I gave in. I admit it. I'm also a little ashamed. I feel kind of dirty. Almost as much as the time Mom caught me hosting the Care Bear fun-time orgy.
"What's Cheer Bear doing to Grumpy Bear?"
"I dunno, but he doesn’t look grumpy anymore."
No, their poly-fuzz was always a little matty after that fur pile. Maybe it was the oil, maybe it--nevermind.
Still this was different. No bears were abused in my latest adventure. It was just me, alone, in my office, with my computer.
The light was low. The monitor glowed with promise. Sirens called from the rocky crags of Bose speakers. Defenses down, my fingers swam the key strokes to shore. Filling in all the pertinent criteria.
I was a creator. A madman looking for a way to make a mate.
"Bring my creation to life!"
Speaking of life, I really need one. Any man who can fill out a eHarmony questionnaire in one setting has way too much caffeine in his blood and plenty of time on his hands. Oh, don't worry, I'm just going to jitter and sit on my hands; I'm not going to do anything but submit the questionnaire. I'm window shopping. I do that when I'm lonely. I needed a computer to tell me that there was a match for me somewhere.
I know, pathetic huh? Wait, grab your popcorn, turn off Lifetime, and get your scroll finger ready, cuz this gets better.
First, for the record, I don't believe in dating sites. It's not that they can't work, it's just that they're not for me. It's like blind dating with cam pics stapled to your fingers.
"Where is thumbkin? where is thumbkin?
"Here I am! Here I am!"
"Run away! Run Away!"
See I'm supposed to fall for somebody who sends in a picture their cousin snapped, because he shoots models (well their pictures anyway. He was acquitted on the other charges). But that's just a glossy mock up; it has nothing to do with the subject.
There are also the girls who can't operate a camera and post the mustache nostril shot from the bust up.
"What knockers!"
Maybe so, but she can't manage a camera, so if you're looking for something long term, she's probably not carrying the brain gene you desire for breeding stock. It may not be a problem, but if you're like me and find Family Guy thematic and poignant, then maybe you should be picky about your partner's brain, unless you aren’t worried by the thoughts of kids confounded by Ziplock technology.
"Abby someone…"
Anyway, these captioned pictures really don't say a thing about who you really are, just what you want me to think. I study people. I like people for what they say, think and feel. I need a whole image not two dimensions of your best side. No matter how endowed that best side may be.
I think authenticity is an recessive trait, but something to be desired. I can't find that in fluffy cameo. I need to see and talk and mentally touch. I'm a tactile learner. Yeah, that got me slapped in 5th grade too.
Sure, I hear you now. "The dates are for learning, Rob." Listen to my reply, "Have you read a word I've written?" Go back and read the older blogs. That's not what Rob dates are for. Rob dates are goal oriented. Rob dates are miles past cursory evaluation. Why would I sit across a table and stammer like an idiot with my voice wavering in and out of "dog whistle" territory for that? If I'm dating you, you've passed the first weeding round. We're now on to Double Jeopardy where there's more Rob stake; you're almost through the hard candy shell. Weeding is handled in the "Hi, My name is Bunny" round.
So I don't do dating sites. Still I do enjoy free samples. I like knowing that somebody finds my generic picture-less profile appealing. Like last night, I got a "flirt" on singlesnet. Apparently a flirt is somebody seeing your profile, and clicking the "flirt" link. That sends you a "Hey! Look at me!" message.
I'm a sheep. I pulled up my flirter's profile:
I dream like all people do. You know that mind blowing wild kinky sex. That lets you explore where you just cant wait to touch that man, Where you have to have him now. I have so much I long to do. I have alot I have never tried... Looking for that sexy younger man that just makes me shake all over. Who wants a Taste of Honey!!!!!
I like to play the following sports:
Equestrian.
"Frau Blucher!"
Yeah, I don't think we all do dream the same way. An interesting addition to this story. Her profile says that she's 29. her blurb says she's looking for a young stallion. What's she mailing me for? I may leave lots of blanks in the profile, but I didn't lie. It says I'm 40. I'm one hoof in the glue factory, and if her profile is anywhere near accurate, I think she'd ride me the rest of the way in.
Now I don't want this to reflect on the site. I did receive another flirt from a woman I did have something in common with: Neither of us posted a picture. She was also an artist who loved exercise. Now, I do exercise, but I don't love it. If you're looking for a workout partner past "pass the salsa," then keep power walking cuz you're probably not looking for me. Exercise is a necessary evil, just like tweezing chest hairs. Ok, that's a lie. I do that for fun.
Now some days these "flirts" and ads for Best Buy are all I get in my emailbox. So when I walk to Outlook, and find only Honey the love filly, and Felicia the energizer bunny I start feeling desperate. Is there somebody out there? Somebody for me? Maybe these sites know more than I do. Maybe Honey is the girl for me. How kinky is "kinky?"
"Put the candle back!"
So I decided to see who was in my free eHarmony file. I spent the night filling in their profile. They asked me about everything. I especially loved the, "Do you have trouble controlling your anger," and "Do you find I need to lie to impress others." questions. Now on the latter question, no matter how I answer, how do they know I'm not lying? That's ok. They never did ask me about the strange long mounds in my backyard...
So I wade through the interrogation to find my perfect match. I feel dirty and pathetic for filling it out, and what's more, I think I'd have jumped through fewer hoops if I called Honey. When I'm done they show me the name of my perfect match. What they won't show me is her picture. Why? Because I'm not a paying member. That's ok, I'm not a paying member and I didn't put in my picture. So there!
I'll just accept that they've given me somebody who'll love me unconditionally, no matter what my faults. I decided to go to bed with the song of love in my heart. In the morning I'd get up and find out about my true match.
This morning I get up and check my mail. I've received a message from my perfect match! Now I didn't send her anything, so I'm touched that she looked in and said, "Oooh! My love!"
I open her mail, and it tells me I've been blocked. She doesn't want to hear from me, ever.
Why?
"Because there are no photos posted/I couldn't see any photos. "
I figure I'll send her a finger puppet to staple to her finger as a consolation prize, because that's apparently what she needs to find love. Still, I'm ok. I knew it wasn't right. I was depending on someone else to make a mate, and they made a monster. It's back to the drawing board for me.
So I continue to try and build the perfect mate from nothing. They tell me I'm mad. It's ok. I'd rather be crazy than to divorce again. I'll get it right this time, even if takes forever. Just lock me in here alone, and no matter how much a beg or plead, don't let me out until I get it right.
I will get it right.
0 comments:
Post a Comment