In eight days, I become a non-paying member of matchdotcom, which as I remember is not very useful. Why I became a paying member, I suppose. I found it intensely amusing at first. Got a "friend" in New York City out of it. Went out on lots of coffee days, which were mostly awkward. (oh, and two bar dates, which were even more awkward) I think of match as the land of the misfit toys, which none of the boys on match found very funny. I don't know why . . . I was including myself . . .
And I find my last week incredibly freeing. I wink at will. I throw emails around. Mostly, men don't respond and quite frankly, I don't care. Frees me up to go to coffee by myself, which is much less awkward. Or to coffee with people that I have met other ways. Or to the bar with my friends, which is again much less awkward, at least until Princess starts in on me about something. (dating 80 year olds? I don't care how much they like martinis)
But today was a first. There is a way to "reject" winks and emails. I never used it. It seemed like asking for trouble. An opening for people to ask why . . . which would just be a mess. So I never, ever, hit the "No Thanks" button. I delete winks and store the emails (just in case I'm killed by a stalker, to give the police something to go on).
Today I was rejected. Not only did he hit the "No Thanks" button, which meant I got an email saying "so and so is not interested in you" (and matchdotcom is usually so sensitive) . . . he then (evidently feeling bad? guilty?) emailed me with a one sentence response -- "Thank you for the wink, but I don't think we're a good match. Take care and good luck in your search." Very nice of him, but who has the time? He must be new.
And now the questions fill my head. How can you tell that we aren't a good match? Did I miss something in your profile that said you were looking for a 20 year old or a devout Christian? And it doesn't even matter . . . but see, once you get that "reject" email, you can't help it. It still churns in your head. But really, if I don't meet another man on matchdotcom . . . ever . . . that will be totally okay. As it turns out, I really was a "matchdotcom disaster". (which is my nickname in our little single girl group)
And the poor Baptist guy who emailed me today. I'm not emailing him to say that we aren't a good match. I think a little mystery is good. At least better for his self-esteem anyhow.
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7 comments:
Really, I heard on talk radio about these two gals who wrote this book--Finding your mate online or something like that....and it took them three years to find the perfect man, which both claim to have. It is very systematic, calculated, studied, etc. with formulas --then again, probably not for you, huh?
Hmmm . . . formulas about matchdotcom . . . bit too thinky for an awkward coffee date, don't you think?
And if you don't use online, it probably just takes three years of kickboxing class, or Neon car groups, or Cranbrook art events to meet someone too, except that you actually meet someone who hasn't been plugged into his computer for so long that he might be able to find a Pottery Barn. Just saying. (boys, not that Pottery Barn is important . . . Crate and Barrel is better. Just a private joke between the anonymous commenter and I)
Here's one for you - I just read that an Israeli woman's breast implants saved her in a rocket attack - apparently the shrapnel stopped inches from her heart. Guess ya never know what'll come in handy...
bummer . . . now I want some . . .
last I looked and discussed at length the difficulty in finding lingerie in sizes H and up.. not sure you REALLY want some...
Hey, that wasn't me! I only made the comment about the implants saving the woman's life. Dunno who submitted that last comment, but I want nothing to do with it if it wasn't meant to be nice.
Okay, kids . . . calm down.
Yes, I was making a joke about the irony of someone commenting about breast implants on my blog, because obviously, I don't need them. So no saving me from Hezbollah shrapnel.
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