The worst experience was going out with a third-generation Italian Don Juan.Apparently 45 minutes of banter about his government contracting work and European geography signaled that it was acceptable to run his hands far enough up my leg to comment that I had just shaved my legs and to hazard a guess about where I stopped the razor.
First, though, I had to confront my bias against online dating.
Even though my friends insist it’s gone mainstream with decidedly “unpathetic” devotees, the voice in my head said otherwise.
The best example of this is the daily matches, where I could say “yes” or “no” to a lineup of pre-selected men.
Those that got the nod received a notification that I was thinking about them, and we could move on to something more natural like winking.
The feeling created was that someone was on my side, rooting for my success, filtering through the thousands of options and picking the best based on my personal needs.