C'mon Baby, Kill Your Cat For Me

O.K., for obvious reasons, I have not blogged about anyone on Match for a long time, but I have to share this profile I found tonight. [By the way--to a certain person I spoke with a couple of days ago about this, I'm sorry. I know you don't like reading about the Match stuff, but it's a gold mine, and I'm not going to not write about it. You don't have to read if you don't want to.]

[On a related point, this post comes with a mild Dad warning. I'm going to have to figure out how to create some kind of Dad-warning barometer for the blog.]

Anyway, a while ago I stumbled upon this certain profile, and it was really promising . . . at first. The guy seemed smart and funny, he was articulate and a decent writer, he had a good job, and he was very good-looking--almost too much so, in an all-American football-player type of way, not usually my type, but . . . I digress. So I'm reading along. Keep in mind that, up to a certain point, everything in his profile is good--he's clever and witty, and he avoids both banality and arrogance/creepiness, which is rare. Nothing sparks cause for concern.

And then we get to this part:

So here are some rules with me... 1. NO cats -- I'm allergic. Yes, I know this rules out like 1/2 of the known female universe. However, If we're REALLY meant for each other we can always do something with/about the cat ;) 2. No vegetarians. I like to cook, I like meat and if you don't... we probably won't work. 3. Faith is fine and I love having debates about this stuff, but if you're a Jesus freak, I'm not for you. 4. Oh, and if you're really into wearing neck scarves... Next! 5. If you live more than 20 miles from Cbus... it probably won't work so let's not bother. 6. If you are a "pageant" person... probably not my type. 7. If you've ever been called "flaky"... please move along. 8. If you look like a man, are missing any visible teeth or have major gastrointestinal issues, don't wink or email me please! 9. One last thing... Wayne does not like women who routinely refer to themselves in the 3rd person. Sorry, but Wayne knows want he wants and he will not settle. Neither should you ;) Wait, Wayne just thought of one more thing... 10. Seriously, stop emailing me (you know who you are)... I will NOT pay to fly you from China to meet me. I don't care how good you say your Wonton Balls are! Ahhh... time for some New Rules (I sound like Bill Maher). 11. If you claim your best physical feature to be your bellybutton or neck (and you're not just being funny), me probably not interested. 12. While we're on the subject... and this could be tough for some... the one physical feature that turns me off quicker than the Bengals defense is... big arms. If your arms occupy more of your profile than your boobs, I won't be able to deal. Don't get me wrong, I am NOT into stick figure girls but there is something about "fat arms" that I can't.. just can't be around. 13. I can't believe I didn't list this earlier as it such a basic thing with me... loud chewers and lip smackers must not only refrain from emailing/winking at me, but should immediately go to the nearest etiquette trainer. Heck, even Borat managed to do that before pooping in a bag and bringing it back to the dinner table.

O.K., I just have to say--if I read this in a work of fiction, I would probably crack up. I mean, you can see the cleverness. But . . .

Truthfully, I don't even know what to say about this. It would take a dissertation to pick this apart, and I wouldn't even have a clue how to handle some of this material. I will, however, comment on a couple of things:

1. Obviously, the part at the beginning about the cats. Dude, WTF? This is my favorite part: If we're REALLY meant for each other we can always do something with/about the cat ;) Um, what? Is he proprosing that, as a team, we will kill the cat? I love how he also manages to make it seem like this would serve as a couples bonding exercise. He might as well write something like, If we're REALLY meant for each other we can always go on a killing spree ;) Any less creepy? Not to me.

2. Heather cracked up at the part where Heather read about how Wayne doesn't like women who refer to themselves in the third person while talking to Wayne. But this was the best part: he [presumably Wayne] will not settle. Neither should you ;) What's up with the emoticon at the end, there? Is that like a wink-wink nudge-nudge, "Neither should you, but really you should" type of thing?

3. I also liked the part where he went on and on about how he hates big arms. I'm kind of tempted to create a fake profile, and for the photos, just post a bunch of pictures of slender arms. And send it to him. Would he freak out?

I have to say, I've missed this Match stuff.

[By the way, I loved numbers 3 and 6 of the guys "rules." Too bad he didn't stop there.]

More Profile Don'ts

O.K., folks, it's list time! As I've always known, and as a very special friend recently reiterated, everyone loves lists. So, without further ado, here are my top reasons for automatically eliminating someone as a potential match.com date based on stuff in their profiles and their written interactions with me:

1. Random Capitalization. This is a More Common Problem than you might think. Some People, in their Profiles, will just randomly capitalize words that have No Business being capitalized. Why? Why? Here's a classic Example:

Happy Camper, seeking to share this journey with an Exceptional Woman who has taken care of herself Emotionally, Physically etc... I'm described by friends as loyal, honest, funny, dependable, hard working/playing, sincere... I'd have to agree with them most of the time... I'm proud of my Family and appreciate their support, and Very Lucky to be surrounded by Good Friends who keep me centered... I'm a Travelholic, Chocolate Aficionado, Ethnic Food Loving, Music Listening, Best Uncle Ever, Golfer... OK, OK Enough about me. Please, let me hear about YOU...

