As my faithful readers know, politeness is a double-edged sword in online dating. Men hate it when their overtures are ignored, yet polite nos are met with badgering bullshit. The overwhelming advice I get from men and women is to quit with the politeness already.
Today presented a new challenge.
A man “liked” me. In other words, he didn’t send a message, but hit a button indicating interest. A quick perusal of his OKC profile led me to one conclusion: No.
He’s homophobic, thinks creationism should be taught in science classes, rates his faith as “extremely important” in his life, etc.
So I logged back off.
Unfortunately, some lonely people spend all day hoping that someone, anyone, looks at their profile.
Him: No hello
[Please note that I did not comment on the irony here. He didn’t say anything to me when he read my profile; he simply clicked on a star.]
Me: I don’t think we’re very compatible. You seem to be more old fashioned than I am. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!
[This is me being nice. It is code for “go away, you homophobic bigot.”]
Him: Why would you say that how do you know?
Me: I read through some of your answers to questions. You said homosexuality was a sin, that creationism should be taught in science classes, etc. As I’m a passionate advocate for gay rights, for science, etc., I don’t think we’re compatible.
Him: Omg I don’t give a shit about that

Once again, I wished him well. I did not mention how he just took the lord’s acronym in vain, etc.
And then I blocked him.
I’m so sick of this.

One of my exes thinks I’m too emotional because I get stressed out when my cars die.
The man I was with after him thinks I’m emotionally repressed, that the only reason we’re broken up is because I was raised by alcoholics (because in his version of the story, we’re perfect together in every way), and that I’m high maintenance because I didn’t want to sleep in a car for three days at a Shakespeare festival (I insisted on a hostel instead).
In my version of the story, both of these men are wrong.
We all have our narrative about our relationships.
In my own narratives here, I’ve mentioned the narratives of the men who talk to me–the guy who thinks I’m “crazy” because I called him out on putting up a model’s picture instead of his own; the guy who thinks I’m a racist because I didn’t want a second date; etc.
Usually, those alternate reality narratives are just funny.
And then, sometimes, they’re not.
I went out on several dates with a guy I really liked, and he seemed to really like me too.
One Thursday, we were texting/flirting.
On that Friday, I asked him out on a date for the next night.
He told me he’d made a date with someone else since I’d ignored his text asking for a date on Thursday night.
I never got that text.
Of course, I searched my phone. I searched my mind. How many times had I dropped it that day?* Could something have happened if I was erasing a text from another friend and that one came in at the same time? (My phone, a really old flip phone, has trouble when I’m in text when someone sends me another one.)
I called and left a message apologizing.
I also apologized by text, explaining that I would have definitely gone out with him–and answered him as a matter of course–if I’d gotten the message.
He didn’t answer.
And I was thrown–I’d been the one who instigated our dates. I’d been the opposite of stand-offish. Why would he think I suddenly became a bitch who would just ignore him?
On that Sunday, I sent him another message, explaining that while I didn’t know what happened to the message, I did know I liked him a lot.
He told me he didn’t know why I was lying–that his phone told him I got the message. He said he wasn’t interested in my games.
Of course, I have my own narrative about all this–he must have been really hurt by someone before.
In the words of my therapist, his response is “diagnosable.”
Usually, diagnosable responses to me/my words are easily tossed aside. Hell, I’m going to be using the story of the guy who thinks I’m a racist in my stand-up routine this Thursday.**
It’s different, though, because I liked this guy. I care about what he thinks of me.
I care that there’s a narrative out there about me that so different from my own.

*Yes, he knows I have an old flip phone. When I showed it to him on our first date, I told him that I have it because I drop it all the time.

**My students have their stand-up final this Thursday, from 1-3 in 6 Wellman. As usual, I’m opening for them. As usual, you’re all invited.

