old high way of love

Hi M—, I hope you’re well. Match offered me an additional free week so I thought I’d message you again before it ended today to see if you’re still interested in chatting, as I haven’t heard from you. No doubt you have plenty of suitors, but not all of them are, to use your own words, as “interesting and expressive.”

And Lord, you’re no slouch yourself: in addition to being absolutely ravishing, you seem awesome. And although I’m not really religious, I believe working with cancer patients is really doing God’s work. I am really impressed by that, in particular. I’m sure you are great at what you do.

Have a great Memorial day weekend! Mine will be spent in Vegas, which ought to be interesting…

Hope you’re well! It appears, at least from my window where I’m writing, the weather may have turned. I can’t say I’m not glad: drear does grind one down a bit. Anyway, I haven’t heard from you, so I wasn’t sure if you still wanted to talk. I’m leaving Match on Sunday, and as the old service has a tricky way of converting e-mail addresses, I thought I should send mine again, a little more slyly this time.

I hope I didn’t do anything wrong. You really do seem like an awesome woman. I’m afraid I never really did get the hang of online dating, but I’m at least a little awesome myself.

In any event, thanks for chatting! I hope to hear from you, but if not, of course no hard feelings. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding something, here or elsewhere.

Between Betty and Veronica, was there really any competition? No, of course not, as you yourself amply demonstrate. Ronnie, as I believe she went by those who knew her well, always had Betty beat, whoever got that slouch Archie, in the end. For contrary to the old 40s film, gentlemen prefer brunettes, not blondes, because they are, as we should all know by now, the best. In that way, it makes many of the most pressing choices from our cultural moment blissfully unnecessary—Jolie or Aniston, Kunis or Portman a la Black Swan, Ciara or Ri-Ri, we need not choose. In all seriousness, despite the fact we only share a 10% match quotient (based on what, I can only imagine) and I am nothing save a ghost in the machine, I wanted to say that, in addition to being absolutely gorgeous—and having gorgeous friends—you are also, I am inclined to believe, a woman of simplicity, quirkiness, and perhaps even a kind of earnest enthusiasm.

If nothing else, the line “I like to travel and eat good food, like most people” is a welcome corrective, and perhaps slight reproof, to all the profiles that carry on and on about the person’s adventurous and refined eating choices, as well as their love of travel, that made me laugh, stop, and smile. So darling, you may—like an object in a rearview mirror—appear larger from a distance, but there is nothing, except for size, that is small about you. Seriously: you are, at the absolute minimum, what we in the business call a stone cold fox. I’m not so much the huntsman, and certainly not the hound, so much as I am the horn that makes the simple and plain acknowledgment of the fact.

Forgive me for taking the liberty of addressing you with an endearment, but DARLING, there is nothing uncool about you: like the era your username is a throwback to, you are awfully swell—and, to crib a little more from that era, an honest-to-God tall drink of water. By that I simply mean, cool, clear, refreshing! And yes, of course, gorgeous. Lord.

I’m going to be in San Francisco for a couple of weeks in about a week for a wedding/vacation, so a little unable to sleep, I decided to search the place I’ll be wandering around and writing in and stumbled upon you, and I’d LOVE to hang out, if you’re around and I’m cool enough to hang. (I am?)

I know you have offers every day, from dudes perhaps cooler, but we can talk about literature! Classic films! art house films! New York! Indie rock! Our shared aversion to the outdoors! I think yours is the first profile I have ever seen make that admission. THANK YOU.

If nothing else, even a rejection from you would be nice. Seriously.

Hi there! I got in touch with you a while back because you seem outgoing, driven, smart, and let’s face it, you’re tall and gorgeous. 5’11”—are you serious?? I’m sure I got lost in the shuffle, or didn’t make the cut, but if you reconsider—or I don’t get lost in the shuffle this time around—I’d love to hear from you. At the very least, I wanted to thank you for not only reading my message, but also giving my profile a look.

Hello, old friend! And by old friend, I mean person I messaged a few times without receiving any reply because I thought she might have been interested and I don’t mind being at least a little persistent. Haha, oh brother—who is this guy?? This guy is actually excellent, and if you ever reconsider, or wish simply to exchange war stories, drop me a line

Hi there! I’m not sure why we stopped chatting, but I’m sorry we did! You seem great, and you’re obviously gorgeous. If you reconsider and would like to chat some more, even get a drink sometime, you can reach me here.

Haha, this is all assuming you even remember exchanging messages with me.

Hi there! You’re French, you’re a scientist, and despite the fact I’m pursuing an advanced degree in English, I don’t care one bit about non-perfect English. Who knows, chatting with me even improve yours…In all seriousness, I got in touch with you a while back and I wanted to say thank you for not only reading my message but also looking at my profile. On the off chance my message was lost amongst the million you probably receive, or you reconsider, here’s my e-mail.

