…or “To the Beat of the Algorithm of the Night.”
In looking through the “matches” that have turned up for me so far at OK Cupid, I’ve been trying to determine where the flaw in the matching methodology lies.
It hasn’t really been easy to pinpoint, as there are a lot of variables, and some obvious limitations to the matching process.
Presumably the matches are based on some sort of algorithm that takes information provided by my answers to the various questions and tests, but it’s unclear whether or not it takes into account the information I provided for the basic “about you” kind of questions – age, race, sex, height, etc. – or if that information is simply provided for the benefit of any matches that the algorithm finds based on my answers to the personality questions.
I have to think that it doesn’t take that basic information into account, given the number of matches who own pets, despite the fact that in setting my profile up I chose “doesn’t like cats” and “doesn’t like dogs.”
Obviously the information that members write about themselves can’t really be accounted for in the algorithm, as those measures of personality are far too subjective to easily translate into any sort of mathematical variable.
So, if the only place I indicated that I don’t like pets had been in the Self Summary, it would be understandable that it would match me up with people who have contrary opinions, though that is not the case; I’ve made it abundantly clear in my answers to the questions it does look at.
It also makes sense that I might be matched up with people who say in their self summaries that they are only interested in men taller than six feet, or that, as a recovering alcoholic who prefers to stay in I might be matched up with someone whose idea of fun is going out to clubs and getting hammered 24x7 (an 89% match).
So the matching algorithm itself is incomplete – most likely by design to allow for the “human factor;” that is, someone might not appear to be a matched based on the numbers, but there might be something in his or her self summary that makes up for that – from at least one regard, and seems suspect in another.
Beyond that, there’s the fact that I’ve answered 1,000+ questions, giving the algorithm a lot of data points to work from, whereas many other members – the ones who apparently have lives, which leads me to wonder what they’re doing on a dating site – haven’t provided nearly as much information.
So that serves as another barrier to accuracy.
However, I think that the biggest problem is that my personality is inconsistent, contradictory, and just plain weird.
I know, for example, that the Amazon.com recommendation engine would hate me if such a thing were possible. It’s constantly making recommendations for things that I have no interest in, but which, by all rights, I ought to.
“This Jon guy loves Sarah McLachlan, Jewel, and Liz Phair, so why the hell doesn’t he like Alanis Morissette or Sheryl Crow?”
(It would be funny if, like some hoary old science-fiction cliché, I could get the Amazon.com recommendation engine stuck in some sort of logic loop that makes it explode. “Error! Error! Does not compute!”)
This isn’t to say that I’m so complicated and mysterious that I can’t be pinned down, it’s just that I don’t make sense.
Consider the “Outcast Genius” result of that test. Clearly I have nerdy, geeky, and dorky leanings, but I defy easy categorization.
And honestly, to pick one example, I’m not a very good nerd. Or rather, I’m not an especially promiscuous nerd, or a nerd who works at his nerdiness.
My range of interests is fairly limited and inconsistent.
For example, I like computers, but have no interest in video games. I like science fiction and fantasy, but I’ve never seen a complete episode of Dr. Who in my life, and I can best describe the experience of reading Tolkien as “traumatizing.”
I don’t collect toys.
I’ve never been to any sort of con.
I love comics and animation, but I hate manga and anime.
So it’s really no wonder that OK Cupid can’t find suitable matches for me. It’s not even as simple as trying to fit a square peg into a round hole; it’s more like trying to grab hold of an amorphous, prickly mass that won’t retain any shape and refuses to be placed anywhere.
In any case, that wraps up my three-day look at OK Cupid and what appears to be the utter hopelessness of any efforts to find a suitable mate. I’ll get back to the regular nonsense tomorrow, which is to say that I’ll probably be too lazy to post anything…
Showing posts with label online dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label online dating. Show all posts
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Saturday, February 07, 2009
OK, Stupid, I Mean, Cupid (Part Two)
In Part One I ended the post by mentioning that I’d gone through all of the profile setup and personality evaluation at OK Cupid, and was ready to take a look at what the search for matches would find.
The results?
Well, my question is “What part of ‘I don’t like pets…at all’ and ‘I don’t want kids, whether they exist now or in some potential future’ do you not understand?”
I don’t care if the other person matches me perfectly in every other regard: someone who mentions her cats early and often in her profile is not an 89% match for me.
I know that seems silly and shallow and too picky or whatever, but the fact of the matter is that my strong opposition to owning/violent allergies to pets is going to be a major problem in any potential relationship with a pet owner. And not just from my perspective.
Look, I don’t like pets. I think they’re a waste of time and money. I can’t see any way in which they could add enough value to my life to make up for all that they would take away from it. I understand that this makes me some kind of weird iconoclast or heartless monster who has horrible slimy worms where his soul ought to be, because only some demon from the pit could not love those cute widdle fuzzy wuzzy darlings, and I’ve come to terms with that. I’m not telling you not to own pets if you want to, or not to love your pets, or not to think that they’re worth any amount of money, time, or effort. Pets make you happy. Huzzah, and go you. You want to be the crazy cat person with 100 cats, all named after the characters in Little Women, I’m not going to stop you, tell you that you shouldn’t, or even judge you in any meaningful way. Some people like the smell of potpourri or scented candles, some people like the smell of cat piss. Different strokes and blah blah blah.
I’ve ranted about pets here in the past – with a lot more venom than I really intended; it was meant to be funny but came off as vitriolic, spiteful, and just plain mean, and I sort of regret most of what I said – and it actually cost me a friendship (even if it was a virtual friendship that was already pretty tenuous and wasn’t really adding anything to either of our lives), so I’m not trying to repeat those points now, just trying to give some perspective on my view of why pets are such an obstacle to any potential relationship.
See, I know that people love their pets. I get that. I’ve personally loved pets that I’ve had in the past, but I kind of view it as a phase that I grew out of. The idea of a boy and his dog is a pervasive one in many societies, and not without cause. But I’m not a boy anymore, and I just don’t feel the need for the kind of companionship that a dog, or any kind of pet, can offer.
So people love their pets, and while it’s a feeling I don’t share, I can understand it, and I get how important it can be.
I used to own a 1989 Mazda MX 6. I loved that car. However, from the perspective of an objective observer it could easily be seen as having been far more trouble than it was worth. It had all kinds of mechanical and electrical problems, such as a tendency to get stuck in gear. The driver side window, once rolled down, couldn’t be rolled back up without cracking open the control panel and arcing an electrical spark across a wire. Somewhere along the line the passenger side door stopped opening. The moon roof constantly popped open. I sunk thousands of dollars into repairing the transmission multiple times, replacing the tires, and even replacing the gas tank. Huge pain in the ass, and clearly not worth the trouble.
But I still loved that car, and to this day I miss it.
So as I say, I understand loving something that may very well have more cons than pros.
Which leads back to the pet problem when it comes to relationships.
In order for me to be romantically involved with someone who owns a pet, there are a couple of ways it could go.
While I don’t have any personal interest in owning a pet, I could deal with the presence of one – I’d probably never love it, but I could tolerate it – if not for my severe allergies, which would mean that I would have to just suffer with the itchiness and congestion, as most over the counter allergy medications serve only to lessen the effects of exposure to pet dander, not eliminate them.
