"Meh," I said, to one particularly dull suitor.
"Hmph," said the dog with one eye half open.
I kept clicking and she drifted back to sleep.
"Blehck," I said, to a profile of someone claiming to be more or less constantly drunk. Not my thing.
The dog rumbled in dismay as she rolled over.
I read more. And more. And more. There seemed to be no end to mediocre matches.
"Ugly. Stupid. Clueless. Mean," I said, clicking through another four gentlemen.
I know, Internet, I'm a horrible, terrible, judgmental person...but at least my dog likes me. In all fairness, if you read several dozen terrible profiles each evening, you would likely be getting a little bitter too. The ROI on reading dating profiles is atrocious. If you are going to do online dating, you will need to accept that you will spend entire evenings wading through profiles of people you aren't the least bit interested in. Hours and hours of this. Also? Hours.
"Come on, interwebs, give me something interesting. Or entertaining. Or at least different."
The dog thumped her tail against the floor, but didn't seem very hopeful.
And then, miraculously, the Forces of teh Interwebs blessed me in a way I hadn't even expected.
"Hmm. He's kinda cute," I said as I looked at the latest guy. I kept clicking through his pictures. There were a lot of pictures in all kinds of places. But...there was something off. What was it? I scanned his stats. Ah, there it was: he said that he was 6' 2", but his pictures showed that he was clearly not. At least, if his pictures were accurate, then they had all been taken in the Land of Giant Things. Giant cars. Giant trees. Giant park benches. Nope, using my advanced knowledge of relative size and an understanding of the natural universe, I'd say that this guy was about 5'2" instead of 6'2".
The dog growled quietly.
This suitor was hardly the first liar I'd seen on my dating site. In fact, some researchers recommend that you lie in your online dating profile. Theoretically, you will only be matched with someone whose criteria line up with your statistics. So what if you have a quality that few people are looking for? Tell the truth and the love of your life will never seen your profile. Lie, and you could still meet her in person, at which point you can charm her with your wit, your smile, and your encyclopedic knowledge of Incan matrimonial headdresses. Lie, and you still have a shot.
Unless of course, she hates liars. And goodness gracious golly, I do so hate liars.
On the plus side, though, liars make your life so very interesting up until the point where you kick them to the curb. I had asked the Forces of teh Interwebs for something interesting. This fella was definitely interesting. In addition to his dashing 6'2" physique, he also claimed to simultaneously be a mechanic and to be attending a prestigious Seattle medical school at night.
"Oh, no you aren't, Mr. Fibb."
Being a mechanic is a tough job. Being in medical school is a tough job. Being a student in the famous medical school he named is a really, really tough job. So tough that it is a full-time job and night classes are not an option. There is simply no way that he was telling the truth. Now, it was possible that he was taking classes as a prerequisite for applying to medical school, but that wasn't what he claimed.
I scanned his profile and photos for more evidence of his awfulness, when---
"Hold. The. Phone."
Even the dog looked surprised.
I rubbed my eyes and looked again. No, not my imagination. His last profile picture featured him, dressed in a crisp button-down shirt and tight jeans, sitting on a flight of stairs, with his knees spread, and his hands "subtly" directing attention to his crotch. You know, like "it's a coincidence that I just happen to have my hands pointing here, but now you will surely be subliminally drawn to my epic masculinity".
"Oh, Forces of teh Interwebs, you are entirely too generous to send me such a gift. I would not have thought that someone so wonderfully well-suited to me would be single." I read more of what he was looking for, and he fell into the group of men I could charitably call "accepting". He was searching for a woman who was:
- Any race
- Any age
- Any religion
- With or without kids
- With any hobbies or no hobbies
- And between 3'0" and 7'11"
Suddenly, a chat window appeared. This guy was serendipitously looking at my profile while I was looking at his. He saw the icon that showed that I was online, so he had decided to strike up a conversation in real time. Oh, fortuna.
Guy: Yo, g! How you doin girl!!!
Jen: Hi, Guy. I'm fine. How are you?
Guy: Just chillin. Ya know. Hows it hangin?
Jen: My day is going just fine. Thank you for asking.
Guy: Ya. Thats the kinda guy I am.
Jen: A gentleman.
Jen: I was just reading your profile, and I am just amazed!
Jen: I can't believe that you work as a mechanic and simultaneously attend medical school at night. I just can't believe it!
Guy: Ya. I'm pretty amazing.
Jen: Clearly! And so altruistic! Medicine is such a noble calling. What drew you to such a challenging field?
Guy: Uh. You mean Y am I a doctor?
Jen: Yes. [Did you notice that in the space of two minutes he went from being a med student to having graduated? He's such a prodigy!]
Guy: I can't lie to you. Its for the moniez...adn moniez! LOLz.
Jen: It is a lucrative field, that is true. What is your specialty?
Guy: Ya, I'm real special. ;)
Jen: I mean, what kind of doctor are you?
Guy: Im a plastic surgin. Witch means I make ugly people hott. LOL! So....... you wanna go out sometime?
Jen: I'm sorry. I can't. But I wish you the best of luck with your search.
And Internet, because I try to be a nice person, I didn't end my message with "LOLz!"
Here's the thing I don't get about liars: doesn't he realize that I'll figure it out eventually? Or does he just not care?
Did he think that I wouldn't notice the 12 inch discrepancy in his height? Did he think that he could successfully trick me into believing that he was a doctor? (Because I'm not sure witch was my clue, but I don't think he's a surgin. Just sayin'.) And , Internet, you missed out on one of the best parts because you can't see his photos. Think for a second about how you picture him based on the descriptions I gave and the things he said. What does he look like to you? Fix that picture in your mind...
He's a scrawny white guy. He's a scrawny, short, white guy, pretending to be a doctor, pointing to his crotch, and talking like a gangsta. Yo, dawg. That's wack.
To be sure, I think there is room in the world for lies. When I tell you these stories about my dates, I obscure their identities to protect them. That's a kind of lie. If a woman asks me if she looks fat in these jeans, there is only one answer and it isn't yes. But lies are a really poor basis for a relationship.
I suppose it is possible that this guy didn't care about that. Maybe he was looking for a hookup and didn't plan to keep up the surgeon facade; his plan might have been to meet me for coffee, pointing "subtly" at his crotch, and let the magic happen. Who knows, really? Liars are a temporary diversion, sent from the universe to distract us with their hideousness and then go on their way to torment someone else.
So I thanked the Forces of teh Interwebs for the entertainment, and went on to the next profile.