It’s not that I don’t want to find love. Honest. I just don’t think I’ll find it online.
But thousands of other people think differently. Online dating is taking the world by storm, whether you’re a rich guy looking for a trophy wife, a healthnut, or someone who’s so in love with your parakeet your heart is only big enough for someone equally bird obsessed…there’s a dating site for you.
I know people who have found partners online, even spouses. For some, online dating isn’t just a way to waste some time, it’s a hobby. An obsession. It’s a sport that takes practice. If you try hard enough, you can potentially have a seven day date week.
I’m not one of those people. I’ve got no game when it comes to online dating. I have no idea how to do it. How do you sound cute with words? There’s only so many winking smiley faces I can put in a paragraph before I start to make myself sick.
The truth is, I’ve tried. I’ve found a few sites and put up a profile, sometimes because I’m bored, sometimes because I can’t imagine spending another Friday night alone with my cat and the crazy upstairs neighbors who seem to have some kind of full contact flip cup competition going on every weekend. I’ll set up an account (unless it’s eHarmony. I failed their personality test. Failed it. I don’t know how you fail a personality test, but it can apparently be done. I think it had something to do with the fact that I’m not religious. Not to be Ms. Conspiracy Theory, but I really think eHarmony is all about the religion. You don’t got no God, no date for you), put a picture or two that doesn’t clearly show my face, and try to describe myself in a paragraph. For the first day or two I’m a little excited. Maybe this time someone awesome will find me, I think. Maybe this time it’ll be different.
But it never is. Just me and a million boring dudes claiming they’re “easy going” and “adventurous”. (How can every single guy online be “easy going”? Especially in New York?) If they’re not “easy going”, they’re posing in a mirror with their shirt off. And smirking.
Which is when a throw up a little in my mouth and go read a book.
I’m the type of person who needs some kind of instant spark, and there’s just no way to tell if there’s that type of connection online. Sure, he’s got good grammar and knows how to spell, but that doesn’t mean we’ll have chemistry. Believe me. I’ve gone through it.
In a perfect world, internet dating would be a slam dunk. I’d log on, click on a cute guy, he’d be awesome in prose as well as in person, and we’d get married three years later in a Vermont field. (What? Too detailed?) In the few attempts I’ve actually made, however, the ball is so far from slam dunk potential it’s like someone’s grandma threw it.
I rationalize my horrible online failure with the explanation that the man I want isn’t online. He’s too busy waxing his snowboard or protesting big business or becoming a chef or bench pressing 200 pounds. Apparently these things are keeping him very busy, because we haven’t bumped into each other yet, but I have faith that it’ll happen. In a reality that’s neither virtual nor hyped by Dr. Phil.
And if he happens to be without a shirt, that’s fine.
As long as he’s not looking into a mirror and smirking.