As someone who embraced the massive technological innovation known as the Internet, I utilized the magic of online dating sites. Back in the day, there was the “one stop shop” convenience of Match.com, but now there’s almost no end to the number of dating sites – one for almost every social interest, fetish or preference imaginable (e.g., Gluten-Free Singles, Clown Dating, Mullet Passions…I really wish I were making these up). As someone who does not enjoy the bar scene due to his own introverted tendencies, online dating sites are a godsend for meeting potential dates and future girlfriends. Even better, distance is no longer a hindrance since you can look as far away as you want to find that special someone (the challenge of meeting someone living next door to you compared to being on the other side of the world is a whole other story).

As I quickly discovered, perception is the key to not only how you present yourself, but what you read into or assume about someone else’s profile. The idea is marketing yourself to attract your ideal person. Whenever we fill out a dating profile, we share what we feel best defines ourselves, and by contrast, anyone reading our profile will interpret our profiles and come to their own conclusions. I’m not suggesting that everyone lies about themselves in dating profiles (knowingly or without realizing it), just that self-image can differ from what others see. For example, we’ve all seen someone’s dating profile asserting that they are “drama free,” then experiencing the proverbial other shoe fall during the first date – they’re insecure as opposed to the confident figure they described, they’re battling depression, they’re ex is stalking them, there’s a warrant for their arrest, or they MIGHT BE pregnant (this last one is based on a real-life experience – after several trips to the bathroom, a woman I met admitted that she was probably going through morning sickness and wasn’t sure which of the two men she slept with was the father…I did not ask her out on second date).

That’s both the appeal and curse of online dating. Before the Internet, people went out on dates because they already met or encountered each other at parties, bars, work, through a friend, etc. They already knew a little about the person. Now there’s not really knowing what you’re in for until the date texts to confirm if you’re the person they see sitting at the bar (i.e., do you look like your pictures?).

And this is where the rubber meets the road – the real “sniff test” of an online date is seeing how they are (and how you are with them) in real life. While you can glean a general idea of what kind of person they are from trading emails, instant messages and texts, you don’t really experience their personality or know if there’s chemistry until you’re awkwardly exchanging pleasantries and safe conversation subjects over drinks. The outcomes of a date range from the joyful IT’S-CLOSING-TIME-ALREADY?-HOW-LONG-HAVE-WE-BEEN-TALKING? instant emotional connection, to the HOLY-MOTHER-OF-GOD-WE’VE-BARELY-SAID-A-WORD-TO-EACH-OTHER-FOR-THE-LAST-TEN-MINUTES agony of zero chemistry. As an experienced dater, most of my online dates fell in the comfortable middle of that spectrum, mostly the “meh” reaction (i.e., this was nice but I’m not “feeling it”) from either party or cautious optimism (i.e., she matches her picture, loves Ms. Mister, and said yes to a second date).

And then there are the few that leave you wondering what the Hell it was all about…even years later.

Let’s hop into the Delorean way back machine for a quantum leap to October 2002. The entire country was still coming to grips with the previous year’s massive terrorist attacks, and the DC area in particular was scared shitless over a mysterious sniper taking out people at random. It was definitely a time of apprehension where no one lingered much outside and people were focused on traveling from Point A to Point B alive and safe. Despite all of this, time moved on and some of us were trying out the dating scene as best we could.

Through one of the older and lesser-known dating sites (I can’t remember the name of it to save my life), I was trading messages with Dina (not her real name). She was a single executive assistant living in Falls Church. Her profile wasn’t super informative, but she was chatty enough online and shared some cute pictures to pique my interest. So far, nothing stood out as a warning sign – her profile covered the usual “I like hiking, movies, eating out and travel” hobbies and nothing to indicate that she was an escapee from an asylum. In short order, we agreed to meet for drinks at a convenient bar in Tysons Corner.

It was early October and somewhat chilly for that time of year. It was already dark out outside of the bar as I anxiously waited for Dina to show up, mainly because I was cold and kept looking around to see if a rifle was pointed at me (I don’t know why I didn’t wait inside…in retrospect, this is one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done). Dina texted a few times apologizing for running late – she was without a car and at the mercy of public transportation (i.e., buses – this was long before the Metro’s Silver Line was a reality). I already arrived earlier than planned, so I was chilled and now slightly annoyed that she was almost thirty minutes late. Her texts convinced me to stick around – especially since she’s be left in a real lurch if after fighting her way on several trains and buses to arrive here.

