What up with that?

February 8, 2005

I have a few very dear friends who are single (and not in some limbo between one and the other). They aren’t necessarily in a rush to find Dr. Right, but they wouldn’t mind him making a house call in the near future. Are the good ones all taken?

I see a pattern. People single in a rush to be a couple, and couples in a rush to be single. It’s the Star-bellied Sneeches all over again. I can be Sylvester McMonkey McBean and make a killing.

I digress. So, as a faithful friend and voyeur, I went on a Christian singles website to find potential matches for my friends. Yikes. I put in the stats–gender, age, area of the country. Placed before me is a menu of men. Interesting thought. I read many of them, sorting by criteria important to my friends (and to me). Faith, education, finances, height and weight. It’s easy to rule candidates out. Finding Dr. Right is no easy job.

That’s why they need me. And, I suspect, many of those men need me (or someone like me) to help them clean up their portfolio. This is your first impression, and we all know from our mothers how important first impressions are. With that in mind, here’s some advice to the lovelorn as they seek their soulmate:

Use a good picture of you. If you don’t have one, get one. Don’t use one with your ex still in it or obviously cut out.

Run a spell check. For heaven’s sake. It’s not rocket science. If you don’t, you risk ruling out anyone literate.

Answer the questions. If you don’t care enough to put some thought into what kind of person you want, you don’t really want her (or him).

Cease and desist with internet punctuation and sentence structure. Use capital letters and periods where they belong, otherwise someone might confuse your writing with their thirteen year-old daughter or niece’s instant messages. Spare me. Spare your potential prince or princess.

Don’t lie. If you’re fat, say so. If you work at Arby’s, be honest. If your last relationship broke up because you were a class A you-know-what, own up. We’re pushing forty, or we’ve pushed past it, so don’t pretend to be Brad Pitt or Jennifer Anniston. They have enough troubles of their own. ( But if things don’t work out, Brad, here’s my number.)

Be creative but not over the top, witty but not too too, unless that’s you–then just be you and let the chips fall where they may. We all know from Brady Bunch reruns that we want people to like us for who we are, not who we pretend to be (remember Jan and George Glass?). Be you, and if there’s a crooked lid for your crooked pot, he or she is out there somewhere–maybe even on the same website you are. Take a few minutes to brush your hair and put on a clean shirt, so to speak, and Dr. Right might take a second look, and maybe even make a house call.

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