match.com

I am single. Or rather, I am still single. Some days, I wonder how this happened. I wonder how all of my friends got on the marriage train when I didn't even realize it had pulled into the station. Didn't hear the whistle, no chug-chug-chug, nothing. They all gleefully responded to the conductor's "All Aboard!" while I sat in traffic, going nowhere. I'm not even sure I was headed to the station. In fact, I later learned that I took the wrong exit and ended up at the dry well.

So, about a month ago, after I relocated, I registered for match.com, hoping to reverse my run of bad luck. Although I'd never had good luck with match.com, I believed this time would be different. I tried not to think about the definition of insanity: "Doing the same thing over and over again, hoping for a different outcome." Instead, I filled out the lengthy questionnaire, sharing carefully guarded information about my occupation and hobbies. I tried to strike a balance between witty and sincere, with a hint of irony. I figured there was no reason to immediately scare off potential dinner dates with my snarkiness. That could come later. Then, I plunked down my registration fee and it was off to the races.

Since I'm the only person in the free world who does not own a digital camera, nor do I have digital pictures of myself, I started at a distinct disadvantage. Well, OK, a friend of mine has a picture of me putting my foot behind my head. I decided that I didn't really want to meet anyone who would be interested in meeting me because I can put my foot behind my head. So, I went with no picture, knowing that most people immediately ruled out anyone who didn't post a picture. Given the responses I received, I hope this is true.

First, there was the fellow in Ohio who called me "sweetie" and begged me to be his friend. According to his profile, he was a woman. Rather than investigate further, I blocked his account. Next was a young fellow who looked exactly like Norman Bates in Psycho. I blocked him too. Then, there was the fellow who "LOVES MONEY." He typed his entire profile with "Caps Lock" on - like he was the Will Farrell character on SNL who can't control the volume of his own voice!!! According to the match.com fellow, he loves his money, he loves to sleep with his money, he loves to count his money. The last thing he read was his deposit slip. I blocked him too.

When you decide you don't want to chat with someone, match.com helps you out by suggesting polite "blow off" phrases. They are limited to: No thanks, I've found someone else; No thanks, I've decided not to date right now; and No thanks, you sound interesting but I don't think we're a good match. Obviously, they've missed a few. Something like, "No thanks, you sound really terrifying." Or "Thanks for your interest. After receiving your message, I put in a call to the local convent and have an interview tomorrow."

After these "interesting" fellows, I decided to stop waiting for Mr. Right to magically find my picture-less profile. I dusted off my searchlamp and crawled into the match.com cave. I looked at profile after profile after profile. As each one flashed by, I invented new rule-outs: "Too bald, too old, hair is too red, face is too long, too serious, glasses are too big, lots of typos in the profile, too much information." I knew that I was being too picky, but I still think I was right to avoid "Firepoker69" and "Bonefish582."

Lest you think I ruled out everyone, I did wink at a couple of fellows. Winking is match.com's way of letting you indicate interest without having to compose that first awkward email. I thought it was a great idea because I can't wink. I've tried, but my face scrunches up and I look like I'm squinting really hard. Not alluring. Not sexy. Just weird looking. So, here, at last, was my chance to wink, even if it was electronic. One fellow winked back. My heart leapt and I responded with an irreverent email. I thought I was following his lead - he had what seemed like a very sarcastic personal description. Apparently, I misread his description because he never responded to my email. Neither did the others. Who knew that electronic winking would yield the same results as squinting?

So, the search continues. At least this exercise cleared up why I'm still single.