The world needs more love, I think, so today’s post is dedicated to my favorite dating profile. Dating profiles are supposed to be brief and mysterious, weaving enough story to spark an interest, but not enough to draw conclusions:
“Who was that masked man, twirling girls on the dance floor and drinking beer?” the imaginary woman asked herself.
“A mystery!” She also answers herself, for some reason.
Unfortunately for me, my favorite profiles to write always pushed the boundaries of the character limits, which, previously, I didn’t know profiles had. Sometimes my imagination got the best of me and I would write lengthy, funny (to me), and semi-romantic profiles. I became obsessed with writing the “perfect” dating profile, the one that would get responses and be quintessentially me. This one was my favorite to write. It did okay, just okay. Sometime after this, I learned that shorter profiles got more responses… oops. Anyway, enjoy my favorite dating profile:
I want to do this profile a little bit differently. I want to tell you the story of us, in reverse. Feel free to chime in when the story seems right to you. I apologize in advance, this is going to be long. (Never had to apologize for that before! *rimshot* Corny jokes may follow….
At the ripe old age of 97, we died together in a tandem, nude skydiving accident. You kept yelling for me to pull the chord, but my hearing aid flew away, and I didn’t hear you. Whatever. Shit happens. We ended the way we lived, doing crazy things together. Best obituary ever.
I supported you when you left your job to pursue your dream of doing that creative thing you were always good at, but couldn’t figure out how to make a living with before. You supported me when I left my firm, even though we needed the money, because it was sucking the life out of me and I just knew I could be happier on my own. You were there when I published my first book, and though it flopped, I am grateful for you encouraging me to finish it.
I can’t believe how much you cried each time one of our children went to college. Seriously, every time? I remember when we decided we were ready for a second baby. We had just put our first to bed and were finally getting the hang of the whole parenting thing. Turns out we ended up with twins. (Sorry, it runs in my family.) I remember when you first told me you were pregnant. I thought it was the first time you had seen me cry, turns out I cry way more often than I’ll admit and you give me a hard time about it, but secretly think it’s cute.
You remember the wedding and proposal. No need for me to tell you about that. I remember the moment I knew I would love you forever: we were home alone and Notre Dame was playing football on TV; you didn’t necessarily care, but you got up and put on a jersey anyway. We sat on the couch waiting for the game to start. I looked over at you sitting beside me, and in that moment I was captivated by how beautiful you were, even though I had seen you a thousand times before. I was overcome by how lucky I was to have you in my life. Let’s just say we missed the first half… but only the first half. Kidding… just the first quarter.
We had our adventures, saw shows, traveled, fought occasionally. (I’m sorry. You were right, like always.) But, my favorite times during our relationship were all the times we spent cooking together. I’ve cooked for people before, but I’ve never really cooked WITH them. It was like letting you into a part of my world no one else had ever seen.
I was nervous before our first date. I had a feeling that tonight would change everything. I looked up good first date questions because I didn’t want you to be bored. I memorized your profile so I didn’t ask questions about things I should already know. I did some push-ups to look more muscular, the first in weeks. Then you showed up and I forgot EVERYTHING… but it didn’t matter, being with you felt natural.
You have the kind of profile that I must respond to, even if you would never message me back. “Why would she?” I think to myself, “she sounds amazing.” I typed and re-typed witty messages to you; though, somehow, “Hi, I’m Sean. Let’s fuck” won out — kidding again — though, somehow, “I really liked your profile. You sound pretty amazing. Hi, I’m Sean” won out. I pressed send. Then what felt like years passed. I convinced myself I had blown it. I swore off online dating, joined a cult, and then, then it happened. You responded and said, “__________.”
Well… I’m waiting. 🙂
SPOILER ALERT: I didn’t meet my fiancee with this profile either.
I didn’t meet my fiancee, but I did meet my next TWO girlfriends. That’s right, I double dipped on the profile. I wasn’t dating both girls at the same time. I decided that since it worked and I had a girlfriend, albeit a terrible one, it was worth trying again, and it worked again. Maybe the lesson I should have taken was that that profile attracted women who were searching for an anchor in rough waters when I was looking for someone who wanted to watch the tides break and fall at our toes from the safety of the shore. That’s my polite way of saying “You a mess, girl. Fix yo’ shit.”
DOUBLE SPOILER ALERT: This profile is how I knew I found her.
But that’s another story…