Why yes, Chic Geek. I do have a CatFish Tale to Tell.
In the earlier part of this century I was pretty active in the online scene. And by pretty active I mean fairly addicted to the prospect of finding love, or at the very least lovemaking prospects through the new frontier known as the World WideWeb. Even though I'm only talking about some ten years ago there was an incredible newness to it all. It was a cyber time of innocence, a time of Hotmail accounts and iMacs the size of most microwaves. It was, for me and my friends, a time tirelessly spent hunched over our computers scrolling through pics and scanning profiles trying to find our Miss Right. And without Facebook, Twitter and MySpace, without Googling the hell out of someone to cross-check - validating that they were who they said they were was fairly limited. I mean sure, there was Friendster (ask your older sibling) but it was a fairly limited resource. At any rate, me and my friend's found ourselves drawn to Nerve.com. We felt it was the hip and cool site out of all of them. The artsy dating site for folks who, ya know, don't really online date but happen to be, you know, online dating.
On any given night we would email each other links to a particular profile and get feedback and opinions from each other: Do you think her neck is weird or is it just the angle? If she says she works "In the healing arts" does that mean she might be a stripper? I'm meeting her at eight tonight, can you call me at 8:10 pretending you need something in case it's a disaster? Our little clubhouse worked perfectly. We genuinely wanted each other to find our match, and for the most part we sought different things. Some wanted leggy blondes with strong academic pedigree. Others lusted after the rocker types. Some wanted fitness queens and others scowered the site for redheads with a good grasp of geopolitics.
A few months into the campaign I was still without true love, but fighting the good fight. I had good dates, great dates and amazing dates. As did all my pals. We'd get stood up, dissed and disappointed in turn and process it collectively. We were like The Joy Luck Club for twenty-something sensitive horndogs. We seemed to have encountered everything expect what we were looking for: The One.
One night as I was mindlessly scrolling through the same roster of familiar profile pics something caught my eye. A new face. And not just a new face, but a face that froze my eyes, burst open my heart and sent waves of yummies to my loins. Harlequin2 - the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. (A side-note: I had no idea what a Harlequin was - not that the name itself should have been an immediate tip off that something was awry, but perhaps a more astute and literary fellow would have thought twice before engaging. My only thought at the time? Hey, cool handle. I guess Harlequin1 was taken).
She looked like a mix between Monica Belluci and Selma (just my type). Short, dark and devastatingly handsome. I read through her profile and couldn't believe what I was reading. A die-hard Woody Allen fan. Check. A diehard Radiohead fan. Check. A world traveler. Check. Bi-lingual, poetic, musical, check check check. She was bright and witty, she was emotionally attuned but not overly dripping with headyness. She was grounded, but adventurous. She had it all. I had hit the mother*cking jackpot. The only problem - I was sure everyone else felt the same. I figured this diamond in the rough was probably emailed by more guys per day than Derek Jeter giving away Yankees box seats. Still, I had to try. What is the internet if not the land of hope and opportunity.
I wrote to her from my heart. I wrote to her of all the ways we were uniquely compatible and the extent to which I felt her profile resonated with me. I felt that perhaps I could off-set what I felt might be lacking - especially not looking her male counterpart (think Antonia Sabata Jr. orJFK Jr.) by showering her with my charm and creativity.
It worked. She wrote me back and floored me in the process...
(Fade to Black)
Please tune-in next week for the thrilling conclusion of: Funny Guy's Brutal CATFISH Tail of his Own: A Two Part Mini-Drama