I set up an RSVP account last night. I’d like to say it was just for fun; a social experiment or an experiential pastime…but if I did say that, I’d be leaving out a big part of the truth.
The truth is that, well, sometimes I get lonely. There, I’ve said it. Sigh. It’s the kind of loneliness that you’re not aware of most of the time because you’re distracted by the rest of your life. But it occasionally manifests itself in your gut like an indigestible mass of rice-starch after a big yummy meal at one of those cheap restaurants off China Town. Sometimes it’s more of an ache, and you can’t figure out why it’s there. Did I eat something bad? Am I stressed about that essay? Ah, that’s right, we’ve been here before. It’s loneliness.
Gemma hovered by my side as I worked on my profile description, giving me advice on when I sounded like an idiot. It’s hard to be honest and still give a good impression of myself. It’s hard to say what I believe without sounding trite and clichéd. I worried that what I was writing was a caricature of myself – a flattering cartoon image, if that’s at all possible. I sound fun and quirky, full of colour and soul. Anything vaguely negative that I write about myself is carefully placed to be balanced by a more overwhelming positive, and inserted for the purpose of making me sound fallible and thus, perhaps, more attractive.
There is nothing overtly dishonest in what I write…what feels unreal is in the very nature of what is a profile – a snapshot taken from a particularly attractive angle, like the photos we post of ourselves on Facebook. I would say ‘like the photo I uploaded that accompanies my profile on RSVP’, only I don’t really like my RSVP picture. It was one of the only ones I had of myself, and gets me on a funny angle.
Despite my reservations, the kisses came in thick and fast – these virtual flirtations stacking up in my inbox like unfinished drinks at a bar. My immediate response was panic. Do I have to talk to all these people? Most of them seemed completely inappropriate. Gemma and I sat cross-legged on my bed, giggling as we sifted through the pile of profiles from lonely men.
if u make me smile once...ill make u smile twice. no discounts. only double deals… I own a ship...friendship....safe to travel...will never sink in the sea...planning to own 1more...relationship... anyone wanna come for a ride?...
"Hmm, no thanks."
I am a hard working and committed gentlemen who works for a small chartered accounting firm in the CBD. I working in the Taxation, which may sound BORING to most people..
i am very fascinated by the quantum interactions that occur on the sub atomic level, sadly it is a topic that i can spend days discussing but i shall spare you the tedium of a long winded speech about the wonders of string and membrane theorems...lol
“He’s got to be kidding.”
We scanned through the profiles the way we run our fingers across the ‘best and worst dressed’ in the MX, sniggering at them for their sin of making themselves known and vulnerable. I cast them aside with the polite auto-reject of “Thanks for your kiss but I don’t think it would work between us.” Clearing them from my inbox and my life, I felt in control again.
Like a beautiful woman sitting alone in a bar full of men, I don’t pursue. To be able to send ‘kisses’ you have to pay $14.90 a month; each email conversation you open costs $9.99. So far I haven’t paid a cent – I let them come to me. Seems that the online dating world isn’t so dissimilar from the real world.
One man started an email conversation with me, deeming me worthy of his $9.99 ‘stamp’. He declared that my profile reminded him of a girl he’d once adored, but lost contact with. Seems that he’s pursuing me to live a dream with another woman he thought was long dead. I don’t know why he told me that, but to tell the truth, when I read that statement, I didn’t mind. I was kind of flattered, actually, that he liked me.
We emailed back and forth, and he wanted to catch up. I said, “Sure, why not?” I don’t really know much about him (he likes reading and LOVES to travel, apparently), but I guess I’ll find out more on Saturday. That’s when we’re meeting for lunch.
We’ll see if this RSVP thing fixes my loneliness problem. Somehow I doubt it…although it could prove a very useful distraction.