Why I Want to Smack That eHarmony Guy

Despite my early luck in catching the interest of a few guys, I quickly learned that it’s really not an easy thing to do. I work in an office with pretty meager pickings when it comes to guys. They are all a bit too old, or a bit too metrosexual, or a bit too married.

I decided to try online dating because I thought it might be a better way to go. According to the commercials, I could find someone perfect for me. I tried a couple of different free dating sites, and kept running into guys whose idea of getting to know me meant asking about my bra size. I also got messages from many guys who bore an uncanny resemblance to the Unabomber.

Hey ladies, I've got a cave and a case of C-4. Let's do this.

Hey ladies, I’ve got a cave and a case of C-4. Let’s do this.

I finally caved in and paid for a trial membership on eHarmony. I really didn’t like that site because a) you can’t browse. You have to just wait for them to send you matches; and b) the matches they were sending me looked nothing like the physical descriptions I had given as my preference in the very detailed questionnaire they brag about. Once again, I was being paired up with the Unabomber.

So I let that membership end, and I tried the mother of all dating sites — the mecca, if you will. The alpha and the omega… The one that promised to make me as happy {if not happier than} the couples on TV gazing lovingly into each others’ eyes and giving testimony to how they never would have met if not for {trumpet blast} Match.com. My brother met his girlfriend on Match. My ex met his new drill sergeant wife on Match. His little sister met her husband on Match. There had to be something there, right?

The very first guy who contacted me seemed promising… good job, lived fairly close by, nice looking… We chatted online briefly before exchanging numbers. This was exciting! This could be my guy! I could be that girl on the commercials! We started talking, and he asked what my interests were. I gave him my standard response: I like music {most types}, movies {pretty much anything except bloody and/or scary}, reading, going for walks by the lake, blah blah blah. Then I asked him what he liked. He said {and I quote}, “Well, I like those things too. I also like having my bootyhole licked.” Ummm… what? WHAT?? How does one go from musical preference to bootyhole?

He was quite put off when I responded negatively to that comment, saying I was wrong to judge people. Ok, bootyhole guy, you’re right. I shouldn’t have judged you based on your premature sharing of sexual tastes {ugh, pun definitely NOT intended}. But I’ll be honest. Although I do enjoy sex as much as the next person, I don’t want to discuss it in our very first conversation. And really, I don’t know that there’s ever a right time to bring up bootyholes.

I quickly gave up on my trial membership to Match after realizing that although this was a reputable {according to the lovely commercials} site which charged a monthly fee, the guys were mostly just like the ones on the free sites. There had to be someone good out there!

I also quickly learned, from the various sites to which I subscribed at one point or another, that when the questionnaire asks you to describe your physical appearance, apparently it’s ok to embellish. One guy described himself as ‘stocky’ but ended up looking like Fat Bastard. Several guys claimed to be 5’8, but were looking eye to eye with me when we met… and I’m 5’4. One guy left his height out altogether and ended up being nearly 7 feet tall. I felt like a toddler as we followed the hostess to our table at TGIFridays. No, excessive height isn’t a dealbreaker, but the fact that all he was able or willing to discuss was weather and sports kind of was.

There was one guy I started talking to who invited me to meet him for drinks… at a gay bar. When I asked why he chose that place, he said he went there all the time. He accused me of being prejudiced when I seemed a bit put off. I have no problem with people who happen to be gay. It doesn’t define them, anymore than being straight defines me. But if the guy I could potentially be dating is often frequenting a gay bar, I’m kinda thinking I really might not be his type.

I think one of my favorites was the single dad who wanted to bring his toddler son on our first date. He also had one of the oddest natural speaking voices I’ve ever heard. He was a black guy, and I kid you not, he sounded just like Flanders from The Simpsons. I kept expecting him to say, “What can I diddlee do ya for?”

I’ve since given up on online dating. I got tired of rewriting the same answers over and over for my profiles, and I was definitely tired of running into the same brand of perverts and players at every turn.

And so, smug eHarmony guy, you’ve lost your credibility with me. I gave you a shot and you blew it. You promised to study my likes and dislikes and find me Mr. Right. You ignored every hint I gave you on who my perfect guy would be. You blindly threw darts at a board and provided me with plenty of Mr. Wrongs. I think I can safely say that Prince Charming was not on your site — unless, of course, he was cleverly disguised as the Unabomber. Well played, eHarmony guy, well played.

Next up: The Boomerang


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