Note: I originally wrote this before I met my husband, but I’m still bitter.
Okay, so this will explain a couple of things about me. Namely, why I am single. Apparently, I am serially undatable, in addition to being obnoxious. Not a terrific combination. And the reason I know this? Who says you can’t learn anything on the internet. I ran a “scientific” experiment.
Here’s the scene: I was talking to a buddy of mine not too long ago. He’s terminally single as well, but a great guy. He’s one of those people who you can’t figure out why women aren’t offering to shine his shoes for him. And he’s telling me that he tried out this internet match thing – I won’t name the site (psst, I totally did in the title), but it’s one where the site is covered with pictures of couples who look like this:
|You can tell they are happy because they are wearing matching sweaters.|
You know the ones. The ones where they promise that your internet-addicted ass can find true love yes, using only the internet. Anyway, this site has like a 12,000 page questionnaire you fill out with regard to what you’re looking for and what you’re like, and they promise you a wild array of matches, all of whom will be exactly to your liking. An amazing collection of potential mates, all of whom are perfect for you. Anyway, my friend was sorely disappointed that, despite the fact that they claim that most people get “hundreds” of potential matches, that he only had a handful or so. A couple of dozen people, nationwide, who would be well-suited to date him. I laughed and said “Something like that would totally happen to me,” and we had a drink on it. But when I got home, I got curious…
I mean, I consider myself a pretty good catch. I’m at least reasonably hygienic, anyway. Anybody would be glad, nay – LUCKY to date me, right? Right? Is this thing on? So I sit down and decide to be perfectly honest whilst filling out the 12,000 page questionnaire. After all, if you fudge things, the people they match you with won’t be your ideal mates, right? It didn’t occur to me that most men, when filling out the “what I’m looking for” section, inevitably put that they wanted 5’9″ size 4 blond, blue-eyed gym rats who are dumb as bricks. Seriously, they ask that kind of thing. “Would you be intimidated by dating someone who might be smarter than you?” Blissfully ignorant, my mouth watered at the veritable cornucopia of men I just knew would be perfect for me. So I get the quiz of doom filled out, finally, and hit “submit”, shivering with antici-(wait for it)-pation.
Finally, I get a pop-up which says “Would you like to see your matches?” I click “HOLY SHIT YES I WOULD!” and limit the results to my local area. After all, one can only deal with so many suitors at a time. And the result was a whopping….zero. Seriously. But fair enough, I live in Idaho. Frowning, I expanded the results to include the entire United States. The result? An astounding, mind-boggling…
Apparently there are only two men in the entire United States who are even remotely compatible with old Miz Parker, and one of them lives in Tennessee. (No wonder my husband turned out to be from New Zealand.) See, they send you your matches in the hopes that you’ll then pay the $4,716 or whatever it is to be able to talk to your potential soul mates. What I got was the equivalent of “Don’t even bother to pull out your wallet, sweetheart.” Yeah, I’m a loser. Dejected, I decided to check my email. Once down, they kick you in the ribs. I had an email from the service which read “Dear Miz Parker: Regrettably, we are afraid that our services just might not be for you. 99.8 percent of subscribers are satisfied with our services, but we can certainly understand when our matching service can’t be perfect for everyone’s needs. We wish you luck in all of your future dating endeavors.”
Well, isn’t that just fucking perfect. What the letter SHOULD say:
“Dear Undatable Reject Loser: We regret to inform you that out of our worldwide subscriber dating pool of hundreds of thousands of people, we only found two that might be even remotely interested in talking to you, and even those two were borderline. Seriously, only .02 percent of the people who try this shit out are as unmatchable as your ass, and we cater to internet-addicted weirdos and yuppies with no discernible personality. What do you have, leprosy? We suggest you scurry directly to your local pub and try your luck there. You may get lucky by virtue of a potential mate being drunk enough to be blissfully unaware of what a loser you are, and chances are that you’ll only be rejected by a couple of dozen people, tops, the entire night, instead of being rejected by several hundred thousand SOBER desperate freaks in a matter of seconds. Plus, you might get a buzz out of the deal. Or maybe you should just off yourself – you’re going to be alone the rest of your life anyway. Good luck in the future, your ass will need it.”
Can you sue for the price of Prozac? I think next time, I’m just going to put up an ad for myself that says:
|It’s worth a shot.|