I thought about something today that I haven’t in quite a while. I decided to share it with you, Dear Reader.
About eighteen years ago, when I was a young 31 years of age, I was turned on to the idea of online dating by a friend who was a single man himself, though a little older. He assured me he had met a few nice women through the service he recommended. For legal reasons I won’t mention the name of the service or any people involved … let’s just call the service “More In The Ocean” and the person involved in my tale here “Judith.”
I logged in to More In The Ocean and created a personal profile which consisted of much time spent uploading a photograph, providing a physical description and answering several questions to allegedly match me with people of like interests.
Keep in mind that the description I entered was accurate at the time, and the photograph I took that day so it was very current. Back in those days, before degenerative disc disease, arthritis and just plain age took hold, I was still 5’8” and physically fit from my time in the Army.
After getting all of my own information filled out the site then asked me to provide a general group of criteria for the ideal woman. This was really the tricky bit for me because while I’m not incredibly picky, I also figured that I should be pretty specific so I didn’t waste the time of random women, or myself.
I stated that I was looking for a woman, preferably between the height of 5’0” and 6’0” who was also athletic or at the least slender. I clarified that by slender I did not mean anorexic, nor did I mean slender as long as you were wearing control top pantyhose, a girdle and calf-control wraps. I stated please, no women more than twenty pounds overweight or underweight, to be even more specific.
I asked that only women who were active and enjoyed outdoor activities respond. I explained that I was as active as I could possibly be and didn’t really want to meet with couch-potatoes, please.
For an age range I stated anyone of eighteen years to forty years as long as, and I stressed it again, they were physically active. I also stated that if you were any age in that range but acted like you were a spoiled child, please don’t waste either of our time.
I explained that it didn’t matter what race a woman was, what her national origins were, or what she did for a living. I could care less if a woman was rich or poor, as long as they were a good person. In closing I explained that I was okay with religious women as long as they didn’t feel the need to force me to convert from pure and unadulterated atheism to their way of thinking.
My last comment was a bit repetitive but I said once more, “Please, if you don’t meet my description of an ideal partner, just cruise on by my profile and look elsewhere. This way neither of us are wasting time. Thanks, and happy dating,” or something to that effect.
For the first day there were no comments. I saw that my profile had been viewed a handful of times, but no fish from the plentiful ocean bit. I was fine with that.
But behold, the next morning while I was checking email I received a notice that someone had responded to my profile!!! Hooray!
In a tizzy to see what kind of response I had gotten, I logged in and read the message. Sadly I didn’t save it to quote verbatim, but it went something like this:
Weight: 185 lbs
How dare you! What kind of stuck-up arrogant prick are you? What makes you think you’re so special?! You’re nothing but a narcissistic little man who thinks you have some kind of right to degrade and berate women who are overweight? You think women have to fit some kind of filthy misogynistic stereotype or they aren’t worth your time?! You fucking bastard! Well it’s your goddamn loss, you asshole! You’ll never know the kind of wonderful people, like me, who you’re missing out on! I’ve filed a complaint with “More In The Ocean” and I’m going to ensure that I tell everyone I know about your stinking prejudiced bullshit!!!”
Now that was a shocker! When I read it I didn’t know if I should laugh, have a drink, cry or just put my neck in a noose!
After deciding to laugh and have that drink I reread the message a few times. Each time I could only shake my head and take another sip of my Captain Morgan’s.
I wondered if the woman realized that, in her horrid and angry rant, she had proven herself to be precisely the kind of person I would never have given the time of day to even if she had met my the description of my ideal dating partner?
Here, in my mind, was a prime example of a poor loser. This woman was so irate over the fact that I, one single individual out of billions, was making myself specifically unavailable to her. I feared the woman might be borderline deranged. In fact to this day I am fairly certain of it. After all I would think a sane person would have simply looked at my profile, laughed it off and moved on to someone who might actually be compatible.
What did she think? Did she imagine that after her lunatic rant I would reconsider my entire life and message her back? Perhaps she thought I would beg her forgiveness and ask that she marry me, right then and there, sight unseen?
I stopped immediately with the concept of online dating at that point. I deleted the profile, not out of some twisted sense of humility or shame but because I realized that odds were I had just entered the online equivalent of the dating Twilight Zone. It was a site of the unreal, the imaginary and the twisted.
That woman was a prime example of what happens when people begin to believe the hype we know as “Political Correctness” to the point where they feel a sense of entitlement as a result. They go beyond the concept of needing to hear things like, “Oh you aren’t fat! You merely have a few extra pounds in all the right places, my dear,” to a place where they demand that you must love them for being what and who they are rather than simply accepting them and moving on.