I think you're schizophrenic.

I have an online dating profile. Yep. I do, well, did, actually. I'd had it, on and off, for 4 years.


When I first signed up and filled it out I was a totally broken, yet hopeful 26 year old, fresh out of the worst (there isn't even words) relationship I've ever stuck to. That also lasted 4 years. Why?


Because I'm weak.


No I'm not...but I was.


So I am 26, broken, but unreasonably hopeful that my love life is going to pan out like some cheesy 1960s flick: 
en genou turns leading lady. 
 Probably
set in Paris or Barcelona or Buenos Aires. 
or maybe right here, in an unlikely New York story.
I'd be adored by men. 
Adored.
And I'd be beating off suitors left and right when suddenly, 
one would catch my eye, 
sweep me off my feet, 
and we would just be frigging amazing.


Except those are movies.


And I do live in New York City. Otherwise known as the cesspool for overworked, angry, narcissistic men who hate their mothers.


No, no, no. those are just the ones i met. The ones I was absolutely drawn to.


You think I kid. I don't kid.


If we were in a room full of remarkable, attractive, kind-hearted, affectionate, and self-confident men, I would have found the one He-man Woman Hating Bastard in the bunch and beeline it straight for him.
It's like i could smell them.
Like I mistook the shrieks of Satan's lost souls for the song of Angels beckoning me to my love-filled blissful fate---where there would be wailing and grinding of teeth.


You think I kid. I don't kid.


We'll save that for a later discussion. This story is about the illustrious online dating life of Audrey.


Before I go further I do need to profile myself a little more appropriately:
I am a guarded, scared woman. I do have good reason, as I've never actually been with someone who was even kind to me, much less loving.


~No, I'm not asking for tears and some grandiose violin solo to augment my sad tale. I've come to the point of admittance so I can (hopefully) move away from my track record~


Because I'm so guarded and scared and only have had negative experiences I have this problem: 


I go after men that are emotionally unavailable. 


I go after them because I know what to expect. 
I know that they will treat me terribly and then dump me by the side of the road with little feeling or care for how I feel or how I've been treated. 
I know that I'll keep coming back for more.
I know that I will claim that this is because I see good in him.
I know that I will claim that this is because I want to save him.
I know that this is because I refuse to admit that he is, in fact, tragically flawed.


So in the end, well, I go through the same old/same old, furthering my jaded theories and...


nobody's saving me.


So, with that explained and understood, I feel like my experiment was quite appropriate for where I was.


The experiment, finally, is the point of this story.


After 5 or 6 sadistic lovers I decided that, in general, men are feral beings, sent to torment women.  Especially good-natured, loving and maternal types like myself.  
There just aren't good men in the world. 
So, maybe I can figure out how they tick and, in doing so, save myself from more of the same old/same old.


So I hopped online to edit.


My initial profile reflected a fun-loving, low-maintenance Audrey. The kind of girl that's appealing to the average man. The one that's just a pretty face with no baggage and just in it to "see what happens". No expectations, no imagination, just a chick on the web.


And I met my typical adversary. 
Because that's what I was asking for.


So I tried a new approach.


I edited to talk about me, my passions, my quirks, showed my serious side and quite a few vulnerabilities.
I answered questions honestly and diligently.
I said that I was hopeful and looking.


I didn't change a photograph, just a biography.


I wasn't looking, really (honestly, I think I've finally JUST gotten to the point that I feel like I can handle that) but, my heart did sort of sink because the shitty type of guy that had been emailing my "simple"self DID stop emailing me, 


but so did everyone else.


"ME" wasn't likable.


I was pissed.


I was a weird and uninviting girl.


I felt like I deserved the men that I was trying to avoid.


So, I made another edit, adding the following to the beginning of my wordy raw, and open bio:


'I'm not very good at dating.
I also really like being alone.
I'd like to meet someone who's OK with that.
And me.'


And, much to my disbelief, the contacts started flooding in.


Here I was thinking I would include some horribly smite-filled thought in there so I had an excuse to be ignored and picked over. All of a sudden I'm getting questions, and applause and compliments about the latter parts. 


About the honesty in what I was calling "ME".


Of course I was overwhelmed and still so utterly off my rocks that, after a month of 10 emails a day (none of which I ever responded to) I decided that it was brashness and rudeness and that people were reaching out just because I was coming off like a total bitch.
I was tapping into the masochistic males of this city...
(revenge was mine!!!!! <--- that's a joke).


So I made my final edit and deleted everything after my new, angry addition. 


 The emails...
              Stopped. for weeks.


And then there was one.  The one that ended it all.



An average looking 5'10" 29 year old blond boy from Brooklyn used these words in his greeting:
"I've been watching you make these changes to your profile and..."


I decide to check him out before I read the body of that email.
This could be something good!
He's not tall, dark, and annoyingly handsome.
He's not arrogant or cold in his personal blurb.
He's seemingly raw and real and kind of awkward.


He's kind of like me.


I never go for this kind of guy. 


He's been watching me and now...


I open the email and this is how it read:


"I think you're schizophrenic".


Whammy. Major.


Busted.
And really, busted, because I was acting like a crazy fool.


So I deleted my account. I sat and judged myself and really took a second to take the blame. I was on my case and in my mind for a couple of weeks and then it hit me.


I did all of this.


I asked for all of it.


Because I didn't want real love.
I was like a starved baby, violently spitting out the little food that was finally offered to me.


I've been so hurt that I was in a place where I needed love. 


The biggest problem was that I didn't want what I needed.


The original, superficial and bubbly character I created was the character I was projecting to fit in...because stupid girls always get the boys...I forgot that they are also the starter wives to immature men who rush and don't know what a relationship really is, or what they really need.
The first edit was my existential, artistic, and inner girl. The one who's scarred and scared and thoughtful and brooding and quite sad.
The second edit, where I added the sarcasm and the jaded bit to the burned girl...that's "ME".


The flood of responses were to "ME".


and I freaked myself out and hid under my sarcasm. 


I spit out the food.


That's what it took to get my mind here. 
To realize that I'm alright being an array of feelings and overly intense at times and a little shallow at others.  And, I am scared shitless about getting hurt.


That's "ME".


And you know what?


if that's not OK, then he's not the right guy because the right guy WILL be OK with that. 


And me.


XX, Aud