Or, alternatively, I could dump a bunch of time, bother, and money into seeing an allergist to receive treatment to, eventually, overcome the allergy. In theory, at least.
What I couldn’t do is ask the person in question to give up her pet, because, as I say, I do understand the perspective of someone who loves a pet. It would be unfair for me to ask that, and I would have difficulty accepting the offer (which I don’t imagine would be forthcoming; I don’t like my odds in a Jon vs. pet competition).
And it would be unfair of someone to ask me to suffer through the allergic reactions or the expense and investment of time involved in being treated for the allergies, which, for the most part aren’t an issue for me in my curren daily life.
I suppose you could argue that by eliminating/lessening the allergic reaction I’d be improving my life, but at present those allergies don’t have all that much of an impact on my life, so I can’t really see that as making an improvement to my life. Besides, the allergies aren’t the biggest problem – though they are a big problem – because the most insurmountable one is that even if they didn’t make me sneeze and itch, I still wouldn’t much care for animals, and my grudging, reluctant acceptance of their existence probably wouldn’t be good enough for someone who does love animals.
Maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe I could meet someone who I’m so crazy about that I could put up with the sneezing and the hives. Maybe I could meet someone so crazy about me that she’d happily find a new home for her beloved pet.
But that’s an awful lot of maybes, and it seems easier to me to just avoid the issue entirely.
Except that, you know, it’s apparently impossible to avoid because evidently every damn available woman in the world has a dog or a cat.
*Sigh*
And then there’s the whole kid thing…
Anyway, while my musings on my experience with this latest online dating service – and the perils and pitfalls of dating for me in general – has gone on too long already, it occurs to me that there should be a Part Three, or at least something of an epilogue, so come back tomorrow for that.
The results?
Well, my question is “What part of ‘I don’t like pets…at all’ and ‘I don’t want kids, whether they exist now or in some potential future’ do you not understand?”
I don’t care if the other person matches me perfectly in every other regard: someone who mentions her cats early and often in her profile is not an 89% match for me.
I know that seems silly and shallow and too picky or whatever, but the fact of the matter is that my strong opposition to owning/violent allergies to pets is going to be a major problem in any potential relationship with a pet owner. And not just from my perspective.
Look, I don’t like pets. I think they’re a waste of time and money. I can’t see any way in which they could add enough value to my life to make up for all that they would take away from it. I understand that this makes me some kind of weird iconoclast or heartless monster who has horrible slimy worms where his soul ought to be, because only some demon from the pit could not love those cute widdle fuzzy wuzzy darlings, and I’ve come to terms with that. I’m not telling you not to own pets if you want to, or not to love your pets, or not to think that they’re worth any amount of money, time, or effort. Pets make you happy. Huzzah, and go you. You want to be the crazy cat person with 100 cats, all named after the characters in Little Women, I’m not going to stop you, tell you that you shouldn’t, or even judge you in any meaningful way. Some people like the smell of potpourri or scented candles, some people like the smell of cat piss. Different strokes and blah blah blah.
I’ve ranted about pets here in the past – with a lot more venom than I really intended; it was meant to be funny but came off as vitriolic, spiteful, and just plain mean, and I sort of regret most of what I said – and it actually cost me a friendship (even if it was a virtual friendship that was already pretty tenuous and wasn’t really adding anything to either of our lives), so I’m not trying to repeat those points now, just trying to give some perspective on my view of why pets are such an obstacle to any potential relationship.
See, I know that people love their pets. I get that. I’ve personally loved pets that I’ve had in the past, but I kind of view it as a phase that I grew out of. The idea of a boy and his dog is a pervasive one in many societies, and not without cause. But I’m not a boy anymore, and I just don’t feel the need for the kind of companionship that a dog, or any kind of pet, can offer.
So people love their pets, and while it’s a feeling I don’t share, I can understand it, and I get how important it can be.
I used to own a 1989 Mazda MX 6. I loved that car. However, from the perspective of an objective observer it could easily be seen as having been far more trouble than it was worth. It had all kinds of mechanical and electrical problems, such as a tendency to get stuck in gear. The driver side window, once rolled down, couldn’t be rolled back up without cracking open the control panel and arcing an electrical spark across a wire. Somewhere along the line the passenger side door stopped opening. The moon roof constantly popped open. I sunk thousands of dollars into repairing the transmission multiple times, replacing the tires, and even replacing the gas tank. Huge pain in the ass, and clearly not worth the trouble.
But I still loved that car, and to this day I miss it.
So as I say, I understand loving something that may very well have more cons than pros.
Which leads back to the pet problem when it comes to relationships.
In order for me to be romantically involved with someone who owns a pet, there are a couple of ways it could go.
While I don’t have any personal interest in owning a pet, I could deal with the presence of one – I’d probably never love it, but I could tolerate it – if not for my severe allergies, which would mean that I would have to just suffer with the itchiness and congestion, as most over the counter allergy medications serve only to lessen the effects of exposure to pet dander, not eliminate them.
Or, alternatively, I could dump a bunch of time, bother, and money into seeing an allergist to receive treatment to, eventually, overcome the allergy. In theory, at least.
What I couldn’t do is ask the person in question to give up her pet, because, as I say, I do understand the perspective of someone who loves a pet. It would be unfair for me to ask that, and I would have difficulty accepting the offer (which I don’t imagine would be forthcoming; I don’t like my odds in a Jon vs. pet competition).
And it would be unfair of someone to ask me to suffer through the allergic reactions or the expense and investment of time involved in being treated for the allergies, which, for the most part aren’t an issue for me in my curren daily life.
I suppose you could argue that by eliminating/lessening the allergic reaction I’d be improving my life, but at present those allergies don’t have all that much of an impact on my life, so I can’t really see that as making an improvement to my life. Besides, the allergies aren’t the biggest problem – though they are a big problem – because the most insurmountable one is that even if they didn’t make me sneeze and itch, I still wouldn’t much care for animals, and my grudging, reluctant acceptance of their existence probably wouldn’t be good enough for someone who does love animals.
Maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe I could meet someone who I’m so crazy about that I could put up with the sneezing and the hives. Maybe I could meet someone so crazy about me that she’d happily find a new home for her beloved pet.
But that’s an awful lot of maybes, and it seems easier to me to just avoid the issue entirely.
Except that, you know, it’s apparently impossible to avoid because evidently every damn available woman in the world has a dog or a cat.
*Sigh*
And then there’s the whole kid thing…
Anyway, while my musings on my experience with this latest online dating service – and the perils and pitfalls of dating for me in general – has gone on too long already, it occurs to me that there should be a Part Three, or at least something of an epilogue, so come back tomorrow for that.
Friday, February 06, 2009
OK, Stupid, I Mean, Cupid (Part One)
I was supposed to get my annual review done this afternoon, but my boss was too busy so it’s been put off until Monday.
I suspect it will go something like, “You suck. You should pay us a bonus for the privilege of working here.”
Okay, probably not. I’m assuming it will go pretty well…unless my boss has been harboring secret complaints and has just been lying to me when she’s said that I’m doing well and makes complimentary remarks about my performance.
A while back in a Slacktivist comment thread a couple of people had positive things to say about an online dating service called OK Cupid, mentioning that they’d met some really interesting people through the site, despite the fact that, on paper – or rather, on LCD or CRT – they might not necessarily come across as “catches” from the average person’s perspective, and, best of all, it’s totally free.
