I did a really dumb thing. A dumb internet thing, which, in my experience, multiplies the dumbness of a thing exponentially.
I filled out an online dating questionnaire. No, I don’t want to date (anyone but Jif). Goodgod, no. I just know all these people, personally and professionally, who do want a significant other in their lives, and especially after a certain age, it’s really tough for them to find someone. For years, I would have told anyone and everyone, do NOT do online dating. But now I know some people who’ve been matched, very successfully and happily, by the online services. I always wondered how the process works. You know, for a friend.
Anyhow, I kept getting these emails inviting me to sign up. And they would match me for free. So . . . I did it. I KNOW, it was stupid. I was just curious what kinds of things they asked, and how they matched and all that. So, yea. I filled out the online form, with honest answers EXCEPT I didn’t say I was married, because, duh, I think they might have frowned upon that. It was that service that rejects people, and I wondered on what basis they might reject someone. I wondered if I would get the, “We’re sorry, but you are not our type,” letter.
I didn’t get that. I got about eight “matches” the first day. Everything is anonymous (first names), so I thought, hmm, interesting, and I deleted them. I had not paid for anything, so I knew no one could actually attempt to contact me. And I thought those little matchy profiles were the extent of what a
cheap-ass non-paying person would receive. But then, I got a “Congratulations! Brett would like to conversate with you!” Well, not exactly that, but, yea.
So . . . that was dumb. Here I read about Brett, who seems nice as can be. He’s a photographer. That’s cool. He enjoys spending Saturdays on his boat. I’m not so into boating, so for that reason, OH, AND THE FACT THAT I DON’T DATE BECAUSE I’M MARRIED, I decided he’s not a match. And then I realized
::tangent:: I damned near always think about how my actions will affect other people. In this case, though, I missed the boat on that. I absolutely did not stop to think that those people out there wookin’ pa nub were actual, sincere, perhaps lonely human beings who weren’t doing an experiment, but who might actually get their hopes up about finding a potential compatible . . . companion::end tangent::
that Brett the boater had extended himself and would be waiting to hear whether or not the person he had invited to communicate would actually do so. I could even see why he thought we’d be a good match. So I’m here thinking, “oh shit.” Then I thought, if I don’t reply at all, that’s probably rude. And if I check the “not interested” box, that might hurt his feelings. (Yea, I wouldn’t be cut out for online matching, even if I were matchable.) Then I thought I could send him a short note explaining that he sounds GREAT! but I’m not really available, I was just curious and pissing away time on the internet because I had insomnia, and isn’t that a hoot . . . yea, no, I’m thinking he wouldn’t think that’s a hoot. Because IT’S NOT. It’s stupid and bordering on mean. And to say anything at all to the man, I’d have to join the freakin’ service, and how much sense would that make?
Crap. I think there’s a box for checking “I’m getting out of the pool,” or something like that.
Don’t try this at home, unavailable people. But, hey, if you like photography and boating, I know (of) this guy, Brett . . . 5’10” . . . likes chocolate sundaes and Photoshop . . .
(Oh, and uh . . . the most important qualities he’s looking for in a match are . . . um . . . honesty and sincerity.)