Love in the modern age

A couple of months ago, I signed up for Match.com. If you ask me then why I did it, I probably would have cried a little while rambling on about how my mom asked if I wanted a single burial plot my grandfather had bought back in the ’30s… That she asked me to “think about it today and let me know tonight…” And that my headstone would read, “Forever Alone, Just Like Our Auntie,” who was the great aunt I would likely be buried next to.

Ask me today and I’ll tell you: It was a moment of insanity. But really, I had just gone through another breakup and was depressed and feeling sorry for myself, maybe even a little bitter, which is never a good time to do much of anything—let alone sign up for a dating site. But I thought I’d give it a try just to see if any cool guys were out there who would actually treat me the way I deserved for once.

I decided to test it first by not mentioning that I play roller derby. I talked about my favorite literature and shared photos of my dogs. I tried to tame down my hobbies (I run! I write! I take my dogs to the park!) and hide the fact that I basically have no time on my hands because I play a really bad ass sport.

The immediate results were overwhelming. I may have a bit of social anxiety. This pushed me over the edge. By day one, I had hundreds of hits to my profile. I was getting likes and “wink alerts” (ew!) and messages where people called me “cute” or “beautiful” and asked what books I’m currently reading.

So then I added in roller derby, because really—I can’t hide it forever. That resulted in the following:

• A message from a 59 year old man. Way outside of my age interest, might I add.

 

• This was a reply from a 56 year old, who first just called me “tasty” and then had to follow up to tell me I am “very nice n athletic.” So nice.

 

• This 41 year old man may be in my age range, but he had no picture, and SERIOUSLY? As my friend Samantha said, “Muscles. Burritos. Dog love.” But desperation is not going to do it.

 

• This 36 year old from North Dakota actually sent me three messages in a row asking me to show him around Topeka. Tootse? Eff off, buddy. Topeka can eff off, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And I avoided a guy who not only told me he adored me despite not having met me yet, but he also said that in 5 years, his wife would be home schooling their kid. Terrifying.

The thing is, I started getting a little depressed by the hundreds of “likes” and “winks” when it was feeling like nothing but a meat market with no substance, and there was certainly nobody I would want to date based upon their selfies and “witty” profiles. Not to mention I have no time to date anyway. So I started venting to a friend about how I was tired of it all and that I was done dating. His response was, “That’s ridiculous. You have so much to offer!” And that’s when the lightbulb went off: I know what I have to offer. I need a guy to prove what he has to offer me.

And with that realization, I snapped back into I-don’t-have-time-for-this-garbage-and-I-refuse-to-settle mode. I immediately ended my subscription and am now mostly laughing at the emails I keep getting.

I did check today to see how much longer I have left before I get to stop laughing about it all. One more month. As of now, I’ve been viewed over 4,200 times. That’s like half the size of my hometown, which freaks me out considerably. But in the meantime, I’m at least getting some good laughs and even learning to make low-quality gifs from the experience!

WinkI frequently go back and looked at a poem my friend Herman said reminded him of me. From Girl With Red Bicycle:

Let them sweat trying to catch my hair in the wind. I will ride. I don’t care if their feet never leave the shore. I will always dive, headfirst and unafraid. No matter how deep the anchor plunges I will always rescue myself.

Thank you, Match, for giving me a valuable reminder: My life is incredible. It’s going to take somebody really amazing to make me let him in. And I can guarantee I won’t welcome him in because he called me, “Tasty.”

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