I hate my body.
That makes me a walking cliche. A woman, who, like most women in this country, has bought into what society says I should look like.
I hate my body.
That makes me vain and obsessive, focusing on my looks–thinking that they equal my value. I say negative things to myself throughout the day. I avoid mirrors. Each night, when I go to turn out the light by my bed, I catch sight of myself in the full-length mirror that came with my apartment, attached to the wall, and I try to go to sleep anyway. Sometimes I’ll be feeling good, feeling sexy, and I’ll see myself in a bathroom mirror and lose some of my mojo.
I hate my body.
That makes me self-conscious whenever it’s time to go on a date. A couple of guys have made it clear through facial expression and body language that they’re not feeling it when we first meet (and, of course, I’ve also had that first moment feeling, sometimes based on looks). I always assume they’re making the judgment based on my problem areas, and I don’t entirely blame them.
I hate my body.
That makes it difficult to show it to someone new. It should be exciting to meet a new body for the first time, but I think too much about my own; it’s difficult to relax, difficult to be who I want to be–confident and sexy.
I hate my body.
That makes me a person who’s had a bad body image for thirty or so years. When I was a teenager, I was underweight (due to genetics, not starvation). I hated that I had no breasts (this was exacerbated by the teasing about them, of course). I hated the Waltonen dark circles under my eyes. I then hated the stretch marks that came with having a child in that small body. And then I continued to hate it.
I hate my body.
That makes it difficult to think about what my body is good at–healing, being alive. I love that my friend Tiffany marveled at her body after she had her child–marveled at what it could endure, what it could produce.
I hate my body.
That makes it difficult to accept all the things it’s bad at–how dare it pile on? It’s bad at being healthy. It has a lot of problems, which require an average of four appointments a week to control. Lots of PT. Lots of money. Lots of procedures. Lots of drugs. I know that to have a body closer to what I want, I would have to torture it a bit–tell it it can’t eat when it’s hungry, take it to the gym. But it’s already doing a lot of work and spending a lot of time just to keep walking around.
I hate my body.
That makes it difficult to keep one of my favorite quotes in mind. “Too late, you realize that your body was perfect–every healthy body is”–Melissa Banks (in “You Could Be Anyone”). I want to go back to that small breasted girl (who only had bad headaches and severe asthma) to tell her to love her body now. The guys tease her about her tits, yes, but they love those legs. That hair. Those eyes. Appreciate the body before the broken back at 25, the arthritis, the hernias. The tits she’ll eventually have will come with many pounds in other places. I bet an older me wants to come to me now, at 40, and tell me to love that those tits, as they’re relatively new, don’t sag. To love that I’m cancer free. That I can still eat whatever will likely be taken away from me as I get older. I try to tell myself how disappointed future me will be that I’m not appreciating this now.
I hate my body.
That makes it difficult when guy’s bodies don’t work around me. In these past few years, dating older guys now that I’m older, I’ve been with quite a few who had, shall we say, circulation problems. Understanding how minds and bodies work, I am patient and comforting. The fear of judgment can make the problem worse, after all. I don’t want a guy who walk around hating his body, to be self conscious when it’s time to show it to someone new. One man recently talked about how he wished more women were like me–he was frustrated when women assumed the problem was about them. I told him a story about a man in his late twenties whom I dated when I was about thirty. About how he was on a medication that caused this problem. About how, in a moment of frustration, he turned on me, saying it might be easier for him if I “weren’t so heavy.” I hear that voice, those words, whenever the problem recurs.

I hear those words whenever I get a message like this (after a guy initiated a conversation by saying I seem smarter than the average bears out there): “So you’re 5’7″, you look to be about 155 or so pounds? Yes body is important. it’s not all about the mind.”

I’m coming to the end of a three month experiment with Match.com.
I’m very ready for it to be over.
Are there some good guys on there? A few. I’ve been out on dates with two of them. But that’s only two guys who got to meet me in over two months.

Problems:
1. The layout is ugly.

