It’s happened again. I got a message from the dating site Plenty of Fish yesterday: “Ray123 likes you!” I cringe every time I get one of these notifications. I have enough familiarity with dating sites to know that most matches are mismatches. Inevitably, I won’t like the person who likes me. In turn, if I press the little heart beside BrainyStud’s profile to indicate I like him, it’s a sure bet I’ve created an unwanted wrinkle in his morning. It’s a maxim of human nature that we want what we can’t have.
Usually, I wait until I have a few likes before I log in and brace to read the profiles. (I know, I know…“bracing” doesn’t sound like the right state of mind. It’s a reflex now, an online dating tic.) Sometimes, sadly, it’s the photos that tell me there won’t be a coffee date in the works. I hate that. It makes me feel dismissive and shallow. But just like BrainyStud may not like my red hair, I’m not drawn to the guy with pronounced chipmunk cheeks or the guy who’s a dead ringer for a ’60s hippie. It’s intentional. His profile name includes the word hippie. I might dig someone’s groovy tie-dye, like the one modeled in his profile pic, but not a closetful.
I even pass on the guy who wears a baseball cap in every single photo. If you’re bald, own it. I love a good head of hair, but baldness can be sexy too. I don’t want to date a guy who wears a hat to Chipotle, to the fancy Indian restaurant I love, to the opera, to bed. (Although the damn cap might be my opt-out card for the opera. “If you’re going to wear that stupid hat, I’m not going.” Ha! Figaro yourself.)
It’s possible I’m too hasty, but these profiles are first impressions, presumably created after some thought and some browsing of one’s selfies. Maybe the guy with the collection of John Deere hats is the one that got away. I make bad decisions with football pools and stocks, too.
I’ve gotten to saying “sorry” out loud when I come across a like or a message from a guy who’s just not my type. I know how hard it is to put yourself out there and face rejection, even if it comes from pressing a silly button.
Sometimes I’m on the fence until I read what, if anything, the guy has written in the profile. When it’s a shell of a profile, I pass. If a guy can’t put in a little effort, why should I bother? Moreover, as I’ve noted many times before, I struggle to get past poor grammar and spelling in a profile. For anyone who’s challenged in that regard, for god’s sake, get a friend to proofread your writing or pay attention to the colored lines that appear under intrested and serfer. (You have no idea how hard it is for me to intentionally mistype something and move on. Three deep breaths and counting backwards from ten don’t help at all. Side note: How passionate is someone about surfing when he can’t spell it? If I think Dostoevsky is the world’s greatest novelist but always stumble with writing his name, I’d probably mention Stephen King or, even easier, H.G. Wells instead.)
There are times when it’s just clear we won’t hit it off. I’m not going to waste time with a hunter who loves monster truck shows. Same for the guy who is passionate about Voltaire and loves extended oboe solos. They say there’s someone for everyone. Best wishes and all that.
This will be a quick browse today. I’m skipping over hippies, hunters and ball cap models. My mission: find Ray123 who apparently likes me in that low key, button-pressing-in-lieu-of-sending-a-message kind of way.
Logged in and bracing, I click the search button to update the standard search for my area with a reasonable age range, my age roughly in the middle. Scroll, scroll. Can’t find a Ray123. Profiles are listed based on most recent log-ins. If he “liked” me yesterday, his profile should show up early in the search. Scroll, scroll. It comes to a point where I’m in ancient territory, people whose profiles are in the same order as always, having not logged in presumably for months.
There is no Ray123.
If I were a paying member of Plenty of Fish, I think I could just type in the profile name and Ray123 would pop up. I don’t know how that would make a material difference. There are three possibilities, none of which are match-worthy: (1) Ray lives in my area but is outside my age range (i.e., younger than 40 and older than 70 (I’m 57)); (2) Ray may are may not be in my age range but lives in Bolivia, Bermuda, Bulgaria or Botswana…or some other faraway place that doesn’t begin with B and end in A (so many possibilities); (3) Ray opted to delete his account upon realizing he accidentally “liked” my profile and couldn’t undo it (Sorry about that, Ray.); or (4) Ray123 never ever existed. Maybe the dating site wanted me to keep my account by offering a shred of hope. Maybe the site wanted to goad me into switching to a paid membership to try to uncover, at last, the enigmatic Ray123.
Silly me. A reputable dating site would not stoop to such tactics, right? They’re primarily interested in my finding my forever partner. If they make a little money through ads and the odd paid membership, well, that’s just good karma coming back for caring so earnestly about my love life.
I suppose I should just let it be. Somewhere out there—sing it Linda Ronstadt and Aaron Neville—Ray123 likes me. I’ll always have that. Nothing about monster trucks or oboes shall shatter an unblemished like.
Thank you, Ray123. I might have liked you, too.
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