So I thought about it and decided to take a look.
Initially I wasn’t terribly impressed, but that was mostly due to technical issues.
As I wanted to look around a little before registering and going through the pain in the ass process of creating a profile, I clicked on the “Not ready to join? Search for singles” link that would allow me to get a representative sample before committing to signing up.
This resulted in the expected behavior, taking me to a page on which I could enter my search criteria. However, clicking on the “Update Matches” button did not result in the expected behavior. In fact, it resulted in one of three things:
In Internet Explorer clicking the button did absolutely nothing
or
It caused the browser to totally lock up
In Firefox, it caused my entire system to completely lock up
I decided that perhaps it was a sign (I’m sure some people would say that yes, it was a sign to switch to Linux/Mac. I think you know my canned response to that.) that I should just forget the whole thing.
After all, I’m really not all that desperate.
I mean, yeah, from one perspective, I am. Obviously nothing I’ve done over the years (which is only slightly more than nothing) has helped me land a girlfriend, so in that sense, yes, I’m desperate, as I don’t have a lot of options available to me.
But in another sense, while I do get lonely on occasion, and it seems to me that having sex again sometime before I die – preferably while I’m still young enough to remember doing so – would be awfully nice, and sure, emotional and physical intimacy is often made of win, but being alone hasn’t killed me so far, and overall I’m relatively content with my life as is.
Besides, I go through phases with regard to the whole relationship/dating thing that range from reallyfuckingdesperate to ambivalent, and honestly, of late I’ve been leaning more towards the ambivalent end of the spectrum.
The other day when I was talking to my mother she mentioned that my nephew Jeremy was opining that having a girlfriend hasn’t really lived up to his expectations. “I didn’t know you had to be doing stuff all the time,” he said.
Right now, I’m with you, kid.
After all, while there are obvious advantages to being in a relationship, being on your own has a lot to offer as well, even if it’s the kind of action-free bachelorhood that many would consider an utter waste of being single that I exemplify.
I can go where I want whenever I want (that I don’t want to go anywhere is neither here nor there), spend my money however I feel like, watch what I want, listen to what I want, eat what I want, and I never have to deal with someone else’s various dramas, or put up with this sort of nonsense:
So sometimes I think that maybe I’m better off the way things are*.
But on the other hand – [tasteless joke about what the other hand is doing redacted] – there is that whole sex thing, which doesn’t respond to well-reasoned arguments in favor of the status quo, and considering that I don’t have many options, so I decided to take another look at the site and see if there was a way to get around the technical difficulties.
(As an aside, I will admit that – out of simple curiosity, I swear, and no, I’m not protesting too much – I did browse through the “Erotic Services” section of Craigslist. I had no intention of actually seeking out those services, as I’m too cheap and prefer to spend my money on non-erotic electronic devices, and with the way The Universe works I would either A. End up getting arrested in some sort of vice sting or B. End up getting robbed and/or murdered. Oh yeah, and also because it’s “wrong.” I mean, of course the fact that it’s “wrong” would be a major obstacle. I did look at the “Casual Encounters” section as well, but my BS Meter prevented me from taking any of that too seriously.)
I decided that maybe if I signed up I’d be able to actually search without crashing my browser and/or computer, and, since it was free, there was no real harm.
So I went through the bullshit hassle of creating a profile and went through over a thousand questions, including personality tests like the one I posted the results from earlier, and looked to see what sort of matches their personality-matching algorithm could come up with.
I’ve decided to split this up into two entries, as the whole story ended up being far too long for one post. Come back tomorrow for Part Two.
*Beyond the advantages of flying solo, there’s also the rustiness factor. It’s been so long since I’ve been in a relationship that I’m not sure I’d know how to be in one anymore.
Fiona Apple has a song called “The Way Things Are” that, while not wholly applicable to my life, has some lines that are pretty much dead-on if we assume that the “you” refers to The Universe, Fate, Life, or whatever, rather than, as is the case in the song, an actual person with whom she once had a relationship:
I wouldn’t know what to do with another chance
If you gave it to me
I couldn’t take the embrace of a real romance
It’d race right through me
I’m much better off the way things are
Much, much better off, better by far, by far
I wouldn’t know what to say to a gentle voice
It’d roll right past me
And if you chalk it up you’ll see
I don’t really have a choice
So don’t even ask me
I’m much better off, the way things are
Much, much better off, better by far
I suspect it will go something like, “You suck. You should pay us a bonus for the privilege of working here.”
Okay, probably not. I’m assuming it will go pretty well…unless my boss has been harboring secret complaints and has just been lying to me when she’s said that I’m doing well and makes complimentary remarks about my performance.
A while back in a Slacktivist comment thread a couple of people had positive things to say about an online dating service called OK Cupid, mentioning that they’d met some really interesting people through the site, despite the fact that, on paper – or rather, on LCD or CRT – they might not necessarily come across as “catches” from the average person’s perspective, and, best of all, it’s totally free.
So I thought about it and decided to take a look.
Initially I wasn’t terribly impressed, but that was mostly due to technical issues.
As I wanted to look around a little before registering and going through the pain in the ass process of creating a profile, I clicked on the “Not ready to join? Search for singles” link that would allow me to get a representative sample before committing to signing up.
This resulted in the expected behavior, taking me to a page on which I could enter my search criteria. However, clicking on the “Update Matches” button did not result in the expected behavior. In fact, it resulted in one of three things:
In Internet Explorer clicking the button did absolutely nothing
or
It caused the browser to totally lock up
In Firefox, it caused my entire system to completely lock up
I decided that perhaps it was a sign (I’m sure some people would say that yes, it was a sign to switch to Linux/Mac. I think you know my canned response to that.) that I should just forget the whole thing.
After all, I’m really not all that desperate.
I mean, yeah, from one perspective, I am. Obviously nothing I’ve done over the years (which is only slightly more than nothing) has helped me land a girlfriend, so in that sense, yes, I’m desperate, as I don’t have a lot of options available to me.
But in another sense, while I do get lonely on occasion, and it seems to me that having sex again sometime before I die – preferably while I’m still young enough to remember doing so – would be awfully nice, and sure, emotional and physical intimacy is often made of win, but being alone hasn’t killed me so far, and overall I’m relatively content with my life as is.
Besides, I go through phases with regard to the whole relationship/dating thing that range from reallyfuckingdesperate to ambivalent, and honestly, of late I’ve been leaning more towards the ambivalent end of the spectrum.
The other day when I was talking to my mother she mentioned that my nephew Jeremy was opining that having a girlfriend hasn’t really lived up to his expectations. “I didn’t know you had to be doing stuff all the time,” he said.
Right now, I’m with you, kid.
After all, while there are obvious advantages to being in a relationship, being on your own has a lot to offer as well, even if it’s the kind of action-free bachelorhood that many would consider an utter waste of being single that I exemplify.
I can go where I want whenever I want (that I don’t want to go anywhere is neither here nor there), spend my money however I feel like, watch what I want, listen to what I want, eat what I want, and I never have to deal with someone else’s various dramas, or put up with this sort of nonsense:
So sometimes I think that maybe I’m better off the way things are*.
