The Joplin Globe, Joplin, MO

Globe Life

March 11, 2007

Anne Kettenbrink: Translating online personals

Wanted: One good man. Preferably between the ages of 50 and 70 (unless you’re 84 and have millions). Should like dancing and the theater, but still be straight. Can like fishing and hunting, as long as you don’t expect the woman to come along.

No, this man is not for me. That’s a whole other subject. This man is for my aunt.

My aunt and cousin came to visit their family last weekend, and I scored an invitation to dinner and board games.

Little did I know that the evening would devolve into martinis and online dating.

See, my aunt has been widowed for six years. She’s not the sort to mope around and feel sorry for herself, but she’s not 25, either. Dating is not that easy when the last time you had a date, Lyndon Johnson was in office.

So, she acquiesced to filling out a profile online.

It’s a dangerous world online.

There are a lot of subtleties to think about. Now, there are a lot of subtleties involved in any relationship (or so I hear), but they are exacerbated when people are relying only on the written word.

First of all, when you fill out a profile, they want to know all this inconsequential information about you. Why do they honestly expect women to put how much they weigh? There’s an option to keep how much you earn secret, but for some reason, you are forced to pick a number for your weight. As Aunt Nancy said, “Obviously made by a man.”

The thing is, weight could say a lot about a person.

1. 80 pounds: “I am starving,” or “I picked this one because it’s the lowest number and you can look at my picture and guess.”

2. The actual number: “Respect me because I’m willing to tell the truth,” or “The truth will set me free, and you won’t send me an online wink.”

3. A number close to the actual truth: “Go ahead, ask me how much I actually weigh when we meet.”

We really had to think about every little thing that went into the profile. We had to analyze how other people would view our choices and make assumptions.

For instance, we couldn’t click any water sports or activities, because a man might get the idea that Aunt Nancy would be willing to wear a bathing suit.

We didn’t want to click that she was looking for intimate encounters because, well, that just looks bad.

Once we were finally finished overthinking our profile, we moved on to translating the men’s profiles.

Some of the easier ones to translate included:

* The 60-year-old man who put that he wanted more kids.

“Well, he’s not looking for anyone my age, then, is he?” Aunt Nancy deciphered.

* The guy who, instead of saying that he was looking for friendship or a relationship or marriage, had chosen to mark only the box for “intimate encounters.”

* The fellow who looked pretty good in his profile picture, until we clicked on his profile and there were two more pictures. One that looked like the first, and one that looked like the first but 28 years older. Apparently, he had a sudden attack of honesty when he was posting the third picture.

* The suave dude whose profile picture showed him reclining on what appeared to be a bed. Until we determined it to be a pull-out couch.

In a motel.

If you know any eligible bachelors in the St. Louis area, Aunt Nancy asks that you e-mail me their info. Especially if they’re 84 and have millions.



Address correspondence to Anne E. Kettenbrink, c/o The Joplin Globe, P.O. Box 7, Joplin, Mo. 64802, or via e-mail, akettenbrink@joplinglobe.com.

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