This time, I’m older and wiser. And older.
I’m single and ready to mingle! Oh
God.
But which electronic singles club do I choose? There are so many now! During my first foray into the world of
profile pics and witty one-liners, I think there were only two: the free one, which was, let’s face it,
designed for one thing and one thing only.
And the one you had to pay for, which was, let’s face it, designed for
women with weddings on the brain.
I opted for the one that took my money in my 20s, and I am
returning to the same site in my 30s.
I have to say, things have really changed during the decade
since my last unsuccessful attempt at landing a husband.
For starters, the price has gone up, in more ways than
one! Thankfully, I make a little more
money these days. But how much dignity
will it cost me to sift through potential suitors?
After just a few days into the process I had some kinks to
work out. The site I chose sends me six
potential matches every day. It wasn’t
like that in the early 2000s. A girl
looking for a fella could shop to her heart’s content from a seemingly endless
list of bachelors. Not anymore. Now, she gets six a day. These lucky lads are selected by a computer
that claims to use your well-crafted answers as guides. I’m not so sure. I set parameters: no dudes who live more than 30 miles
away. This was not a random number, it
was offered to me by “the system”.
As I quickly discovered, the “system” pretty much doesn’t
care what I said, because the first batch of studs selected just for me all
hailed from places that weren’t even in my state. One even lived in Canada. And while that’s just a few hours’ drive from
my doorstep, I don’t think I want to meet him at a coffee shop halfway. So this had to be fixed. I took a second look at my filters. “30 miles”? Check. “How important” is this
limit to me? Very.
And then the shaming began.
I didn’t think it was possible, or ethical for that matter,
for the dating site to chastise me for opting out of all the potential mates
living more than 45 minutes (give or take) from my apartment. But chastise me it did! I now live with a little yellow triangle with
an exclamation point in it at the top of my home page. It’s a daily reminder that I’m too
picky. And if I click on the triangle,
it basically tells me to lighten up, guys that live five hours away could make
wonderful dates. Thank you, site, but I
think I’ll shop local.
Which brings me to my second speed bump on the freeway of
love: kids. I set a filter stating that I would prefer
gentlemen without offspring. I know,
it’s a tall order at this point in the game, but if I get to be choosy, I would
prefer silence over the pitter patter of little feet. I’ll spare you the usual clichés about the
difficulty of just taking care of myself.
I will never be Marissa Tomei stomping my foot, screeching about my
biological clock. So no kids.
The second AND third batch of boys? Fathers. Nearly every one of them. I thought the site was kidding. I once again clicked over to the filters to
double-check myself. Under the glow of
the yellow triangle from my first go ‘round, I discovered that my filters were
indeed set to my specifications.
Site 3, Meg 0.
