Swimming (or wading) in metaphors

One night, my junior year of college, a very drunk senior boy grabbed me by the arm, looked straight into my eyes, and delivered an impassioned plea: "Lori, never settle. You are one of a kind, I hope you know that. Just promise me that you will never settle."

Back when I was only 20 years old, I took a lot of things to heart, and this was no doubt one of them. But long after I realized that much of what was said back then was done so under the veil of intoxication or, at the very least, with the self-importance of late adolescence, that statement, that demand, has stuck with me. Maybe it helped that the person who said it later became more than a bar crush, but a good friend. Someone whose opinion I valued, though never fully understood. And while most guys who whispered sweet nothings in my ear that year surely wouldn't remember what they said, this guy not only remembered, but reiterated the same sentiment to me for years after that first night. For reasons I will never know, he always really believed it. And that helped me believe in myself.

I haven't talked to the guy much since I moved to LA, but his words haunt me now more than ever. For the past two months, I have forced myself to do Match. Forced myself to open my mind, give guys who I wouldn't normally look twice at, a second glance, a first date. It's not that I'm so picky - at all. Please let it be known that a lot more guys pass me over than the other way around. But I tend to have a type, and I know it when I see it. I didn't see too much of it online. This time, though, I changed my rules: I allowed myself to make the first move, I corresponded with guys whose pictures I wasn't attracted to. I expanded my search options for age, height, education, distance, etc. But when it came time to save it as an official search, to come back to later, I had to call it like I saw it: "Lower Standards."

And that's where I wonder: At what point did "opening my mind" become a delicate euphemism for "lowering my standards"? Am I being too judgmental, or simply maintaining my integrity? What's the difference between taking pride in yourself and being so full of pride that you can't get past your own big head? Is it still considered "the dating game" if I'm not having any fun?

I've had so many people tell me to give the guys a chance, that they fell in love with their boyfriend/fiancee/husband only after they turned off their initial, discriminating judgment. But then on the other hand, I've watched as countless friends have fallen in love in an afternoon, in the blink of an eye, without having to turn off anything but their vibrators. I can't help but believe that when it happens, I'll know. And until then, I guess I feel like it's just not worth compromising my time.

Time, of course, is the one thing that won't compromise with me.

In my daily life, I don't meet a lot of guys. I meet even fewer guys that I am attracted to. And of those, I meet even fewer who are single, straight, and equally attracted to me. Bottom line: my dating pool is more like a puddle. In a desert. It doesn't exist.

Which is why the online stuff keeps sounding attractive at the outset. For a small monthly fee, I can splash in all the puddles I want, get my feet wet and hope that one of them will turn out to be deep enough to take the plunge, dive head first into cooling relief. Except that I can never get past the murky water to see how deep it might go; because when it comes down to it, I don't want a piddly puddle. I want the grand Pacific Ocean, and that, I have to believe, I will recognize when I see it.

Or I will die alone, dehydrated in the desert, my last thought regretful for not taking a drink when I had the chance.