#WTF: Kevin's Kephalonomancy is Kontagious

Geek Chic et Moi (Part III-1 - THE DARKEREST SIDE): The THRILLING(ly Tepid) ALMOST-CONCLUSION (or) Neurotic Fun With Online Dating!

<editorsnote> Nerds, meet Kevin. I found him on craigslist, kinda like how I found that half eaten bag of pretzels, and last Friday's booty call. Casual encounters, FTW! He's hilarious, and smart ... and little elves dance in his footprints as he walks. For the record, I've made two of those facts up. </editorsnote>

#TalkNerdyToMeLover's Kevin Herman

[Part Un; Part Deux]
[Note: Pulling a Deathly Hallows on this shit as Part III is currently pushing 2300+ words, so...here’s Part III-1, to be followed soonish by Part III-2]

I first breathed life, prose, and deceptively flattering photos into the annals of OKCupid hot on the heels of five or six unsuccessful forays into the world of dating and romance in as many months. I’d originally settled on a time-out, a period of unadulterated “me” time to seriously reevaluate my approach when it came to selection and courtship, when my bffl casually suggested I give OKC a shot.

Her reasoning was that when approaching women in a bar or other public space, my tendency to get nervous, stammer, and ultimately give way to shrieking like a rabid howler monkey in wide-eyed terror (frothing uncontrollably and soiling myself in the worst case scenario) could be unsettling to women, and even if they were impressed/terrified by my animalistic displays of dominance and lack of medication enough to give me their number, I *definitely* did not possess the skills or confidence to coax that thread into even the infant stages of dating. A lot of this stemmed from my being really wary of dumping what was for me an INSANE amount of effort and energy into puttin’ the proverbial moves on someone I wasn’t even sure I would be compatible (see part 1) with to start.

I’m deathly allergic to uncertainty and ambiguity - two things that I’m sure you’re all aware are the basic flora and fauna of the dating world. My bffl pointed out the obvious - online dating eliminates a *lot* of this. Yes, people may add an inch (heh), shave a year, or pad their income a bit, but contrary to the popular wisdom that every other hot chick is a bald 40 year old dude covered in a fine layer of cheeto dust and dry semen, studies have shown that the comfortable anonymity afforded by the degree of separation actually causes folks to be more honest and forthright about the important shit.

I probably would’ve written the idea off entirely, but the suggestion happened to coincide with the death throes of my undergrad career, a time in which an oddly high proportion of my classes happened to be discussing the mainstream acceptance of online dating and research done to date, as well as the completion of my senior thesis - a 42 page qualitative study on romantic behaviors and beliefs of bar and coffee shop patrons; it was long and convoluted, but for our purposes, the take home point was that should your social or work circles fail to provide a sacrificial lamb for your emotional antagonism, the online market is your best bet.

Sooo...yeah, my life had basically become a living Match.com ad complete with statistics and testimonials. Combine all that with the fact that - let’s face it: you may have noticed that I’m a retardedly verbose motherfucker, and being charming in *digestible* sound bytes seems like an important ability in making a good first impression on a hot stranger. It’s like verbal hot potato - the “moment” gets exponentially more awkward with each additional second you continue speaking, and I am supreme allied commander of letting the awkward grenade go off in my hand.

But online, that’s not necessarily the case. Online, that enormous liability can actually be levied as a geeky honey pot to those you want to attract and terrifying textual minefield to those you don’t. My lexophilia borders on the pathological; it uncomfortably toes the line of being a fetish. I wasn’t entirely kidding on my profile when I wrote “it’s a short jump between wordplay and foreplay for me.” Actually I was mostly kidding - but I do find wit to be crazy sexy, and the ability to turn a phrase to denote wit, so...er...okay, maybe not kidding. If a girl doesn’t place a premium on literacy and the wherewithal to string cogent sentences together (in a guy), she’s probably not for me and conversely, I’m probz not for her.

Point is - my novella length profile was a pretty accurate presentation of who I am, what I like, and how I typically express both those things: with lots of words and haphazard metaphors. At its most basic, sure - it was a laundry list of basic info and interests - but more importantly it was written so that in theory someone who digs wordplay, reading, and my *specific* geeky interests as much as I do would hopefully enjoy it and respond in kind with some arousingly witty banter and ideally an offer for pre-coital Mario Kart or Borderlands. All that compatibility, uncertainty, and wasted effort bullshit I was so worried about? Boom. OKC obviated the *shit* out of it.

Aaand after two days nothing happened.

The bffl recommended that maybe I try a picture that was more “smiley” and less “hollow psychopath,” which I hesitantly did, and *sweet rabbit balls*: It was like opening the proverbial floodgates, and really quickly I had more messages/responses from h0t n3rd grrlz waxing eloquently geeky with suggestive undertones than I knew what to do with. I’d gone from “real life” where I’d be lucky to come across the geeky/attractive/interested-in-me combo once in the span of a year at best to entering this...like...Bonertopia Per Nerdium in googly eyed wonder. And really, from that point on, the utopia parallel applied quite nicely.

“Hi, my name is Kevin, I’m 24, and I enjoy laughter & yoga!” Except it was more like the Bioshock “Rapture” kind of utopia in which, unfettered by societal constraints and granted the opportunity to demonstrate its previously suppressed greatness, man’s true nature instead kind of skullfucked the pooch and twisted the noble idea into something amorally twisted and dark. The entire timeline of which I managed to condense emotionally into a 3 week period from the innocent-kid-in-a-candy-store vibe to the figurative writhing mass of murder, insanity and decay.

I mean, in reality it’s slightly less fucked up than it sounds. In the right hands and right attitude, OKC has enormous power as a tool to find like-minded young folk you may otherwise never cross paths with. I think I went into it with the right stuff, but the relative ease with which options just up and availed themselves...uh...awoke something in me. Something *dark*. The people that had gotten in touch were almost all very cool, many of whom were also very definitely attractive. Still, none quite...*jumped* out at me - and this is how something snapped and I went from plainly grateful that the community was so receptive to going full goddamn J.S. Steinman.

To be continued...

#nerdsunite

For more of Kevin’s politically incorrect verbal incontinence, follow him on Twitter or check out his like, completely legitimate astrological operation at Fiehard.