Funny profile on dating site
Apparently, on Ok Cupid, you’re allowed to be a harassing perv, but under no circumstances can you pretend you’re a dead poet.
I kept reposting the images anyway, and people kept reporting me. Eventually, I got tired of this merry-go-round and added a disclaimer to my profile: That seemed to help, although several people told me that the disclaimer made the whole thing “less funny.”But even with all the haters, Emily was not hurting for suitors.
I don't know why, I don't know how, I only know that I was at the supermarket one fine morning, minding my own business, when suddenly I came face to face with "the sun-dried plum." I will tell you right now that I'm a fan of the prune—particularly when it's in Danish form—but the prune was clearly not selling.
For the prune to turn heads (not to mention meet a nice guy, move to the suburbs, and have a couple of baby prunes) it needed a fresh marketing strategy.
Which brings us to today's subject: the online dating profile.
I've got a number of brilliant, beautiful, frank, funny friends, all capable of remarkable things, but writing an enticing online profile does not seem to be one of them. Some people offer their services in soup kitchens, some volunteer to shampoo crude oil off of sad, gooey pelicans; I rewrite online dating profiles.
It all started when my pal Paula asked me to figure out why she wasn't getting a response to her JDate ad. " What I get is that we all want to be loved for exactly who we are. " It wasn't long before news that I'd taken Paula's profile from drab to fab spread far and wide (okay, a couple of people in Brooklyn heard). I've seen the dumb, the dull, and the klutzy; the bitter, the brazen, and the too cute by half.
I didn't have to read beyond her opening sentence—"I like the library! All the exclamation points in the world couldn't save that line. But surely there's a juicier way to bring up your literary fetish. I've studied strangers on the Web and friends at my kitchen table, and here's what I've learned: Let's review—the key to this whole online profile thing is really quite simple: Be direct while maintaining an air of mystery; be modest while flaunting what you've got; be flexible while explaining what you need, while keeping it brief and making it flirty and not getting cute; and be yourself, only more so, only not so much more so that you exaggerate, intimidate, or irritate.
It was obvious that she didn’t fit in with the cool kids. At first, I found it curious, but after a while, I realized that Emily’s experience was merely an extension of the Ok Cupid experience in general. When we create a profile, we’re projecting a certain type of image. Well, she was famous, for one thing, and dead for another. Men do tend to fetishize famous dead women, especially if the woman in question has a head full of neuroses. If most modern men met these women in real life, they would call them crazy, but somehow, in the safety of death, they become worthy.
He thanked me, but then I never heard from him again.
Then, right before I deactivated my account, a guy I knew from my real Ok Cupid profile “liked” my Emily page. He wrote back, “You are so messed up.”I rest my case.
We laughed, and then went on discussing our own dating disasters.
For the next week or so, I went about my business as usual, but this Emily Dickinson idea wouldn’t go away. It would be an interesting art project, if nothing else.Did these men think the 19th-century photographs of Emily Dickinson I had posted were images of an actual living, breathing woman? Or were they just so desperate for sex or companionship that they emailed every profile they came across? They didn’t know my age, my weight, my gender, nothing.