Spring is here. The desire to hold hands in leafy glens forces a girl to do stupid things. Like online dating.
Aside from the bizarre experience of viewing the photos of twenty men plastered across the page like shoes for sale, there is also the requirement of plastering oneself upon the page. Am I a shoe? Yes, and here is my size, here is my style, here is my heel height, and here, the quality of my leather.
The photo you see at the top of this blog is the actual photograph chosen by a man to get dates. I assume he finds women or he wouldn’t be doing it. I guess there are women who enjoy dating a man who looks like he keeps the lights off in his basement so the plumber who comes to fix the boiler won’t see the torture chamber. Do you find that face appealing? If you do, I know a pit bull you can slap.
Dating online is work. Every day, you have to search the sea of faces, check the messages, answer the email that actually says something aside from Hi Beautiful (which I don’t object to in and of itself but for God’s sake don’t spell it bootifull), do a little chit-chatting and try to make a meaningful connection with a person you’ve never met. The dating site I’m on employs a Q&A algorithm in which you must answer at least 100 questions such as, “Is it okay for men to wear makeup?” in order to get a compatibility quotient from 0% to 100%. If your Compatibility is 84%, the other 16% is called Enemy—yes, Enemy—so all you can think of is the knock-down you will get into if he doesn’t hold your views on men who wear lip gloss.
Here you see another actual profile photo this guy chose because clearly, he thinks women are deeply attracted to big tires. Maybe he was hoping for a salacious metaphor but to me, this photo suggests diesel fumes. Maybe I’m too picky; I might like to date a tractor. Oh dear, I’m not doing the job; I’m not working at online dating. Rather, I’m sneering.
I guess I’m forgetting how great it felt when I discovered that one guy who was deeply compatible. His essays echoed many of my own sentiments, even to using the same words such as “prolific reader.” On closer inspection, I realized he had cut and pasted my answers into his profile. Imitation is the highest form of flattery so maybe he is the one for me. Or maybe I am.