Nearly forty minutes after our planned meeting time, I felt a disturbance in the Force.

The bar sat in part of an open strip mall-type area with a large parking lot. I knew this strip mall pretty well since my gym was next door, as well as an adult novelty store whose customers made for interesting people watching. As I idly stood there stamping my feet and curling up inside my coat to keep warm, I heard a voice off in the distance. I couldn’t make out the exact words, but my first thought was a couple a big fight. Slowly and steadily, the voice grew loud enough to recognize that it was a woman’s voice, so my next assumption was she was on a phone call. Whatever the issue, she was clearly angry and not shy about letting loose with every four-letter word in the book. I still couldn’t make out where the voice was coming from, just that she was close enough for the odd passerby to look around out of curiosity.

A few minutes later, a figure emerged at the far end of the parking lot. As she walked closer, it was clear that she was on the phone and in a VERY animated argument with someone. This was a clearly heated and formidable disagreement. In addition to her screaming at the top of her lungs, she would stop or pause for a moment and stamp her foot in anger. Once she was close enough, the realization quickly sunk in – she was Dina and she was definitely not happy. Another passerby stopped and paused to stare at her. Even though one of my long-standing rules is to never stand up anyone, I found myself beginning to contemplate pretending to walk away like any other random stranger since she hadn’t recognized or noticed me. As the electrical impulse shot its way from my brain, down the spinal cord and en route to my leg, Dina looked up and made eye contact with me…still shouting into her phone, at times angrily stamping her foot an shaking her hand in frustration. Realizing who I was, she held up one finger in the universal gesture for Give me just a second, okay?

Resigned to the fact that I was committed to sitting down for at least one drink with someone in a highly agitated and emotionally reactive state, I patiently waited as Dina continued screaming on the phone. What I thought would be a token minute or two of her wrapping things up stretched into a torturous eon of her yelling, name-calling and swapping insults with whomever was on the other end of the line. Another passerby stared at her, then turned to me with a “Wow, good luck!” look on their face.

Finally, it seemed as if things were settling down in the “conversation,” but I heard a few lines from Dina that perked up my curiosity – such as “That little girl is my life” and “I’m doing my best to take care of her”. Even at this time in my younger adulthood, Dina was hardly the first single mom I met, but I was a little concerned because I distinctly remember her profile not mentioning any kids and a daughter never came up in our earlier conversations. My fair-minded side told me to give her a chance to explain since she might just wanted to be careful about protecting her daughter. However, the alarmist in me was pretty sure that this fresh new Hell opening up in front of me was previously undivulged drama that I might not want to be pulled into, yet might make for an interesting story in a blog someday.

At long last, Dina’s voice calmed down enough that I could just make out the voice on the phone who was clearly trying to say goodbye and hang up, to which Dina ended with an abrupt “Okay Mom, I need to go, I’m on a date!”

“Holy Mommie Dearest, Batman! I thought, Who yells at their own mother like that?!”

Dina hung up and stood there for a moment, staring off into space. Her cheeks flushed, hands vibrating and breathing fast and heavy. My first instinct was to say something – anything – to help console her, but I held back. As someone who struggled to tame his own teenage hair-trigger temper, I knew the best course of action was to let her come down from her “anger high.” Steadily, she calmed down and composed herself, finally able to speak to me without a trace of her previous upset.

“I’m so sorry about that,” she offered. “My mom and I are in the middle of a huge fight.”

I shook my head in acknowledgment, I thought about making a humorous comment to lighten the mood, but that seemed like too big of a big risk. “Is this a really bad time? Maybe we should meet later.”

Dina shook her head, “Oh no, I’m here. I don’t want to head back just yet and I could really use a drink.”

And yet, will alcohol make things better or worse?

