Dates: Free to Good Home

So, I finally bit the bullet and rejoined eHarmony again. I waited until the spam e-mails they sent me begging me for my return seemed desperate. I mean, I have my pride. I settled on a mere $10 a month and one month free.

Since I hadn’t been on the site since my last I-live-with-my-mom-and-our-house-smells-like-cat-piss date a year ago, I had a lot of revamping to do. There were things in my profile that were outdated, like my undying desperation for love and my photos which, in a new light, kind of make me look like a fat gym teacher. Also, I had over 200 matches to weed through.

I tell you what, there is nothing more ego boosting than weeding through 200 + potential lovers. But I think I got a little bit of a power trip. Initially I judged purely on photo alone. Not my type and you’re in the garbage. If you’re my type I send the initial round of blase questions to attempt to lure you into my snare. Then I thought how shallow I seemed with this frame of mind. So, I started reading profiles. Can’t spell: immediate out. Unemployed: out, out, out! Write poetry: Ew, out. Live with mother: for the love of GOD, I have learned my lesson on this one.

But then, last night, after my eyes were bleeding trying to mill through the potentials, I realized how unfair this all is. I mean, really, somewhere in the Midwest, men are doing the exact same thing to my profile whispering maniacal reassurances to themselves. I suddenly hear my ego deflating.

But what does a single working girl do to find a guy? My life isn’t like the movies where Prince Charming is a customer at work who carries me out the doors of my employ while I put his Navy hat on my head and the credits roll. It’s more like, truckers with AARP memberships who’s gingivitis has rotted their gums into black mush wink at me and show me their own eHarmony profiles and tell me I would look so sexy on the back of their Harleys.

I feel like I need a divine intervention. Maybe I’ll consult the Ouija, or at the very least I could dig around in my closet for my Magic 8 Ball…

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