PoF vs. Lava

I'm to the point that I'd almost rather go to the dentist. I mean, I already know what he looks like (cute, with puppy-dog eyes), his earning potential, and whether or not he can carry a conversation. Oh, and the fact that he's probably a sadist, but at least he has channeled it into a well-paid career.

Online dating is at least as big a pain in the ass as getting dressed up and going to the bar. Possibly even more so. I don't know about you, but I don't go to the bar every day. Twice a day. Problem is, if I don't check the notes regularly, they pile up, and I have to spend three hours replying. Ugh. And, I'm on two sites right now.

I'm waiting for the day I go on a 'first date' with someone from PoF who I've already been on a first date with off Lava. Don't worry, you'll be the first to know...

So, comparative mertis of Lava vs. PoF.

PoF: free. every time you message someone, you've saved 50 cents toward your next cup of coffee.
Lava: at least you know they can afford to pay for coffee.

Lava: thousands of idiots.
PoF: hundreds of thousands of cheap idiots.

Lava: it costs to send a message, so most people at least take a few minutes to compose an introduction.
PoF: typical first note: "hi. wanna chat?"

Pof: you can set your mail settings so that anyone looking for 'intimate encounters' is automatically barred from messaging you.
Lava: at least you can laugh at all the money they wasted when they send you the third message that says 'hey, wanna fuck?'


It's a real toss up as to which is a bigger waste of time. The PoF guys can't be asked to write an actual note, and it doesn't cost them anything to say 'hi', so they'll go 'fishing' without having bothered to read your profile and see if you have anything in common. As soon as I figure out how, I'm gonna bar anyone my father's age from contacting me. Even if they do want to be "just friends"...

Lava is just as bad, in its own way. There's no way to filter the 'hey, wanna fuck' crowd until after they've contacted you. On the other hand, the more serious ones who send a message really do seem to put a bit more effort into the introduction.

Both appear to suffer the same lack of quality men. Guys who are 50 pounds overweight, but list their body type as 'average'. Guys with a two-line introduction who haven't even bothered to list their hobbies. Ppl who cnt or dont spel. In fact, I've seen plenty of the same men on both sites. I suppose I shouldn't say anything, I'm on both. But still...

Hell Week

Monday, I had a terrible toothache. One of those sharp, stabbing pains that actually made me glad to go to the dentist (well, okay, that and the fact that the dentist is awfully cute...). He told me I needed a root canal, and put me on antibiotics in the meantime.

Ugh. Instant yeast infection, and only two weeks till I go to London.

Not the best start to a week.

Wednesday, I had a medical booked. Mr. UK and I decided on his-and-hers STD tests, which sounded like such a good idea at the time.

After the pap smear, I came home and scrubbed in a hot shower for an hour, like a good rape victim. Usually the exam isn't that bad, but what IS it with guy doctors? They refrigerate the KY, use half a bottle of the stuff, jam that speculum in as far and as fast as they can, then crank it open as wide as it will go. They never warn you beforehand, either. If doctors shag like they conduct exams, I'm glad I've never dated one...

I went out and bought a boquet of daffodils as an apology to my pussy for the manhandling.

Mr. UK was apologetic when he heard about hell-week-so-far. He actually told me last Sunday that he would be incommunicado this week, as he is off on a snowboarding holiday. In fact, he's sent me graphic and sweet notes every couple of days. Today's installment was wondering how I like my coffee. This is significant, as it is impossible to find a good cuppa in London without spending a fortune. They have this taste for Nescafe...goes so well with steak-and-kidney pie, or something (shudder). Mr. UK has a good memory - I bitched endlessly about the coffee there, and he earned my undying gratitude by bringing me a proper cup of brewed coffee in bed the first time I slept over at his place.

Lava boy J. decided that we would work out better as 'just friends'. This is not a suprise, but I don't know if I'm annoyed or relieved that he came to that conclusion before I had to say it out loud. I mean, it saves me the hassle, but on the other hand, I got dumped...

Lava boy C. is a new addition. He gets bonus points for sending a six-page introduction, including a (long) list of the countries he's travelled to, a note that he is gainfully employed, and no mention of "let's fuck" anywhere in the novel. Downside: He lives in a different area code...par for the course, in my world...

Beavis hasn't called back since Sunday, which, I suppose, is no shock, as I was a little annoyed with him when we spoke last...if he was really bright, he'd call, and soon...

So, all in all, I'm glad I have London to look forward to. Mr. UK is impressing the hell out of me, and I'm looking forward to a week of great sex, great conversation, and daily coffee's in bed...