A little reluctant, I decided to sit down with Dina for what I expected to be a short conversation. By this time, it was nearly 8:30 in the evening, and between the mitigating circumstances and the bus schedules, Dina would need to leave relatively soon to make it home. It was tremendously difficult to make small talk with the proverbial elephant not only sitting in the room with us, but pretty much in our laps trumpeting for attention. Somehow, we managed to engage in a polite talk about jobs, friends and the general news of the day. Dina was an executive assistant in downtown DC and was trying to wrap up her Bachelors degree at night school. I guessed that she hadn’t been home yet since she was still in her office wear – a simple black suit jacket and matching skirt with a plain white blouse. Dina looked like her profile pictures – she was Asian (half Korean if I remember correctly), barely standing at five feet tall, long dark hair down to waist, average build and a very charming smile.

Dina managed to carry on a good conversation despite our rocky start, and the only sign that she was still stressed came from her downing a glass of white wine like a tequila shot. I guessed correctly that she fought rush-hour heavy Metro trains and buses alike to make her way out to Tysons, and she jumped on my offer for some dinner while we talked.

As either her nerves calmed or alcohol loosened her up, Dina eventually opened up about her personal troubles. According to her, she was in an incredibly dysfunctional relationship while a full-time college student. The ex-boyfriend frequently cheated on her since she was not into his frat boy partying, and even walked in on him sleeping in bed with a drunk girl. It wasn’t long after that encounter when she found out that she was pregnant because of a more pleasant night where they both stupidly thrown caution (as well as any handy condoms) to the wind. The relationship deteriorated quickly after that and they went their separate ways. Dina didn’t elaborate much about why she was arguing with her mother about her daughter, but based on what I heard from her phone call, I suspected her mom was upset over Dina going out on a date and leaving her with babysitter duties at an inopportune time. Dina admitted that being a mother at a young age was difficult when most of her friends were still running around doing what anyone does before they hit thirty.

As the conversation moved forward, Dina seemed to possess a pretty good sense of humor, including making more than a few dirty jokes that really broke the ice between us. I could tell that she was covering over more than a little stress and personal pain, but could see that she was being earnest about dating someone. Her own dating experiences taught her to be much more guarded about having a child since that usually scared away any potential dates for obvious reasons. Dina exuded a certain charm that I admit was warming up on me despite my still wanting to be cautious with her, but we were a few drinks in and I decided to see where things went with her.

Before long, our waitress told us that we need to wrap things up – it was almost 11:00 PM and they were closing. After settling the bill and stepping out into the chilly night air, I asked Dina what her plan was. Although Falls Church wasn’t that far away, she lived on the southern end of the city, which was a bit of a pain to drive to, and the buses were changing to their night schedules, so going home would be an effort. I offered to give her a lift knowing that it would mean I wouldn’t home until pretty late, but she was nervous about letting someone new know where she lived. I suggested a taxi, but the cab fare wouldn’t be cheap. Hesitantly, she brought up the idea of staying somewhere else, perhaps a hotel room, but again, that was money she didn’t have to spend.

In my mind, I heavily debated what I was about to ask. On one hand, she was really in a jam without a car, but on the other, after seeing her at what might’ve been her worse just a few hours earlier, I wasn’t sure I’d be safe. Nevertheless, the tiny spark between us was a little bit compelling, so I made the offer of crashing at my place that night. Dina thought about it and actually agreed.

As we drove back to my place, I did a mental inventory of anything that could possibly be considered dangerous or as a deadly weapon, and except for a set of kitchen knives, I couldn’t think of anything. Once at my place, I gave her the quickie tour (thanking God that just cleaned the place over the previous weekend) and pulled out spare bed linens, blankets and a towel and wash cloth for her use. I offered her my bed on the condition that I remake it with fresh sheets, but she insisted on the couch. Dina excused herself to the bathroom as I made the couch into an impromptu bed, and as I finished, she walked out of the bathroom wearing just the full lace slip and panties worn underneath her work clothes.

I was a little taken aback. Her otherwise nervous demeanor stuck me as someone who wouldn’t walk around in a slip, especially one that showed off a figure that made it hard to tell that she birthed a child, and the fact that the cool air showed off her cleavage and “headlights” so prominently. I gave her a hug goodnight and told her to wake me if she needed anything.