I especially like how this paragraph degenerates toward the end into capping almost everything and then, finally, into ALL CAPS, fulfilling its inevitable destiny. I'm SO tempted, since this guy actually e-mailed me, to write him back and tell him I couldn't possibly date someone Who Caps Things He Shouldn't . . . but do I really want to go there? Do I want to become the Asshole Editor Woman of Match.com? I'm already the Crazy Woman on the Bike Path Who Yells Things at Cyclists. I can only wear so many bitch hats, people.

2. Stalking. I currently have two e-mail stalkers. Both of them have written to me several times, despite the fact that I haven't replied to either of them, ever. In case it isn't obvious, I find this rather creepy. Here, in order of succession, is the correspondence I've received from one of them. (You should probably know that I didn't respond to him the first time because, in his profile, he mentions God, and Jesus, and praying, repeatedly. Um, that's another don't, by the way. Unless you're on eHarmony, that is.)

First message: I'm looking for someone semi-normal to share time/life with. Give me your craziest up front so I know it can only get better from there. I'm very easy going and I aim to please that special someone. After reading your profile, I would bet we have much in our past that is common. I'm not always on, but my perception and judge of character are usually pretty accurate.

Second message, three days later: Come on. I want to hear about it. My background is of course different from yours, but it is one hell of a background. Not trying to match stories or wit, but I like to see what life has thrown at someone and through that adversity, what comes out the other side. If you feel comfortable, you can call me. [He then provides his phone number.]

Third message, three days later: New pictures posted for me. I still hate them. [Apparently, he thought I wasn't responding to him because I didn't like his pictures. Which is true, but not the main reason. The new pictures weren't great, either.]

Fourth and, so far, final message, three days later: If anything, you are missing out on a conversation of a lifetime.

You're right, buddy--it's my loss. Does anyone else hear Twilight Zone music playing in the background? Hopefully, he's gotten the idea that he should maybe stick to his "conversation of a lifetime" with God. Or Jesus. Or little green men from outer space. Or anyone but me.

3. Shirtless Primary Photos. Besides this guy, there are plenty of other men who opt to bare it all, from the waist up, anyway, in the photos they post. This isn't always a bad thing--the ones who do it tend to have pretty good bodies, and depending on the shot, it's not always cheesy, like when they're in a pool or on the beach or something. However, when they choose such a photo as their primary one (that is, the one that everyone sees initially, the one that accompanies their tag line), they are automatically out. Do I really have to explain this?

O.K., there are more, but I'm out of time. More later, along with updates on the actual dating that's going on. (And there has been some of that--I don't spend all my time on that site criticizing and critiquing profiles . . . O.K., a lot of it, but not all.)

I swore I wasn't going to do this, but . . .

I realize it's probably ill-advised to reproduce photos from Match.com--I'm sure that, if discovered, I could get sued or something. But really, who's going to find out? None of my 10 or so readers are going to report me, I'm fairly certain. And I swear I'm not going to make this a regular thing (as tempting as it may be to do so) . . . but I just have to share the two photos that accompany this one guy who winked at me today. (Also, you really can't tell who he is from these photos anyway. Just bear with me.)


O.K., so here's the first photo:



So, dude--thanks for sharing this pic you obviously took of yourself casually with your cell phone in the back seat of your buddy's car. Nice glasses. Makes it pretty tough to really know what you look like, but that's O.K. . . . I'm sure your next photo will be more revealing.

(And, oh boy, is it ever! Wait for it . . . wait for it. . . . )

The next and only other photo:








Yeah, I know--yum!! But at the same time--yuck!! Is this an online dating site, or a repository for porn applications? I like how he's completely objectified himself by cutting his own head off in the photo and just showing . . . um, the good stuff. I gotta say, in my three weeks of perusing various profiles, I've seen some shirtless shots here and there (many of which, by the way, should never have been posted), but this is the first one I've encountered in which the subject has deliberately decapitated himself. Does he really have no idea how this comes off? I suspect not. And when I don't respond to his wink, I'll be just another stuck-up bitch who doesn't know what she's missing. (Sorry, I don't actually know the guy, but I suspect I can extrapolate his thought process nonetheless.)

