Lonelypeoplemingle.com

By: Danielle Bosma

WELCOME TO LONELY PEOPLE MINGLE, the website proclaimed. WHERE LONELY PEOPLE GET TO MEET OTHERS WHO SHARE IN THEIR SOLITUDE.

What an awful slogan, I thought. Anyone open to online dating already has the self-esteem of a pet rock, why make it worse?

But, it wasn't like I had many options. eHarmoney was bogus and Christian Mingle was absolutely out of the question; at least I could relate to this particular website. I was lonely, like the website said. I hoped to meet someone who could understand me and my peculiar interests that seemed to turn others off.

Hey, I can’t help being eccentric, okay? We all have our little quirks.

Before I could second guess myself, I logged in to LonelyPeopleMingle to check my notifications. While drunk as all get out last night, I had made myself an account and somehow had the mental faculties to remember to jot down the username and password on a sticky note with the words underneath: 'Dear Sober Self, You need this.'

Date after failed date had left me with little confidence in myself. I guess you could say that I had the self-esteem of a pet rock.

I knew that I shouldn’t let someone else’s opinion of me dictate how I viewed myself, but I couldn’t help dwelling on whether it was just me. Sure, I hadn’t many friends growing up. In fact, I’d had none. People tended to move away rather than gravitate towards me, for reasons I hadn’t a clue. Like I said, I’m an eccentric woman, but damn, I can’t be that bad. I’m a hard worker, I say please and thank you, I donate to charity, and I save the worms on the sidewalk that have nearly dried up from the sun. That’s gotta count for something, right?

Yet, desperate times call for desperately pathetic measures.

A little blip chirped from my laptop, drawing my attention back to the screen. I had a date request from Anna Peters, a 24 year old woman who claimed to be “a passionate, outdoorsy extrovert with a witty sense of humor.”

I nearly gagged in my mouth at the cliche-ness. But I guessed it was worth a shot. She was the first one to send me a request and I didn't want to squander my chances at “absolute happiness,” as my idiotic mother had always described being in love.

I selected the little button to initiate an instant message and I began typing:

Hi. Too subtle? Oh shit, I’m already screwing this up. Sarah, calm down. She hasn’t even responded yet. She might like you and your eccentricity. Some people are into that. Just stay positive. What’s that Andy Grammer song again? Gotta keep your head up, or something?

Hey Sarah, how are you? Anna responded swiftly. I nearly fell out of my chair. She replied! Holy shit, this is working!

I quickly tapped back a response, feeling my fingers grow sweaty against the keys.

Great! I like your profile, you seem like a lovely person. Would you want to meet up sometime and chat?

Silence.

Shit. I did it again. I sound so desperate! ‘You seem like a lovely person?’ How pathetic!

Sure! When and where? her response finally came before I could punch myself in the face.

Wait a minute, I thought. She seems way too sure about this. This has to be a red flag or something.

No, Sarah, you’re being stupid. This is a good thing! She’s into you! Go for it!

Alright, alright. Geez.  

There’s a coffee shop on the corner of Elm Street, we could meet there at 6pm? I tapped on the keyboard, heart pounding.

Immediately: Sounds good to me. See you then! ;)

A winky face. That has to be sexual, right? She’s flirting with me? I dunno. Maybe she just wants to be friends.

Sarah, you idiot! You’re on a dating website for loners, for God’s sakes!

I closed my laptop and ran a hand through my hair. How many dates had I been on, and I was still bewildered by flirting? God, this must be why no one had ever stuck around.

I decided that since it was already four o’clock, I might as well shower and get ready.

As I disrobed in the bathroom and stepped into the shower, a horrible thought occurred to me.

What if this Anna Peters was a rapist that targeted young women on online dating sites? I have no idea who this woman is. Oh God, I could be right! I need to call off this date immediately.

Don’t be ridiculous, Sarah! That rarely happens to people, and it’s rarely women who do it.

I sighed as I shampooed my hair, still itching with paranoia. I had a terrible feeling this date would not go as planned.

..............................

Believe it or not, the date went smashingly. I was relieved by the fact that Anna did not appear to be a rapist but in fact was, as she had described, a passionate, outdoorsy extrovert with a witty sense of humor. Normally extroverts irritate me to no end, but Anna was different. She was talkative, true, but she was also an attentive listener and gave feedback to whatever I said. At times during the date I considered that perhaps she had mislabeled herself; she appeared to be more of an ambivert to me, which was perfect for an introvert like myself who really needed to get out more.

Anna was a brunette with long hair woven into a long, beautiful braid that rested on the shoulder of her cargo jacket, with which she wore a simple white V-neck shirt and ripped jeans. Her eyes sparkled as she talked about her passions and they sombered and gazed attentively as I discussed mine; she would blink real slow as she nodded at my words, which made me simply melt inside.

Anna and I truly connected on this date and I really felt something, so I thought it necessary to give her the final test. If she passed this test of gaining my trust, then she would be the first of all of my failed dates.

......................

Unfortunately, things did not work out with Anna. I brought her to my place after our date with an offer of tea and cookies and a good movie. She heartily accepted, not even thinking twice (part of me deemed that unwitting of her, yet adorable). She entered the foyer of my apartment in front of me and delivered elaborate compliments on the decorations of my contemporary apartment. I thanked her, feeling somewhat frustrated at her need to comment on everything, and I led her to the lower level.

I led her down the hallway, feeling anticipation bubbling in my stomach. What would she say? Will she think it is too messy? Will she mock me like the others?

Pushing open the door at the end of the hallway, I let her in first. She smiled her thanks to me and walked in...

And promptly stopped.

Confused and scared, I stepped up beside her and gently asked, “So, what do you think?”

......................

Another failed date. That really sucks because I thought Anna was the one. Oh, well, she will simply join the others in there. It took a while to do the job; first I had to knock her out with the handy hammer I keep in that room and then clean her face. But I felt a certain pride to have a forehead skin from such a lovely lady, so close to perfection, hanging on my wall alongside the other far inferior ones. I gave her a special plaque, too. It reads:

Anna Peters

When she saw me truly, she jumped out of her skin