She will offer to split, but you think she doesn’t mean it and you don’t want to be a jerk.
You will march home to an empty inbox and the desire to spend another hour browsing and writing will start to fade.
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Finally, one of the cool girls writes back, and you will banter a bit, swapping favorite restaurants or concert venues.
You will ask her to meet up “in real life.” At the bar, you will chat nervously for an hour (she is not as pretty or as funny as you had hoped she’d be), and then you will be saddled with the $27 check even though she ate most of the sweet potato fries.
The Internet could be the great democratizer, the great playing field-leveler.
After all, we each have only the 500-word text boxes and crappy jpegs and clever (not so clever) user names to show for ourselves. Maybe in this environment where we are safely sequestered behind screens, we can get past some of the lingering gender-based “rules” that dominate the “How to Catch a Man” playbooks of yore.
With those, you will send a few messages back and forth before he invites you for a drink.