I must say, though, that if and when this guy ever gets a date as a result of these photos, I would love to be a fly on the wall during that encounter. Of course, I could always rent a porno that features some lame attempt at a storyline and probably get the same experience . . . .

eHarmony Sucks; Match.com Rocks

O.K., O.K., mea culpa already--please stop chastising me for signing up for eHarmony. I know it was a big, stupid mistake. I've done some research, and for the one or two people besides me who didn't know this stuff already, here's what I found out:

• The site was founded by an evangelical for the express purpose of matching up men and women only, and preferably ones who want to get married and start having kids as soon as possible. It's not marketed that way directly because the site can make a lot more money off a wider client base, obviously. (Funny how evangelicals have no problem with blatant deception if it makes the bucks roll in. That's just . . . so Christian and godly, it kind of brings a tear, huh?)
• The site has several lawsuits pending against it by gay rights groups over its discriminatory practices. I would never, ever knowingly give money to any company that discriminates against gays--you guys know that. I guess I was thinking that eHarmony just wasn't hip enough yet to offer services to gays--I didn't realize it was actively discriminatory.
  
• Some people--even straight folks!--who try to sign up are actually rejected, right off the bat. When I learned this, I was kind of surprised that I wasn't rejected--I would seem to be a perfect candidate for rejection based on their general criteria. Upon further research, though, I've found that they seem to reject people who have any history of depression or admit to taking antidepressants, which I do not. (This exclusionary benchmark apparently does not take into account self-medication in the form of vodka tonics.)
  
• A lot of the people who do manage to pass the straight test and the depression test nevertheless wind up, like me, being totally dissatisfied. They go weeks with no matches, and/or the matches they do get are wildly inappropriate (like Christopher from Pickerington! He's still my only "match"! I'm really starting to hate that guy. . . . ). I think my favorite story was the one about this 32-year-old guy who is an engineer, likes to party, and wants kids someday . . . and after weeks of waiting, he got one match--a 62-year-old pediatric nurse who lives two hours away from him. You just gotta laugh.
• The site apparently has this tactic of holding back matches until a day or two before your membership is set to expire, and then it throws them at you all at once, hoping to lure you into renewing your subscription. So, right now I'm waiting, curious to see if this will happen to me. I'm going to cancel my membership either way, of course, but it will be interesting to see if they're really that devious.

Anyway, who needs eHarmony when we have Match.com? That site is awesome. I finally figured out all the technical issues and got my profile posted--I finished the written part yesterday, downloaded a photo, and sent the whole thing in for approval. (Naturally, they have to approve it first, to weed out obvious nutjobs and make sure no one's posting anything pornographic--which is a good thing.) I guess my profile got approved and then went live sometime in the middle of the night, and by the time I got up this morning, I already had four winks and three e-mails. Nothing terribly promising yet, but all of it a vast improvement over Christopher! (This is going to be my new buzzword, by the way, for guys who are completely inappropriate for me--as in, "That guy is such a Christopher." Unless I meet a guy named Christopher who I actually like . . . but we'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it.)

How To Woo Me

No, this is not a post about my love life--sorry if I misled you.

So, today I get home and check the mail, and there's a solicitation letter from Harper's Magazine. Normally I just throw junk mail like that away, but I do like Harper's, and I used to have a subscription, so I thought I'd check out what they were offering. And I have to say, someone put some thought into this marketing campaign . . . but with mixed results.

The letter they included is chatty with a conspiratorial tone, and it starts out by stroking my ego, warming me up to the pitch:

"Dear Heather,
You thrive on independent thinking. You're intrigued by events and ideas. And you read as much as you have time for."

So far so good! Harper's knows me so well! (But how do they know . . . ?)

The next part, however, proceeds to semi-insult me:

"But there is far too much information to cope with these days. Too much disinformation. Too much misinformation. The more you read, the more you wonder what it means."

O.K., so I read a lot, but I'm not so great with discernment, I guess? In fact, I even have trouble piecing together the meaning of what I read? Thanks a lot, Harper's. What's more, I'm left to wonder what the difference is between "misinformation" and "disinformation." (I'm guessing "misinformation" is unintentional, while "disinformation" is put out there on purpose? Of course, now I'm questioning my reasoning abilities in general, so who knows?)

Then I am reassured:

"Our mission is not to add to the information explosion but to help you defend yourself against it . . . to rout the propoganda peddlers . . . to make sense of a nonsensical world." [ellipses theirs]

Wow. I hadn't even realized that the entire world was nonsensical, let alone that a mere magazine could clear everything up for me! Oh, happy day! The letter then goes on and on in a rather patronizing tone, extolling the virtues of everything Harper's, occasionally tossing out some rather dubious claims:

"Harper's doesn't presume to tell you what to think. We simply tell you what people are thinking. Nor do we preach a particular brand of politics. We'll gladly ruffle feathers on both the left and right wings."

Oh, come on now. Like I said, I used to subscribe to Harper's, and it's definitely left-wing (as most magazines with actual thought behind them tend to be). Not that that bothers me--but don't pretend to be something you're not.

