweet and mostly inoffensive if you don’t count the hideous grammar, typos, and text message jargon. It’s a bit more suggestive than the first example which is why I’d be less likely to respond. And I suppose for some women my age 45 is within their dating range but he’s a little too senior for me (if he really IS 45 and not 55 which I suspect, from his picture, is the case). Although, Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp are both 45 and I don’t think I would refuse a dinner invitation from either one of them. Hm. Maybe the point is if you look like Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp then you can hit on anyone. Sigh…what was i…talking…about? OH right.

And here are 2 examples of ways to crash and burn.

From a shirtless 43 year old man (who should really put on a shirt) in the US:
Subject Line: hellloooooooo???????????

helloo---i am writing to ask you to write and try to be friendsi am going to be in that area this week from the uninted states and i need a friend. have a drink, see a movie or something fun---maybe shoot some pool--whatevercould i get you interested????? please maybe just set and talk--------

YIKES! I don’t even know where to begin. 'Hello' has one 'o' and should be capitalized if it’s at the beginning of a sentence. I’ve never heard of the "uninted states" and it’s not my fault that you need a friend, loser! No, you could not get me interested even if you say please and use an inappropriate amount of question marks! Set and talk? Set what? The table? A volleyball?
The timer on my self destruct device?
ARGH!
No, No, No! The tone of desperation and the incomprehensibility of this message is enough to send any single gal worth her salt running for the hills.

And now, drum roll please…

This one is from someone who claims to be 22 (yeah right) from the US:
Hey pretty,I saw your pick on your page and i must confess that you look real pretty.I am from ____________ am single and 47 years willing to settle down with an honest and God fearing woman..anway would you mind introducing yourself to me becos i really want to know you, pls accept me my invitation of been that man you have always expect to have in your life...Love to be more than just a friend.
This one is kind of my favourite for so many reasons! First of all, his picture looks like it was taken at a Sears portrait studio and might appear on his RE/Max business card. Second, there is NO WAY this man is 22 unless he his real name is Benjamin Button. (mmm...Brad Pitt...)

Third, if I have always expected this man to be in my life, then my first call should be to a counsellor who specializes in boosting self esteem. I also love that he is willing to settle down as though he’d be doing some honest and God-fearing woman a favour. Puh-leeze.

I’m not trying to sound like a cold-hearted person here. I’m trying to do a favour for anyone who is considering using Facebook/Twitter/Myspace/whathaveyou as a dating pool. It may not be the best place to troll for chicks/dudes for the simple fact that this is not its intended purpose. But if you are going to try, then be smart about it.

Here are some Dos and Don’ts:
Don’t:
Act desperate. Refrain from words like pleeeeeaaaaase and phrases like “I’m lonely and sad I really think we could be great companions.” This is one of THE best ways to stay single (and celibate) forever.

Be Aggressive. Don’t come on too strong. And for the love of Gouda refrain from any and all sexual over/undertones.

Address the girl as sexy, pretty, baby, beautiful, etc in your email. It’s presumptuous and weird.

Be a stalker. If the person you contact does not reply, take that as a rejection and walk away. Take your fingers off the keyboard and shut ‘er down. Period.

Be longwinded. No one needs your life story in a "pick up"email. That’s what your profile is for.

Cast a wide net. There was a guy on myspace who sent these kinds of emails to almost every girl I knew on that site. Girls talk. If you are going to cut and paste the same lame email and send it to different girls, make sure they are not virtual friends.

Send unsolicited emails to girls who haven’t indicated in some way that they are single and looking for an online love connection. Just don’t. It is unwelcome.


Do:

Use proper grammar and full sentences. It’s not a text message or a telegram. You aren’t paying by the character. Put in a little effort.

Be polite.

Keep it friendly and brief.


I really hope that helps! I'm here to help. If I can help just one person out there, then my work here is done.
Until next time...

I’m feeling a bit anxious and weepy today for no particular reason. Perhaps it’s all the rainy weather we’ve been having. Perhaps it’s a ‘girl’ thing. Perhaps it’s because it is Monday after a particularly full weekend. Maybe there is no real reason. It happens sometimes. So I figured I would make a list of gratitude to try to get me out of this funk:

I am grateful that the weather is cooperating today! Aside from the increased Vitamin D that I am no doubt getting, it also means that Annabelle won’t be at home having a complete meltdown and I won’t worry about her all day.

I am very happy to have Toula back in the office after 3 weeks of vacation. Clearly this is selfish of me, but she’s one of the funniest people on the planet and I’m quite tickled to have her back!