But on the other hand – [tasteless joke about what the other hand is doing redacted] – there is that whole sex thing, which doesn’t respond to well-reasoned arguments in favor of the status quo, and considering that I don’t have many options, so I decided to take another look at the site and see if there was a way to get around the technical difficulties.
(As an aside, I will admit that – out of simple curiosity, I swear, and no, I’m not protesting too much – I did browse through the “Erotic Services” section of Craigslist. I had no intention of actually seeking out those services, as I’m too cheap and prefer to spend my money on non-erotic electronic devices, and with the way The Universe works I would either A. End up getting arrested in some sort of vice sting or B. End up getting robbed and/or murdered. Oh yeah, and also because it’s “wrong.” I mean, of course the fact that it’s “wrong” would be a major obstacle. I did look at the “Casual Encounters” section as well, but my BS Meter prevented me from taking any of that too seriously.)
I decided that maybe if I signed up I’d be able to actually search without crashing my browser and/or computer, and, since it was free, there was no real harm.
So I went through the bullshit hassle of creating a profile and went through over a thousand questions, including personality tests like the one I posted the results from earlier, and looked to see what sort of matches their personality-matching algorithm could come up with.
I’ve decided to split this up into two entries, as the whole story ended up being far too long for one post. Come back tomorrow for Part Two.
*Beyond the advantages of flying solo, there’s also the rustiness factor. It’s been so long since I’ve been in a relationship that I’m not sure I’d know how to be in one anymore.
Fiona Apple has a song called “The Way Things Are” that, while not wholly applicable to my life, has some lines that are pretty much dead-on if we assume that the “you” refers to The Universe, Fate, Life, or whatever, rather than, as is the case in the song, an actual person with whom she once had a relationship:
I wouldn’t know what to do with another chance
If you gave it to me
I couldn’t take the embrace of a real romance
It’d race right through me
I’m much better off the way things are
Much, much better off, better by far, by far
I wouldn’t know what to say to a gentle voice
It’d roll right past me
And if you chalk it up you’ll see
I don’t really have a choice
So don’t even ask me
I’m much better off, the way things are
Much, much better off, better by far
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Ah, Vindication
Quite some time ago, I made this post in which I asserted that the image being used for an online dating service ad that supposedly depicted one of their available single members located in Leesburg was, in fact, adult model Sydney Moon.
I recognized her, and the specific picture, but I couldn't find the original picture that was used to fully prove my assertion.
That's no longer the case.
Here we see the original picture of Sydney:
Of course, this doesn't matter to anyone but me, but this is my blog, so...
I recognized her, and the specific picture, but I couldn't find the original picture that was used to fully prove my assertion.
That's no longer the case.
Here we see the original picture of Sydney:
Of course, this doesn't matter to anyone but me, but this is my blog, so...
Saturday, February 16, 2008
The Pros And Jons
First of all, happy birthday to my nephew Todd, who turns 9 today.
Given that he’s only 9, I sent him considerably less money (the big bucks are reserved for “milestone” birthdays), and that he’s such a good kid – almost inhumanly it sometimes seems – it’s unlikely that his response upon opening the card was anything like Jourdan’s.
Because I’m making more money than I did at AOL and, having paid off my car – I got the title in the mail a couple weeks ago, so now I officially own a piece of crap – I’ve had a significant decrease in the amount of money I’m paying out every month, I have considerably more disposable income than I’ve ever had in my life.
So, with that in mind, I’ve been considering cautiously climbing into the online dating pool. In the past I’ve dipped my foot in to test the water, but given that in order to actually contact any prospects you have to pay a rather hefty monthly fee, I’ve avoided fully taking the plunge before now.
The obvious first question is “Which one?”
I haven’t answered that question yet, though I can say which one it won’t be: eHarmony.
Why not eHarmony? Well, first of all, their commercials annoy the hell out of me.
“Oh, look at us; we’re so perfectly-matched and happy!”
Fuck your happiness and perfect compatibility.
Secondly, on two occasions, eHarmony’s personality matching system has scientifically proven that I’m not compatible with anyone anywhere.
Thus I’d prefer a less exact system.
Regardless of which service I do choose, it’s likely that I’ll have to create some sort of profile, which leads to the second question of “What am I going to say about myself?”
My natural inclination is to just be as straightforward and honest as possible. After all, what’s the point of creating false expectations? Claiming to be a billionaire philanthropist might initially get me some play – assuming that there’s anyone in the world who would believe that a billionaire philanthropist would need to use an online dating service – but it’s not an act that I’d be able to keep up for long.
And even though if there’s anything that can be learned from romantic comedies it’s that at the core of every successful romance there is a significant act of dishonesty, which is rife with comedic and dramatic possibilities, (“By the way, I only asked you out as part of a bet,” “Oh, I’m not actually a guest at this hotel; I’m a maid,” “Oh, I was only pretending to be a priest so that I could get close to you before you got married,” etc.), I’m of the opinion that while honesty may not always be the best policy, it’s usually the most tenable.
So, by way of attempting to create an outline for my profile, I thought it would be worthwhile to take a look at the pros and cons of dating me, or what I like to call The Pros and Jons.
Pro: I’m pretty secure financially.
As mentioned, I have a pretty high-paying job. I’m a homeowner. I have very good credit. I have marketable skills that will likely lead only to an increase in my earning power over the next decade or so.
Jon: I like to spend more than I like to save.
Clearly I have a weakness for shiny electronic gadgets.
Pro: I’m pretty smart and I’m also funny.
Pretty much speaks for itself.
Jon: I’m also geeky and my sense of humor can be offensive.
I’m all about the snark and sarcasm, which is fine if you’re into that sort of thing, but not so much if you’re not, and I read comic books, like science fiction and fantasy movies/books, and spend most of my time at the computer engaged in nerdly pursuits. I can – and have done so – talk for hours about topics such as “Who would win in a fight: Superman or Thor?” (The answer, by the way, is Superman, despite what Dave Campbell says on the subject.), or about some obscure historical/literary/comic book piece of trivia. There’s a good chance that, if not matched up with someone of similar proclivities, there would be a lot of conversations that would go like this:
Me: [insert random comment on some arcane topic, probably related to comic books]
Potential Mate: What?
Me: Never mind…
Pro: I genuinely like and respect women as human beings.
I see no conflict between being sexually attracted to women and treating them with the respect they deserve as people. I view it as an ideal circumstance to be paired up with someone whom I actually like as a person.
Jon: I genuinely like and respect women as human beings.
I don’t want to make any sort of blanket statements about women here, but my own observation has been that there are a significant number of women who, for whatever reason, do not view this as a good thing. Not in a potential mate, at least. For a Platonic guy friend? Sure. For a boyfriend? Not so much. Again, this is just my own experience.
Pro: I’m thoughtful and considerate and something of a closet romantic.
I have a degree in English, and if I could be said to have had a particular focus it was on the British Romantic Period. Now, this isn’t “romantic” in the Harlequin romance novels sense, but there is a sort of…depth of feeling that is characteristic to this period which appealed to my sensibilities. I’m not a big flowery demonstrative gesture kind of guy, but more the “still waters run deep” type, preferring to make small – but significant – gestures of affection. I actually like buying gifts or leaving sweet little notes and performing other random acts of romance. Beyond that, I’m not the type to forget birthdays or anniversaries, and in a relationship I’m likely to give my own wants and needs secondary consideration.
