We Met Online And...

By Alexandria Lang

It was not my intention to write a book when I embarked upon this journey. Like many of the other three hundred million online daters, I was looking for my soulmate--that one special person to create amazing life experiences with.

I was admittedly naive and ill-prepared when I ventured into the online dating world. Consequently, the following two years were a torrent of constant twists and turns. Along the way, I laughed hysterically, cried inconsolably, grieved, and yes, even loved.

Some of my stories may sound incredible. But they are all true.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887634227

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Jake: The Roller-Coaster Ride

Wade: A Reason for Uber

Mark: A Cardinal Mistake

Grant: Just Out of Practice

Mark: Timing Is Everything

Chase: Wow!

Grant: He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Chase: A Permanent Stain

Charles: Where's the Beef?

Jordan: A Lame Joke

Mike: Keep It Coming

Jimmy: Everyone Lies

Michael: Really Nice But…

The Ice Storm: Five Days of Isolation

Jason: The Ex-Con

Scott: The Dog Ate My Meal

Stephan: The Minimalist

Craig: Naughty Pictures

Austin: The Whistler

Jerry: The Shag Pad

Bob: Stop Grabbing My Balls!

Me: A New Perspective

Andre: Then Comes Marriage

Scott: That Darn Demon Dog

Patrick: Near Miss

Jeff: The Chick Magnet

Rich: Booty Call

Shelley: Cherry ChapStick

Robert: Eeyore

Jorge: For Medicinal Purposes

Martin: Just a Little Rub

Craig: Who's There?

Derek: Mind Your Own Business

Mitch: Late-Night Rendezvous

Bruce: Catfished!

Joel: Sugar Momma

Jordan: Not again!

Interlude: Stalking My Exes

Jack: Technically Divorced

Anton: Picture-Perfect

Tim: All In

Paul: What's the Rush?

Chris: Just Awkward

Douglas: Where's My Car?

Edmund: Gender Roles

Aksel: Friends with Benefits

Moving On

Acknowledgments

cover.jpg

We Met Online And...

Alexandria Lang

Copyright © 2023 Alexandria Lang

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88763-421-0 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88763-422-7 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

For Hannah Grace.

Jake

The Roller-Coaster Ride

Only desperate people resort to online dating…right? Here I am, a fifty-five-year-old single woman, having never envisioned online dating for myself, with profiles on three different sites.

I was in an exclusive relationship with a guy I met at a business seminar. Six years of dating Jake was a rollercoaster ride—the best of the best and the worst of the worst. Jake could be charismatic and charming, the life of the party. Other times, he was a completely different person; not someone I liked very much.

It came to a crux when Covid-19 struck and turned the world upside down. Travel was restricted, everyone was quarantined with a shelter at home order by government mandate. For the first time, we found ourselves home alone around the clock for an extended period. Unable to leave and nowhere to go. And Jake wasn't happy about any of it.

Jake became stuck in a downward spiral. He refused to talk to me or anyone about it. The whole situation became unbearable. After five months, I couldn't take it anymore. I knew the relationship had to end. Global pandemic be damned.

While working from home full-time has definite advantages, meeting men is not one of them. Being in a pandemic made it nearly impossible. Single guys apparently don't hang out at the grocery store, dog park, or gas station. Most other businesses were closed or forced to practice social distancing.

What is a girl supposed to do?

Wade

A Reason for Uber

It was mid-September, and the world was slowly opening up.

While having sushi with my girlfriend Gina, a friend of hers approached and started talking to us. She introduced Wade and invited him to join us for dinner. He had other plans and instead asked us to join him for cocktails later that evening.

Gina told me all about Wade. That they had been friends and neighbors for twenty years until his recent divorce. She assured me he was a very nice guy, outgoing, funny, and stable. The divorce was unexpected and difficult, but his son had opted to live with him. He was also a good father to his daughter.

After dinner, we wandered over to the bar next door to meet Wade. There was a birthday party going on, and the bar was festive and full of laughter. Wade motioned us over. He proved to be a good conversationalist, full of wit and charm. When he paid a clown to make me a large balloon mermaid, I laughed with delight.

I hardly ever do shots, not my thing; but Wade had ordered a round for the remaining birthday guests and for himself, Gina, and me. We toasted the birthday queen, and she ordered us another round. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

As midnight approached, Wade walked me to my car and said, You are very pretty. I bet you hear that all the time. I had a lot of fun tonight, and I would like to see you again.

I was blushing. I had a great time too. Thank you for everything, I replied sheepishly.

I don't know why I felt embarrassed; I am not the shy type. I could feel the heat burning my cheeks as I dug in my purse for a business card displaying my cell number. I handed it to Wade and smiled. Let's plan something.

He called the next weekend and invited me to join him for dinner. He offered to pick me up, insisting it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Having a friend in common who could vouch for him, I figured it would be safe. Besides, he seemed like a nice guy. I was wrong on both counts.

Wade showed up to collect me in his old work truck. I was surprised because I saw him get into a Maserati the night we met. The truck was dirty and full of buckets of supplies, tools, and smelly food wrappers.

I asked, Is your car in the shop?

