The Match Project Day 1

The Match Project is an experiment in which I will spend seven days trying out Match.com. My goal is to be as realistic and candid in my efforts as possible, and I'll document the journey here. This should be a good time. The reasons for embarking on this venture are severalfold:

1. This is the first time I've been single in quite a while, and although I'm not looking for a relationship, one can never argue with a free dinner or drinks every so often.
2. It's free, and I'm out of blog ideas, and this should be more entertaining than random factoids about myself or long monologues about the difficulties that accompany launching a business.
3. I work from my house now, so the chances that some perfect soulmate will come knocking on my door is just not reasonable. The only people who knock on my door are the UPS man and the exterminator, and neither packages nor roach killing is an aphrodisiac. Actually, given the problem I've had with roaches lately, that's more and more attractive.
4. Documenting each day will remind me to cancel my subscription on day 7, so my card won't be charged for a month's fee.

Last night whilst perusing my typical regimen of online sites I was distracted by a blinking banner ad for Match.com. I wasn't even tempted by eHarmony, because, well, it's called eHarmony. Several people have suggested that I give the realm of online dating a whirl (most recently the lovely Lobster). I shrugged it off as being for people who can't survive in a world beyond their computer screen who post fake pictures of themselves, but alas, I was taken in during a moment of boredom and weakness and inspired to just give it a go. If nothing else than to prove my point that it doesn't work.

I create a user name for myself (like naming my blog, this process was much more anxiety ridden than need be. I wanted to be clever without revealing my real name or being gross or cheesy like xxcutiepiesnugglekissesxx or something of the sort). I settle on SadieMay3rd (I would have preferred simply SadieMay, but apparently that was taken, so SadieMay3rd in honor of my sweet pup, Sadie May Jr. the 3rd, it is). I'm prompted to fill out a profile, so I can be accurately matched with Charlotte singles. I resist the urge to shut the computer down and go to sleep and instead press onward.

I also resist the urge to say that I'm looking for heavyset, overweight and obese males, therefore pegging myself a chubby chaser. I want to be accurate, so I force myself to answer the questions as seriously as possible. I complete the profile and am immediately matched with candidates I may be compatible with. I'm truly intrigued to see who (or what) I might fit with, so I start scrolling the list. It's ranked by percentile of compatibility, and I once again almost shut my computer off when I see that ranked at 99% compatibility with me is a true douchelord I went to high school with. Ummm, no. If that's who I'm being matched with, forget it. Before starting this I was dubious at best but now all of this site's credibility is out the window.

Still, I press on, send out some obligatory "winks" (similar to Facebook pokes) and call it a night.

When I woke up this morning I had several alerts from the Matchmakers themselves letting me know that over the course of my sleeping hours I had received 4 winks and 3 messages. I scroll through the emails and am pleasantly surprised to see one from a rather attractive guy who seems normal enough. Upon further observance, though, I realize I know this guy. We also went to high school together, and I was pretty close with his sister. Wanting full confirmation I Facebook who I think it is, and not only are we Facebook friends, but both of his profile pictures are the same. I respond to his message without letting him know that I know who he is. I don't know if it's a good or bad thing that he doesn't seem to recognize me.

I was just starting to feel a little optimistic about this whole ordeal when I received the following IM from LowCountryBoy: "Hey there, do you like rodeos, cowboy boots, horses, horses races, Wrangler jeans? Do you have cowboy boots?" Oh, Lord, I am in for a long seven days.