Jon: Being thoughtful and considerate all the time can rob romantic gestures of their power.
If your boyfriend never has anything sweet to say, and can barely remember your last name, let alone your birthday, it will increase the significance of even the smallest gesture exponentially. Call it “The Prodigal Son Effect.” If your boyfriend always remembers your birthday and is constantly telling you that you’re wonderful it can eventually lose all meaning.
Pro: I’m a good listener.
Jon: That being said, I’m not always the most brilliant conversationalist.
Pro: I’m not a drinker.
No drunken, late night booty/bail me out calls, no alcohol-induced faux pas at family gatherings, etc.
Jon: I used to be a drinker.
That I don’t drink now is a symptom of the fact that I used to drink. That I can’t drink even in moderation shrinks the pool of women that I could potentially appeal to even further. Sure, not everyone drinks, but my inability to do so is definitely a social handicap; it’s just a question of how severe of a handicap it is.
Pro: I’m not Elephant Man levels of grotesque.
Jon: But physically I’m nothing to write home about either.
How much this matters is, of course, debatable, but there’s no getting around the fact that it does matter.
Pro: I’m self-reliant.
I’ve demonstrated the ability to manage my own life pretty well without having to rely on someone else. I’m a decent cook, I can handle my own finances, and am clearly not helpless and needy by any means.
Jon: I’m a recluse.
My self-reliance relates directly to the fact that I spend the majority of my time alone and am not, by nature, a social creature. Of course, the more time I spend alone, the more time I want to spend alone, as being alone becomes the rut into which I settle. In fairness to me, though, part of the reason that I don’t go out and engage in more social activities is not that I’m totally opposed to doing so, it’s that I don’t have anyone to engage in social activities with. The world isn’t really designed with single people in mind. If I had a partner, it’s possible – and fairly likely, I think – that I would get out more. Sure, that I don’t get out more now is no doubt part of the reason that I don’t have a partner, but, again, the opportunities for socializing that are available to a non-drinking, non-religious, non-civic-minded single person are limited.
Pro/Jon: (Depending on your perspective) As mentioned above, I’m not religious.
MAJOR Jon: I don’t want children and I don’t like pets. At all.
I have no interest in being a father, or even a father figure. I think that pets are a complete waste of time, effort, and money, and am severely allergic to pet dander and don’t view taking allergy medication as the correct solution to this problem.
The potential dating pool really shrinks down thanks to this one.
Jon: I have trust issues.
I don’t think that women are any more inclined to be unfaithful or dishonest than men, but I don’t think they’re any less inclined either. Statistics may not support me on this, but it’s not an intellectual belief, it’s a visceral one. I don’t think my trust issues would lead me to be insanely jealous or suspicious or anything like that, but I do think that they would tend to make me somewhat withdrawn and unwilling to fully invest my heart in a relationship.
Jon: I don’t view myself in the most positive light.
I know that I’m a pretty decent guy, and don’t see myself as being somehow unworthy of love, but I am very conscious of my faults and limitations, particularly regarding my appeal – or lack thereof – as a potential mate. I have a lot of very good qualities in terms of being boyfriend material, but I often liken myself to being comparable to an options package without the car. What good are chrome rims if you don’t actually have a tire? Those positive qualities that I have are things that women would like a guy to have, but they’re not requirements, and I think that I probably fall short in the requirements department. Whether or not that’s actually true is irrelevant; it’s my perception and therefore my reality.
Jon: I’m not able to come up with a whole lot of Pros.
Okay, so that rather depressing part of the process is out of the way. There are a lot more Jons I could come up with, and, if I really thought about it, probably a few more Pros, but I think that pretty well covers the basics.
Now the question becomes how to spin it all into something that would somehow make me seem appealing. I suppose that if nothing else it would appeal to someone who’s looking for brutal – maybe even cruel – honesty.
Anyway, he asks, knowing what little in way of a response he’ll get, what do you think ? What would you say if you were writing my profile? What, in your view, would be the Pros and Jons of dating me?
Given that he’s only 9, I sent him considerably less money (the big bucks are reserved for “milestone” birthdays), and that he’s such a good kid – almost inhumanly it sometimes seems – it’s unlikely that his response upon opening the card was anything like Jourdan’s.
Because I’m making more money than I did at AOL and, having paid off my car – I got the title in the mail a couple weeks ago, so now I officially own a piece of crap – I’ve had a significant decrease in the amount of money I’m paying out every month, I have considerably more disposable income than I’ve ever had in my life.
So, with that in mind, I’ve been considering cautiously climbing into the online dating pool. In the past I’ve dipped my foot in to test the water, but given that in order to actually contact any prospects you have to pay a rather hefty monthly fee, I’ve avoided fully taking the plunge before now.
The obvious first question is “Which one?”
I haven’t answered that question yet, though I can say which one it won’t be: eHarmony.
Why not eHarmony? Well, first of all, their commercials annoy the hell out of me.
“Oh, look at us; we’re so perfectly-matched and happy!”
Fuck your happiness and perfect compatibility.
Secondly, on two occasions, eHarmony’s personality matching system has scientifically proven that I’m not compatible with anyone anywhere.
Thus I’d prefer a less exact system.
Regardless of which service I do choose, it’s likely that I’ll have to create some sort of profile, which leads to the second question of “What am I going to say about myself?”
My natural inclination is to just be as straightforward and honest as possible. After all, what’s the point of creating false expectations? Claiming to be a billionaire philanthropist might initially get me some play – assuming that there’s anyone in the world who would believe that a billionaire philanthropist would need to use an online dating service – but it’s not an act that I’d be able to keep up for long.
And even though if there’s anything that can be learned from romantic comedies it’s that at the core of every successful romance there is a significant act of dishonesty, which is rife with comedic and dramatic possibilities, (“By the way, I only asked you out as part of a bet,” “Oh, I’m not actually a guest at this hotel; I’m a maid,” “Oh, I was only pretending to be a priest so that I could get close to you before you got married,” etc.), I’m of the opinion that while honesty may not always be the best policy, it’s usually the most tenable.
So, by way of attempting to create an outline for my profile, I thought it would be worthwhile to take a look at the pros and cons of dating me, or what I like to call The Pros and Jons.
Pro: I’m pretty secure financially.
As mentioned, I have a pretty high-paying job. I’m a homeowner. I have very good credit. I have marketable skills that will likely lead only to an increase in my earning power over the next decade or so.
Jon: I like to spend more than I like to save.
Clearly I have a weakness for shiny electronic gadgets.
Pro: I’m pretty smart and I’m also funny.
Pretty much speaks for itself.
Jon: I’m also geeky and my sense of humor can be offensive.
I’m all about the snark and sarcasm, which is fine if you’re into that sort of thing, but not so much if you’re not, and I read comic books, like science fiction and fantasy movies/books, and spend most of my time at the computer engaged in nerdly pursuits. I can – and have done so – talk for hours about topics such as “Who would win in a fight: Superman or Thor?” (The answer, by the way, is Superman, despite what Dave Campbell says on the subject.), or about some obscure historical/literary/comic book piece of trivia. There’s a good chance that, if not matched up with someone of similar proclivities, there would be a lot of conversations that would go like this:
Me: [insert random comment on some arcane topic, probably related to comic books]
Potential Mate: What?
