Can I just eat a worm again? Or maybe get another Brazilian wax?
Because either might be preferable to entering the world of Match.com.
I've not been immersed in the dating scene for a while. I haven't had a million men knocking down my door, but I've also had little interest in looking for a guy, either. I enjoy my independence and my solitude. It's a comfortable place for me, especially as a writer.
But the 52/52 Project is about venturing outside my comfort zone. And as far as unappealing, intimidating, and frightening ideas go, online dating may top the list.
I nearly backed out just while filling out the application.
Question number four: "What's your body type?" I labored over this for
nearly a half-hour, took a long drive to clear my head, and finally came back to it.
Probably, "slender" and "trim and athletic" should be ruled out. Other
options included "big and beautiful," "curvy,"
"full-figured," "heavy-set," and "stocky." Huh. Um, are these not
pretty much the same thing? Or, wait, is "full-figured" a tad smaller than "big and
beautiful"? And maybe it's the PR executive in me, but why would I label
myself "stocky" when I could be called "curvy"? Curvy it is.
Question number five: "What's your sign?" Thank God. A question I knew
how to answer. And apparently one so important that it must be addressed
on page one, four pages before any questions about political, religious, or social views.
Question number 5,674: "What are some of
your favorite local hot spots?" *sigh* Somehow, I doubt Barnes
& Noble counts.
Writing my 200-word profile took nearly two hours. I've struggled less with writing an entire chapter of a novel. Which, presumably, I cared a bit more about.
I grumbled through the profile, trying to find just the right words. At the moment, "cheery," "optimistic," and "open-minded" were probably out of the question. I considered including "decisive." But I wasn't quite sure.
I finally settled on this:
"More Humor, Less Drama: Humor writer looking for someone to make me
laugh. Must love books and animals, since I have a houseful of both.
Will watch baseball and basketball with you, if you'll watch Downton
Abbey and Doctor Who with me. Happy to cook if you're willing to clean
up. Looking for intelligence, kindness, and sincerity. Perfection not expected, but surely not discouraged."
Thank God I proofread it one last time before clicking "finish." I had mistyped
"kindness" as "kinkness." Could have had some titillating results, that one.
Since I am able to update it at anytime, I am following up on someone's terrific suggestion that I let my readers write my
profile. So, please go at it!
Meanwhile, I've been scrolling through the tabs from the guys who've "winked," "liked,"
"favorited," or "shown interest" in me. I'm still trying to comprehend
the meaning of the jargon. Standing at the bar and having a guy
ask, "Can I buy you a drink" is sounding way better by the minute.
Two days after enrolling, I finally found one that sounded intriguing. Cute, well-spoken, and probably
not a serial killer. (I figured that's a bonus.) And then--boom. I see he lives
in New Jersey. About nine hours away.
Hmm. I considered this. A long-distance romance might be perfect for me. A movie or dinner a couple times a year, tops. And no need to worry about the frightening potential significance of that bridal bouquet I accidentally caught last month when I crashed a wedding reception.
I "winked" back at him.
And then I went into panic mode, searching the site for an "undo" button.
Oh, Lord. What have I gotten myself into?
It's quite likely I'll be deleting my Match.com account tomorrow.
But if there's a lengthy form necessary to disenroll, it looks like I may be in this for good.
Have you ever done online dating? Can I back out now, without being called a quitter? Am I likely to have a surprise visit by a New Jersey serial killer?