Do they even know how many texts I have ignored in my inbox right now?!? I don't think those photos do justice to my dorktastic personality, and B).I'd rather someone be interested in Every Day Me than Hot Me That Time I Remembered To Put Lipstick On.She could see that my pool of men on dating websites had been extraordinarily odd, unsuitable or My forties have exiled me to a no-man’s land of online dating.

In those first five minutes of telling a bot that your favorite food is grilled cheese and that you enjoy long walks in the park making faces at people's babies while their backs are turned, you really start to think that anything is possible. No other words can perfectly describe that "oh sh*t" moment when your profile goes live.

It's like willingly jumping into an ocean full of piranhas, hoping that there's one cute, derpy fish that you might want to date.

Like, people who follow meet each other on Tinder and live happy lives together? I've been single (by choice, not that it's anyone's beeswax) for four years now and have had nary a complaint. Problem being, if you want to ~mingle~ living in a big city, you pretty much have one viable option: The internet. The internet is open season for murderers, drug lords, and Nickelback listeners, and all of them have just as much access to OKCupid as I do. It makes me want to want to Google things like "citizen's arrest" every time I see yet another ex-frat guy posing with a freaking tiger. FEEL MORE SORRY FOR ME THAN YOU ALREADY DO.) So it's been approximately eight hundred years since the last time I even put myself in a flirt-worthy situation, let alone actually gone on a date with someone. I get excited when an app so much as asks me what my birthday is.

But at some point did society just decide it was unfeminist of me to say that I'm lonely, and I want someone to make grilled cheese with me and charitably laugh at my bad jokes? But this is the 2015 we live in, so here I go, internet. And as of yesterday, the true depth of my ridiculous paranoia has been revealed, through all of these stages of it I have already endured: I had a brief self-assessment wherein I tried to remember the last time I actually flirted with another human being, and I'm pretty sure accidentally grazing a stranger's butt with my backpack on the subway doesn't count. Hell yeah I'll fill out this questionnaire and reveal all my fragile hopes and dreams to the internet!

For $10 a month they show me which guys have shown interest in my profile.

The upside, it eliminates all the swipe rights that fall flat.

I have to remind myself every thirty seconds at the beginning of this journey across the world wide web that I am not the first person to online date.

In fact, I am so late to this party that I could physically call up a friend on a Razor flip phone and be all, "Wow, Uggs are SO COMFY, who knew?

Every inch you guys took on the internet was a mile for me, the Sandra Damn Dee of Twitter. Labs t-shirt from The Flash and also why I have an account on a dating site where a man has the username Just AReally Nice Guy3. ) Anyway, I am a grandma, so sometime around ten o'clock I decided I was going to bed and in the morning I'd feel less squirmy about everything. Trusting total strangers with the fact that you are upset about being single is its own very strange form of intimacy that happens the literal moment they swipe onto your profile, before they even read or look at anything.

So yeah, I'm pretty sure my parents aren't super chill with the idea of me meeting men on the internet for kicks, but at the some point they're gonna remember that I'm their best chance for grandkids and me dying alone deeply hinders that. (Where are Just AReally Nice Guy1 and Just AReally Nice Guy2?

Then she spread the cards in rows across the table and began her interpretations. Still, her description of my ex as a “bad dog who was really sweet, but far too much work” was, to coin a phrase, spot on.might have been a no-brainer.