The first two times I took their “in-depth, comprehensive personality test, designed to match you with just the right person”, I was told that I was so utterly bizarre and/or incomprehensible that they refused outright to attempt to hook me up with anyone. That’s right; they actually would not accept my money to try to find anyone even remotely like me.
So, today, on a lark, I take the test again. I fill out the questionnaire at blinding speed, giving my brain about a tenth of a second in which to process the question between reading it and selecting my answer. Fifteen minutes later, I’m through, and – wonder of wonders – it accepts me! At long last, I’m semi-quantifiable (woo hoo?) enough to be entered as a set of variables in some system’s database. Curious to find out what sort of fellow lunatics I’ll be paired up with, I eagerly click the “Find Matches” button, wait through eHarmony’s sixty second nag animation, and discover…nothing. “Our matching system was not able to find any new matches for you right now.”
What the hell? Oh, wait. My profile’s set to only accept matches in Roanoke. That must be the problem. Better make it all of Virginia. There we go. Now, we just click on “Find Matches” again, and…“Our matching system was not able to find any new matches for you right now.”
Well, crap. Fine then. Increase search range to the entire United States of America, and expand allowable age range by three years in either direction. Click on “Find Matches”, and…“Our matching system was not able to find any new matches for you right now.”
Okay, FINE! I see how it is! All right, then…expand age range to maximum allowable and, just for kicks, remove what few restrictions I had on race, religion and recreational drug use. Expand geographical search range to include all inhabitants of the planet Earth. Click on “Find Matches”, and…“Our matching system was not able to find any new matches for you right now.”
That’s it. I give up. When an electronic corporate entity refuses to allow me to pay them on the grounds that pretending that they could conceivably find a compatible mate for me would just be wrong, well, I’d say I’m probably just screwed. Oh well. Back to Match.com, whose latest take on me seems to be that I enjoy ditzy 18-year-old party girls whose profiles are written in AIM-speak. That is, if I can ever finish wading through the endless stream of emails that my awe-inspiring profile elicits. Hell, I might even get one someday.
Note for the folks who don’t know me in real life, which is more or less all of you: the above is roughly 97.4% facetious. I don’t rely entirely on online services for my romantic encounters, and I certainly don’t sit around feeling sorry for myself as a result. I do, however, find it mightily amusing in a sardonic sort of way that eHarmony thinks I suck so much.