Dating sites: a pool for the uneducated?

From time to time, I try to act like I’m not some super elitist douche-bag who’s super anal retentive about spelling. Honestly, I do. It never fails though, because I can’t find any valid excuse for poor spelling, particularly in a day and age where I think just about everything has spell check. I mean *everything*. Even my cell phone tries to correct my spelling when it’s right, so what’s the problem here?

So I get a random email on one of the “free” dating sites today. Now, I know immediately that I’m far from a prize catch on the physical level. I’m tall, I’m overweight, I don’t fit into theater seats well, yada yada. I know that my physical aspect is a great hindrance to my dating life, so clearly I have to keep up my game on the emotional and intellectual sides. With any luck, I don’t do a bad job at this, as that I know rather factually that there are persons in this world who like me in a way that at another point in time I would likely get to surrender my mayorship of Friend-town (that’s an entirely other conversation). Yet I’m left to wonder, why don’t other people know this? Is it a mystery of life, is it some form of magic that rivals how magnets work, or what?

Back to that email. The first thing I do, is check out the profile of the person emailing. I mean, just on general principle, I like to know what they think I should know about themselves before I read their riveting message that will make me want to hang out with them. This profile alone makes me cringe. The lady’s not entirely repulsive, but probably on the edge of “haven’t lived an easy life and possibly partied a little too hard in my 20’s”.

FIRST FAIL: On several instances they refer to themselves as “a women“. Okay. I get the ego thing, but at no point in time should you refer to yourself in the plural context UNLESS you have MPD, and all of your dis-associative personalities are female (not to be offensive to women who legitimately have MPD, because sometimes it’s kind of hot to have that change mid-coitus).

SECOND FAIL: Then, I read this line: “I am a tom boy but can all so be sexy when put in right mood.”

*Instantly* I cannot read anymore. This is more painful that the time I accidentally stapled myself in the palm of my hand (Ok, look, I was 14, it wasn’t so accidental, but I was curious. Leave me alone!) or that one time I drank the cup of tequila at the San Antonio Sam’s empty the bar night before they closed. What on Earth is happening here? It’s ALSO for the love of all that is merciful and holy in this world. I’ll not even address the mental stimuli created that apparently you hang out in overalls in a rather unattractive fashion, and have to be “put into the mood” to look sexy. Are you implying that I’d have to do all the work to get you into something cute? Do I need to take a day off of work to help facilitate that happening or something?

THIRD FAIL: So, I quickly go back to the inbox just to see the message that was sent.

“we have a lot in common, would love to chat, I am a curvy women with a good sence of humer. I hope you answer.”

There I sit, slack jawed, attempting to read this. There you go again with the damned plurals. You’re really scaring me here with this insistence to say you’re more than one woman. Can you just come out and say you’re a horde of women? Or perhaps you’re a gaggle of ladies? I already noticed in your description that you included that you were a “plus sized women“. I’m still not sure if you’re more than one plus sized woman or what. I also don’t understand what “humer” is. Are you referring to the bone in your upper arm? Is it some witty way of saying you have a good idea of what getting boned is all about? Please, explain this. I don’t want to feel obligated to reply to you out of trying to be decent, only for you to try to hit me with a bone. Worse yet, I don’t want to misunderstand this and you take offense at my not knowing that you were making a sexual overtone with the whole “boning” reference, however obscure it may have been.

Worse yet, I don’t understand how we can have anything in common. I mean, not to be prickish, but we would probably have very little in common. My profile has four paragraphs of fully functional English words, describing myself, a snit of my life, and shows my sense of humor quite well. I even went into a slight discourse about the whole concept of a “first date”. You’re clearly more Nascar and fishing, while I’m more classic movies and reading. I know I should just say “Hi, how are you?” back just to validate your step out of the box to try and talk to a guy, because I know how it feels to put yourself out there just to get nothing in return. I could completely be weird about it and say “Hi, how are you?” and go into a rousing tale of how I’m here still because I’ve just had an account here forever, no one ever ends up with me because I’m just THAT AWESOME of a friend, and I’d likely just end up ruling your friend-town with an iron fist. Then I could throw in some truth by explaining how I’m actually insanely in love with someone else who cares about me, but can’t be in love with me right now, so I’m here biding time until the sweet baby Jesus comes down from the heavens and makes her aware that she want to be, and can be in love with me. At least she would have a response and a conversation to have, right?

Instead, I just click back to my inbox, because I really don’t think I can have a conversation with someone who can’t spell humor.  

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2 comments on “Dating sites: a pool for the uneducated?

  1. Introspectre says:

    I nodded along, smiling, at all of this. I’m not sure why, “Please, explain this. I don’t want to feel obligated to reply to you out of trying to be decent, only for you to try to hit me with a bone,” made me crack up, but it did. Honestly, I think it was just the tipping point of so much snarky insight that got me.

    Tip o’ my hat, if I were wearing one, and it wasn’t a backwards Nascar ball cap, which is what I (never) wear when I/we all so be sexy when put in right mood(s).

  2. lissaofdoom says:

    Perhaps she’s like me…too awesome to be contained in one small package. She is WOMEN hear her ROARS.

    No. Sorry, Robo, my heart’s song, I just don’t see you putting up with that even on a dare.

    Plus, not to be a total cunt about, but I forgot how devestatingly funny you are. I love your sence of humur.

    Thanks, babe, for making me laugh out loud at Dennys and having the douche nozzles in the booth next to me trying to read my screen (again.)

    ILY!

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