2. The layout doesn’t encourage men to give any useful information. There are fewer prompts than we have on OKC; only the most basic questions for compatibility (do you smoke? do you want children?).

3. The site doesn’t seem interested in actually matching me with anyone at all. Even with only the basic information, it keeps showing me men that I would not be compatible with–men who “definitely” want children, etc. It also keeps showing me people I’ve seen already–sometimes whom I’ve talked with before–just so it can keep claiming it has all these matches for me.

4. There seem to be fewer men on this site who are willing to narrow the net, especially politically. 98% of the guys I see say they’re “middle of the road” politically. In this political season, I’m not even sure what that means. When I do check in with guys, they aren’t actually in the middle. Just yesterday I asked a “middle of the road” guy if he was socially conservative–he expressed interest in dating me although his profile states that his ideal match is Christian. He admitted to being a conservative and became quickly convinced that we wouldn’t be a fit once I told him I’m committed to equality, to universal healthcare access, and to being pro-choice.

It may be that women on this site also say they’re in the middle–one man who contacted me expressed surprise that I admitted to being a liberal on Match.

5. There’s an option in their questions to say, “I’ll tell you later.” I would just prefer that the guy not answer it at all. When you say, “I’ll tell you later,” it seems like your answer is going to be awful.

I want to know now if you’re married.

I want to know now if you want more children.

I want to know now if you already have children. (C’mon–if you say “I’ll tell you later,” then YOU HAVE CHILDREN.)

Many men also say they’ll tell me what their religion is later. I always assume they belong to the Muslim faith or that they’re atheists like me. I know that there’s a cultural bias against these two groups, but why would you want to date someone who holds that bias?

6. Match guys love cliches in their profiles. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, match gives guys lines they can use–and they do. So their writing tends to look the same, which makes them all boring. The guys are all carefree and want no drama. They all seem to have this idea about us, since I keep seeing it: “Looking good in a little black dress is a plus, but so is looking good in a comfortable pair of jeans.” They mostly want us to go camping and hiking.

7. More guys on Match than on other sites I’ve used have a problem with older women. (Though it’s common on all sites). By older women, they mean women who are their age or older. In other words, it’s extremely common for a 40 year old man to be looking for women between 22 and 38.

8. I’m really tired of guys calling themselves “single dads,” and guys on Match love that term. I’m a single mother, which means I provide the financial and emotional support for my child. I do the housework and the work work. I do not get to hand off these responsibilities for even a few days a week.

Thus, when guys say, “I’m a single dad. I have my kids every other weekend,” I want to punch them.

Guys, if you are a divorced father and/or a co-parent, then say that. Save “single parent” for those of us who have to (had to, in my case) hire a babysitter every time we want to go to a dinner date.

9. Finally, I’m ready to be done with Match because it’s sexist.

When Match shows you a profile, they say three things on the right side of the page–they try to make this about three things you have in common. You both do yoga, etc.

However, check these actual statements out:
• You both fancy felines.
• Like you, he’s not a smoker.
• He has a graduate degree.

Oh, he does? That’s funny. SO DO I!

Match, since your whole point is that you “match” us, then why not tell me we have this in common?

And don’t say it this way:
• Like you, he’s not a smoker.
• Pretty impressive – he has a Ph.D.
• You’re both fine wine connoisseurs.

Wow–that is impressive. I can’t even begin to imagine how smart, talented, and hardworking he is.

Oh, wait. I can imagine that.

I’ve asked several men what they see when they look at my profile. Not surprisingly, Match doesn’t highlight my academic accomplishments.

I know that my PhD is off-putting for a lot of people. I can even understand why Match doesn’t want to highlight it–more guys will respond to me–I’ll have more hope that the site is working.

However, they should tweak the algorithm so the double standard isn’t so clear.

Match, I hate to break it to you, but we’re not a good one.

A few days ago, a man on Match contacted me. His profile and our brief conversation made it clear he was looking for someone who was into the great outdoors and doing all the body intensive stuff in it (whereas my favorite way to be outdoors is either finding the perfect spot to listen to the waves or watching the sun through leaves from a hammock pov).

