Someone's experience with online dating via Postsecret.com

Many months ago, my sister got it in her head that I should find someone.  I should go up on Match.Com because that’s where she met her husband, and that’s where someone else met their husband and that’s where someone else met their husband and so on and so on.  Those of you who know me know exactly where this is going.

Though well intended she vowed to make it her mission that I should be just as happy as she and Honey were.  Love that about her, hate that about her.  Making me a social experiment (apparently she had someone from her church all picked out for me) let alone a mission just stuck right up in my proverbial.

But as quiet and lovely as she is, she can be relentless.  I signed up. For the absolute bare minimum, just to see what all the fuss was about. OMG what a mess.  My profile, while witty and true to who I am including a smart ass remark, won’t ever do me justice.  I have energy that can fill a room; you can’t put that on paper (this from a writer).   It just doesn’t translate well.

And neither do the 469 men who viewed my profile.  Seriously 469 men viewed my profile and not one emailed, I take that back the guy in the camo outfit did email.  Can you say delete faster that my eyes could focus on the shed in the background.

I can’t say for sure what percentage of the 469 wore black socks with their sandals, or were over sixty and still had their ponytails, or had pictures that were clearly from the 70’s in their profile.  Are these people serious?  The profiles could be nauseating to read, or infuriating to read.  For instance, one guy, no picture had a 500 word manifesto of she should be this and she should be that and the final line said, I’m looking for the “she” version of me.  Who are these people?

And the names they come up with: LovinspoofulXX, UrMomWillLuvMee, lovebeinginluv, preludeXXX, and skywalkerXX.  The XX are actually numbers on the site indicating that several people have chosen the same name.  I can’t.  I just can’t.

First lines are meant to entice you into reading their profile.  Hello all you busty ladies. Someone shoot that guy.  Time shows the way; could we get any more mushy?  Needy much?  I have no patience for this mass market schmaltz or the blatant disregard for women as people or the crybabies or the obvious lack of truth in any of it.

Needless to say, I cancelled within minutes.  That leaves you the ability to continue visiting the site to check matches until your final expiration.  Not likely, never again will I submit to anything like this where you get sucked in so your self-esteem can get batted around by the daily matches, winks, views, favorites, and emails received.  Because for me there weren’t any.  For a split second you begin to think it’s you.  It’s not me, this is a numbers game and I am not a number.

There was one final email that came through on January 2.  I had long ago cancelled this subscription so I didn’t pay any attention and frankly it seemed just a bit suspicious.  There was a reminder from Match.com that you have an email.  Ok I’m curious so I click on the “go to email” and guess what?  You have to subscribe to read your email and there is a 20 buck special for the New Year.  Of course you do, but I’m still curious.  So I pay the 20 bucks and there he is, all 5’2” of him, stating he is athletic though clearly his pot belly doesn’t indicate that, from India with broken English even in his profile.

I could not have laughed harder.  I paid twenty bucks for the best lesson I’ve had in a very long time.  Be well Match.com don’t call me I won’t call you either.  The single only profile I’m sorry I didn’t get to read while I was a subscriber for twenty minutes was this one:

I know like I know that I am happy where I am, doing what I’m doing.  The more I expand what I do the more people I meet.  The more people I meet the more friends I have.  That’s the only numbers game I want to play.  Got that everyone?