You are not a pretty little snowflake or some other Durdenism. Never does this seem truer than when you’re seeking that special someone to live out the rest of your days with. Two very inescapable truths have hit me square in the face. You’re not special I’m not special When that hits if it doesn’t drop you to your knees with tears streaming down your lonely face I’m impressed. These occurred to me when I hit upon the idea of internet dating. Throw up a profile. Select some photos that don’t make me look like I’m a paedophile living in the woods making my own clothes and then string together a few cheeky sentences that list my interests and a few charming curiosities about my personality. Boom. Await the hordes of women who have been waiting all their lives for one as great as me to deign to meet them.
Fucked if that didn’t work.
Some market research reveals that all men are easy going, fun guys who don’t get hung up on looks too much and enjoy among other things the same shit that most people enjoy. Being one of these men I know that dark, dark thoughts cross my mind all the time, I know that I care about looks more than I let on. I know that our profiles omit the horrible/hilarious shit we’ve done in the past - I regret nothing but I won’t publicise it.
Market research of women reveals that unlike our female icons - Rihanna, Lady Gaga et al they are not sexy hungry nymphettes who are prepared to forgive domestic violence and insensitivity just to get their fix. They are literally all into travel, funny guys, a good night out or a quiet night in. They can be a bit of a “girly girl” but don’t mind getting their hands dirty too. Insert photos of the best holidays ever and some good nights out with friends. The less self conscious/sensible among them will have pictures of them with children, animals, celebrities and family who never knew this photo would go on a dating site.
Everybody goes to the gym every now and again and nobody, myself included, can write that without sounding like a lard ass or an obsessive. The sweet spot middle ground is beyond the reach of words alone.
The process under the microscope is a lot like being on a property website. You get attracted by a picture. You read the text, it’s a lot like all the rest but rather than say anything meaningful as long as it doesn’t contain negatives,horrible racist/poor insulation (depending on which site you’re on), you take a chance. Contact is made and any sort of spark at all will do, you’re so desperate to be warm at night. Once you view the property and realise the photographs are not representative or at least took advantage of some helpful angles/lighting/forced perspective all you want to do is walk away with as little offence caused as possible. It’s awkward when the estate agent calls. It’s worse when the girl does and worst of all is when your offer is rebuffed. I feel entitled. I don’t think I’m alone and the blame , I feel, rests on magazines, film and other less spoken about media. The disconnect between what I feel I should get and what I get might cause a lesser man to take drastic measures. Luckily I’m a fun, sporty guy who enjoys going to the gym now and again. I like reading, the cinema and the occasional night out with friends and family.
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