by Beth Orsoff
I checked my voicemail messages and returned all the calls that sounded like they couldn’t wait. Only two out of nine. Not too bad. When I finished, I was feeling good enough to leave the house, but I knew Rosenthal would be checking in later and I didn’t want to miss his call. I decided to make it a phone day.
My next call was to Celia at Just A Date. I hadn’t heard from her in weeks and another date was just what I needed to get me over my rejection from Adam. I dialed the number and was connected to a recording that told me the number I’d dialed had been disconnected or was no longer in service.
I must’ve accidentally rang the wrong number. I tried it again and received the same message. I knew that couldn’t be right. I pushed “0” for the operator and listened to one recorded message after another until I pressed enough buttons that I finally reached a live person.
“Operator, can I help you?”
“Yes, I dialed 555-0122 and all I get is a recording that the number is no longer in service. I think it must be an error.”
“I can check it for you for a $1.50 service fee.”
“I have to pay $1.50 so you can correct your own mistake?”
“The service fee is $1.50 ma’am. Would you like me to check that number for you?”
“Fine,” I said. I could always argue the point with the phone company when I received my bill. After a minute and of a half of listening to commercials about what my phone company could do for me, the operator came back on the line.
“It’s not an error message ma’am. That number was disconnected on September 5th.”
It was possible they changed the number. “Is there a new number?”
“No ma’am. We don’t have a listing for a new number.”
“Why was the phone disconnected without a new number?”
“I don’t have that information ma’am.”
“Well do you know who would have it?”
“No, ma’am I don’t. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”
While I was thinking of what to ask next I heard, “Thank you for calling the phone company.” The operator had hung up on me. I’d have to drop in at Just A Date’s offices to figure this out for myself.
Chapter 39
Follow Up
I drove over to Just A Date on my lunch hour Monday. Again I was stopped by the parking attendant. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought it was the same man. If he was, he didn’t appear to recognize me.
“I’m going to Just A Date,” I said.
“They’re no more,” he replied.
“What do you mean they’re no more? Did they move?”
“Don’t know. The men came and locked up the offices. No one been up there since.”
“What men?”
“Don’t know,” he said. “But they’re no more.”
The attendant agreed to let me park for a few minutes so I could go upstairs and check for myself. He was right. Just A Date was no more. The door was locked and an eviction notice dated September 3rd was still taped to the outside.
I drove back to my office and called the Consumer Affairs Bureau. The clerk told me they’d had several complaints about Just A Date in the last few weeks. All they’d been able to discern was that the company had folded and the owners had disappeared.
“What recourse do I have?”
“Our investigation is on-going,” the clerk said. “You can call us back in a month or two and we might have more information for you.”
“I don’t want information in a couple of months. I want my file and my money back, now.”
“Hold on a second,” the clerk said. He must’ve set the phone down on the desk rather than putting me on hold. Instead of music, I heard the clerk ask, “Has anyone seen the lonely hearts club file? It’s not in the cabinet.”
Nice.
A female voice asked, “Man or woman?”
“Woman,” the male clerk replied. “Ten bucks says she’s another desperate lawyer.”
This was unbelievable.
“You’re on,” the female voice said.
I could hear more cabinets slamming and papers shuffling, then the clerk came back on the line. “The company was evicted from its offices at the beginning of the month. If the owners didn’t take the files with them, then they’re in the possession of the building’s management company.”
“Can you give me their phone number? I’d like to get my file back.”
“I imagine it’s been destroyed by now. That’s usually what happens in cases like these. Whatever can’t be auctioned off is dumped.”
“That’s fine.” I would’ve destroyed the file myself anyway. Although I probably would’ve peeked first at the comments from Michael and Ronald. “But what about my money? I paid them $300.”
“Are you by any chance a lawyer?” he asked.
“Why?” I wasn’t about to help him win his bet.
“Because unless you want to sue them, you’re out of luck.”
“I am a lawyer, but I’m not desperate, so you just lost ten bucks,” I said before slamming the phone down.
I wasn’t a desperate lawyer, but I was definitely an angry one. How dare they take my $300, set me up with two losers, and then go out of business! I was tired of going on bad dates. I was tired of being manipulated. I was going to make their lives miserable. I was going to sue.
Chapter 40
The World Wide Web Of Dating Deceit
I went on-line and downloaded all the requisite forms and addresses. By the end of the week, I’d filed my case in small claims court and served the defendant. Once I calmed down, I realized that even if I won, I’d probably never be able to collect on the judgment. But I didn’t care. I was fighting back and it felt good.
I had no plans for the weekend until Kaitlyn called me Friday afternoon and suggested a girl’s night—Steve was out of town. I assumed as much. Kaitlyn and Steve had spent four of the last five evenings in each other’s company. Not that I was jealous. Well, maybe a little bit. It’s just that it’s a lot harder being single when your friends aren’t.
Kaitlyn met me at my apartment after work. After we’d ordered food – a medium roasted veggie pizza from Johnnies – I searched the TV Guide for entertainment.