I answered a question about ComicCon, but then said this: I don’t think we’d be a good fit. My back problems don’t allow for lots of hiking and other outdoor activities. I hope you find what you’re looking for, though!

The man sent me many more messages; he wanted to know what I did for a living, how long I’d been in Davis, etc.

I resorted to this: So I don’t know if you saw my message yesterday, in which I addressed a concern about our being a good fit. I’m not an outdoors person.

Him: Thanks for the email. I should pay attention to details. […]

Of course, I am definitely a snob about this kind of stuff. I prefer guys who read and write clearly.

On the other hand, maybe it’s not so much that I’m a snob. Maybe it’s that I don’t want my recreation time to be spent reading unintelligible things or having my comments ignored–I get enough of that at work.

It’s probably both.

That said, I give you two of the most difficult messages to parse that I’ve ever received. A 56 year old man messaged me. He was looking for women 30-40, so I asked him why.

Him: well their total abilities is still active an not as hard two get along with I notices that older women have went through a change of life that don’t let the be as nominal as a woman 30 to 40 why you ask an do my answer make a little since to you?

Me: I’m not sure what the word “nominal” means in that sentence.

It’s just a little strange for someone who’s so close to my mom’s age to think that my age is almost too much.

Him: well I been a fun an happy guy all my life so I thank an fell 10 years younger than I guess I’m suppose two that what most people tell me an the reason I never been married I was tough two put my carrier in life first an then the rest I came from a good family of poor people an they didn’t wont me two come up the way they did now I’m proud of they way they tough me if you understand that I’m saying.

*A 45 year old in Rancho Cordova: I just wanted to say hi

A 22 year old in Iowa: So this is going to be a very random thing to ask but I feel, for myself, this is a great way of expression oneself. So I ask if you mind me sending you a link to some music?

A 22 year old in Fairfield with a blank profile (except for one picture of the lower half of his face): Hii​

A 32 year old in Modesto, who lists God as his most important thing, wants children, is homophobic, and thinks “evolution has no place in schools”: I have a naughty secret cutie! ​

A 36 year old in Rocklin (who’s a smoker and who wants kids and who only wrote this on his profile: like to go to gym having fun): Hello there I like to meet with you let’s talk

A 34 year old in Santa Clara (three hours away; has a mostly blank profile): Are you open for a relationship with an Indian born male in US?

*I’m also not answering because I can’t parse his profile easily. Take this sentence: “I enjoy cooking, like plants I work out and take care of myself.“

Over the last two days, I’ve gotten several “hi” emails from a very suspicious person. His picture is obviously fake (a google image search confirms it), and that fake picture is all the information he gives, except that he’s supposedly 31 and lives in Sac.
I asked him to stop constantly messaging me, explaining that I prefer to talk to real people.
He said he didn’t fill out his profile “coz I don’t lie.”
I then pointed out that his picture was a lie.
He said it wasn’t.
I said “google image search” and asked if his side business was modeling.
Him: Okay I am not lol in . Relax and breathe. I hope u don’t have control issues and super type A personality. As I said and please read in the lines and stop assuming things no my side business is not modeling it’s I. T. And 2ndly I haven’t dated online I didn’t wanted to put everything out there.m not that person but I m not some ugly fat ass short serial killer either . All I can say is u won’t disappointed at all.and I respect ur privacy too.u have put ur pics I didn’t ask for it and trust me pictures don’t tell u all .so herr we go as I said earlier I didn’t wana lie.what I said is true
I told him I didn’t want to continue the conversation, suggested he read Modern Romance for tips about better profiles, and wished him well: “I also hope that you find the right woman for you. May tomorrow be better than today.”
Him: Lol u r fucking insane ​
No wonder u r single​ [. . .]
U wrote alot I m gona say one thing breathe new relax and don’t be controlling ​
Chao
Don’t text me no more.u r getting on my nerves .I can’t stand people like u .

