Matchless

Yes, it has happened. City loneliness has finally reared its ugly head and I have found myself seeking solice online. It started out, of course, as the innocent, but obsessive checking of myspace and facebook, then moved on to the frequent, stalker-esque messaging on friends' pages of said websites. Finally, as embarrassed as I am to admit it, the road I walk alone led me to Match.com and I found myself staring at their homepage and swallowing my pride. Am I actually entering the realm of online dating? I decided to suck it up and jump on in, how bad can it really be? A few free coffees, maybe even some dinners, vacations together, love, marriage, a home, kids. Off I set filling out my profile, uploading a picture, coming up with a catchy username, and by the end I didn't feel as ashamed... The blurb I wrote about myself was good and sarcastic, witty as hell, I found a decent picture to present to the world, I mean, damn, who wouldn't want to be my match? YEAH. I hit submit, went to bed, and awoke the next morning feeling excited to check my email, find my match. I didn't know true irony until I found myself rejected my Match.com. Yes, that is right, REJECTED, by a website that it designed to find someone to ACCEPT you! Apparently my witty as hell profile came off as bitchy and dissed their website, their email informed me that my personal blurb would not work and that I'd have to write a new one. As if more rejection is what I'm looking for, does Match.com really expect me to ever log on to their page again when they've broken my heart as badly as all those other bastards out there?! Ugh. What I've realized now, after coming through the fog of more heart break is this: I don't need an online fucking dating service telling me I'm a bitch, I've got plenty of friends to do that, for now I'm happy falling asleep alone, listening to the sounds of barking dogs, howling cats, and reggae tone ringing through the streets of Harlem.