As a matter of habit, I rarely sleep well whenever there’s someone new around – whether sharing my bed or sleeping somewhere else in my place as a guest. This is due to the normal anxiety with someone new, as well as the fact that I’m a little self-conscious about my snoring. As a result, I tossed and turned a bit in bed, sometimes carefully listening for any questionable shuffling from the living room or someone standing in my doorway, until finally drifting off into a light sleep around 1:00 AM.

Sometime in the very early hours, I was suddenly awake and aware that I wasn’t alone in my bedroom. Smelling her perfume, I looked up and in the dark to see Dina’s form quietly moving to the other side of the bed and her sliding under the covers.

“Sorry,” she said, “I can’t get comfortable on your couch. Do you mind?”

“I guess not,” I replied, now very sure I wasn’t going to sleep a wink for fear of my own nocturnal sounds on full display for a veritable stranger.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure…it’s okay,” I said.

Over the next hour, I closed my eyes and tried to relax as Dina lay just inches away from me. She turned over a few times, but otherwise barely made a sound and eventually settled on her side with her back to me. Eventually, I heard her breathing slow and found myself beginning to drift off to sleep again. I was sleeping on my side facing her back.

I thought I was dreaming. No real images, just the sensations of warmth, the weight of something near or on me, and floral smells. Something tickled my nose (her hair was drawn up into a bun) and I awoke to Dina curling up against me in a spooning position as she was trying to pull my arm over her with the covers. At first, my instinct was to pull away, but exhaustion and the thrill of feeling her against me said Fuck it, why not? As we lay there, Dina seemed to shuffle around or squirm a bit, as if trying to make herself more comfortable, but the net result was her ass frequently bumping or rubbing against my crotch, and considering I was wearing nothing more than a pair of loose boxers, her movements were having the obvious affect on me. I tried to maintain my “I’m asleep” mode during all of this while trying to carefully pull a little bit away from her to avoid making her aware of my awkward hard on. Her perfume smelled wonderful and I absently wondered if she put more on while in the bathroom. I could feel some of her figure against me – her defined waist and hips, and just enough baby fat on her to prove she was a mom, complete with a small but attractive pooch on her belly.

As time passed and sleep remained out of reach, I noticed that Dina was moving closer and up against me whenever I tried to move further away. Tired of fighting against it, I decided to see if my being hard as a rock would convince her to move away. Instead, she seemed to settle more against me and her ass against my cock felt dangerously good to me. She tentatively took my hand in hers, interlacing our fingers, then pulling them against her sternum. I could feel the curve of her breasts against my arm, which didn’t do for helping me mentally bring down my erection. Soon enough, she put my hand on one of her breasts and coaxed me a bit to feel and caress it. Dina’s breasts were nicely shaped and perfectly in the “no more than a handful” zone. Her nipples were still at full attention. As I we laid there, I felt her and she leaned more into me, gently sliding back and forth making me even harder.

Dina eventually took her hand off of mine and slid it down to pull up her slip until it was crushed up against her stomach, and now I could feel her panties through my boxers. Getting into the moment, I began kissing the back and side of her neck, sometimes going up and nibbling on her earlobe. She brought her free hand up, nudging mine off of her breast by feeling it herself, where I dropped my hand down to rest on her stomach. She nudged at my arm with hers in a downward motion, and I took the hint to slide my hand down. I played with the waist band of her panties with my fingertips, not really sure if it was safe to do more until she uttered a definitive “mmm hmm.”

Sliding my hand inside her plain cotton panties, I felt a thatch of ungroomed public hair that was thin and straight like her hair and felt good in my fingers. I decided to go for it and delved as far down as I could, eventually making her jump as my fingers discovered her wet clit. I rubbed my fingertips around and over her it as Dina squirmed and quietly purred. She was now holding and playing with both breasts with her hands as I slid my fingers down, and turned her head to me so we could kiss. Dina moved over a little to lay more on her back and away from me as she spread her legs apart enough to make room for my hand between them. She was wet and warm, and my fingers slipped back and forth between and over the lips. As I began sliding my fingers in and out of her, Dina took one hand and plunged it into my boxers, then gently grabbed and stroked my hardened cock.

