(Clever screen name, right?)
Based on what you’ve told us in your profile, we’ve noticed you’re getting a lot of emails from people who don’t meet your criteria. Would you like us to show you how to use email filters so you can get more emails from people you want to meet?
Following the message were two hyperlinks. The first read “My God, YES! Show me and save me from the advances of balding fathers-of-three from the great state of Delaware!” (Or something along those lines—I can’t remember the exact wording.)
The second hyperlink read, “No thanks, I like toying with the affections of men I can’t return and would prefer to keep right on going if you don’t mind.” (Again, I’ve taken a few artistic liberties here.)
The moment I saw the word “filter” I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief.
Why? Well, this means I’m not shallow.
I don’t have impossible standards.
I’m simply filtering.
Obviously, I clicked “yes.” And not because I dislike receiving hopeful messages from balding fathers-of-three well beyond the limits of my “five mile radius”—they deserve their fun too—but because with filters, I’ll be able to avoid the temptation of getting involved with men who I know aren’t right for me.
It’s one thing to keep an open mind. Hence my ongoing correspondence with:
A) The Norwegian, who is not only shorter-than-me-in-heels but also did not pay for our first date,
B) The Salsa Date, who had the gall to show up in sneakers after I’d gone through all the trouble of creating a freakin’ poll to determine which heels I should wear,
C) My One O’Clock, who met me at Philadelphia Java Company wearing not only sneakers but—gasp!—a t-shirt and, last but not least,
D) My Three O’Clock, whose political opinions I suspect are diametrically opposed to mine.
It’s an entirely different matter to know, based on previous experience, what does and does not work for me.
Even though the Bovary Reading Bachelor was less than thrilled with Yours Truly when I decided to wave the proverbial white flag (way less than thrilled, actually) I knew for a fact that I wasn’t a good match for him. I also knew, from previous experiences, that if we had tried to make it work, he’d end up hating me and everything about our short-lived “us.”
(Possibly he would also quit his job, sell his house and move to Florida, where he would proceed to divide his time between surfing, sleeping with total strangers and emailing his ex-girlfriend to remind her that it was her fault that he’d become so bitter about love. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened to me.)
Call me crazy, but I really don’t want to go through that again, and I don’t want to put anyone else through that either. And since we’re supposed to learn from history, I think we should also learn from past relationships.
Hence the filtering.
So I’m not being picky. Or shallow. I’m just filtering. And I’m filtering according to the universally approved Match.com criterion of age, location, smoking (“smoking” or “non”), children (“have,” “don’t have,” “want,” or “don’t want”), ethnicity, religion and—you guessed it— height. So obviously I’m not the only one who has a “thing” about dating men who are taller than me.