Bruni in the City: Love and Arrows
By Christina Bruni
I Struck Out on OKCupid
I've had a wackadoodle time online. I don't recommend any of the Internet matchmakers. OKCupid is only for hook-ups. The six foot tall guy I contacted there responded by telling me since I was only five feet tall he couldn't have sex with me, so he wasn't interested.
Imagine that: I was too short and too skinny for a guy even though I'm beautiful: go figure.
With OKCupid you take a quiz. If it rates you as less kinky and less adventurous, no guy will contact you. The service is rigged for sluts and gigolos.
I had no great experiences with chemistry.com and eHarmony as well. eHarmony caters to conservative Christians. If you write in your profile that you like to attend and perform at poetry readings no eHarmony match will contact you. They're looking for church-going hausfraus, not left-of-the-dial indie girls.
The matches on chemistry.com were incompatible too. One guy wrote the love of his life must love animals. I detest dogs, and cats creep me out. Dog hair sheds all over and dirties your clothes. Take your animals, Jack, and open up a zoo. Or find a woman who's willing to vacuum the couch and de-lint your suits; she isn't me.
You can see why I'm skeptical of Internet dating services; they promise so much and deliver so little. The alleged matches aren't compatible if you're looking for the right person, not just an almost-perfect person. I don't think like the author of that book who proposes you should settle for Mr. Good Enough. I think you should aspire to meet and date a great guy.
No guys on OKCupid were reliable. I could tell they weren't on the level. Guys would send this message: “hi.” Just “hi.” That doesn't bode well for their conversational skills on a date. Guys, you respond to a woman online. Refer to something she wrote in her profile. You say “hi,” and I'll say “goodbye!”
I took a dating break this winter in the polar vortex. As I write this, it's March 2nd and a snowstorm is on the way, even though there's only three weeks until spring. My goal is to resurrect the love search in June when the weather is warmer.
Any woman who is desperate to meet a guy because she doesn't want to be alone will only attract Mr. Wrong, a guy who's going to use her, or worse. My hardship is that I have other more pressing goals and it wasn't ever my number-one goal to be in relationship. Meeting my soul match would be the icing on a tasty cake. I already have the cake; it's time to frost it.
I wanted to bet my friend a wager that I'd meet Mr. Right-For-Me in the summer. “D” turned me down even though I offered him a free meal, not a monetary prize. So, I'm going to bet the readers of New York City Voices a friendly wager: If I meet the guy this summer, I get to tell you I told you so. If I don't meet a guy, you can smirk at me.
To the victor go the spoils. To the heartbroken go the Kleenex. I've stocked up on the tissues just in case.
Pullout: “Imagine that: I was too short and too skinny for a guy even though I'm beautiful: go figure.”