The first time that I tried to
join Match was after maybe three months of singledome when I was in
the “my life is over and I’m never going to meet an interesting guy ever again”
place. It was an odd place, one
with lots of Popsicle’s, Netflix and no small amount of emotional cutting. Surrounded by popsicle sticks and fearing permanently cherry stained lips, I turned to my friends for support and
advice. This, was a terrible idea. I don't know about your friends but sometimes my friends give me great advice, other times they tell me to join
Match.com.
Thankfully, dating websites seem
prepared for this exact situation and in order to weed out emotional train
wrecks (ahem) they require prospective members fill out a very snazzy
questionnaire intended to assess emotional stability. Tricksy questions such as, “what do you like
to do in your spare time?” (Sit on the couch, watch Gossip Girl on Netflix and
drink red wine?) and “How important to you is it that your potential match wear
deodorant/ have basic social skills/ not be married/ have a job?” (Hint: when
your answer is one big…meh…that’s a bad sign.)
Thank GOD this super dog sniffer of a survey was filled out before
actually signing up for or paying for anything.
And so, abundantly aware of my overwhelming apathy towards members of
the opposite sex, I closed my laptop, grabbed another fudgsicle and went back
to my solo couch party. I wasn’t there yet.
Four seasons of Grey's Anatomy, two
semesters of nursing school pre-reqs and one MAJOR crush on a certain A&P
teacher later – my super friends struck again.
This time I found the wherewithal somewhere within myself to care a
little bit more about the bar against which I measured my potential
suitors and embraced the idea of trying something new. This brings me to my first line
of defense.
Criteria for which you get
ex-nayed / considered on first look:
1.
Gratuitous
shirtless selfies.
I don’t think that this one needs an
explanation.
2.
Any
reference to wanting “like, not a supermodel or anything, but you know, someone
who respects their body.”
The want to be attracted to one’s partner is
implied in the whole “more than friends” situation and a need to turn the
implied into the overt is distressing in and of itself. Add in the idea that anyone not meeting a
certain physical standard (one that I assume is most likely stereotypical and
unrealistic for the likes of me) is lacking in respect for their body? No thank you.
3.
Any
reference to needing an “active sexual relationship.”
Vomit.
4.
Current
relationship status of anything other than single, divorced or widowed.
What else is there you ask? What other status could one reasonably put on
a dating website profile? It’s not normal, it’s not reasonable and it’s certainly
not very smart but you could also choose: separated. I can hear your collective gasp and please
rest assured that I share your horror. Take
a breather dude, it’s okay to be alone for more than a week.
5.
Substitution
of single letters and numbers for full words and/or refusal to abide by basic
mechanical writing principles.
U for you.
4 for four. B4 for before. All caps, no periods, no commas? You don’t have to have a Pulitzer Prize but
Microsoft Word has an outstanding spelling and grammar check system. Use it.
Please.
Add in the basic safety rules (no
identifying information, no at home pickups and providing a friend with my
password to the oh so handy Find My IPhone app) and you’ve got yourself a blind
dating ball game.
You might be wondering why I’m
telling you these things. Perhaps if you are in an established, loving relationship you might be thinking, "that sounds fun!" Trust me, this ain't Sex in the City and in the coming posts there will
be moments (trust me) where you ask yourself: “what the hell kind of criteria
is she picking these guys with?” In retrospect, perhaps I ought to have made more rules, but then again, what's the point of stepping out of your box if you're just going to box yourself back in with rules?
So now
you know that a.) I'm super lame and b.) that it is with these rules in hand that I embarked upon an entirely hilarious, occasionally humiliating and entirely surreal six months of online dating.
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