How Commonplace is Online Dating?

Judging by the amount of times I see that smug grin from that eHarmony founder while I eat another box of Kraft Dinner right from the pot, I would say it is pretty common. One night while contemplating whether I would ever have a decent relationship I thought to myself “what the hell, if ever there was a place to find someone who would want to watch B-grade Netflix movies with me while eating copious amounts of high-fructose corn syrup it would be online right?”

Now I’m all for finding love or my “pookie-bear” but let me tell you, I am not going to be paying $25 a month for it. I’m not that desperate. Fortunately for me there was a sale on this particular site (strangely enough right around Valentines Day). Somehow $12.99 a month is a justifiable amount of money in my mind to dish out for eternal happiness and love.

Signing up for a dating site for real is much different than when you got together with a bunch of your friends to make a fake profile while drinking a $12 bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon similar to what you would see in a Chuck Lorre sitcom. It’s rather embarrassing and it didn’t help that on the registration page there was a web banner that proudly displayed a picture of a way-to-happy couple with the caption:

“It’s not too late, you can find your soul mate. Marc and Corey were matched on July 12th, 2008”

What the ad executives at Love for a Price Inc. don’t tell you is that, that picture of the laughing Marc and Corey is actually from a stock photo site and was tagged with #bros #friends #chilling #totallyplatonic. Lies. But at this point I had already registered my username, which was perfectly crafted with ambiguity and subtle charm, N0tDesperate007, and I was pretty committed to the process.

Regardless of the blatant false-happiness in the advertising, I took a swig of my microbrew (I’m fancy like that) and pressed on. After all, this sale wasn’t going to last long.

The hardest part of setting up a profile is figuring out what your relationship faults are. Are you too clingy? Egotistical? Do you sometimes spit when you talk and it lands on the person you are talking with and then you pretend that it didn’t happen, even though you both know that it did? I looked deep within myself and found a couple of my relationship faults and decided that in order to find my “Happily Ever After” I would need to take some creative liberties to make them seem less gross and disgusting and more charming and whimsical. For example:

Question #13: How Outgoing Are You?

Real Answer: I generally dislike new things and new people. I prefer to live on the border between recluse and hermit. If I must interact with people I am usually shy. I tend to make awkward jokes when nervous and if it is socially acceptable to be drinking, I will most likely be tipsy to deal with my anxiety. I cross the street to avoid bumping into people I know. I’m terrible at small talk and the thought of going to a new restaurant gives me sweaty palms.

Online Dating Profile Answer: I LOooVVVeeEEE adventure, meeting new people and sharing new experiences. I love to go hiking and hang out in nature. Skydiving is totally on my bucket list and there is nothing I won’t try at least once ;).

Question #21: Where Do You See Yourself in 5 Years?

Real Answer: Most likely still sitting on my couch in a basement suite eating Cheetos… but like a Costco size bag because I’ll have a slightly better paying, but still most likely not that rewarding career.

Online Dating Profile Answer: What a great question! I like to think that in five years I will be well established in a management position for a well-respected business. I’ll live in a modern but warm condo downtown with industrial charm and accents. Beyond that, I hope to be in a loving and stable relationship (fingers crossed/hint-hint haha). <3.

I hate what I’ve become.

Online relationship questionnaires are ridiculously long. I’m pretty sure that there are a couple people with a bunch of fancy letters at the end of their name that came up with it in the name of science. Unfortunately for my self-esteem, I also imagine those same PhD’s are happily married with kids that are the crown jewels of Generation Z. Damn. I finished up the rather invasive survey, of course editing myself to appear more Rom-Com worthy. It didn’t even cross my mind that if this worked out my future relationship would be built on similar lies as Marc and Corey. I’m a hypocrite.

After a brief processing stage, the PhD’s, their robots and their stupid formulas built my personality profile. Nothing gives you a warm and fuzzy like a computer telling you your relationship strengths, weaknesses, what type of person you should date etc. Luckily for me, I lied distorted the truth a lot little and therefore I didn’t receive the “maybe you should go talk to someone” message but rather “you are ready for a long-term committed relationship with an ambitious go-getter”, which I don’t disagree with, as long as said person also enjoys sarcasm, lazy Mondays-Sundays and trans-fats.

At this point I needed to take a brief TV break. Faking being approachable and likeable is exhausting. It wasn’t until I finished another beer and a couple episodes of The Walking Dead, did I return to the registration nightmare only to discover that I would probably do better in a zombie apocalypse, even with my aggressive bouts of lethargy and general lack of athleticism, than with online dating. However, seeing as how my credit card had already been charged, I had to keep going. That’s when I came face-to-computer screen with the dreaded “Upload your Picture” button.

Now I was fully expecting it, but for some reason I wasn’t mentally prepared for it. At 1am on a Saturday I decided that I would have to put on some nice clothes that showed that I could dress well when I decide to get out of my ripped pajamas, I did my hair and for some reason brushed my teeth (apparently even online interactions give me social anxiety). I picked up my phone and started to take a series of selfies, which crushed me deeply. I had become one of the people I made fun of sarcastically all in the name of love. Sell out. I fiddled with the lights, because, like most, I look better in soft lighting. After a couple location/costume changes to make it seem like I didn’t just take all the photos at the same time (more lies), my mini photoshoot was done. I loaded them onto my computer and used my high school knowledge of Photoshop to remove that zit on my chin and the knick I gave myself when I decided I should shave at 1:23am after a couple beers all in the name of an online dating profile picture. Amongst the dozens of pictures I picked a couple of the retouched photos to upload. Shit was getting real.

There was only one step left, to submit the registration and let the Harvard grads and their Relationship-Bots (patent pending) to give me some matches. I finished my beer in anticipation of finding my adventure-loving, outdoorsy, adrenaline-junkie future husband.

Click.

“Profile Complete. Searching for Matches in your Area”.

It was actually pretty exciting, anxiety aside. Why didn’t I do this sooner? I was going to be in a loving and committed relationship in a matter of seconds and all it took was a few personality fabrications, creative lighting, some retouching and a non-refundable monthly payment.

The page started to load. This was the moment of truth. I had already started to write the screenplay for the Rom-Com that would come from my picture-perfect relationship in my head. Ryan Gosling had signed on to play me, for obvious reasons. It was going to be the first Rom-Com to win a Best Picture of the Year Oscar, over that movie with Bradley Cooper, Jennifer Lawrence and Meryl Streep. It would be crowned a cinematic masterpiece.

“You have 0 Matches in Your Area”

Fuck.

You.

That’s when I called the credit card company and told them how my card was stolen and some lonely loser was using it to create an online dating profile.

How Commonplace.