About two years ago I found myself where I am now- single and looking for someone to fill my Friday nights with popcorn and a roll in the hay. I joined eharmony at the time and went out on several dates, including one with Jersey Guy. He was well educated- too well educated in fact – he had a bachelor’s degree, MBA and was now attending dental school. Someone with that much education begins to reek of “can’t handle the real world.” He spoke with an intense east-coast accent. He asked me if I would consider getting fake red acrylic nails because, “I grew up with girls with those and I think they’re hot.” We made out – a lot – on our first date out by the car. The wine facilitated that. After two messages delivered with his terrible whiny accent, I decided I’d rather not go on a second date and that was that.
Fast Forward to Yesterday: As I was scrolling through eharmony my new matches, I came upon Jersey Guy again. The good Doctor who owns eharmony apparently still believes that we would make an excellent couple. So much so that he tried to set me up with this dude twice.
I felt ashamed. I could almost hear Jersey Guy laughing with that high-pitched nasal tone, “Haha! Screw you! I wasn’t right for you? Hah! Look at where you are now, right back online.”
Or I suppose I could see it in the exact opposite way, “Aww, Jersey guy still has the same photos up. How old are those by now? Seriously? Ridiculous!” Ultimately I felt disappointed for both of us- we are both still looking for love in the big bad world of Los Angeles.
At this uncomfortable moment I briefly considered writing a condolence email to him – “Hey, nice to see you here again. So sorry we’re both still kicking this dead horse. Sucks doesn’t it? Best of luck to you. You were a good kisser, but I just couldn’t take the accent.” But as I really didn’t want to hear from him again, I quickly “archived” him. I’m sure he probably saw me as a “match.” I hate knowing that.
He’d be pleased to know that I actually did get acrylic nails after he’d suggested them- OK- a year later – but he was the impetus for the experiment. I tend to keep them French-manicured or a light and pretty color as opposed to the super-slut red talon-like claws he told me he’d prefer.
I wonder if there are others that have come across my profile again – matched because the good Dr. who owns eharmony was trying once again with his 29 dimensions of compatibility to say, “but you two would work!” No, we wouldn’t. His voice alone killed it for me. Imagining him in bed shouting, “baby, uhhh, baby, yeah that’s Hooowwta” made me wince. But I do hope he finds his Jersey princess soon. One with rapier-like nails, bleach blonde hair and a love for the way his uses the word “wicked” at every turn.
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