“I want to be as beautiful as I can be – to myself first. Then to whomever has the sense to see me.”
– Maya Angelou
So enough of the procrastinating already! It’s been a while since I even mentioned the idea of joining Match.com. Every time we see a commercial for that dating service my daughter will remind me that I said I had a (small, minuscule) interest in joining. “When are you going to do it, mom?” “You said you were going to do it.”
Sheesh. Why do I even talk to the kid?
Fine. I started looking in to different dating websites and apps. I asked around and got other women’s opinions. And, I finally settled on one. Now, comes the fun part. Entering a description of my soul to entice others to want to click on my profile.
Gotta be honest. Not as fun as I thought it would be. I’m having a hard enough time trying to figure out who I am for myself, let alone who I am to market myself to others. Not to mention that I hate being judged.
After entering the usual – Female seeking Male, Age, Height, and such – I’m staring at the question of size. I’m not athletic. I could be considered Average. I do have a “little extra weight.” Am I still BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) – which is shorthand for fat? I stared at my screen for a while on that question. Let’s just skip it and come back.
What’s one word to describe you? Am I Artsy? Adventurous? Ugh. Next question.
Do you smoke? No.
Do you want children? No.
Do you own a car? Yes. But why in the world would you want to know that? And, why do I have an option to “prefer not to respond” to that question?
Even though I have worked in marketing, this marketing of myself seems so odd and foreign to me.
Yes, my parents are living. Yes, they are still married. Yes, they had children. Five of them and I’m the oldest.
Weird. So very weird.
Offer a headline to your profile (ex; You looking for me?) Really? That’s the example? “Come on, let’s give this a whirl,” and “What do you have to lose?” Came to mind.
Ok, let’s come back to this one too.
Your First Date. Um, what? It says that the longer my description of a first date, the more likely it will get responses. Well, ok. Can’t we just talk? My description isn’t going to be that long. Conversation, perhaps over coffee? Done.
But the real kicker and the place where I have gotten stuck the most is in describing me. The site says that people will read both my profile and message when deciding if they should write back. It will be their first impression of me…Talk about myself, it says. My hobbies, my likes, my goals and aspirations. What makes me unique.
What do I say? I want to appear witty. Smart.
I want to be interesting. But I can’t find the words. I want to be funny, but everything sounds stale. And it dawns on me – I’m not really all that interesting, am I?
I sought the help of a friend who has gone the dating site route before and she said I should stop “trying and just be.” Be what? I haven’t been fit for human consumption for such a long time that I had to take myself off the shelf. Repackaging seems to be working, but the inside is the same. It’s old and mushy and confused and scared.
Gosh, I don’t know how to talk to men anymore. Do I try to impress? Or be?
Writing should be easier, but I feel like I’m about to bait and switch someone once they meet me in person.
My friend suggested that I sleep on it and then write down the first thing that comes to me in the morning when my head is clearer. Problem. I didn’t think of anything in the morning.
So, maybe I’m not as ready as I thought I was for this. I think I’ll wait for a little while longer until I can find words to describe me.
What would you say? I’d love to know what you think. You’ll be like my focus group. Tell me a word that helps describe me to you.
Better yet, do you know any single men that may want to have coffee with a not so BBW, working on athletic, kinda average, short Latina with a slight sense of humor? It would be better than a dating app anyway.
Let’s see what comes to mind in the morning.
Carmen Garcia writes about stuff… life as a single mother, dating, weight loss, performing, and other random experiences. Sometimes it makes sense. Other times, not so much. You decide.