Hey Baby, can I get yo numba?!

Warning: If you read this blog, please be aware that there are two blogs for every story. I'm sure if you spent enough time searching, you might find a blog that will tell the other side of this story which may or may not portray that I had much less control in the interactions which took place than that which I am portrayed to have below. It's probably true, but not nearly as funny.

By now it's a known fact that I've been dabbling in Internet dating. It's been kind to me. Much better than the bars and clubs have been. Besides, I'm not Kip from Napoleon Dynamite, spending all day "chatting with chicks online". For me, it's a simply way to meet people who share at least some of the same interests as me. I digress, there is no need for me to justify...peoples' dating preferences are no one's business but their own.

Moving on...

It all started when I got the email from the website we'll call "hEarmony", notifying me that I had a new match. As is the case with all my new matches (yes, believe it or not, there are more than one), I went to her profile to do some reconnaissance. The first thing I noticed was that her name was a bit unusual. It was a name which is generally masculine. In order to protect the sweet, innocent young woman, I'll use the name Codi.

I spent a short time conducting "Operation Codinator", which included viewing pictures, reading facts, and identifying potential talking points (that's talking not stalking). "Operation Codinator" ended in success. I determined this young maiden was worthy of my contact.

I decided against bypassing the standard "hEarmony" process, though I knew it would require considerably more time on my part. FYI, the standard process for "hEarmony" goes like this:

1. A couple will exchange a set of multiple choice questions
2. Lists of likes/dislikes are exchanged
3. Ask/answer a few open-ended questions
4. Open communication (email)
5. Via email, the two can share other personal information such as phone numbers, etc.

To cut things a little short, let's just say we started emailing one another. My first email included a request for her phone number in order for us to have an even more open communication (IMHO, emails from a stranger can be misread or misunderstood). I would much rather misread or misunderstand a phone or face to face conversation, it's more personal.

Five days later, her response to my request came. No, she would not give me her phone number and instead, she insisted that I answer a litany of deep, personal questions fired off in rapid succession! "This is unusual," I thought...

Being the patient and humble (one may say desperate) man that I am, I answered the questions and attempted to defuse the situation by lobbing some softballs her way. This seemed to have worked since we traded only a few more emails until finally, she said she would give me her number (Please note, she did not give me her number, she only said that she WOULD give me her number). She clearly stated that I must first ask for her telephone number, because to her, "men should do the awkward stuff in life". Again I say, unusual...

Contrary to what one may now believe after reading the above, I am no dummy. I opted not to ask for her number. Instead, I decided that I was now running the show! (Lets just avoid discussing the fact that after our email discussions, I now knew that she is a pretty awesome girl and was utterly TERRIFIED of her!)

I asked as many tough questions as I could. )No more softballs honey, you're in the big leagues now!) Unfortunately, it turned out that my questions were the MLB equivalent of a beach ball being lobbed underhand by a 14 year old girl. In addition to being the furthest thing from difficult, I also neglected to fact check. I realized later that most of the questions I had asked were already answered. Maybe I am a dummy...

Graciously however, she responded positively to my 3rd grade banter. (maybe she likes 'em dumb?) I finally decided that it was time to simply cut 'em off, stick 'em in a bag, and hand 'em over...gift wrapped. Yeah, I asked for her number just like she wanted me to.

While my voice was now an octave higher, I was relieved to finally have gotten to this point. I fully expected to get the number in the usual format, 10 digits from 0-9. For her convenience, I also gave her my number (the equivalent of including my penis in the package). I should have known based on the way communication had gone to this point (unusual), that there would be nothing "usual" about the response.

Once again, rather than simply writing out the 10 digits, she required that I go on a "virtual scavenger hunt" that included pointless mathematical calculations (these were not new to me since I have taken 4 college calculus classes), scripture chases, and random google searches. I read her email and silently refused to let her be in charge! I mean, this woman already had every man-part I possessed, I will NOT give her any more!!! I was ready to pound out an email telling her exactly what I felt about her new "wild goose chase".

It took about 30 minutes, but I finally finished the wild goose chase and had the number. I back checked it so that I was sure it was right. I proudly thought to myself, "Now it's MY turn! (it wasn't) It's time to have a bit of fun at her expense (I didn't)."

My plan? To send a text that would be a bit revealing for anyone to get. Something that she couldn't show to her friends without being completely embarrassed. It went like this:

"Codi, this is the guy you hit on hard and drunk texted last night. Never had someone chew on my ear like that, especially someone I just met -JD"

After hitting send, I gave myself a mental "pat on the back" as I thought about her face as she read the message. I was sure she would find it embarrassing but also funny and come back with an equally intelligent and humorous rebuttal. "But," I thought, "nothing compares to a first strike!"

I was in the middle of gloating minutes later when the response came, "Ummm, yeah, you have the wrong number. I'm not Kyle whoever that is."

"Well played my little kitten," I thought to myself as I formulated a response. I wondered in awe at how truly witty this woman was. I had not expected an answer such as this. I was ready to send an outright "BS!" message when something from deep in the back of my mind screamed out, "WAIT!!!"

What if this really was a wrong number. What if she gave me the wrong number...intentionally? I'll admit it, there was even a millisecond in which I entertained the fact that my scavenger hunt may have resulted my obtaining the wrong number. I shewed that suggestion away in the same instant it arose, just not possible. Still, I had to be smart about this. I decided to send a text that would serve two purposes, 1. Taunting Codi if it really was her, and 2. Apologizing to a possible stranger. After stretching my wit slightly further than the stub that was now left below my belt, I sent the following:

"Uh, huh, well this is embarrassing for me then, isn't it? Too bad. Looks like I'll just have to go on to one of my other chicks. Sorry to bother you!"

Additionally, to cover all my tracks, I sent an email to Codi dictating to her that the number I had obtained gave me a negative response. I also said that I had done all that was required of me (implying that I had even gone beyond by including my penis as mentioned earlier), and so the rest (penis included) was in her hands.

It took less than an hour to discover that the number which I had sent messages to, was indeed a wrong number. Codi sent me a message using the number I had previously given her to tell me of the mistake. Of course I blame her, everyone that knows me knows that I am never wrong and if I am that I always find a way to blame someone or something else. I'm an engineer for Pete's sake!

To Codi: Well played dear sir, er...ma'am, (I'm sure that happens all the time). You are smart, funny, and unusual. I admire that in a woman. Also, please return my "unit" ASAP. I plan to need it...eventually.

To the person in San Antonio at 882-0203: My sincere apologies. But may you and your friends forever tell the story of the gay dude named JD who got played last night!

As for me, watch out world! I have a number and I know how to use it...now where the hell's my phone?