Internet Dating

Hey Sexy-kitten 157. I saw your profile on the internet dating site and was very impressed with your description of yourself. I too am a fun loving person who lives life to the fullest. As you can see from my profile I am a sporty guy who knows what he wants from life. I’m sensitive but still a man. Compassionate but I will still kill that big hairy spider if you need me to. I’d really like to go out for a drink with you. Drop me an email some time and we can get together. Eagerly waiting your reply. Studmeister 239. Send.

Profile no 2. Hey Hot-Roxy-girl...um copy, paste, send.

Forgive me father for I have sinned. I have signed up on an internet dating site. I have allowed myself to send the same email to seven different girls in a row through just copying the body of the mail and changing the name. I even lied in the email. I’m not sporty. I wouldn’t know a rugby ball from a bowling ball. And what does it mean to live life to the fullest? That’s not even a word!

But girls all want the same thing. I should know. I’ve been reading millions and millions of their profiles. They want a guy who is a man. I think they mean they want a guy who watches sport… or plays sport. I know it has something to do with sport. They want someone who likes to go out and dance at a club, but also likes to stay home and watch DVDs. They want someone determined, ambitious, a guy who knows where he’s going, but he must spend all his time on them. They want a strong man, able to make decisions, but would really like it if he cried at the end of Thelma and Louise.

Maybe I shouldn’t tell them I enjoy going to the theatre. It might sound… pansy.

You might be asking why I joined an internet dating site. Well the reason is obvious, one would assume. The excuse is: “Where do you meet eligible singles now days?” It’s been statistically proven that you have a 65% higher chance of meeting your life partner in a super market than in a bar. It’s also been statistically proven that 96.3% of statistics are made up on the spot. But that’s besides the fact. At a bar there is just so much more risk. The rejection is instantaneous and direct.

“Hi my name’s Oded. Can I buy you a… “
“No you cannot.”
“… a heart?”

At least with the internet dating site you usually have to wait a day to get a return email. And by blanket emailing all 700 of your favourites your odds of success are increased.

And if you get a positive reply then comes the anticipation. The back and forth emails getting to know one another. Then the relinquishing of one’s cell phone number. Finally after numerous and numerous smses, the arrangement to meet.

The internet dating site does have a disclaimer on the proper precautions to adhere to on the first blind date. Safety rule number one. Meet the date at a public place. Under no circumstances give out your home address or let your date pick you up from said address. This would render you carless should you wish to make a hasty retreat not to mention that if your date turns out to be a psychotic stalker he then knows where you live. Safety rule number two: Choose a noncommittal first date. A quick drink after work or perhaps coffee over a lunch hour is advisable. This always allows you the excuse of having other commitments should you wish to cut the date short. And finally rule no three. Do not mention your cat.

And now we’re on the date. I’m sitting at the coffee shop trying to look casual and clam reading the menu for the 24th time. I arrived half an hour early. Mother always said punctuality in a man is a sign of good breeding. Every time a person walks through the door my heart jumps. I never look at them directly because that would seem over eager. And zealousness is uncool. But make no mistake; I see every movement with my peripheral vision. “Wow they have a salmon salad with fresh cream cheese and sliced avo (when in season). Hmmm that sounds great.”

“Hi are you Oded?”
Gasp!

I wave her down into the seat as if landing a plane while trying to recompose myself. She smiles sweetly as nervous and terrified as I am and says “You’re probably wondering why I don’t look like my picture on line? It was taken 10 years ago.”

And those years have been good to you.

I’m not a shallow person. All shallow people say that don’t they? But there is a certain caliber of partner that I’m looking for. As she drones on and on and on I first start devising plans to escape. Maybe I can somehow phone myself. Or maybe I can start coughing and wheezing and fake an asthma attack. Then I start devising plans of homicide. If I moved really fast she wouldn’t be able to stop me sticking this knife in her throat. I’m really starting to regret not paying attention to rule number two, have an excuse to escape.

And then she looks at me and says. “Have I told you about my cat?”

“Cheque please!”