Dina pulled her head away from me as my machinations between her legs began having their desired affect – she uttered moans and cries out loud as an orgasm built inside of her. My fingers were slick from going in and out of her, and her hair as damp in the process. Her hand on my cock grew a little tighter, her motions faster as she arched her back and yelled out loud as an orgasm erupted from her. She shook and squirmed as I continued sliding my wet fingers in and out of her, then relaxed as the wave passed and her shaking toned down to more of a tremble.

As I pulled my hand away from her, she sat up and yanked her slip off, revealing perfectly pouting breasts, then turning and sitting on top of me. I sat up and wrapped my arms around her, kissing her. Her tongue moved in quick flashes and jumps – one moment playing with my own tongue, the next exploring my upper lip. I kissed down her neck as she leaned back a little, giving me easy access to kiss and lick at her breasts, then taking her nipples in my mouth to bite and flick my tongue at. I tried to move back up to her mouth, but she tapped on my head with hand, and I continued to focus on her breasts. Dina slid back a little, resting on my thighs, then began pulling down my boxers.

I stopped her. She looked at me in honest surprise and confusion.

“I can’t,” I said quietly.

Her look didn’t change.

“It’s not that I don’t want to…I’m…without something we need.”

Dina tilted her head, “Seriously?”

I nodded. “Seriously.”

She half smiled. “Come on.”

I leaned over and pulled the nightstand drawer open, revealing nothing more than the instruction booklet for my alarm clock and a flashlight I kept for emergencies.

Dina seemed unimpressed. “How the Hell does a guy not have any condoms?”

I smirked back. “I only moved into this place a few months ago, and it’s been pretty quiet on the dating front, so I haven’t needed any for a while.”

“Shit,” she said.

We sat there, both frustrated and worked up.

“Okay,” Dina finally said, “You got me off. At least let me return the favor.”

She promptly pulled off my boxers, then laid down and took my cock in her mouth. Her sucking me was similar to how she kissed – quick and direct. Already turned on and ready to go, the feeling of her tongue against my shaft was amazing. Dina laying sideways next to me while going down, allowing me to caress her ass with my hand, then slide back between her legs to feel her still wet pussy as she drew long strokes back and forth with me in her mouth. Minutes later, she laid next to me, stroking me until I came, hitting both of us and warm cum dripping down over her hand and fingers.

We took turns cleaning up afterward, then eventually fell asleep for a few hours.

We woke up with the alarm and took turns showering – her first, then me. As I toweled off, Dina called to me in the living room. I walked in, towel around my waist, to see her frozen in front of the TV. The DC sniper struck that morning, and the police locked off main roads in an attempt to trap him. Traffic was already screwed and we debated what to do – I was working in old town McLean at the time and she needed to find some way into DC with cars, buses and subways all hopelessly mucked up for the morning. The West Falls Church Metro was the most convenient and easiest one to drive to at the time, so we crawled our way there in my car, while I called my then boss to let him know I’d be late.

It took almost two hours, but I finally dropped Dina off at the Metro station, where we made a quick goodbye complete with a kiss from her. The last I saw of her was running into the station.

Not quite sure what to make of that night, I made my way to work and kept myself awake with a combination of coffee, cola and Halloween candy that was already making rounds in the office. I didn’t hear from Dina for the next few days, pretty much assuming that her emotionally-charged issues were indicative of what to expect from her in the long run. Despite the drama going on in her life, I decided to give her another chance and fired off an email saying as much. I tried calling her cell, but received a noticed that her voicemail box was full.

The next weekend came and went without too much excitement or word from her, and then I finally received an email back via the dating website. Dina said that she was glad we met, but didn’t feel that even a casual relationship was workable for her at the time. She seemed to be a woman of her word because shortly after that email her profile was gone. Whether she deleted it or blocked me is a good question, but common sense told me it was time to move on either way. A few years later, I was on Match.com and came across her profile there – using the exact same pictures from her previous profile. Her description sounded similar to what I remembered before, and this time she mentioned that she was a mom. I thought about contacting her just to catch up, but decided it was better to leave that all in the past.