I’m thankful that I spent the night dreaming about George Stroumboulopoulos. In my dream he was trying to woo me and persuade me to go on a date with him. I of course played hard to get.

I cut my finger slicing a honeydew melon today. It wasn’t a big cut but it bled. Shudder.
But it reminded me of other times that I have cut myself and I thought I would share one particular story with you today.

When I was about 13 or 14, there were 2 all ages dance clubs in Burlington. They were called Stars (now The Kingdom) and Club 404 (now defunct AND de-funked). When you live in the ‘burbs your social activities can be limited to house parties, bush parties, and standing in front of convenience stores waiting for something cool to happen. So having a dance club to go to was super cool.

I am not now, nor have I ever been much of a dancer. I’m clumsy and about as graceful as my bulldog Peaches (Note: Peaches sometimes walks into things and has rolled off the bed more than once.) But still, it was the place to be. The place where you could wear your Stephanie Kay-esque outfits that you bought at Le Chateau and your frosted pink lipstick. So I was very excited to go to this club when tragedy struck.

I was sneaking myself a slice of apple pie. For some reason, overzealousness perhaps, I had grabbed the knife (a Wilshire ‘Stay Sharp’ knife, thank you very much) before I had taken the pie out of the cupboard. And for another unknown reason I had the non knife-wielding hand resting against the cupboard door. In my infinite wisdom, I decided to open the cupboard door with my knife-wielding hand and ended up slicing the knuckle of the other hand. Not only was my stealth pie-stealing mission thwarted, I was now bleeding like a stuck pig–something I try to avoid.

I was trying to a) keep the panic to a minimum and b)covertly clean myself up before I got in trouble for stealing pie (as junk food was strictly rationed) when my mom came in a saw the mess. I needed stitches for sure but I wouldn’t hear of it. I had been stitched two other times and both were highly traumatic for me. But more to the point, I feared that a long wait in the ER would prevent me from going to the dance club. Mom and I had quite a row about it. Her logic was that I wouldn’t be able to go dancing with a gaping, bloody wound anyhow so I may as well suck it up and get it stitched. No frahkin’ way, I said. So I spent the next few hours crying and holding my finger above my heart to stop the bleeding.

Eventually it stopped and I did get to go to the club. But the funny thing is I don’t remember a single thing about going dancing that night.

And there you have it.

I’ve decided that I must must MUST learn to get up in the morning. And by up I mean vertical. Up and at ‘em. Rising AND shining. Every weekday morning the alarm goes off at the time that I want to get up, and every morning I slam my hand down on the snooze button, sometimes 3 or 4 times. What is my problem!?! When I set the alarm at night I fully intend to get out of bed at the chosen time. But somehow, the 6 to 8 hours that pass during sleep all get together and commandeer my good intentions and turn me into a Grumpy Greta. How does this happen? I always have lofty plans for the morning. I’d like to go for a walk, do a little puttering, enjoy an hour of ‘me’ time before anyone else rises, make a proper breakfast, answer some emails, pack a decent lunch etc. But when the radio turns on at 6ish all I can think is how cozy my bed is and how I would give one meeeellion dollars (pinky finger is poised at bottom lip) to just stay in it for 2 more hours. I read an article on msn yesterday called How to Wake Up Early and Feel Good. Apparently the keys to success are going to bed early, drinking water (but not so much that you have to pee all night), getting up and staying up, and establishing a routine. It’s the getting up and staying up part that always trips me up. How do I resist the siren song that the bed inevitably sings to me within those first few minutes?

Deep inside a warmth that lies on a bed, She's calling to you...


Anyway, this morning I failed in my intial attempts to get out of bed at the first alarm call. But I only hit snooze once. Baby steps are better than no steps I suppose.

Gadzooks! I haven't blogged a thing since April!? How can this be? Let's see...where to start...

Here's a little recap of the last few months:

Vet visits: 1 (Peaches had an ear infection)

Wedding showers: 2 (1 for the Lovely Miss Deana, 1 for a coworker/friend )

New Roommates: 1 (The Prince-a-tolla: Goddess of the Beach, Dogwalker extraordinaire)
Trips to Target: 1 (got m'self some new unmentionables, I did)

Spectacular tumbles: 1.5 (more on that later)

NKOTB concerts attended: 1

Number of times I've met Donnie Wahlberg: 0 (I am not in the photograph above)

Number of times Jenn has met Donnie Wahlberg: 1

Number of times Donnie Wahlberg waved to me: 1 (Thanks Jenn!)

Note: In this photo Jenn is holding a picture of the two of us, when we were about 12, donned head to toe in NKOTB swag.

Exciting, right?

That's it for now. More to come later!