No. It has a bad tire. I was going to fix it today but went fishing instead. If he saw my eye roll, he didn't react.

I wiped the grime off the passenger seat so my white slacks wouldn't get dirty and climbed into the big truck. The seat belt wouldn't catch. I tried it several times. Click, click, click. Oh, that's broken, he said as if it was no big deal.

We had dinner at an upscale local seafood restaurant where Jake, my ex, and I were good friends with the owners. Wade had not bothered to make a reservation, and we had to sit at a table in the bar area, which was fitting because he wore jeans, a faded logo T-shirt, and running shoes. It was apparent that he had not put any effort into the date at all.

Wade had a couple of cocktails. He kept getting up from the table to speak with different people he knew. When he was at our table, he kept checking his phone and commenting on the ball game playing on the television behind me. Was this even the same guy I met the previous weekend?

As dinner was coming to an end, Wade announced his son and some friends were at a nearby venue having cocktails, and it would be great if I would accompany him there. I would like for you to meet my son. He winked at me.

Why not? I thought. I had nothing better to do, and it was nice to get out of the house and be around other people for a change. The quarantine had taken its toll on everyone.

His son's friends were a very young crowd of twentysomethings, guys in tight T-shirts and skinny jeans, and girls with rainbow-dyed hair sporting skimpy miniskirts and halter tops.

Wade had several more cocktails while he played pool with the guys. The girls invited me to dance with them. I felt like a mom dancing with her kids, but it was fun.

A couple of hours passed when Wade's son walked up to me on the dance floor and yelled over the music, Can we talk?

Sure, I said as he led me outside to the patio.

Look, my dad has had a lot to drink, and he should go home. Would you please tell him that you need to leave? I need to get my girlfriend home. Please promise me that you will drive.

Okay, I replied hesitantly.

I headed back toward the pool tables where Wade was holding up his empty beer bottle and motioning toward the waitress for another. It's getting really late, and I need to go home, I yelled over the music into Wade's ear. At first, it didn't seem that Wade had heard me, so I repeated myself, taking his arm and pulling him toward the door.

Fine, he slurred as he staggered back toward the guys. Just lemme say g'night.

As promised, I offered to drive his truck when we got to the parking lot. Full of tools, it would have been a bad idea to leave it at the bar anyway. Wade tossed me his keys. Maneuvering his oversized work truck wasn't going to be easy, but I reasoned that we were less than a mile from my house.

I drove cautiously, minding the speed limit and parked his truck in my driveway. I pulled the keys out of the ignition and climbed out. Wade opened his door and practically fell out. Catching himself, he leaned against the truck. I am going to call you an Uber. You can leave your truck here, and we can make arrangements for you to get it tomorrow, I told him, standing in the driveway.

Why don't I come in and sleep it off? he countered with a lurid attempt at a wink that made my skin crawl. I tensed with anxiety. This was not the guy Gina described to me.

I didn't know him at all, and there was no way I was letting this drunk stranger into my house. I quickly replied, That is not a good idea. I am calling you an Uber right now. I pulled my phone from my pocket and clicked on the Uber app. What is your address?

Nope! I dunno what your problem is, girly. But if you're gonna be like that, I'm outta here! He staggered toward me, wobbling back and forth. I took a couple of steps backward, wondering if it is illegal to give someone who is obviously drunk their keys. He began to yell, "Gimme my damn keys, now!"

He lurched toward me again with his arm extended, opening and closing his fist. I didn't want to get into an altercation with him and was afraid he was going wake my neighbors. When I still didn't offer him the keys, he ripped them from my hand. I stepped around him, leaving a wide berth, and ran up the sidewalk into the house, locking the door behind me.

What a jerk! I stood with my back to the door until I heard the security gate rattle open and tires squeal as his truck roared off down the road. I climbed into bed and within a few minutes was deep in sleep.

My phone woke me, beeping repeatedly, indicating multiple texts. I opened one eye and squinted at the laser-projected time on the ceiling. It was 4:36. I turned on the bedside lamp and checked my messages. They were all from Wade asking what kind of girl lets a guy drunk drive and that he had hit a brick mailbox and destroyed his truck, and it was all my fault. He called me a coldhearted bitch and said he wished he had never met me. What the hell!

I should have just blocked his number and left it at that. But I felt like my side of the story needed to be told. I texted back, I am sorry to hear that, but I drove you to my house so that your truck wouldn't get towed or your tools stolen. And I offered to get an Uber for you. You insisted on driving yourself!

You should have driven me home! he screamed back.

Let me get this straight. I was supposed to drive him several miles to his house to make sure he and his truck got home safely and then call an Uber for myself, especially when I lived less than a mile from the bar? Was this guy serious? It was apparent that he had zero concern for my safety or well-being.

I sent one final text. You are a grown man. I am not responsible for you, and I do not need another abusive alcoholic in my life! I blocked his number.

I was lounging on a floating mattress with my neighbors Cathy and her husband Brad in their pool the next day while I relayed the story of the previous night's misadventure. Oh my God! Cathy said, laughing, splashing me, and paddling away. Get away. You are a magnet for weirdos.

Well, it's not like it's contagious, I said, splashing her back.

