Sometimes it’s
worse to get mail than to not get mail. Take my VISA statement which
arrived in my mailbox last week. (Seriously,...take it. Please.) The
thing felt more like a brick wrapped in paper than a credit card
bill. But this blog is not supposed to be about my irresponsible
spending binges. Let me redirect things to my inbox on the dating
sites OkCupid and Plenty of Fish. The Cupid one is easy to address.
It’s clearly out of order. Nothing for weeks on end. I log in, I
hear nothing but crickets chirping—it’s gotta be the critters’
version of mock laughter—and I sheepishly log out.
Mail. What was I
thinking?
Plenty
of Fish isn’t much better. To extend the website’s fishing
analogy, I get a nibble, I reel it in, I throw it back. It’s the
kind of catch-and-release that comes with hooking a paltry minnow or,
worse, one of those creepy, prehistoric looking, slimy bottom
feeders.
I
got a bite today. Mail, for those of you not following the fish talk.
I suppose the bright side is that it wasn’t from a ghastly creature
with an overbite, beady eyes protruding from the sides of its face
and spiny growths springing up seemingly everywhere. (I can’t gaze
long enough to be precise. And, as you might guess, I get a little
freaked out swimming in lakes and rivers.)
No,
I pulled in a minnow.
The
tiniest of nibbles.
hi man
No
capital letter, no punctuation, no name.
It’s
not a record for fewest characters in a message. No, I’ve blogged
that before. Winner “communicated”—I have to put that word in
quotes—in a remarkably concise three characters:
h r u
I
went ahead and read hi-man-guy’s profile. (I’ve already
established that messages are a rarity.) Nothing glaringly offensive,
but then nothing to latch onto either. Yeah, if I’d messaged him,
the best I might have been able to come up with would have been, “Hi
man.” But, yes, a capital and a period. For self-respect.
Alas,
why bother?
Delete.
Enough
said.
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