Me: Never mind…
Pro: I genuinely like and respect women as human beings.
I see no conflict between being sexually attracted to women and treating them with the respect they deserve as people. I view it as an ideal circumstance to be paired up with someone whom I actually like as a person.
Jon: I genuinely like and respect women as human beings.
I don’t want to make any sort of blanket statements about women here, but my own observation has been that there are a significant number of women who, for whatever reason, do not view this as a good thing. Not in a potential mate, at least. For a Platonic guy friend? Sure. For a boyfriend? Not so much. Again, this is just my own experience.
Pro: I’m thoughtful and considerate and something of a closet romantic.
I have a degree in English, and if I could be said to have had a particular focus it was on the British Romantic Period. Now, this isn’t “romantic” in the Harlequin romance novels sense, but there is a sort of…depth of feeling that is characteristic to this period which appealed to my sensibilities. I’m not a big flowery demonstrative gesture kind of guy, but more the “still waters run deep” type, preferring to make small – but significant – gestures of affection. I actually like buying gifts or leaving sweet little notes and performing other random acts of romance. Beyond that, I’m not the type to forget birthdays or anniversaries, and in a relationship I’m likely to give my own wants and needs secondary consideration.
Jon: Being thoughtful and considerate all the time can rob romantic gestures of their power.
If your boyfriend never has anything sweet to say, and can barely remember your last name, let alone your birthday, it will increase the significance of even the smallest gesture exponentially. Call it “The Prodigal Son Effect.” If your boyfriend always remembers your birthday and is constantly telling you that you’re wonderful it can eventually lose all meaning.
Pro: I’m a good listener.
Jon: That being said, I’m not always the most brilliant conversationalist.
Pro: I’m not a drinker.
No drunken, late night booty/bail me out calls, no alcohol-induced faux pas at family gatherings, etc.
Jon: I used to be a drinker.
That I don’t drink now is a symptom of the fact that I used to drink. That I can’t drink even in moderation shrinks the pool of women that I could potentially appeal to even further. Sure, not everyone drinks, but my inability to do so is definitely a social handicap; it’s just a question of how severe of a handicap it is.
Pro: I’m not Elephant Man levels of grotesque.
Jon: But physically I’m nothing to write home about either.
How much this matters is, of course, debatable, but there’s no getting around the fact that it does matter.
Pro: I’m self-reliant.
I’ve demonstrated the ability to manage my own life pretty well without having to rely on someone else. I’m a decent cook, I can handle my own finances, and am clearly not helpless and needy by any means.
Jon: I’m a recluse.
My self-reliance relates directly to the fact that I spend the majority of my time alone and am not, by nature, a social creature. Of course, the more time I spend alone, the more time I want to spend alone, as being alone becomes the rut into which I settle. In fairness to me, though, part of the reason that I don’t go out and engage in more social activities is not that I’m totally opposed to doing so, it’s that I don’t have anyone to engage in social activities with. The world isn’t really designed with single people in mind. If I had a partner, it’s possible – and fairly likely, I think – that I would get out more. Sure, that I don’t get out more now is no doubt part of the reason that I don’t have a partner, but, again, the opportunities for socializing that are available to a non-drinking, non-religious, non-civic-minded single person are limited.
Pro/Jon: (Depending on your perspective) As mentioned above, I’m not religious.
MAJOR Jon: I don’t want children and I don’t like pets. At all.
I have no interest in being a father, or even a father figure. I think that pets are a complete waste of time, effort, and money, and am severely allergic to pet dander and don’t view taking allergy medication as the correct solution to this problem.
The potential dating pool really shrinks down thanks to this one.
Jon: I have trust issues.
I don’t think that women are any more inclined to be unfaithful or dishonest than men, but I don’t think they’re any less inclined either. Statistics may not support me on this, but it’s not an intellectual belief, it’s a visceral one. I don’t think my trust issues would lead me to be insanely jealous or suspicious or anything like that, but I do think that they would tend to make me somewhat withdrawn and unwilling to fully invest my heart in a relationship.
Jon: I don’t view myself in the most positive light.
I know that I’m a pretty decent guy, and don’t see myself as being somehow unworthy of love, but I am very conscious of my faults and limitations, particularly regarding my appeal – or lack thereof – as a potential mate. I have a lot of very good qualities in terms of being boyfriend material, but I often liken myself to being comparable to an options package without the car. What good are chrome rims if you don’t actually have a tire? Those positive qualities that I have are things that women would like a guy to have, but they’re not requirements, and I think that I probably fall short in the requirements department. Whether or not that’s actually true is irrelevant; it’s my perception and therefore my reality.
Jon: I’m not able to come up with a whole lot of Pros.
Okay, so that rather depressing part of the process is out of the way. There are a lot more Jons I could come up with, and, if I really thought about it, probably a few more Pros, but I think that pretty well covers the basics.
Now the question becomes how to spin it all into something that would somehow make me seem appealing. I suppose that if nothing else it would appeal to someone who’s looking for brutal – maybe even cruel – honesty.
Anyway, he asks, knowing what little in way of a response he’ll get, what do you think ? What would you say if you were writing my profile? What, in your view, would be the Pros and Jons of dating me?
Saturday, November 24, 2007
How To Stop A Charging Elliephant
Thinking about my time in Red Wing – and in particular the “bar sandwich” – brought to mind my second, disastrous foray into the world of online dating.
My first venture into those manatee-infested waters wasn’t exactly terrible, but it didn’t lead anywhere, as the girl I met up with was really only looking for friends and lived two hours away, and eventually moved even further away.
The second one was another story entirely, and here comes said story.
I’d received a response to the personal I’d placed – this was in the days where there were lots of free online personals that hadn’t been bought out by match.com and the other subscription-based services – from a woman named Ellie.
She seemed nice enough, and I tried my best not to be daunted by the fact that she had a kid, as even then I was constantly being told that I was “too picky.”
(If you’re at an all-you-can-eat buffet that has been picked clean and isn’t being re-stocked, does the fact that you come back with an empty plate make you too picky? The problem isn’t that I’m too picky, it’s that there is nothing to pick.)
So I’d arranged for us to meet at one of the bars in the bar sandwich, the one indicated by the “$$$” in my diagram.
Then, after the plans were made, she elected to e-mail me a picture of herself.
I’m not sure whether, in the conversation that we had about the picture, it was me or it was Eric who cleverly (and cruelly) concluded that “Ellie” must be short for “Elliephant,” but given that I’m the one telling the story, I’ll lay claim to it.
Regardless of my horrible play on words, I’m not a complete asshat, and so I resolved to go through with the date, as it was the right thing to do, and for all I knew it was entirely possible that she would have such a vivacious and engaging personality that I would be able to look past shallow considerations of appearance.
I wasn’t holding my breath on that score, though, and had arranged for Eric and our roommate Tim to swing by in the course of the date and bail me out.
At this point, Eric and I were looking to get into brewing our own beer, and had been to a meeting of a local brew club and been invited to their annual picnic.
In an instance of lousy timing, said picnic was the same day as my big (emphasis on big) date.
There was no way I was not going to the picnic, and, given the sheer volume of really good, lovingly-crafted beer that would present, there was no way that I wasn’t going to get shit-faced. Still, I thought that I could manage things so that I wouldn’t be completely tanked by the time I showed up for my date. After all, the picnic started at 11 AM, which meant that I could get loaded and have plenty of time to get home and take a nap and get at least somewhat sobered up.
