I recently signed up for my third round on Match.com…after vehemently swearing that I’ll never again date some maniac I met online. Too many horror stories for my liking, some that I’ve experienced firsthand, and others I’ve only had the displeasure of hearing about. Although this is my third time on Match, I’ve been making my rounds within the online dating circle for the last four years. I’ve filled out the three-million-question personality assessment on eHarmony. I’ve been cyber-harassed by weirdoes on OkCupid. And Match…well, let’s just say I had no luck. I was sniffed out by dozens of Indian men who were, undoubtedly, hunting for potential Indian brides in the U.S. who could help them get green cards so they wouldn’t be deported back to Bangalore once their work visas expired. I certainly wasn’t too keen on the Hindu Connection*, and to add insult to injury, I began getting propositioned for sex by complete strangers. One day I clicked on my inbox to find a message from a young man who was actually semi-attractive; I viewed his profile before I even bothered to open the message, and was pleased to see that he was over 6 feet tall, a college graduate, independently employed, and a dog lover. Not bad at all. I opened the message, which read:
“Hi. What’s your phone number? We should get together for some adult entertainment.”
Delete.
And believe it or not, this was not the only time I encountered a completely obnoxious message in my inbox. There were several occasions in which I opened an email only to find an unsavory message inside. And the worst is certainly receiving a sexually suggestive email from a man who can’t spell to save his life. I, being a grammar and punctuation snob, found it very disappointing that a vast majority of the men who took an interest in me did not seem to know the difference between “they’re” and “there”; one man’s profile was so painful to read that I had to conclude that he was illiterate, which led me to believe that he truly did not possess that Ph. D. he advertised in his “About Me” section (aside from that Doctorate of Deceit from the University of I’m A Fucking Liar). How on earth could he write a dissertation if he can’t even write an online dating profile? And doesn’t anyone proofread anymore?
This led to a heated phone conversation with a customer service operator at the toll-free Match hotline.
“I did not pay to be propositioned for sex,” I seethed. “How do you expect me to find the love of my life when I’m so busy playing hide-and-seek with these creeps? I thought this site was guaranteed!”
The sympathetic (and frightened) man on the other end eventually offered me a 60% refund and the obligatory “we’re sorry you were unable to find your perfect match on Match.com. We can offer you 25% off in the future, should you decide to give your search for love another try.”
So why am I here once again? After only a few days, I’m beginning to ask myself the same question.
I guess part of the reason is that lately I’ve been hearing stories about people who really met their match on Match. My office-mate met her partner online, and they’re been together for years. Another coworker is preparing to marry her Match-match later this month. Even I once had the experience of falling in love with a man I met online. Although it didn’t end well, it does leave me with a sliver of hope that maybe the right connection is out there somewhere.
My other reason for jumping back on the cyber-train is that I have not yet had the experience of online-dating at my goal weight. In fact, my weight was one major factor that made online dating so difficult for me in the past. Anyone who has ever struggled with their weight understands how difficult it can be to confidently present yourself to a website full of strangers, many of whom may not be so understanding when it comes to why you look the way you look. Checking out a profile in which a guy shares that he’s “fit and active, and would like to meet a woman who values fitness as much as I do” is more than intimidating. His idea of an ideal Saturday may include a 10-mile hike in some canyon with his dog, while I could barely hike up the stairs to my apartment without keeling over and dying.
So how do you get around the shame of knowing that most of the men won’t give you a second glance once they learn that you’re significantly overweight? Well, you find strategies. You only take pictures from certain angles (preferably from above, to hide your extra chin). You NEVER include a body shot (you don’t want to run off your suitors before they’ve had an opportunity to catch a glimpse of your sparkling personality in the written section of your profile). If anyone asks, you haven’t had a chance to add more pictures yet, but you’ll get around to it really soon.
The hardest part, however, is the “Description” section. You certainly can’t leave it blank, because that will raise suspicion. You could call yourself “heavyset,” but that’s not particularly appealing. “More to love?” Maybe for some, but to me it always sounded like a bad joke…a way to lighten the mood surrounding the obesity conversation that a majority of people tend to avoid by not dating obese people in the first place. “Curvy” is the description I always used, because it sounded the least offensive and the most plausible. The trick is finding a way to justify the word you choose; omitting the truth, rather than blatantly lying.
But then comes the dreaded and inevitable first date. You can hide yourself behind a few strategic photos, but a face-to-face encounter will ensure that eventually the truth will make its way out into the open, leaving you looking like a fraud. A phony who advertises herself as “curvy” because she can’t bring herself to use the word “obese”. Every time I went on a date with a man and saw the look of unpleasant surprise on his face, I felt guilty. I wasn’t just omitting the truth; I was an out-and-out liar.
Now, 5 sizes later, I’m on board for round 3; and this time, I’ll be the honest version who takes photos head-on and doesn’t mind truthfully describing herself as “Average.” No bites so far, other than a few emails from a fellow who appears to be the Most Boring Man on the Planet, as well as several winks from men who are old enough to be my lecherous uncles. They say that the third time’s a charm, but I guess time will tell…and if not, I suppose I can always rely on my good friend at the Match.com Customer Service Hotline to remedy the situation.
*The Hindu Connection is the affectionate name I’ve bestowed upon Indian social dynamics, particularly the way in which they sniff out and befriend one another solely based on the fact that they’re both Indian. Do they have anything in common? Who cares?! They both have the last name Patel!
