Darth Dateable II: Lord of the Match

Dateable, you are...but dateable, are they?

I once stalked the Dol while she was on a date. She had a date with a guy, whom she had met online, as opposed to in real life, who was maybe a physicist. I knew they were going to meet at our favorite brewery. The Dol, it seems, didn't realize that giving me this information could potentially lead to a violation of privacy.

Perhaps she expected the future Mr. Poppins to exercise enough discretion for both of us.

That didn't happen.

I talked Mr. Poppins into a table in the bar area where I hid, with far more drama than was wholly called for, behind a large pillar and stole glances at the Dol and the back of her date's head. She smiled a lot. I thought she was having a good time. Mr. Poppins begged to differ. He thought her face was about to crack from the stress of maintaining an interested facade.

Mr. Poppins was right.

Why on earth, you might ask, would I follow the Dol on a date? It seems so out of character for an INTJ. I mean, my people value and respect privacy. We really do. But this was different. I was invested. You see, this date was a direct result of my meddling.

Let's back up a little.

A week or so earlier, I enlisted Mr. Poppins' help in setting up a profile on Match.com. Before you jump to conclusions, Mr. Poppins and I do not have an open relationship. The profile was for the Dol because the Dol was not cooperating, and really, people, I had no intention of letting her derail a perfectly good plan.

The plan? Oh:

I wanted to marry Mr. Poppins and have a baby Poppins but my rosy vision for the future involved synchronizing my pregnancy with the Dol so that we could spawn either BFF's or an arranged marriage, and in order to do that, the Dol was going to need a solvent baby-daddy, preferably one she could be happy waking up next to every day for the rest of her natural life. And she was going to have to do it soon because my biological clock was ticking like a gong.

So, yeah, I posed as the Dol and put up a profile. And then I called the Dol to tell her I needed a recent digital photo but did not say why. She told me she was thinking about giving internet dating another try. I told her it was her lucky day and relayed her profile password.

I'm proud of the password:

ShortyBangBang

You should have seen Mr. Poppins' face when I had him key it into the profile. Heh.

Anyway, the Dol was on notice: it was match making time.

(I really missed my calling when I wasn't born an eighty-year-old yenta.)

Anyway, it didn't take terribly long before the Dol met a man who was not a podiatrist. This last bit is important because for months, the Dol's father kept referring to him as The Podiatrist and this is patently false. The man is a pediatrician, which I took as a sign from Hank that the synchronized pregnancies were just the beginning of a happy future for me. I mean, seriously, I pride myself on my ability to plan a perfect future in excruciatingly precise detail but even I, in my wildest dreams, did not have the foresight to conjure a pediatrician husband for the Dol.

Wow.

If the Dol hadn't married the BabyDoc, I would have had to abduct him and keep him tied up in my guestroom closet "just in case," because really: a pediatrician.

Wow.

It was like my birthday and Christmas all rolled into one. Seriously.

So, the Dol went on a bad date with the maybe-a-physicist guy. But then she had another date. A secret location date that I was only given the vaguest time table for lest I be tempted to follow her. And that date was the BabyDoc and the rest is a wedding and too much wine. And, honestly, I'm really happy for BabyDoc that it worked out that way because I would have felt a little bad keeping such a nice guy locked in my guestroom closet.

Can you imagine? True love and happiness? Because I meddled. I get the distinct impression that the universe created a bad precedent there and I've been itching to try it again but, well, Bookgirl won't let me, and by that, I mean every time I mention it she claims to be already doing it and so derails my masterplan.

So, that leaves unsuspecting strangers.

And it's simple, people, really it is:

First you put up a profile, better yet, have your best friend put up a profile for you, that way you've got a something to edit into acceptability rather than trying to create something from whole cloth.

Second, post at least three pictures, flattering but not heavily photoshopped pictures. One of the pictures should be taken outside. I don't know why but the Dol and I always clicked on profiles with outdoor photos. Also, and this is important, none of the pictures should have a sliver of some ex-whoever's face in them. I don't care if it's actually a friend of a sibling. Once the other person is cropped out, they become a mistake.

Third, have a canned response to all of the people who are 95-99% compatible with you. Do not look at their profiles, do not dream up imaginary futures. Just send the email: Hi, I saw your profile. Here's a link to mine. I look forward to hearing from you.

It is important not to look at the profiles. Really. Because if you get ten responses out of a hundred, you will be jazzed to get ten responses but if the one person you have decided is the other half of the DNA you are passing along to your children does not respond, you will be depressed. Be kind to yourself, people: don't look at the profiles.

Next, once you get response emails, then and only then should you actually look at the profiles. Only if you would rather drink a glassful of bar-rag squeezins than have coffee with the person, do you NOT arrange to meet for the aforementioned coffee. Seriously. Because we all know how your type worked out in the past, so let's keep an open mind.

Fourth, if the coffee date works out, then keep going. If it doesn't, send a short, polite: I'm glad we made the effort to meet, but I don't think we're a match (à la Big Boom).

Finally, if it fizzles after having worked out for a while, then go back to step one. Seriously. As many times as it takes.

Comments

[Liz]

So, are Secret Lulu and Little Miss Dol close in age?

[The Dol]

Hoo, boy! That was funny. Polly really is extremely good with relationship advice. I have actually referred people to her who were perfect strangers (to her) because I knew she would set them straight.

Liz, Secret Lulu and Little Miss Dol are very close in age. Little Miss Dol is just a wee bit older, but just by a few months. Enough so that, by the time Secret Lulu was born, Mr. Dol and I were getting enough sleep to answer her daily phone calls regarding poop. There are so many funny stories there that I just won't even start.

[BabyDoc]

I just wanted to let you know Polly that when Pediatricians are certified, the state board implants a Lojack like device under the skin near the olecranon. I get kidnapped all the time. Mostly, the SWAT team has me home in time for dinner. I am going to have to get those guys some really nice gift baskets for Christmas.

Seriously though, I am forever in your debt for helping the Dol snag me. You have a free pass for unlimited advice on poop.

[Bookgirl]

Dating like it's work like that just sounds like, well... work. But this is it. I'm stating it publicly so I can't back out. You post a profile for me, and I'll go out with anyone you tell me to. You're so sure your dating advice is good? Let's put it to the test. My love life is putty in your hands. Mold it. I'll even blog about it.

[Bookgirl]

Oh, sweet mother of Christ. What did I just do???

[Polly Poppins]

Oh Bookgirl, if you could hear the chuckling over here...

And BabyDoc, you shouldn't tell people about the Lojack. Now when people abduct you, they'll know to look for it, and while I'm no expert, I have to assume that could get, well, uncomfortable. And imagine the hardship on me if we couldn't get you home in time for poop questions.