Of course, after the picnic we stopped at our favorite bar (the “$” one) for happy hour, and beyond, and by the time I got home I barely had the opportunity to shower and change clothes, and had been drinking for pretty much the past 7 hours.
Admittedly, by that stage of my drinking career I had built up an impressive tolerance for alcohol, but even I had my limits, so I was several sheets to the wind by the time I arrived at the bar, and, with a sinking feeling, spotted Ellie.
When I was a drunk I was never blessed – or cursed – with the ability to put on “beer goggles,” so being tanked really didn’t help me at all in this instance.
To be fair to me, I don’t think that it makes me shallow to not be physically attracted to someone who was the equivalent of two and a half of me.
Still, I soldiered on, and joined her at the bar, and decided, “Well, maybe we could be friends.”
I soon learned that even this wasn’t possible, as she was a thoroughly unpleasant person who spent most of the evening telling me stories about all of the times she’d been beaten up by previous boyfriends. Naturally I felt bad for her, but come on, who does that? Why would you make that the primary topic of conversation?
And when I tried to talk she was constantly interrupting me, latching onto specific keywords in everything I said to go off on a tangent about a subject relating to those particular words – much like those in-text pop-up ads that seem to be springing up everywhere, and which Fred recently wrote about over at Slacktivist – and inevitably steering the conversation back to stories about her abusive boyfriends.
Per my request, Eric and Tim had showed up, but opted not to interrupt, choosing instead to watch me squirm while they waited for me to notice that they’d arrived.
Mercifully, the date came to an end, but as I walked her to her car she expressed her interest in seeing me again, and gave me her card with her home number written on it.
As she drove off, I waved to her with the hand holding her card, and, oops, wouldn’t you know, the card slipped out and fell into the gutter. Despite everything, I did feel kind of bad about turning into the jerk who says he’ll call – because he feels trapped and fears for his safety should he honestly state his lack of interest in a woman who is clearly unstable and is two and a half times his size – knowing full well that he never will.
And again, I suppose it’s possible that my rejection of a very large and annoying woman is somehow an indication that I’m “too picky,” but at the same time I know that all of the people who would accuse me of that are the same people who would make fun of me if I were to hook up with an elephant.
In the cold, brief light of sobriety the next day I realized that, besides her weight and annoying loquaciousness, another factor that made her so unappealing was the Groucho Factor, which is to say, “I wouldn’t want to join any club that would have me as a member.” I mean, how desperate and needy to you have to be to want to pursue a relationship with someone who showed up for a date with you in the middle of an all-day drunk? And who needs someone with that level of neediness and desperation in his life? Not this guy.
After sending a dismissive and non-committal reply to the e-mail that was waiting for me at work on Monday morning that said things like “I’m glad you had a good time,” she got the hint and I never heard from her again.
However, one Saturday night weeks later my friends and I were at the “$” bar, and when I returned to our table after getting drinks at the bar, my roommate Tim said, “Jon, guess who’s here?” I said, hopefully, “Tall Chick?” He shook his head, and I noted the barely-restrained glee on his face and said, weakly, “Ellie?”
With a spreading smile he nodded and indicated her position with an inclination of his head. “She was staring at you the whole time you were at the bar,” he said, giggling at my ever-increasing pallor.
I sighed and resolved to simply pretend that she wasn’t there, casting occasional furtive glances to check if she was still looking at me (she was).
Eventually I ran into an obstacle to my continuing attempts to pretend that I didn’t see her in that I’d been drinking for some time and my bladder was beginning to urgently insist on being emptied and Ellie was seated directly between me and the men’s room.
Eventually, with steely resolve, I stood up…and turned around and walked out the front door and over to the “$$$” bar to use their men’s room.
My ploy paid off, and by the time I returned to my friends after answering nature’s – and cowardice’s – call, she was gone, never to be seen or heard from again.
Okay, so I’ll admit it: I’m a horrible, shallow person.
But you can’t judge me because you never had to face down (or run away from) a raging Elliephant.
As a somewhat humiliating side note, I need to mention that at this time I was working for the commercial printing arm of a publishing company that owned several newspapers in the region. One day, prior to the date with Ellie, I had mentioned my date to a co-worker and was overheard by the Publisher, who took an interest because he’d been thinking about adding some online personals to the paper’s Web site and also a regular feature in the paper about dating and socializing in the area.
So on the Monday after the date he came around to ask me how it went.
(He actually said, very loudly, in the presence of everyone in the bullpen, “Super Jon!” which is what he usually called me, for whatever reason, “How’d the big date go?”)
It was a strange (and embarrassing) situation to be in, knowing that my abortive attempts at having a love life were potential fodder for featured articles and for making business decisions (and were being broadcast to everyone within earshot).
My first venture into those manatee-infested waters wasn’t exactly terrible, but it didn’t lead anywhere, as the girl I met up with was really only looking for friends and lived two hours away, and eventually moved even further away.
The second one was another story entirely, and here comes said story.
I’d received a response to the personal I’d placed – this was in the days where there were lots of free online personals that hadn’t been bought out by match.com and the other subscription-based services – from a woman named Ellie.
She seemed nice enough, and I tried my best not to be daunted by the fact that she had a kid, as even then I was constantly being told that I was “too picky.”
(If you’re at an all-you-can-eat buffet that has been picked clean and isn’t being re-stocked, does the fact that you come back with an empty plate make you too picky? The problem isn’t that I’m too picky, it’s that there is nothing to pick.)
So I’d arranged for us to meet at one of the bars in the bar sandwich, the one indicated by the “$$$” in my diagram.
Then, after the plans were made, she elected to e-mail me a picture of herself.
I’m not sure whether, in the conversation that we had about the picture, it was me or it was Eric who cleverly (and cruelly) concluded that “Ellie” must be short for “Elliephant,” but given that I’m the one telling the story, I’ll lay claim to it.
Regardless of my horrible play on words, I’m not a complete asshat, and so I resolved to go through with the date, as it was the right thing to do, and for all I knew it was entirely possible that she would have such a vivacious and engaging personality that I would be able to look past shallow considerations of appearance.
I wasn’t holding my breath on that score, though, and had arranged for Eric and our roommate Tim to swing by in the course of the date and bail me out.
At this point, Eric and I were looking to get into brewing our own beer, and had been to a meeting of a local brew club and been invited to their annual picnic.
In an instance of lousy timing, said picnic was the same day as my big (emphasis on big) date.
There was no way I was not going to the picnic, and, given the sheer volume of really good, lovingly-crafted beer that would present, there was no way that I wasn’t going to get shit-faced. Still, I thought that I could manage things so that I wouldn’t be completely tanked by the time I showed up for my date. After all, the picnic started at 11 AM, which meant that I could get loaded and have plenty of time to get home and take a nap and get at least somewhat sobered up.
Of course, after the picnic we stopped at our favorite bar (the “$” one) for happy hour, and beyond, and by the time I got home I barely had the opportunity to shower and change clothes, and had been drinking for pretty much the past 7 hours.
Admittedly, by that stage of my drinking career I had built up an impressive tolerance for alcohol, but even I had my limits, so I was several sheets to the wind by the time I arrived at the bar, and, with a sinking feeling, spotted Ellie.
