Monday, July 26, 2010
Match Dot Comedy
Fortunately, there is always something to write about straight from the pages of my daily life. This is not however, always, a good thing. Now that I'm back on the dating scene, I'll be set with material that could take me past year end. Let's talk for a moment about Match.Com. Shall we?
Match has gone mainstream, gobbling up lesser sites such as Yahoo Personals and boldly advertising that one in five relationships have been created by them. One out of every five couples you know have met on Match.Com. I have previously disclosed my online dating horror stories and the realities that exist when you're stuck in the tall, tall grass that must be weeded through in order to find a single blade worth pursuing. It's daunting at best.
Match does a good job at keeping you focused. If you don't check your home page, they will email you with their hand picked selections. And how could you resist? These potential suitors are presented to you with catch phrases such as, "like you, he enjoys bowling and performing arts." Oh boy, that settles it. I simply must meet this man who violates every one of my pre-set requirements. He's 5'8, smokes daily and is not yet divorced. Three things, that's all I'm asking for people, is three things. Tall, non-smoking and available. Is that so hard?
I've only just stuck my little toe in this large pool of un-chlorinated water. I'm not willing to actually date anyone yet; choosing instead to watch throngs of hopefuls filter though my profile in the off chance that somebody does catch my interest. I know that sounds horribly conceited but trust a girl on this - there's a lot of riff raff in the virtual dating world, much more riff than raff. You get jaded quickly lest you end up wallowing in the disappointment of one bad date after another.
Which brings me to the comedy part. Apparently, I don't have to experience any real life bad dates when I can close my eyes and dream about them. Last night I met my 'dream' date at the beach. I hid myself from his view so I could observe him for a while. Once I determined he was okay, I paged him, yes - I PAGED him. See that way I could make sure it was actually him because the little paging beeper thingy was going off - duh. In the time it took him to approach me from, oh lets say 30 feet away, he transformed from a hot man to a hot mess.
I'm fairly certain he was wearing dark blue eye shadow and his hair was wrapped around three beer cans. One in the front and two on the sides. A large sheet of Saran wrap secured the beer cans in place. In the back of his hair, underneath the Saran wrap, he had tucked what looked like that packet of dried cheese that comes in the Kraft macaroni and cheese box.
Now here's where you'll understand how jaded I am. I was not shocked by any of this. I seemed to understand that this is what I'm gonna get so I might as well get used to it. In a deadpan voice, I asked him if those were beer cans in his hair. You know, as opposed to Diet Pepsi or something. He said, of course they were beer cans because he's a dude and dudes don't wear curlers.
Oh yeah, good point. Well then dude, do you want to go bowling or see some performing arts?