Hi there, I have no idea why I haven’t e-mailed you before now: you seem intelligent, serious, and kind. I love your statement “I enjoy living, and I want to do as much as possible in my lifetime.” And now I’m on the verge of leaving Match!

Ah well, allow me to introduce myself: my name is M, I’m a graduate student, and I, too, am intelligent, serious, and kind person who finds it is hard to meet people. If you’d be at all interested in chatting and you get this message when I have left the service, you can reach me here

Hi there! I had hoped to hear from you. I mean, you have great style, a wonderful smile, are good with animals, teach, and are gorgeous! But I wanted to thank you for reading my message and giving my profile a look over all the same. I’m leaving Match this weekend, my subscription coming to an end, so if you reconsider (please do!), please be in touch here:With the exception of being gorgeous (haha, I’ll leave that to you to decide), the same things I noted about you are true of me.

Oh, and Ian McEwan is the writer; Ian McKellen is the actor.

There’s an appealing candor, an undisguised enthusiasm, and something even a little brassy, albeit gently so, evident in your tone. Your sense of style (though black, not purple, is your color); your smile that slays worlds; your enviable ability to book and Mirandize hardened criminals—I’m guessing you’re not a cop, but we’ll go with that anyway—all do you credit. I haven’t stepped foot in a gym in years and am not likely to start anytime soon, but I do know what a gluten free diet entails (and I can pinpoint the precise moment when I learned), whatever points that will grant me in your estimation, and more important than either, or indeed anything else I have said, claptrap from beginning to end I’m afraid, is that you are a heartbreaker, through and through. No, in credit to your background (and with deference to mine): a sonnet from the Portuguese.

Take care, lady, and good luck on here—you don’t need it, but you have mine, all the same.

Lord, some don’t know when to quit, do they? Actually, it is precisely because I am quitting—Match anyway—that I wanted to drop one more line in your direction, on the remotely off chance the hook caught.

I like your smile; I like the fact you have tired of the bar scene; I like the fact, despite being active, you don’t require your partner to be so; I like the fact you are looking for someone (and something) substantial. I am, if nothing else, substantial, and while I may also seem slightly off-hinged, sending messages to you that garner no reply, I am “a nice, normal dude,” scout’s honor. 

You have plenty of options—and plenty more convenient—but do keep me in mind. I’d be happy just to learn a little more about you. Do you like being a paralegal, for example? Or do you have other career ambitions? Do you have any plans this summer? What do you think of R—? If you’d be interested in answering these questions, or posing any of your own to me, here’s my e-mail.

If not, no hard feelings, of course—and good luck!

Lord in Heaven, the quasi-poetic headline; the green dress; the willowy frame, the freewheeling and footloose energy apparent in all of your pictures and in your profile writ large; even the tattoos I admire! And you’re an air traffic controller, for Pete’s sake! Lord, I am so stunned I used the expression for Pete’s sake! In all seriousness, you are a stone cold fox and, more important, a spitfire. So I doff my cap to you as deeply as it can be doffed.

What were you doing in Austin, besides being ridiculously gorgeous and spirited? How did you become an air traffic controller? Just tell me anything, seriously. Even being rejected, with an actual rejection, rather than the silence that passes for such on here, would be an honor, quite frankly.

At any rate, my name is M— and you can color me impressed! I hope to hear from you, of course, but if not, take care! And, on behalf of my gender, don’t break too many hearts.

Your profile is funny! And you, accordingly, seem more fun than any person has the right to be. Cliches of this slightly odd place aside, everything I am reading is absolutely excellent: from the background in Creative Writing to the obsession with Childish Gambino (SUNRISE was my JAM for a while), from the Margaret Atwood to the political commitments you uphold, and much more besides—you are indeed WINNING. Shit. I really have nothing else to say besides that, but you can be damn sure that if lived ten miles away, rather than one hundred, I’d ask you out in a heartbeat.

All I can do, alas, is recommend a book: NEVER LET ME GO by Kazuo Ishiguro, to be precise. If you haven’t read it, do so as soon as possible—if it doesn’t devastate you, you have no soul. I read the novel in a day, and watched the film adaptation (not bad, but not great either), the day after. I know you like your TV to lighten the mood, and so perhaps, your books, too, though knowing Atwood (but not that particular book), I can’t imagine “Alias Grace” was particularly cheerful, but give it a try anyway. You won’t be disappointed. It will, as Emerson said of Whitman, “fortify and encourage.” Yes, I’m one of THOSE people. Sigh…