“Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match.  Find me a find, catch me a catch”, sings Tevye’s daughters from “Fiddler on the Roof”.  Whose cockamamy idea was that anyway?  Finding a male specimen, to relate to romantically, in these days of social media out the kazoo, has gotten a little obsessive, and for me totally irritating.

This entire episode started when we ran the ‘LOVE HURTS’ piece several weeks ago, and found that there were multitudes of women, many of them VERY angry, frustrated women, that had had a similar experience or one many times worse than my, seemingly, at this point, very vanilla encounter.  (We will include some of the replies to that post at the end of this piece.  Please excuse some of the dissertation length, however wildly passionate communication we received—we feel your pain.)

Jean felt that it was time for all of us, especially me, to get back on that horse, and  Match.com was the catalyst of choice.  A link to Match.com appeared in my e-mail, (from you know who), and before I knew it I was filling out my “profile” and sending the finest of my photo collection to be posted in front of who knows who.  And you think my life can’t get dangerous?  That was last Wednesday, 9 December.  Then all hell broke loose. 

Out of the hundred plus replys, that totally messed up my own, personal, e-mail organization system, there were a couple that sounded worth checking into, but I was too overwhelmed to react—mainly I wondered the following:
• Where do grown men come up with these code names: Lovebug, MrAtlas, RandyGolfer-(I really hope his name is Randy), Cruise2Freedom, CloudyHoped- (whatever that means), PowerCat, MiracleNow-(‘tis the season I guess)?   Or the bewildering, TimeOfHope–It’s clear that there was no female input solicited for a name that one might find in a funeral home brochure.
• Who is editing their photos?  If you want to look like the exciting guy that you say you are, you probably don’t want to have your Match.com photo taken in your lush, overstuffed Lazy-Boy recliner that is the size of a VW Beetle.  And smiling helps a lot if you are ever in cline to show that emotion.
• Why did you think that going off on a psychotic rant would be appealing to any sane woman?  One man wrote that if a woman was on any meds for depression OR anxiety, or had any other mental health issue that a relationship would never work, because there was no such thing as depression.  He felt VERY STRONGLY that all mental health issues had been fabricated by “big pharma”.  And these statements were just the start of a ‘truly lovely’ profile. Wow—wonder who he will end up with?  Hopefully not you. 

On Monday, December 14, after only 5 days of lust and yearning, I withdrew my profile from the Match.com web site—until I can find a full time social assistant to manage my “love” life, I am taking a breather.  However, if you think there are no men out there, you are wrong.  Try a month of Match.com or one of the other matchmaking services, you might actually find your Perchik.  And worst case scenario, you will be thoroughly amused.

Use this link for rankings on the Top 5 dating services in the country: 
www.Consumer-Rankings.com/Dating