You can listen to an audio of this memoir piece here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=treCJ9lhvAw
In a sea of photos, captured at flattering angles, every user
on the site was suspicious. Did their photo truly represent them? Or was it
taken a decade ago? Why did they cover their eyes with shades? Why did they use
a filter? Why was their photo too dark? Or too far away? Why were they looking
away from the camera? Why was it a headshot and not a full body shot? What were
these men hiding? What’s wrong with them? Why were they here? But then again, I
was here too!
I was only on the site for five minutes when LakeWoodBoy
(Eric) sent me a message: “what color panties are you wearing?” followed by a
winking Emoji, a kiss Emoji, and an Emoji with heart eyes.
The user names were just as ridiculous as the users. No one could
go with their first name alone, there were too many Johns, Matts, and Davids,
they used nicknames followed by their first names in brackets, or some random
numbers. NoMoreTears (Ben), CoffeeGuy (Marcus), SacreCrow 225, Rahul-007,
PipeFitter (Jim)! I mean I get that Jim is proud of what he does, but this was
taking it to the next level.
Then there were the profiles, reading them made me scratch my
head. Every profile said: “fun, loving man, seeking fun, loving woman”, and
some were left blank. In the interest section HappyDude (Joe) wrote “food and
water”, that’s what interests Joe; food and water, he’s a simple guy.
Meanwhile Steve-78, who was blond and blue-eyed, put down his
ethnicity as “Native American”. This is how Steve described himself in his
profile: “I’m such a lovely, sweet, caring, wonderful, trust worthy, faithful,
honest, God fearing man. I’m also amazing in bed, I have testimonials.” Curious
about those testimonials, I considered messaging Steve, but decided against it.
Alex, was a few years younger, he had nice hair, and his
profile caught my eye because it said he likes poetry. We discussed literature,
and hair maintenance. We exchanged numbers, and texted about our favorites
poets. What we’d come back as if we we’re re-incarnated, the color of our tooth
brushes, how we like our eggs, and which countries we’d like to visit someday.
Then, when we finally decided where we’d meet for a first date, he told me he
had a child with a woman he was no longer with. I paused; “but this wasn’t
mentioned in your profile!” I said. The site shows you a user’s age, where they
live, what they do, their body type, their zodiac sign, their social status,
whether they have kids, whether they want kids, what kind of relationship
they’re seeking; serious, or just casual dating, if they had pets, whether
they’re religious, and whether they drink, smoke, or do drugs.
“It’s no one’s business” Alex argued. “If I found someone I’m
comfortable dating, then I’ll tell her” he continued. “But that’s not fair” I
wrote back, “you expect women on the site to be transparent with you about
everything, but you keep something like this a secret? You’re not concerned
about privacy, you wanted to seem like a better catch, you wanted to seem more
appealing to the ladies. I could have lied about being a mother or about my age,
I know that men prefer to date younger, childless women. No one could blame me,
I specified on my profile that I’m seeking casual dating but nothing serious,
if a potential partner argues I wasn’t honest, I could simply say ‘it’s not
like we’re getting married’. But it’s a matter of principle, it about being a
decent human being.” Alex said he was sorry and that I was right. But something
in me already changed, and we texted our goodbyes.
ProfessorTodd-330 messaged me: “You remind me of a ruptured
appendix, in that I'd like to take you out” I rolled my eyes at the
lameness of the joke, then threw my head back and laughed for a whole minute.
We exchanged messages for several days, and found we had a lot in common, and by
this I mean ‘To Kill a Mocking Bird’ is not the only book he’s read, he’s an
academic, interested in the arts, and can hold a conversation.
When we agreed to meet in person, for
a short walk by the Rocky River, we both told each other we were looking
forward to it, he joked that he’ll be the guy in yoga pants. The meeting was
awkward, he was so much older than the photo, he couldn’t walk because of a bad
knee, and had a tremor in his hands. I was mortified, my mind told me to turn
around and get back in my car, while something like a conscious told me to be
polite for fifteen minutes, then make an excuse and leave.
Back home, I sat in my car for an
hour, I felt angry and cheated, I kicked myself for not requesting a facetime or
a skype call, I fell for the most classic trick. Then, my anger melted into a
deep melancholy, I contemplated this mammoth monster called loneliness that
terrorizes us all. The lengths we are willing to go to, the lies we’re willing
to tell, modified faces and bodies, inflated personalities and exaggerated
achievements, to hide an ocean of hungry, hungry hearts. Mournful, gray rain
began to roll sulkily down my windscreen, breaking and magnifying different
parts of the tree outside. To the tree, my face was distorted, like carnival
mirrors, the raindrops multiplied me, stretched my nose, doubled my chin,
elongated my head, sliced my eyes into threes and fours, gave me a grotesque
freakish mouth, then slowly pooled in the groove between the hood, and the
wipers, before falling to the ground.
