One of these two will catch the attention of the other on one dating website or another. They chat casually via instant messenger and flirt shamelessly on the telephone. It is likely that they will engage in cyber-sex before they ever even meet.

They meet. They eat, drink, and have sex. The woman goes home feeling even worse about herself than before. The man sleeps soundly in his bed after a mediocre booty-session with a woman who has obvious self-esteem issues.

That’s about the typical Internet encounter.

I am not the average woman I described above. I am a corporate-kick-ass, get-it-done girl with a good body and a sharp mind. The Internet was NOT the way I planned to meet a man, much less one that would be worth anything.

However, as my career took off, my travel plans expanded to include both coasts and both borders of the States, I sought an alternative to barhopping in every new town I visited. Dating (if you could call it that) over one hundred men in two and a half years, I was a Serial-Cyber-Dater!

My first encounters began in my hometown, before I began traveling. One of the first men I met, I like to refer to as “Urkle.” This man had his pants pulled up under his armpits. His tie was tucked into his waistline. He was wearing mismatched shoes, one blue, and one black. He was about 10 years older than his profile and picture claimed. As if his appearance wasn’t punishment enough, the conversation was even worse. Urkle was boring, thought too highly of himself for being the person he was, and was just a downright asshole. He walked me to my car and went in for the kiss. I suddenly turned my head and he got a mouthful of hair. I jumped into my car and sped out of the parking lot, out of this man’s life.

In Denver, I met a man online and we decided to physically meet at a 7-11. We met; he said he was going to get a soda from the 7-11. I got a business call and had to take it. Twenty minutes later, he hadn’t come back. He never did.

In Wisconsin, I met a BMW salesman. He told me he would take me out the next weekend. I waited. He never showed. He called. “I forgot I had to do my taxes tonight. I can’t take you out.” This was in the middle of July. Soooooo urgent.

Most of my experiences with Internet dating played out like bad dates in a novel. I almost would have preferred having sex with Mr. Fling and feeling awful about myself the next day. Had I known then what I know now, I would have had a much easier time screening the losers from the, well, MVP’s.

Some tips on Internet dating?

• Don’t look for Mr. Marriage. The Internet is full of Mr. Flings and that’s what you’ll find. The good news is that some of the Mr. Flings are really Mr. Marriages. You just have to click with the right Fling.
• Never agree to meet someone at a convenience store. It never works. They always run. Trust me.
• Don’t be dishonest in your profile. Don’t be generic, either. Let your personality shine through. Most dating websites give excellent tips on writing a great profile-take advantage. Part Deux will be on profile perfection.
• Know how to spot the freaks. Anyone who refuses to show you a picture, talk on the phone or meet you in public is a big NO! For the most part, Internet dating is safe. Just be sure to tell someone where you are going to be, and make sure it is a well-lit, public place.
• Lastly, don’t limit yourself to just meeting people online. Be sure to go out to dinner, have a drink at a cool bar, and frequent an art gallery you enjoy. Sticking only to online dating can cause mindless hours sitting in front of a computer scanning worthless profiles that you’ll never even contact. Get out and have a little fun!

The bottom line is this: Make sure you connect with someone on more than just a sexual level. Engage them in good conversation and find out if they can hold their own. Build a relationship rather than expecting it to happen overnight. Get to know this person you met in Cyber Land. Otherwise, you’ll end up like “Miss Blondie,” in a cyber world trying to figure out all the rules, or like “Mr. Fling”, with seventeen STD’s and twenty kids by twenty-five women.

Then you arrange to meeting. And the awkwardness of flesh and intonation and demeanor are injected into your perfectly flawless interactions. And it’s completely not the same. And you feel lied to, even though you never were. Even though your cyber buddies standing before you feels the same way. So is the mistake taking the relationship out of context?

I was in exactly that situation this past summer. I traveled across country to see a play. (more on that later, let’s just say I can be impulsive) My beta, someone who proofreads for me, was going to the same play. Her emails sounded enthralled with excitement, so of course, I had to be equally excited to meet her, right? Well I was. I even changed hotels so I wouldn’t be alone in this big bad southern state. Always working to resist the urge to be anti-social, right?

So I call from the hotel to see where she is. She is on the road, on her way and she’s with a friend. I’m hyper and excited to mean a new friend. Excited to have survived the 24 seater plane ride. Elated that there’s a coffee maker in the room. And I have arrived in time for the matinee so I go see the show, knowing I’ll get to see it again that night.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Alabama Shakespeare Festival. Really well done.

I get back and they have arrived. They are tired, they are young and they are so not on the same wave length as me. I try to be welcoming and open and friendly, And all they can do is look at me like I have three heads. They weren’t hungry, so I had dinner alone. I drove to the show that evening because I was just there a few hours earlier. No biggie, I got to play my music, which I though we had in common. I couldn’t tell by their reaction.

As you can tell by now, as I could, that I was feeling like a piece of furniture, to be acknowledged so you don’t bump into it, maybe even sat on if it looked appealing enough to go near. But basically, they were the dynamic duo and I was, well, not part of it. Essentially, I was alone.

By intermission I figured out what was so horribly wrong with the situation. I was asking all the questions. I was actually interested in her and her answers. She didn’t ask me anything. She wasn’t interested in me. She was the complete opposite of the person I knew online.

So I stopped trying. Stopped asking questions. Stopped trying to be social. It was a two-man team and I wasn’t invited. Literally and figuratively. Dinner was kinda awkward. They picked a really bad restaurant to eat, though it could have happened to any of us. They had school and literature and age in common. I had the story she was proofreading for me, which I now understand was the root of her enthusiasm. I guess she didn’t expect the fiction she grew to love to come from the package it arrived in.

The evening ended fine with them surfing the internet together on the hotel computer and I went to my room. I decided to just let them be kids together. I had a plane to catch in the morning, so that worked out fine. I left something new for her to read, but only because I said I would. I already knew she wouldn’t. As far as I know, she still hasn’t. Which is also fine.

So I ask again, did I break a rule? Should I have left our relationship in cyberspace? Was I wrong to assume a kinship and trust in the things we both agreed we had in common?

She lost interest in being my beta after that. There was never that same excitement in our cyber discourse. The magic was gone. For her. For me.

Fortunately, I don’t miss this cyber-friendship. After all, you can’t really miss what you never had.