The dentist who won't date me

It was Friday night dinner the other week, and my cousin's girlfriend Heidi was determined to make me a Yahoo personals ad, because that's how you find love. She kept snapping unflattering photos of me during dinner. I am really not into searching for relationships on the internet. I have a hard enough time trying to act not awkward in real life; I don't think I could handle trying to act outgoing to complete strangers on-line. Plus, I totally judge people on their spelling and punctuation. It's one of my many faults.

Anyway, so when our dinner crew got back to my sister's house, Heidi pulled out Jess' laptop and started typing away. She asked me for my stats. I tried to humor her. "Well, how about...250 pound woman seeks rich bazillionaire to dote on her hand and foot." Heidi laughed but continued to pester me for real information. After about ten minutes I discovered she was actually on Match.com making me a profile. This made me really mad, because like I want my face plastered on a site where forty-five year old bearded and divorced men try to win over twenty-somethings with the promise of a stable life. As Mercedes from Glee would say, "hell to the no." Heidi asked me what I wanted my username to be.

Choosing a username for an internet dating website is a lot like selecting a name for your first born child. You have to think of the vibe that name is going to give off. She suggested I use my nickname of Jojo, but then I told her I would prefer my username to be Heidi. Since you know, she was the one making the profile, not me. Again, she asked what I wanted to be called. "Jessamy," I said. My sister opened her mouth to protest.

Then Heidi made me go through all these really lame questions, like what type of animals do you want your date to have? Like I care. You can like any animal you want, just don't expect me to clean its cage. When Heidi asked me what "my sign" was, I replied that it was hexagonal, red, and said STOP. I mean, do the stars really have to align in order for things to work out?

"Can't we just stop?" I whined. "Can't we just search for hot guys without making a profile?" Heidi was pushing for profile completion, but she finally entered some search criteria so we could pull up some faces. Search results showed zero findings. "What?" I said. "There are no guys ages 21 to 30 who do not smoke, aren't divorced, and don't have kids?" Because I mean really, welcome to my life. Then I noticed Heidi had the search radius on ten miles. Like you are going to find anybody within ten miles of my zip code who I haven't already seen at Winco buying Doritos and beer on a Friday night.

After a bit of revising, we found some faces. Heidi kept clicking on all these guys that I was not attracted to whatsoever. "Look, this one's so cute," she'd say. But the guy in the photo would more or less look like Jason, who is Heidi's boyfriend and my cousin. The only difference was the nose and a different colored flannel shirt. And I mean, that's fine. I'm glad Heidi thinks her boyfriend is hot stuff. But I don't want to go on a date with anyone who looks like my cousin. Then Heidi would pull up these really skinny guys who wore glasses. And glasses can be hot, they really can be. But they can also be really nerdy. "This guy looks like someone you would like," she'd say. "WHAT?" I'd reply. And she'd say "Yeah, he's kind of nerdy. You like the nerdy type." I got even more riled up and said, "I do not. Just because I got straight As in high school does not mean I want to date a geek." I'm sorry if you are offended. Nerds can be cute, and they usually end up making big bucks, if you care about that sort of thing. And they can be really, really useful. Everyone should have a couple of nerd friends. I just don't want to go on a date with a guy who weighs less than me and has no athletic ability. I mean, think of our poor kids. I'm already not coordinated. We don't need to create a whole nother generation of children who can't dribble a basketball and get picked last in gym class.

After much pleading, Heidi finally clicked on the photo of a guy that I actually thought was hot. She had much disdain for him. "Him? Are you serious?" And it was because he was a pretty boy with a tan, white v-neck tee, and trendy hair. I wasn't drawn to him because of his beautifulness, I just really liked his teeth. They were all paper white and straight like a picket fence, and he had dimples when he smiled. Heidi clicked on him and was like "he's totally gay," which is not the first time this has happened to me. I have had crushes on at least four guys who I later became unsure of their sexual preference. One of them turned out to actually be gay. Oh man, this reminds me of another good story I wrote called "He's Not Gay After All."

And okay, I guess I have terrible luck. So what if I like guys who wear something other than plaid shirts and Levi's and own more than two pairs of shoes? Maybe I like it when a man doesn't just have army cut hair. I still want a guy who can open jars and fix things. I want him to like sports and know more about cars than me, and not shave his legs. But if he writes poetry or plays the violin or reads classical literature, I'm fully going to embrace it.

Anyway, Heidi and I click on this hot man's profile, I skim quickly, then yell "SEE HEIDI, SEE!!! He's a complete winner." And he was. He had just graduated from dental school, did not smoke, had no kids, had not ever been married, played the guitar, and wrote about how he loved Jesus and his relationship with God was very important to him. He was a total ten. Heidi started to get all giddy and excited for me, like maybe this guy was actually planning on asking me out tomorrow, right after he got done pulling some teeth or putting on a crown.

And I mean, I have never even had a cavity in my life, I floss everyday, plus I have a very good relationship with my current dentist. No fear here. I just knew my zest for healthy gums would win over this man.

Only, wait a minute. I am so not paying thirty bucks or whatever so that I can message people on Match.com. Why buy the account when you can poke on Facebook for free? Mwhaha. I kid you though. This is not going anywhere. Heidi, I didn't tell you this because I was fearful of your wrath, but Saturday morning I deleted that account you made of me. I don't want my face plastered on Match.com. Maybe I'm too idealistic, but I don't want my love story to be "We met on a dating website." I think that I have waited long enough that I deserve to meet someone in person.

Or you know, if he wanted to fall in love with me through my writing and contact me to say something along the lines of "I check your blog everyday. I don't want you to think I am a stalker, but I've actually printed out some of your stories. I think you are amazing, can I take you on a date?" I wouldn't say no. I'd do some preliminary detective work first, of course, to make sure he's not a creeper. But hey, if you want to fall in love with me because you can see who I am through my words, go ahead. I'll try not to break your heart.

So Heidi? You want my stats? You want my info for an on-line dating profile? Here ya go. Twenty-five year old woman writer seeks man who does not smoke, is not divorced, loves God, and has no children (unless you have a really pathetically sad story like your wife died of cancer and left you with a one year old baby, in which case Nicholas Sparks has probably already written a book about you). I don't want you to propose tomorrow. I might not even want to talk to you every day. I want you to keep it in your pants. Sorry if that's a problem, but your problem is not going to become my problem. I don't want you to try to impress me with the things that you can buy. Instead, impress me with how much of your life you give up. Contact me whenever. I'm good at waiting--but someone else may beat you to me. I like orchids, milk chocolate, and coded notes.