It might have been eHarmony that put me over the edge, and after only days of membership.
Under the “communicating with” tab labeled “my turn” was the photo of the only man whose “smile” I bothered to return. He was far away, but politically compatible, active, and importantly, very cute. I hate to think of myself as superficial, but why bother communicating with guys who are totally unattractive to me?
As choreographed by eHarmony, the cute guy sent me a set of multiple choice “quick questions,” which I’d dutifully answered. Then I was directed to send him back questions, which he answered.
This battery of test-like encounters, by the way, come after being subjected to a long series of multiple choice questions used to assess compatibility with matches and then being urged to answer yet more questions on my profile since matches don’t get to see the personality test. The on site profile is a multiple choice, short answer and short essay section of the exam.
And now it was “my turn” again. EHarmony cheerfully informed me it was time to “dig deeper.” I could write my own short essay questions or choose (exactly three) from their list. This whole process had taken quite a few days, and I didn’t feel like I’d gotten to know cute guy a whit better than from the first smile and I’d checked out his profile. I was suddenly overcome with exhaustion.
Truthfully, it wasn’t all eHarmony’s fault, though.
Partly it was just me. The first thing I’d do when I shut my iPhone alarm off in the morning, was check my email. Did I have new messages from any of the sites? Was there a message from an interesting guy? Or were there more illiterate missives from 22-year-olds or 56-year-olds or those carrying “a few extra pounds”? Did any of my new matches look promising? Walking down the hallways at work I’d check email: Anything new? Anything good? And the last thing before bed: checking, hoping.
I had even started seeing someone I’d met in a coffee shop, but I hadn’t heard from him in days and assumed that was over. Though I wasn’t sure. There were all these other men I was communicating with and might meet in person at some point: there was the guy who I liked as a friend but he wanted more, a younger guy who might’ve been perfect except for distance and possibly deal-breaking political leanings, an older guy who might’ve been too old, and I can’t even remember now who else.
It occurred to me that all this dating and thinking about dating, while entertaining, was a big distraction. Wouldn’t it be nice not to obsess over men for a little bit? To just focus on healing after a recent surgery, losing weight I’d gained because of inactivity from surgery, and generally working towards feeling both well and good about myself again?
More on my month plan in the next post.
p.s. will you marry me? 