On Wednesday, I took up 50 essays. Yesterday, I led the all day scoring of the Upper Division Comp Exam. I scored 137 from the pile.

Naturally, I would like my personal life to provide an escape from the irritation caused by lack of reading comprehension.

Online dating is not providing me with such an escape.

Two examples from the past two days.

My Match profile says (among other things–NONE of which mention anything about the outdoors, sports, etc.): I don’t want to live with someone or to be married (I’m happy to explain why), but I am looking for a partner and for commitment with that person. My partner will be my lover and one of my best friends. We’ll be there for each other. We’ll be the first one the other wants to talk to when something funny happens, when there’s important news, when that coworker does whatever it is that needs a little ranting about, etc. We’ll spend several nights a week together, but we’ll have alone time and friend time too. My partner will be that person I’ll want to go to a show with when I score great tickets, and he’ll be that person I’ll want to learn to dance with someday. Wanna dance?

Man 1 (aged 25): I would love to dance , but I can’t dance that well. Will you teach how ?

Guess he didn’t understand what it means that I want to learn. This 25 year old also “definitely” wants kids, while my profile says definitely “no.”

Man 2 (aged 55): I must say it seems we share many common interests and values. There is something about you that intregues me.. Do you ski or enjoy tahoe 🙂 have you been up lately? I love anything outdoors. I am supportive, loyal, fun, intertaining and loving. I want to share all that with someone very special. Im a degreed professional and a USCG licensed and ordained captain. I own a house and i am seeking a wife that wants fun and lots of hugs. Its a great new year ! Lets make it one to remember;)

His degree, by the way, is an AA. There is nothing wrong with an AA, of course, but it just seems so weird to try to impress a PhD with it. Oh well, maybe he didn’t read the part that mentioned my degrees.

When you fall spectacularly in the parking lot before getting into your car, heading over to your ex boyfriend’s house to drink and watch Fargo, and manage to hurt a foot, an ankle, a knee, and both palms, after a particularly awful couple of weeks of trying to make a new relationship work, it hits you quite keenly that there’s something metaphorical about showing up on his doorstep bleeding.

It’s not the first time he’s had to bandage you up, but it’s the first time after the breakup, several months before.

He cleans you up, gets bandages on your foot, your ankle, your knee.

Your palms are still bare, outstretched.

“I have to get some more bandages for . . .,” he begins.

“My stigmata?”

You settle in. It’s a little like it used to be–the two of you with wine and then gin, watching tv, but you don’t throw your legs over his lap.

You’re more aware of your legs this time, what with the painful throbbing on your knee under your jeans.

In commercial breaks, you catch up. His kids, your aunt.

In one break, after you’ve moved on to the gin, you say, “Someone hurt me.”

You explain how a man was dating you, and then started treating you oddly. When you asked why, he said there wasn’t really a future, since you live thirty minutes from him, and since you don’t want to get married.

Of course, that was all true when this new guy first messaged you, when you has those dates, when he met a couple of your friends: it said so right on your profile–where you lived and that you didn’t want to get married–that you wanted a partner but without the cohabitation.

You told this new guy that your profile explains–has always explained–what you want. He said you didn’t mean it. “You’re obviously just looking for hookups if you don’t want to get married. You can’t have real intimacy unless you live with someone.”

You cried. In front of this man.

You had only cried in front of your ex twice in a two year relationship, and once was about the break up.

Of course, the other ended up being a breakup too, but it wasn’t losing this guy that made you cry. It was frustration, being so misunderstood, having this guy tell you that you didn’t know what you wanted. Missing the kind of relationship you’d had before.

“Am I crazy for wanting what we had?” you ask your ex.

He puts his hand on your good knee.

“You’re the sanest person I know.”

Later, you bleed a bit through your bandage on the way home.

(Written recently, but about November.)