Woes of Online Dating

This one isn't about traveling.  Actually, it's about the opposite of traveling: Settling.  One of the main reasons for moving back to the States in 2014, I finally felt ready to settle.  Settle in a sense that I'm not living out of a suitcase, finding a job that I like, finding a dude that not necessarily wants to get married, but wants to hang out with me more than other boring chicks out there.

As far as my checklist goes:

1. Career - CHECK 

Lawd, I love my job.  I'm way over qualified for my job, but I'm incredibly passionate about it and feel like I'm actually apart of something bigger than me.  I definitely don't dispatch for the money.  I do it to save lives, thanklessly.  I do it for the challenge.  First and foremost, my job grounded me.

2. Home - CHECK 

As of last week, I am officially a home owner!  For the first time in my life!  No more living out of a suitcase in small closet-sized places.  During my travels, I've lived in so many different spaces.  From a half-closet in a caravan in Scotland, (where my ass was wider than the bed and I had to sleep with my knees bent because the length of the closet was about a foot shorter than me) to a palm tree and mountain vista view in Chiang Mai, and even a tent on the beach of Koh Ngai in the Andaman Sea.  I now have a house.  #Adulting.

Not the best photo...but that was a pretty amazing view from my apartment in Chiang Mai

3. Dude - ______ (fill in the blank with anything other than "check")

You guys.  When the hell did dating become so...AWFUL?!  Social media has completely ruined the art of dating.  I've never really been in the game, and definitely not since about 2009 when I gave up chasing dudes.  Since then, YIKES.  I basically live in the middle of nowhere.  The only guys I know are cops and robbers (or drug addicts, felons, creepers...), so I'm pretty much left to meeting guys through online dating.

I liken online dating to a really bad food buffet.  You have a plethora of choices to choose from so you add the chicken, beef, pork chops, fish, and crab legs to your plate, along with salad, mac & cheese, potatoes, and some kind of pasta, all of it topped off with bacon bits.  Then later you go back for some cake and soft serve ice cream - with sprinkles obviously.  When you leave the buffet, you're still not satisfied.  Plus, you've acquired a horrendous case of diarrhea.

With online dating, more is less.

It's far too easy to judge someone based on a few select selfies, or "Here's a delicious bass I caught...as you can tell by my obvious masculinity: I'm a provider" pics, or "Here's a pic of me skiing with a bunch of my friends...you can't see what I look like because I'm wearing an Abominable Snowman suit with giant orange goggles - BUT look how social and fun I am!!!"  That along with a generic, "I like all the typical Colorado outdoor BS, music, food and sports.  I'm such-and-such height because apparently that's important" profile and you've got a massive selection of dudes who are EXACTLY the same to choose from.  (I'm sure it's the same for chick's profiles as well, but I only know what mine consists of).

Because of this, it feels like it's now okay for guys to message girls like they're talking to a blowup doll.  Sending the first message that literally says, "Hey, you're cute.  Wanna fuck?".  Tempting, but no.  Look, I know Tinder is commonly known as the 'hookup' site.  Yes, I'm on there for a specific reason, but damn, talk to me like I'm a human first!  If you don't, expect to be trolled.

Hopefully, the final part in my trifecta of Repatriation will pan out.  But until it does, it's nothing if not entertaining.  And, I know I'll be fine...I'm one of those fiercely independent chicks who travel alone!

Happy Trails!

P.S. If you're a single dude reading this, Viking/Norse God-esque (preferred, although not required), funny, love to travel, and can hold a conversation without mentioning your dick in the first 10 minutes (preferably longer (that's what *she* said!)), give ya girl a shout.

My anthem..forever and always.