The Match Game

Think before you wink.

By Gina Geppi - March 2014

Riding Solo: March 2014

Think before you wink.

By Gina Geppi - March 2014

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Even though my experience with dating site Plenty of Fish left me feeling more like I was on Shark Week, I reluctantly decided to dip my toe in the online dating pool again. This time, I thought I’d give Match.com a try. At first, I just set up a free profile. (I have always been against the idea of paying to meet someone.) But that really only allows you to view other people’s profiles. You can’t send or read messages, all you can do is “wink” (the Match.com equivalent of a Facebook “poke”). However, if the man you fancy winks back, that’s where the communication ends. (Basically, that’s like going up to a hot guy in a bar, winking at him, and after he winks back, you walk away.)

Obviously, that game of tiddlywinks got old real fast, so on Christmas Eve, of all days, I decided to take the plunge and sign up for a membership. Six months at $20.95 a month, all due at sign up, of course. But at least now I could get past the wink stage!

At first, I was pleasantly surprised. There were guys that were decent looking, with jobs, and profiles that actually told me something about them. And, best of all, these guys were looking for the real deal, offering detailed descriptions of the type of woman they wanted that didn’t include a cup size. No more games, no more drama. Now, let me pause right there to say that I am, of course, not an idiot and recognize that often guys will craft their dating profiles based on what they think women want to hear. Hardly a newsflash to this pro bachelorette!

But let me tell you what has thrown me for a loop during this experience. Rather than finding love, I have somehow become a love doctor to the guys I am meeting on there! No joke! It’s almost like clockwork. Initial conversation is chatty and somewhat flirty, but then, after a few chat sessions (and once they find out I’m the “Riding Solo” girl), the next thing you know, they are taking my philosophies about relationships and gaining insight into their past affairs—which then leads to them asking me for advice on other girls they like . . . yay? I mean, I’ve heard of ending up in the Friend Zone, but have I now invented the Advisor Zone?

The upside to this is that, hopefully, I am helping the men out there learn what women really want and how to treat them. And the guys benefit from unbiased advice from a woman who, even though she writes a dating column, promises not to exploit their confessions to sell magazines. Except for that one guy, Bobby from Pasadena. (Just kidding.)




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