It's not like I am asking for much. Aren't there any normal guys out there? I asked.

Seriously, you should try a dating app. I met my husband online. She puckered her lips and blew Brad a smoochie kiss.

She told me the story of how they had met online twelve years previously, the best thing that ever happened to her. However, she warned, I had to go through several toads before meeting my prince. At least you will have lots of options to choose from, and who knows, maybe you will find your soulmate too.

It's worth a shot, I guess. It's not like I am finding quality single guys around here, I said, sticking out my tongue. And Brad is already taken. I winked at him.

It all sounded so desperate. But really, what other choice did I have? I am in. Let's do it! We shouted, Salut! and toasted our wine glasses in the air.

And so began the process. I picked an online dating app. It took a week to get some presentable selfies and to write my profile. I changed it up a couple of dozen times before I was convinced it was as good as it was going to get.

I must admit, the prospect of shopping for guys was exciting. Hundreds to choose from, all in one place. It can't get better than that!

The first day my profile was active, I received over six hundred likes! I was literally bubbling over with anticipation. I danced around the living room singing, It's raining men. Hallelujah!

Then, I started looking through them and plopped onto the sofa, scrunching my eyebrows. I nearly got carpal tunnel in my thumb from swiping left. No, no, no, nope. Oh hell no! Out of all of them, there were only six remaining that I was attracted to by their profile pictures.

Some of the profiles were ridiculous. Who posts a picture on a dating app of himself hugging his ex-wife? Or one blurry pic of themselves from the shoulders up and ten of their dogs? Not to mention the ones propped up naked in bed with a sheet covering their privates or from a public bathroom with a urinal in the background and their fly down (yes, there were several of those). The ones holding up the head of a large animal they killed made me clench my teeth. One middle-aged guy had his arm around a scantily clad young waitress while toasting a liter of beer, a drunken glaze in his eyes.

My all-time favorite was the guy who took a picture of a framed photo of himself. In the photo, he was wearing a suit and had a head full of wavy dark hair. His faint reflection in the glass showed a man at least twenty to thirty years older, no shirt, and bald. It was his only profile picture. I kid you not, I nearly fell off the sofa.

Do guys really think this is putting their best foot forward? The scary thing is, they might be.

I had not even started reading the profiles yet.

This is not what I was expecting at all.

Mark

A Cardinal Mistake

Of the six profiles I liked, one stood out. He was sixty and handsome, and we lived in the same town. Upon reading his profile, he also seemed to have it all together. I really liked this one. We chatted online about our jobs, families, likes, and dislikes. He had a good career with the federal government and owned a house on several acres only fifteen minutes away.

We exchanged numbers and had a couple of phone calls. Mark told me stories about his job, which were fascinating to me, and I told him about my career in business intelligence, at least as much as I could without boring him to death. We talked vaguely about our previous relationships and how long we had been single. We agreed to meet for dinner the following weekend.

I was extremely nervous. I had not been on a real date in over thirteen years. You couldn't count the fiasco with Wade. Jake and I never went on dates. We just hung out together, mostly happy hours or dinner after work until we moved in together; we always split the bill. The guy I dated before him was a longtime friend. We spent so much time together at our friends' events that we just decided to be a couple. We were together for seven years before I took a job transfer and moved out of state.

The evening of the date, I started getting ready three hours early. I changed clothes no less than five times, curled then recurled my hair, and touched up my makeup several times. I still wasn't completely satisfied but resigned myself. It was the best I could do. The final touch was several squirts of my most expensive Prada perfume.

My heart was racing as I drove to the restaurant. Mark had made a reservation at a cozy, semiupscale place a few miles away. We got out of our cars at the same time. Suddenly, I felt very underdressed and self-conscious. I had chosen my best pair of jeans, a nice lightweight silk blouse, and leather wedgies. He was in gray slacks, a navy jacket, and crisp button-down white shirt. He looked very polished and poised. Why hadn't I worn the blue dress that looked so good on me?

Mark opened the door for me and stood beside me at the hostess stand. He followed behind me as the hostess showed us to our table and pulled out my chair. I am not a Neanderthal; I was raised with manners and am well versed in the book of etiquette. But I still felt sorely outclassed. Maybe because I've rarely had a man show me such chivalry.

Our next date was him serving dinner at his house. He insisted on doing all the cooking and had quite the kitchen for it. Double stainless ovens were set in one stone wall, a six-burner gas stove accompanying them on the adjacent counter. He had a large granite center island with a sink for prep work with copper pots and pans on a circular rack hanging above. He designed the house himself and built a large butcher block table for eight with a bench on one side.

When dinner was over and the kitchen was cleaned, we sat on large fluffy pillows in front of the stone fireplace, sipped wine, talked, and listened to songs that we took turns choosing. Afterward, he walked me to my car and gave me a light but meaningful kiss goodbye.

I returned the favor the following weekend by inviting Mark to dinner at my house. My phone dinged as I was at the store collecting groceries for the evening. It was him. Where are you?

At the grocery store, I replied.

Stay there, I am on my way. Meet me in the dairy section. What was that all about? I hurried to the restroom, leaving my cart at the door, and checked