I didn’t mean to. Honestly. I was just trying to adjust my email notification settings so that the Plenty of Fish account I set up four years ago would stop blowing up my inbox every three seconds…
But in order to do that, you have to log on.
And once you log on, they strike.
We’re talking nearly 2 dozen messages in less than 24 hours. Short notes, long notes, well-written notes, your-English-teach-needs-to-be-shot notes, desperate notes, hopeful notes, hopeless notes, and, against all odds, a few diamonds in the rough.
I might possibly have stopped to browse for a moment a two… not because I’m interested in dating yet but because I’ve always been very pro-browsing and it’s infinitely less creepy to browse Plenty of Fish than Craigslist.
Not that I would know anything about browsing Craigslist.
In the interest of full disclosure, I know plenty about browsing Craigslist.
I started less than 48 hours after TWD and I broke up, not because I had any immediate interest in replacing him but because I was losing my mind and needed some proof, some confirmation, that he wasn’t the last man on the planet.
I quickly learned, however, that Craigslist men are a bit crazy.
And by “a bit crazy” what I really mean is completely-off-their-rockers, ought-to-be-committed, bat-sh*t- insane.
They get even worse when it snows (which it did approximately every seventeen minutes this past winter). Snow, you see, functions as a catalyst on Craigslist. Snow makes it socially permissible to say things like, “There is nothing to do so let’s get high and have sex” or “Hey stranger. It’s cold. Come over and warm me up.”
Call me crazy, but I’m not generally in the habit on replying to personal ads on Craigslist.
Plenty of Fish, however, is populated with slightly more evolved forms of life, two of whom I’ve actually deigned to reply… and one of whom I met up with yesterday.
More on that next time.