When I was a drunk I was never blessed – or cursed – with the ability to put on “beer goggles,” so being tanked really didn’t help me at all in this instance.
To be fair to me, I don’t think that it makes me shallow to not be physically attracted to someone who was the equivalent of two and a half of me.
Still, I soldiered on, and joined her at the bar, and decided, “Well, maybe we could be friends.”
I soon learned that even this wasn’t possible, as she was a thoroughly unpleasant person who spent most of the evening telling me stories about all of the times she’d been beaten up by previous boyfriends. Naturally I felt bad for her, but come on, who does that? Why would you make that the primary topic of conversation?
And when I tried to talk she was constantly interrupting me, latching onto specific keywords in everything I said to go off on a tangent about a subject relating to those particular words – much like those in-text pop-up ads that seem to be springing up everywhere, and which Fred recently wrote about over at Slacktivist – and inevitably steering the conversation back to stories about her abusive boyfriends.
Per my request, Eric and Tim had showed up, but opted not to interrupt, choosing instead to watch me squirm while they waited for me to notice that they’d arrived.
Mercifully, the date came to an end, but as I walked her to her car she expressed her interest in seeing me again, and gave me her card with her home number written on it.
As she drove off, I waved to her with the hand holding her card, and, oops, wouldn’t you know, the card slipped out and fell into the gutter. Despite everything, I did feel kind of bad about turning into the jerk who says he’ll call – because he feels trapped and fears for his safety should he honestly state his lack of interest in a woman who is clearly unstable and is two and a half times his size – knowing full well that he never will.
And again, I suppose it’s possible that my rejection of a very large and annoying woman is somehow an indication that I’m “too picky,” but at the same time I know that all of the people who would accuse me of that are the same people who would make fun of me if I were to hook up with an elephant.
In the cold, brief light of sobriety the next day I realized that, besides her weight and annoying loquaciousness, another factor that made her so unappealing was the Groucho Factor, which is to say, “I wouldn’t want to join any club that would have me as a member.” I mean, how desperate and needy to you have to be to want to pursue a relationship with someone who showed up for a date with you in the middle of an all-day drunk? And who needs someone with that level of neediness and desperation in his life? Not this guy.
After sending a dismissive and non-committal reply to the e-mail that was waiting for me at work on Monday morning that said things like “I’m glad you had a good time,” she got the hint and I never heard from her again.
However, one Saturday night weeks later my friends and I were at the “$” bar, and when I returned to our table after getting drinks at the bar, my roommate Tim said, “Jon, guess who’s here?” I said, hopefully, “Tall Chick?” He shook his head, and I noted the barely-restrained glee on his face and said, weakly, “Ellie?”
With a spreading smile he nodded and indicated her position with an inclination of his head. “She was staring at you the whole time you were at the bar,” he said, giggling at my ever-increasing pallor.
I sighed and resolved to simply pretend that she wasn’t there, casting occasional furtive glances to check if she was still looking at me (she was).
Eventually I ran into an obstacle to my continuing attempts to pretend that I didn’t see her in that I’d been drinking for some time and my bladder was beginning to urgently insist on being emptied and Ellie was seated directly between me and the men’s room.
Eventually, with steely resolve, I stood up…and turned around and walked out the front door and over to the “$$$” bar to use their men’s room.
My ploy paid off, and by the time I returned to my friends after answering nature’s – and cowardice’s – call, she was gone, never to be seen or heard from again.
Okay, so I’ll admit it: I’m a horrible, shallow person.
But you can’t judge me because you never had to face down (or run away from) a raging Elliephant.
As a somewhat humiliating side note, I need to mention that at this time I was working for the commercial printing arm of a publishing company that owned several newspapers in the region. One day, prior to the date with Ellie, I had mentioned my date to a co-worker and was overheard by the Publisher, who took an interest because he’d been thinking about adding some online personals to the paper’s Web site and also a regular feature in the paper about dating and socializing in the area.
So on the Monday after the date he came around to ask me how it went.
(He actually said, very loudly, in the presence of everyone in the bullpen, “Super Jon!” which is what he usually called me, for whatever reason, “How’d the big date go?”)
It was a strange (and embarrassing) situation to be in, knowing that my abortive attempts at having a love life were potential fodder for featured articles and for making business decisions (and were being broadcast to everyone within earshot).
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Truth In Advertising?
Sometime yesterday while on MySpace I saw this ad for an online dating service:
Because I was at MySpace, the ad was actually targeted based on my profile information, hence the "Find Singles in Leesburg" line.
That wasn't what really stood out for me, though.
It was actually one of the "singles" pictured:
The reason she stood out is that I recognized her as being adult model Sydney Moon, seen here:
(I'm reasonably certain that somewhere in the pile of digital bits that make up my largely unused and seldom looked at - although obsessively compiled - collection of pictures I actually have the picture used in the ad, but finding it would involve a lot more work than I'm willing to put into it.)
Somehow I doubt that Ms. Moon lives in Leesburg, and even if she did, it's even more unlikely that she'd have to make use of an online dating service.
(Her totally NSFW - after the initial page, anyway - Web site can be found here)
It's hardly surprising that dating sites don't use their actual clients in ads - I've browsed a lot of profiles and can't really say that I blame them for not making use of those resources.
And it's not the first time I've noticed them culling from the nude model pool: I've recognized at least a couple Playboy Playmates in the various True ads that are all over the Web with their totally un-True pictures of women who are supposedly using the service.
Again, I understand the reasoning and I'm not necessarily faulting them for trying to make a buck, it's just that the kind of lonely, desperate nerds (like me) that the ads are designed to appeal to are the ones who are most likely to say, "Hey, I know her, that's..." and call bullshit on the ads.
Of course, that being said, lonely, desperate nerds (like me) will probably still get suckered in by the pictures of hot models anyway.
Because I was at MySpace, the ad was actually targeted based on my profile information, hence the "Find Singles in Leesburg" line.
That wasn't what really stood out for me, though.
It was actually one of the "singles" pictured:
The reason she stood out is that I recognized her as being adult model Sydney Moon, seen here:
(I'm reasonably certain that somewhere in the pile of digital bits that make up my largely unused and seldom looked at - although obsessively compiled - collection of pictures I actually have the picture used in the ad, but finding it would involve a lot more work than I'm willing to put into it.)
Somehow I doubt that Ms. Moon lives in Leesburg, and even if she did, it's even more unlikely that she'd have to make use of an online dating service.
(Her totally NSFW - after the initial page, anyway - Web site can be found here)
It's hardly surprising that dating sites don't use their actual clients in ads - I've browsed a lot of profiles and can't really say that I blame them for not making use of those resources.
And it's not the first time I've noticed them culling from the nude model pool: I've recognized at least a couple Playboy Playmates in the various True ads that are all over the Web with their totally un-True pictures of women who are supposedly using the service.
Again, I understand the reasoning and I'm not necessarily faulting them for trying to make a buck, it's just that the kind of lonely, desperate nerds (like me) that the ads are designed to appeal to are the ones who are most likely to say, "Hey, I know her, that's..." and call bullshit on the ads.
Of course, that being said, lonely, desperate nerds (like me) will probably still get suckered in by the pictures of hot models anyway.
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