So I went out on a date recently with a new guy. The first in three months. He fit the Sally profile: Charming. Athletic. Balding. Sadly he didn’t have a sailboat, but I guess you can’t have everything.
Anyway, said date – let’s call him Tom, as we’re on to the letter T in the Alphabet Dating Game – had a background in law enforcement. And in the course of our conversation, he revealed that he was trained, by a former member of the Mossad, in statement analysis. This is something I hadn’t heard of before. And for a woman like me, who spends half her free time blogging and the other half internet dating, it’s a terrifying concept. Apparently, it’s possible to analyze a piece of writing and identify where a person is lying.
Please, please, PLEASE, don’t let him ever discover my blog!
He suggested he might analyze my dating profile, which I thought was okay, because – as in all profiles – the whole thing is fantasy anyway.
Hopefully he’d understand that.
Hopefully he’d understand that when I say I like adventure, that I mean “small a” adventure. You’re not going to find me ice climbing a frozen waterfall or leaping out of a small plane with nothing more than a flimsy little parachute that might or might not work. Hopefully he’d understand that when I say I like to keep active, that what I mean is that I really love to buy workout gear from Lululemon and so occasionally feel the need to justify the purchase by dragging my ass to a class.
Anyway, apart from the fact that I might have been found out, I was quite fascinated by this whole concept, and thought I’d do a bit of statement analysis on some of the statements I’ve come across. So I started looking, and realized that even though I know my profile is fantasy, I believe everything guys say in their profiles!
“I’m a glass half full kind of guy.” Great! I love positive people!
“I would do anything for you.” He sounds so nice!
“I love intelligent conersation” Me too! (And I’m sure that’s just a typo. I’m sure he knows how to spell conversation).
What I learned was that, first, I would make a terrible police officer. And second, perhaps I shouldn’t take those profiles at face value. It’s great, for example, that a man has visited 48 countries, but if most of that traveling happened before he was six, should it count? It’s okay with me to date a man who says he’s retired. But retired and unemployed aren’t quite the same thing.
The trouble with the truth is that it isn’t always attractive. By the time we hit our forties, we’re all hauling baggage. Loads of it. We have ex-wives and husbands. Old boyfriends and girlfriends. Badly behaved children. We’ve been around long enough to have more than a few skeletons in our closets. You would not believe some of the Jerry Springer-like stories I’ve heard. (And I’m sure there are a number of Victoria men out there who tell the story of the wild-eyed, crazy girl who was playing the Alphabet Dating Game and blogging about the men with whom she had coffee.)
Even if we’re totally together in our personal lives, our eyesight is failing. Our joints might be giving us trouble. The women are heading toward menopause. Some of the men are beginning to appreciate the virtues of Viagra. Our medicine cabinets are full. Many of the women have come to rely on regular visits to the colorist, because heaven knows that there will be no dates if we let ourselves go grey.
The whole truth is not an option. We’d never get a date again.
What would your “Whole Truth and Nothing But the Truth” dating profile say?