Playing With Matches

What started as a means of chronicling the online dating experiences of two picky yet adventurous almost thirty somethings has turned into a chronicle of all that is, was and has made up their collective dating histories. Our two original daters are now joined by several other fun, breezy, sassy gals, and Playing With Matches is now a missive on dating misadventures, a cacophony of ups and downs, turmoil and bliss. With a bit of snark mixed in here and there.

Monday, April 10, 2006

How Things Change...

So this afternoon I thought I'd let Match do the searching for me. I was tired of putting in my search criteria and getting the same list of people I always get. So, I used the "reverse search" option which gives you 50 pages of people (and it's always 50 pages) who are allegedly looking for someone just like you.

As I was browsing, I ran across someone we will call JSmith. Now, his real Match persona name was a bit less "common" (in fact, it was very uncommon, which is how I knew that it was him). Him. The boy I had a crush on for the better part of elementary school. The boy who I sat behind in the sixth grade and just stared at. The boy I watched play tetherball on the playground, the one who I let get me out when we played 4-square, the one who gave me goosebumps when he picked me (albeit last) to be on his crab soccer team in PE. The boy who had the Vision Street Wear high tops. The boy with the spiked hair who declared to me--confided in me--one wonderful day in the cafeteria, that he would never have any other hair style. Be still my eleven year old heart.

So, of course, I had to hide and go look at him (what if I didn't hide and he saw I looked and he recognized me? Eek!)...and what I found was quite interesting. As Objection said when presented with this news (and after checking out his profile), "I couldn't believe the profile...for any number of reasons." He still looks exactly the same, though now--18 years later--I don't see what I ever saw in him. We have nothing in common--and, admittedly, didn't then, either. All those days spent daydreaming about him, writing my name with his last name on the inside of my paper bag book covers...

Now, if I still had the taste of an indiscriminating sixth grader who liked the bad boy skateboarder who never did his homework, this would be fate. But, alas, my taste has matured. And I appreciate someone who studied for his spelling tests way back when. It would've made his future internet dating profiles much more palatable. If only he'd known then...

And, I'm through dating liars. His hair is not still spikey.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

It's amazing how easy it is to fall in love with the back of someone's head.

It would be funny to send him a message that said: "I wanted to marry you in the 6th grade," just to see what would happen. :)

8:04 PM  

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