APP-lications

Let’s talk dating apps, shall we? I mean, how much inspirational stuff can I really keep spouting? So I’m on a few apps. Some exclusively Jewish, some not, though I am only interested in dating fellow members of the Tribe. I like the concept; I can peruse at my convenience, and can bounce from any conversation that I know is on the express lane to nowhere. There are a lot of quality people out there, and I see this as just another way to meet someone. I don’t hate on it or think only losers need to resort to this. It’s simply the way of the world right now. I primarily have the life and schedule of a stay at home mom, so it’s not like I’m sitting in Times Square with a sign on my head that says “single and ready to mingle”. Btw, I give all of you permission to call some sort of hotline if you ever see me actually do that one day. Let’s hope I don’t reach that point... 

I like the profiles on these apps; if honest, they provide you with certain basic information that might be relevant. I’m pretty good at reading between the lines. I need to know if you have kids or if you want more (this baby factory is most likely closed). I need to know if you are gainfully employed, if you have hair, or if your photos seem current (major red flag if you’re relying on what is clearly a picture from your “glory days” in college. I can tell by the clothing. Here’s a tip; if your T shirt has California Raisins or says Coed Naked Something, chances are you look like shit right now. This is a crucial detail).

I need to know if we make sense geographically. I’m open to a long distance thing, but it’s really not practical (though I seem to be the belle of the ball amongst the South American and Middle Eastern single male demographic. Who knew???). I need to know if we can laugh our heads off at shared taste in film and comedy, and if we can party at a concert. I need to know if you sound like a snob. If you must be in bed by 10 pm, it ain’t gonna work. I like when guys write about their commitment to fitness, but I can tell when it feels too obsessive based on how many shirtless pictures they put up. I need to know if you are comfortable taking a photo that doesn’t involve sunglasses (you’re fooling no one. Well, you may be, just not this chick). I need to know if you feel your cover photo should include an image of you in a cowboy hat. Or if it includes your mother. Or your kids. The kid thing feels a little emotionally manipulative, not to mention a clear invasion of their privacy. It’s beautiful to be a proud dad. But do you really need total strangers with an agenda seeing your children immediately? Also, if you’re going to rely on your dog to get chicks, at least get in the photo. I’m not looking to adopt a puppy. I kid you not, but one guy actually wrote that his mother died when he was 13, which left him with major mommy issues lol. Um, pass! I’m not sure which part of that statement was most unappealing (yes I am; the lol).

I need to know if you are looking for a “partner in crime”. I don’t know when this became the dating vernacular, but it’s so stupid. I mean, if we are actually going to go on a crime spree, are we dumb enough to advertise it on the internet?? It’s just such a lame description of a relationship, though I have faith I could rock the Bonnie and Clyde look, and my beret collection could use some airtime.

At the risk of sounding superficial, I want to know about your height and your hairline. If you have no pics without hats, that’s not for me. Hey, you want to know what I look like too, Pal. I need to know that you get my random references to movies from the 80’s (I’ve been known to shout them out in a Turrets like fashion. I need you to not pretend to laugh, but to really get it.) I need to know if you can spell and use correct grammar. One app offers to fix your grammar for you, for an extra charge! I find this horrifying; if you write like a Neanderthal I’m entitled to this information. I am an articulate, eloquent woman who got a 710 on her verbal SAT. I can’t date you if you don’t know the difference between they’re, their, and there. Or to, too, and two (for the love of God, one is a number!).

I don’t need to see what you looked like last Halloween; it’s just embarrassing. I don’t need to see pics of you at the gym. Just be real, normal, witty, and honest (and who are we kidding, be hot). Make me laugh from your profile, and we are off to a good start. Share nuanced interests in pop culture that show me you appreciate details and the entertaining minutiae of life. Show me you’re multi dimensional and not a hamster on a wheel in need of a cook. Give me some idea that life with you might be a riot, as well as an oasis. Don’t try to be funny, just be naturally funny. Don’t not tell me your last name but insist on my phone number, once the conversation continues post profile (true story, a few times). Don’t lie to me about your profession (true story as well). Don’t not be traceable online. That’s just unsettling in these modern times, and I have children to protect, as well as myself. Most of us will not match up with each other, and that’s good; it aids the weeding process. I may very well not float your boat either, and that’s cool. Ultimately, I believe wholeheartedly in divine intervention, and that God sends us exactly who and what we need at the right time. If this man will fall on me and flatten me to the ground like we’re in a cartoon, then I’m down with that (great first meet story for the grandkids). I actually want to be knocked over, in the metaphorical sense of course. But if you come at me with some idiotic, uninspired come on line while wearing a cowboy hat, I might need to indeed meet you, so that I can punch you across the face and call it a day.

And, Babe, trust me on this one; if it looks as if you’ve had semi professional photos taken for this purpose, that’s a major OY. The Sears background makes me want to jump off a bridge, not get to know you. 

I do find the outright creepy stuff to be super amusing. Legit, some of these profiles may as well say, “I like coffee, travel, wine tastings, chloroform, and duct tape”. Many thanks to the dudes who just let their criminally dubious freak flag fly; honestly is literally the best policy here. One guy, in his initial message, offered to give me a massage in the bowels of rural Pennsylvania. It was a real shame that I had a dental checkup that day; it sounded super appealing and not at all like the last day of my life!