“There’s nothing on,” I said. “Do you want to download or rent?”
That’s when she reached into her purse and pulled out a wad of paper that looked like it’d been torn from a magazine. The article was entitled Finding Love in the New Millennium. I read the first two paragraphs. Internet dating sites were the new singles bars…. I skimmed the rest of it. Nothing I hadn’t seen before. I refolded the pages and handed them back to her.
“Classic or new release?”
“Did you read the last page?”
I was determined not to be so easily manipulated. Distract and evade, that was my new m.o. “Maybe instead of renting we should try pay-per-view?”
“Didn’t you see the list of web sites? There’s one specifically for Jewish singles.”
“So?”
“So I thought we could go on-line tonight and check it out.”
“Why would you think I would even consider on-line dating?”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not that desperate! Besides, didn’t you see that commercial where the teenage girl is talking about this wonderful guy she met on the internet and he turns out to be a ninety-year-old geezer.”
“Yeah,” she said. “That was a funny one. But this website has pictures. And my hairdresser told me three of his clients met their significant others on-line.”
“Why were you discussing this with your hairdresser?”
“I read the article last night when he was cutting my hair.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Besides, don’t you think it seems desperate?”
“More desperate than joining a dating service?”
Kaitlyn had never liked the idea of me joining Just A Date. Considering how it turned out, maybe she’d b
een right.
After we polished off the pizza and a pint of Cappuccino Commotion ice cream, Kaitlyn and I laid on the living room floor with my laptop between us. We logged onto Jews-On-Line and cruised the site. At Kaitlyn’s urging, I filled out the visitor’s questionnaire, checking boxes for the characteristics I would look for in an ideal mate. Within thirty seconds, I had over five-hundred potential matches.
Kaitlyn and I spent the next three hours culling through hundreds of on-line pictures and profiles. I had to admit that most of the men seemed normal and there were even a handful I would’ve considered dating.
“Are you convinced?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Maybe,” I said. “I need to think about it.”
* * *
By Sunday night, the maybe had turned into a yes. Somewhere between lying on my living room couch Saturday night watching TV with Elmo and waking up alone in bed on Sunday morning, I decided that on-line dating wasn’t really for desperate people after all.
I logged onto the Jews-On-Line website, filled out a profile, uploaded a photo my dad had e-mailed me after their visit, and hit SEND. Five minutes later I received an e-mail notifying me that I was now officially JOL Member Number 83002. I had the option of e-mailing other members or waiting for other members to e-mail me. I hadn’t had much luck lately being forward with men, so I decided to wait and let the men come to me.
And they did. When I checked my e-mail Monday night I had twelve responses. It wasn’t anywhere close to the seventy-five e-mails the woman in the testimonial received her first week, but it had only been one day. And I hadn’t posted a picture with my boobs busting out of my shirt the way the testimonial girl had. Perhaps I should have.
I rejected five of the twelve candidates outright because their profiles didn’t include photos. Looks weren’t the most important criteria, but I had to assume that if the man wasn’t posting a picture there was probably a reason. Then I rejected two more based on their photos, one based on his profile, and one because he didn’t live in L.A. I figured with twelve responses in one day, I could afford to be choosy.
I e-mailed responses to the three remaining candidates. By the next morning, I’d heard back from all three. Bachelor Number One suggested we meet right away. Either he was pushy or desperate. I deleted him. Bachelor Number Two sent me back a long, boring e-mail. I responded, but my hopes were fading fast. By his third e-mail I decided to drop him. I was focusing my energies on Bachelor Number Three.
His name was Ethan. He was a computer software dealer, but he didn’t look like a geek, and he seemed nice and funny on-line. We’d e-mailed to each other several times a day for three days when he suggested we meet in person. It still seemed too soon, but curiosity was getting the better of me. Besides, as Ethan pointed out, we needed to meet in person to determine whether we had any chemistry. If we had no chemistry, there was no point in continuing.
I told Ethan I’d meet him for brunch on Sunday. He suggested I pick the restaurant, which I liked. I wanted to meet in a crowded public place, just in case Ethan turned out to be a psycho. After all, we had met on the Internet.
I made reservations for noon at The Vine Café, an always crowded outdoor restaurant on Beverly Boulevard. I called Kaitlyn and Simone that morning and told them both where I was meeting Ethan and all the information I knew about him. Kaitlyn took down Ethan’s name and phone number, but told me I was being paranoid. Simone said if she didn’t hear back from me by the end of the day she’d call the police.
* * *
When I arrived at The Vine a few minutes after twelve, Ethan was already waiting. Except for the addition of a beard, he looked the same as he did in his photo. Average height, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a bit of a paunch that would surely turn into a beer belly by the time he reached forty.
Once we were seated, we both pored over our menus as if we were cramming for exams. After we ordered, and the waiter took the menus away, we had no choice but to talk to each other. I didn’t know where to begin. We’d already covered most of the typical first date questions in our e-mails. But in person, we lacked the familiarity we’d developed on-line.
