wtf dating profile #1, part 1
Remember the picture of an eye that I posted? The picture that accompanied the most self-important, bizarre, ostentatious, and verbose dating profile I have ever come across…well, for your daily WTF moment, here’s a portion of it.
A Quick Personality Test
As you read this, your mind will start to slow down to take in the details and transport you into the scene. Then, you’ll feel something that I’ll ask you about afterward. Don’t bother skipping ahead because you’ll miss it completely if you do:
Graceful traversal of the winding path between tables revealed a sea of delicious scents and aromas, tastefully decorated walls, high ceiling and atmospheric ambience suffused with amber evening tones; the quiet background murmur often punctuated by the lilting sounds of private laughter. Drawing nearer and effortlessly moving to occupy the empty seat, their eyes met across the flickering flame of a small candle at the table’s center. Eyelashes softly closed for a long moment, resting lightly upon one another as a butterfly’s wings might touch for the briefest span of time. Opening slowly, the shine and shimmer of brightly sparkling eyes brought forth the darkness of two pupils whose slightly defocused intensity allowed the mind to take in the captivating sight only a few feet away, as a window might allow access to the brilliance of millions of stars in a clear evening sky… spoken evenly, calmly and deliberately, yet near-unconsciously: “hi.”
Although often said as a simple means of greeting, the word was intoned in this instance as a expression of far more intimate intentions… lips settled upon one another after a moment of reciprocal friction, moistened, warm and ready for the commencement of comfortably innocuous conversation while the far more important communication of sensual tension between eyes, minds and bodies had already begun…
Gauge your first reaction: A) How lovely; or B) My bullshit meter is beeping louder than a non-government-issue Geiger counter at ground zero in Fukushima.
I’ve noticed that many women play the “excessively ambivalent” game (“I don’t know about this scary online dating thing… I mean, it’s free; it’s anonymous (except for the advertisers who want to buy and sell your soul, but you’re probably strangely unconcerned about that); I can Hide/Block anyone I don’t like; I can message anyone without my friends finding out; and I can create a new profile if the old one accumulates too many creepy stalkers who flag my photos and visit repeatedly without ever messaging… you know, I don’t know, online dating is scary”). I would add boorish (“I’m a man in a woman’s body”, “I’m brutally honest at all costs”), and in full flight from their lives (food becomes a drug and travel becomes an addiction). That type seems to respond to my profile as if I were the Great Satan Incarnate, perhaps because I’m not the wishy-washy, awkward Nice Guy counterpart to their stubborn-and-stiff, conformity-needing selves.
In a previous profile, I noted that it’s fashionable for the modern American woman to advertise her sense of self to the world as being deeply layered (“it takes a lifetime to get to know yourself”, one woman prophetically announces), deeply complex (“I’m a swirling mass of contradictions”, every other profile narcissistically pronounces), and above all, deeply wounded on some etherically existential level (hence, the popular enslavement to the Cult of Positive Thinking).
From their complainings and whinings in their profiles, that type also tends to attract creeps and jerks. No surprise that like attracts like — in the real social world, familiarity breeds affinity and opposites repel.
if your reaction was option “B”, get over yourself. Self-indulgence isn’t sexy. Each of us is different; the “normal” person hides her differentness under layers of self-persecution that extends out to attempts at control in the social world (other women and men, including — and especially — potential mates). Stop trying so hard to be someone else’s idea of the “average” (i.e. normal, generic, sheeplike) person. Be your weird, creative, different (though I dare not say “unique” in a world of seven+ billion) self instead.
Or you could spend the rest of your life trying vainly to make parts of yourself disappear under “flattering” makeup, “slimming” clothes and a blatantly fake social smile. Your choice. I don’t mind repeating myself in saying that self-acceptance, as part of the continual process of change that is life, is both rare and ridiculously sexy.
If your reaction was option “A”, keep reading. Feel free to respond with your own side of the story…