ConvoI had a bad day the other day.
Then I had too many margaritas.
And then Jones-the-Crab decided I should try I-Promise, the matchmaker who promises results.
But instead of a series of men, all eager to take me to dinner, or a Longhorns game, or a pinball arcade…they sent me a message, informing me that I was unmatchable.
UNMATCHABLE
So, here’s the thing:
Every time I get ghosted, Meta says there’s nothing wrong with me. But it’s pretty hard to maintain that position when a whole-ass matchmaking site rejects you as unmatchable.
There were always signs. I mean, I played with Barbies. I just accessorized differently.
Like, with extra heads.
I had a Sweet 16, like everyone else. Mostly. Except, instead of Spin the Bottle, we played D&D.
I know I’m not a real woman. My shoes don’t hurt. I like math. I couldn’t flirt if I tried. And for me, dressing up means putting on mascara. Everything in my life has told me that’s not enough. That I’m not enough. But I guess I never really believed it before.
In their huge database, there wasn’t one guy who might like me? Really? Not one?
Statistically, is that even possible?
I don’t know how to fix this without pretending to be someone I’m not.
Look, I have a good job. A nice apartment. I take my own trash out. I know how to use a plunger and a comprehensive set of power tools.
I don’t NEED a man. It’s just that maybe, every now and then, I’d like to reach out, and find someone there.
Reaching back.
I don’t care what the I Promise people say. There IS someone out there for me. For all of us unmatchables.
I PROMISE.
