It’s a new year and you knew I was looking for love. You played on my girlish fantasies when you promised me that if I joined eHarmony, you would “make the fireworks begin.” You knew how lonely I’ve been, so you knew what buttons to push to make me whip out my credit card and pony up $19.95 a month to help me find a great relationship with “someone who truly understands me.” You told me that with just 10 minutes of my time, I might become one of the 600,000+ people you helped get married. That’s less time than I spend on a Brazilian wax. “What could go wrong?” you asked.
Well, here’s what went wrong. I used your new tool, “The Two of You Together.” You remember, the tool that ranks my matches for compatibility? I said I wanted a man who likes art and long walks on the beach. I said I wanted someone who was athletic because I’m in the Marine Corps and spend a lot of time on PT. Imagine my surprise when Brick texted me: “Babe. You. Me. Tonight. I got the reefer if you bring the PBR.” Is this some kind of a joke? We have mandatory drug testing. And, can you imagine me taking him to the Marine Corps Ball? I have buddies who died fighting for this guy? eHarmony, the two of us will never be together. Ever.
But, you told me 16 percent of all people meet online, so I put another 10 minutes into my profile. I shared that I usher at church every Sunday. I wrote about how I love my big family reunions and hope to have a family of my own one day. I wrote about my favorite foods: fresh squeezed orange juice, carrots, and cheddar cheese. You matched me with Sri Sri Deva Pati, formerly known as Bobby from the Bronx. How did he make it past your screening? Yes, he was polite. He called me ma’am. He told me, “The only way you can conquer me is through love.” Seriously? I could conquer his ass in 60 seconds flat. But, he wasn’t looking to date me, he wanted to show me Krishna Consciousness and convert me. Isn’t there a rule against that?
I found the refund button, but you seduced me with your statistics. You help marry 438 people a day, accounting for 4 percent of all marriages in America. I got 800 on my SAT math, so I really should have asked if that is 438 couples or 438 people, which would only be 219 couples. So, I took another 10 minutes to add to my profile. I talked about how my time at the Naval Academy had really built character in me. I mentioned that it was humor that got us through the rough days in Baghdad and that I love Amy Schumer. I listed my favorite songs. I posted pictures of my dog. I was doing my part. You really needed to deliver this time. Paul “call me crocodile” Dundee flunked out of college, majoring in zoology. He played Chuck E. Cheese for three years before marrying his love of animals with his acting abilities to work as the chief ostrich wrangler at the local zoofari. Seriously, where do you get these people? I could do better at the burger joint at the outlet mall.
I was done. I hit the refund button. I filled out the information and the dissatisfaction survey. I was about to hit, “Yes, delete my account” when I heard that ping. Curiosity got the best of me. And, then I got it. I understood your formula for making marriages work: three duds + desperation = dating. Dating + dread of duds = Marriage. Don’t get me wrong, Seamus McSeamus is kind of cute and he does hit some key compatibility points. But, only at eHarmony could three wrongs make a Mr. Right.
Sincerely, MSgt. Sarah “Sully” O’Sullivan, USMC
Gretchen Martens is a DCH graduate who performs with Been There Done That and Brain Wearing Pants. When she’s not working as an executive coach and trainer, she writes satire for her blog www.PotatoNationUSA.com. She is finishing her first play, sanINity, an irreverent look at losing a loved one to mental illness.