I always thought I'd meet my soulmate online. Ever since I was ten and the Internet didn't exist I imagined a way through my commodore 64 to screen out women by the dozens based on the most trivial of reasons. Hikes too much, doesn't hike enough, failed to take a picture with uglier women than her, only has one photo, has a gluten issue, doesn't like sports, likes sports (but not the right teams), is fully immersed in salsa dancing, has a fear of flying, judges people that watch television, never saw the Wire, thinks they're/there/their use is a dealbreaker, but doesn't know proper use of the oxford coma and can't sense sarcasm. I mean I don't know if I really care about any of these things. I just know I want to hold the women I date to lofty standards and through this meticulous screening process a last woman standing will present herself. It won't be about chemistry or physical attraction. It will be based on the profile because if she isn't a good essay writer she won't be a good mother or a giving lover. That much I know for certain.
I would hope women judge us men by the same lofty standards and if we can't come up with a witty ice breaker email both reflecting that we painstakingly read every line of your profile and are interested in you more than for your looks then shame on us. Please don't reply. Don't even give us the time of day! Chalk us up to a probable great guy with a quick wit who would be fun to date that just can't make the grade and hold out for a man with more substance like the chiseled 6'4" former quarterback that doesn't really like sports anymore, but instead volunteers at the tulip festival every year, ate quinoa, but then stopped when he heard the indigenous people couldn't afford it, oh and wants to run, but only with you, is tired of the bar scene and is able to prove to me he has a sense of humor on match.com, but not in person. Last man standing wins!
So, for me, I don't care if I meet the perfect girl on the streets. I will politely ask her to refrain from giving me her number. I'll tell her, maybe if you had an internet dating profile and met my lofty standards we could go out, but until then, I'll be locked in my condo scouring profiles on my commodore 64.
The End
Epilogue:
So . . . that was supposed to be funny. If you didn't think so, you have no sense of humor and I have done us both a favor in saving each other some time. I do realize that it doesn't say a whole lot about me in terms of who I am (would you know anything about me if we met in a grocery store?), but I can assure you if we met you would be pretty damn psyched about it. You would find through the real human interaction that my manorisms and facial expressions in addition to our conversation would confirm my good sense of humor and even if we weren't a match you could leave the date knowing you had a nice time and you would root for me to have a wonderful, fulfilling life, and I would do the same for you. So there is your worst case scenario. I look forward to your acknowledgment of interest in what ever form you choose.