The best thing they did, though, was to include a complete version of the Harper's List, as well as a listing of recently published articles . . . and that is what eventually sucked me in. So, I'm going to resubscribe, but not because of anything they put in this really long letter that someone obviously took a long time to draft. Maybe I should let them know that.

[Despite their missteps, Harper's still knows me better than Ticketmaster, who today sent me an e-mail urging, "Don't Miss Poison!" Oh Ticketmaster, it is so over between us. You're pathetic. Really.]

Another Lesson

O.K., folks, here's another lesson on What Not To Do.

[Seriously, I should be writing an advice column, don't you think? If someone, somewhere, took me up on this, heartache would be saved. Or at least headache. Really, someone take me up on this, please.]

So. You're a single guy, and you've been out with a particular woman a couple of times. You both had a lot of fun. There's no pressure, you're just having fun. So, you haven't seen each other in about a week, and you call her up. She's casual. You chat. You tell her you'd like to see her soon. So far so good.

The problem? You have no plan. None whatsoever.

You give her no clue about when you'd like to see her or what you'd like to do. Your conversation is more along the lines of that of a good acquaintance who is just clueing her in to the fact that he might like to glimpse her in person sometime in the next few weeks. No rush.

But wait, it gets worse. When she takes the initiative and suggests a particular night, you're evasive. You might be going out of town, you say. You're not sure yet. You tell you'll know the following day, and you'll give her a call and let her know.

Can it get even worse still? Yes it can! You fail to call her the next day as promised. And the night she suggested is the following night.

Guess what she's going to do? That's right, Einstein--she's going to make other plans. At the very least, she's going to tell you she's made other plans, whether she has or not.* What's more, she's completely turned off by your wishy-washy rudeness. She's going to turn you down the next time you suggest an actual plan for a date. In fact, she may very well stop taking your calls altogether.

Idiot.

*By the way, I did make actual other plans. You can go piss off, Aaron. (Not Aaron from work, by the way! A different Aaron. But hi, Aaron from work!)

Enough Already

I'd like to take this opportunity to welcome myself back from my extended blogging sabbatical. Oh, you didn't know I was on sabbatical? Actually, neither did I . . . my long absence just sort of happened. As so often happens, actual life got in the way of narcissistic endeavors. And we've all agreed that blogging is narcissistic, right?

So anyway, it's been a busy summer, but I'm feeling the need to write again. So let's just dive right in, shall we? It will be just like when I take some time off work (like that ever happens)--the very day I get back, I inevitably get people coming up and asking me questions about stuff that happened while I was gone. And somehow, I answer. It's like I was never away. Let's make this like that. The diligent among you will notice that I posted (just a while ago) an entry I was working on a few weeks ago. I'd like to expound on the Hot Guy from Indianapolis in a new feature I will call "What Not To Do."

WHAT NOT TO DO

The Scenario: Let's say you're a guy, and you're out at a bar on a sunny Saturday afternoon. You wind up meeting an intriguing woman who is sitting by herself waiting for a friend. Before said friend shows up, you and she have some time to get to know each other. You really like her. You find her very attractive. You have good conversation. Unfortunately, she lives three hours away, and she's meeting someone else tonight. But, you're still interested--enough to exchange information and make plans to maybe meet up at some point in the future.

Later: You text-message this woman several times. Sometimes she responds, sometimes she doesn't. She has since gone back to her own town and is expecting you to call. Instead, you keep texting her, a lot. This goes on for a few days. In your texting, you say you want to visit the woman, and the two of you begin making tentative plans for you to come to her city on an upcoming weekend. (By the way, we are already in What Not To Do territory with all the texting and no calling, but it's a relatively minor infraction.)

Later still: You text her asking her to call you. The next day, in the late evening, she does. You tell her you have the president of your company in your office (you're a mortgage broker, by the way), and can you call her back in about 20 minutes? She's pretty laid back. Sure, she says.

An hour later: You call her back. She is taking apart a futon frame, but she's willing to talk to you while she does so. You start, very tentatively, to make plans for you to travel to her town that weekend. About two minutes into the conversation, you get a call from a client. You take the call, and for the next 10 minutes, this woman you are supposedly interested in gets to hear all about your client's financial situation, along with your advice for the client. The client obviously doesn't know that this strange woman is silently listening to the whole conversation. (Can you sense what territory we're entering into here?)

12 minutes later: You hang up with the client and apologize to the woman. She still sounds relatively unfazed and attempts to have an actual conversation with you. About a minute later, you hear the woman saying, "Are you there?" And you say, "Sorry, I was reading e-mail."

The denoument: The woman finds a reason to get off the phone with you as quickly as possible. Your visit never happens. You e-mail and text her a few times more, but she never responds.

O.K., what have we learned here? A valuable lesson, I hope, in What Not To Do. Look for this as a recurring theme--as recurring as my blog entries will be from here on out. I promise. Or at least, I promise to try.