Without a Match

January 21, 2009
I hate Virginia, cold tomato sauce, and reading out loud. I’m quirky and have a rather bland sense of humor. I have issues trusting certain people and have trouble conveying my feelings. I am thirty-nine and single. Secretly, I’m worried that I will end up as a typical grouchy, old woman in a house saturated with cats. But I hate cats.

A few months ago I publicly acknowledged my loneliness. My friends and I were out for cocktails one Saturday night and as usual I was drunk. I noticed the man sitting at the table adjacent to us. He slid out of his seat and got down on one knee. He looked into the eyes of his girlfriend and recited a speech holding up a ring. She said yes. The whole restaurant clapped.

But I didn’t. Instead I drowned my drink and started sobbing. I admitted to my friends how alone I’ve been feeling recently and how no men are interested in me. My happily married friends said I was crazy and that I’m bound to find my soul mate soon.
“Why don’t you use an internet dating website? I’ve heard they can detect true love,” my friend Becky recommended.

At first the thought sounded humiliating. But I had to progress to my last resort. My fortieth birthday was at the end of the month and I was determined to find someone before then. So reluctantly, I signed onto match.com.

I began to enter my information. I am a woman seeking a man, ages forty through forty-seven. I entered my zip code. A new screen appeared. This was the page for starting my profile. I had to be careful because I was determined to be successful. I wanted my profile to reflect me accurately, but I was worried that I wouldn’t receive responses. After some consideration, I decided to make my username “Radiance”. I thought this had an intriguing ring to it. I entered my zodiac sign and address. I clicked next and page two appeared. This was not a page I was looking forward to filling out.

“Which best describes your body type?” Well, old and chunky wasn’t an option so I picked the next closest description, athletic and toned. This wasn’t a complete lie, as I am somewhat athletic. I have gone to the gym at least three times in the past two months and when it’s nice out I walk to work instead of taking the subway.

The next few questions were easier. I have brown eyes and brown hair. Well, technically my hair is dyed brown because I started going gray when I was thirty- two, but I figured that men aren’t really interested in that kind of petty information. I have no body art. I don’t smoke and I drink on occasion. My best feature is my calves.

I wrote descriptions of my ideal date, favorite activities, and the last book I read. I was very honest on this part because I may be a boring person, but no one can prove that I’m not interested in exciting things.

The next question was also tricky. Income. I didn’t want to be seen as poor, but I also didn’t want to scare away the men that make less than me. After careful consideration I decided to choose $50,000 to $75,000 as my average annual income. It was a little less than what I really make, but I decided it was close enough.

The last page popped up. This one asked for an uploaded a recent picture of me. Hmm. I debated not having a picture at all, but I soon realized that men would just assume I was ugly or too poor to afford a digital camera. I searched my picture documents and explored my options. After a few minutes I found a picture from when I was on vacation with my parents in Antigua five years ago. My parents were harassing me all week long to join them as they went jet skiing and banana boating. I didn’t join them however; I would have rather read my book in the shade where I was comfortable.
With some help from Microsoft Picture Manager I could lighten the picture to make the beach in the background more vibrant. And as an added bonus of this lightening, some of my wrinkles would disappear.

I re-read my answers and decided I was done. Some of my responses may be slightly stretched, but I really don’t want to end up alone forever. I wasn’t lying exactly, I was merely watching out for my future. I took a deep breath and clicked submit.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback