Girl on the Brink: Surviving Desperate Times with Desperate Measures

Oh, great. Just what I want to do. Go out with a 62-year-old man whose first online screening question was whether I’m “normal.”

I kid you not, he began his email with this question: “is there any such thing? I wanted to screen people by asking thta [sic] if you are on Anti=depressants [sic] or suffer from unmedicated ADHD, please contact someone else.”

What happened to flirting and saying something positive about the person you’re courting?

I’ll tell you what’s happened, technology has replaced the third dimension, the face-to-face encounters that ignite chemistry and create a mixture that’s more potent than the individual ingredients. Too bad. Relationships aren’t built via an email exchange; they’re built on body language and the verbal exchange.

And another thing, what is it with the typos? You wouldn’t send a potential employer email with misspellings. Why would you send a potential mate email with typographical errors? It’s bad form and speaks of sloppiness.

Before I read his email, I was thrilled that a man even contacted me on Match.com since I closed down my account.

Quick insight: You never close your Match account. The service punishes you by taking away privileges. For example, you can’t reply to someone’s email if you’re not a paying member. But those little Match-makers, they’ve got all that marketing figured out and will let your suitor pay for your reply.

Why, that’s almost like having a potential employer fly you out somewhere to interview for a job. I admit, not quite, but it gives the same kind of emotional rise—that you’re wanted!

Let me carry out the analogy: What if I sat across from an HR person during a job interview, and this was the first question she asked: “Have you ever slept with the boss?” Of course, any sane person would say no, even if it were true, and Ann should know. I answered this guy’s question to his satisfaction, but even if I were on drugs to control my emotions is that reason to disqualify someone?

In retrospect, I wish I’d told him about all the antidepressants I take, and then throw in a zinger: “Hey, by the way I’m two weeks late, despite the birth control. I hope that’s not a problem.” That’d throw him for a loop.

You wouldn’t be surprised if I told you that this Match.com guy emailed me back after I told him how “normal” I was. In his reply, he had the audicity to question the validity of my pictures. I haven’t responded, but I am now. I’m going to tell him, “Yeah, I should have updated my pictures. I’ve actually gained 20 pounds and grew dreadlocks. I really like that ropey feel in my hair. Don’t you?“