After a short, uncomfortable silence, I asked Ethan about his weekend. He answered me in two sentences and reciprocated. After I answered, he changed the subject to baseball. I feigned interest in his analysis of the Dodger’s performance this season and surreptitiously looked at my watch. I couldn’t believe it had only been ten minutes.
“You know,” Ethan said abruptly changing the subject, “you’re much better looking than I thought you’d be.”
Had I heard him right? “Excuse me.”
He repeated his statement.
“But you saw my picture before you met me.”
“Yes, but a lot of women lie about their looks.”
I still didn’t understand. “How can you lie about your looks when you post a photo?”
“A lot of women post pictures that show them from the waist up. Then when you meet them in person, they turn out to be huge from the waist down.”
“But the picture I posted was full length.” I was wearing black pants and high heels. I might’ve looked a bit taller, but otherwise it was an accurate portrayal.
“Yes, but you were wearing a jacket, so it made me think you had something to hide.”
I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation on a date. “Ethan, I described myself in my profile as petite. How big could I possibly be?”
“Yeah, you really should change that. Petite could be short and fat. You should describe yourself as firm and toned.”
At least going back to the gym had paid off. “Clearly you’ve been doing this longer than I have, but what would be the point of lying about your appearance when eventually you’ll meet the other person and they’ll find out the truth?”
“I guess people think that by the time you meet them in person, you’ll be so smitten with them from their e-mails that you won’t care what they look like.”
We both agreed that was unlikely.
I was still processing this information when Ethan added, “It’s not just women that lie. Men do too.” He must’ve assumed I was wondering if he was referring to himself, which I was, because he added, “I don’t mean me.”
Ethan explained that a female friend of his had been a member of JOL for over a year and had met tons of lying men. “The only difference is that women usually just lie about their looks, men lie about other things too.”
“Such as?” I had to ask.
“Age is a popular one. They say they’re younger then they are and then post photos of themselves from ten years earlier when they still had hair. And then of course there are all the married men.”
Married men! “Why would married men join Jews-On-Line?”
“To meet women, of course.”
Ethan estimated that at least half of the men on JOL were actually married. He didn’t tell me what he based this figure on and I didn’t ask. Instead I said, “Are you married?” It would explain why he was telling me all this.
“No,” he replied. “And this is my real hair. So would you like to go out again?”
* * *
I waited until I arrived home to call Kaitlyn and Simone to tell them I was still alive. I also filled them both in on the ugly truth about JOL. Kaitlyn told me she thought Ethan was crazy and I shouldn’t believe a word he said. Simone said she suspected there was at least some truth in Ethan’s revelations. I agreed with Simone. I would either need to find a new method for meeting men or accept the fact that I’d be spending the rest of my life with Elmo. At that moment, Elmo was looking like the better alternative.
Chapter 41
Matchmaking in the New Millenium
This morning it was Simone’s turn to play hooky. She had her first fitting for her wedding gown at ten o’clock. She figured she could make it into the office by noon, so there was no point in wasting a vacation day. Since Simone’s assistant was on vacation this week, I was a
ssigned the task of turning on her lights and computer. If anyone asked where she was, I was supposed to tell them that she’d left for a doctor’s appointment and that she’d be back by lunchtime.
Thankfully, Rosenthal left for his therapy session without asking me Simone’s whereabouts, but Greg appeared in my office five minutes later.
“Where’s Simone?” he asked.
“At a doctor’s appointment,” I said without looking up from my desk.
“Yeah, right. Where is she really? Job interview?”
I stared at him with my lips pressed together. I knew the story was for Rosenthal’s benefit, but Greg had a big mouth.
“Forget it,” he said. “I’ll ask her myself when she gets back. Actually, I’m glad she’s not here. I wanted to talk to you.”
“Shoot.”
He sat down in my guest chair and put his feet up on the corner of my desk. “What are you doing Wednesday night?”
“Watching Law & Order SVU. It’s the two-hour season premiere.”
“You’re pathetic.”
“I know. But lawyer shows are always so much more interesting than actually being a lawyer. I keep hoping I’ll pick up some pointers on how to make my life more exciting.”
“That’s easy,” he said. “Condense six weeks of work into an hour, then spend the rest of your time screwing the other lawyers in the firm.”
“That was Ally McBeal, but I’ll take it under advisement.”
“You should. In the meantime, how about going Speed Dating with me on Wednesday night?”
“What’s Speed Dating?”
“I’m surprised an avid dater such as yourself hasn’t heard about it. It was dreamed up by some rabbi to promote Jewish marriages. Basically, it’s an introduction service for Jewish singles.”
“What is it? A singles party?”
“No, you’re actually paired up with seven different people for seven minutes each. The only rules are that you have talk to each person for the full seven minutes, and you can’t talk about your job or where you live. At the end of the night, you decide whether you want to see any of the seven people again. If both parties say yes, then they match you up.”