Dearest Rachel –
Now, just yesterday, I got into a couple of news stories that, if you look at them in a certain way, could explain why women want nothing to do with dating men – because they could be hideous creeps (or worse), and you wouldn’t know until it’s way too late. Fair enough; although it’s kind of annoying, considering how long these guys apparently got away with it. Then again, they did get their comeuppance, although that didn’t necessarily end well for all concerned, either.
Meanwhile, upon sending you that letter, I got an email from the dating app that, for reasons I can’t quite explain, I still subscribe to. Maybe I’m keeping it going for ‘entertainment purposes,’ like Jan suggested when she first helped me set up an account with a different service. If so, well, I guess I’m getting that part of my money’s worth – and I don’t even have to spend anything on actual dates.
This time, rather than simply suggesting another subscriber might be a good match, based on our compatibility score, the service was writing to inform me that somebody had ‘liked’ my profile, which isn’t as common an occurrence as it used to be, as I haven’t updated it in quite some time. Just to give you an indication, none of my pictures show me with a beard on them; so even if everything was to click between us, and me and this woman ‘liking’ my profile were to arrange a time and place to meet up, I’d probably do well to send an updated photo so she knew what to look for.
But that’s not a thing I expect to have happen, and even less so once I checked into the app as recommended by the email I’d received. It worked as intended, and took me to the list of those who’d ‘liked’ my profile, but there was something suspicious about this contact…
It doesn’t help that, when I visited her profile, I only found a single photo (which, while it doesn’t guarantee anything, is a bit of a red flag), and a stated location of Chicago, despite her phone number indicating ‘she’s’ from somewhere in eastern Virginia. Again, there are a lot of people with cell phones from previous homes (Erin is a case in point), but it’s another warning sign; and in any case, while I admit that people actually do live in Chicago, I’m not sure I want to mess with going into the city proper to meet someone anyway.
But I’d been given a phone number, and as I wondered whether to contact this person, it occurred to me to do so by what used to be the most obvious means, but now has become so much less so; I would just call ‘her’ up, and talk with ‘her’ directly.
Now granted, this wasn’t actually something I wanted to do as such; making a cold call like this is a daunting proposition. I didn’t even know what I would say if she picked up the phone. I eventually settled on something like “Hi there, my name’s Randy; you left a like on my eHarmony profile, and I thought I would get in touch with you, and see what might come of that. So, ah… how are you?” It sounds so awkward, even now that I’m typing this.
The thing is, I was pretty sure that I wasn’t going to need to worry about what it sounded like. At best, I was probably going to be leaving a message on ‘her’ voicemail – since, like me, a normal person doesn’t generally answer their phone for unfamiliar numbers anymore – so the opening part of the script, followed by my own phone number, would probably be sufficient. As it turned out, it didn’t even get that far; after about five or six rings, the other line simply went to the rhythmic buzz of what used to be universally recognized as a busy signal, but nowadays, I don’t know what it’s meant to represent. I thought I would at least get an automated voice telling me that the mailbox was full or some such. Then again, this rather confirmed to me that the number – and the profile associated with it – wasn’t legitimate, which was essentially what I expected from it. Curiosity thus satisfied, I went back to work for a while.
But then, my phone vibrated with the notification that I’d gotten a message; one from the very phone number I’d tried to call and failed to reach anyone at. Evidently, it was functional after all.
As I pointed out to ‘her,’ I didn’t want to address ‘her’ by name directly at first. I figured that if I called ‘her’ Sophia right off the bat, ‘she’ would know what persona to assume to continue the conversation, and string me along for a bit. I did finally give ‘her’ my name, as she did ask, but it seems that nothing has come of that. I had rather hoped that she would try to dissuade me of my skepticism.
Anyway, for the waste of a few minutes of time here and there, I got a little bit of entertainment out of it, and perhaps you did too by extension. I’m sure I’m getting to the point where I’m far too cynical and distrusting to ever take even this dating app seriously, and finding anyone over the internet has been rendered impossible for me as a result. But I present the story to you, and you can take it for whatever you think it’s worth.
For now, as always, I’d ask you to keep an eye on me, and wish me well; you can see that I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 