Tonight on Plenty of Fish, I have clicked on about two dozen profiles and sent - or tried to send - two messages. Of the profiles I didn't reply to, perhaps six of them had terminal spelling mistakes ("to" for "too," "definatly" - things of that sort); a few of them had interests I cannot get my head around (because I cannot see myself ever dating a woman who lists "golf", "4X4ing," or "UFC" as interests, however much I tell myself to keep an open mind); and the rest I was blocked from sending messages to by various filters in place on their profiles ("must not have messaged users for intimate encounters or sex," for instance; sigh). I did make an exception to my usual snobbery and send a friendly message, recommending the excellent Canadian film about LARPing, The Wild Hunt, to a woman in New West who listed the SCA as an interest - because I figured she'd dig it, and because I can no longer rationalize holding the SCA in bemused contempt now that I participate in Zombiewalks occasionally, since, howevermuch cooler the latter appears to me, both are essentially mass dress-up activities. In fact, I was able to imagine myself liking this woman - except I ran into the PoF GLITCH that manifests itself occasionally: you send a message to someone, apparently successfully, but it is never copied to your "sent messages" folder, which means that they haven't received it. So in fact, I couldn't get through. Sigh.
The other woman I sent a message to was a young local woman who I thought I could have some entertaining online banter with, despite our obvious age differences - except I discovered on clicking "send" that she had filters in place blocking people older than a certain age. (Wouldn't it have been nice to have been told that before spending fifteen minutes composing a witty message?). I also checked on a few messages I sent last night, while online: two were read, and ignored; one was the classic "unread deleted;" and one remains unread, after 24 hours have passed.
I remain dateless. Maybe I should get cable?
1 comment:
This is a warning I always entrust upon my male friends: if she collects unicorns, run! It's a bad sign.
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