I HATE ONLINE dating. Which is odd, since there are multiple reasons why I should be the poster child for the online dating movement:

1. I’m really hilarious online, often much wittier than I am IRL. I’ve closed many a dating deal via Twitter, G-Chat, or even Facebook Chat (which is a very underrated flirting tool).

2. I’m a huge nerd (I mean, did you just read the above sentence?)! I LOVE the Internet. I join almost every new social media network that pops up. I spend most of my time on the Internet. I wish I could date the Internet.

3. I have a frustrating tendency to only date people I already know, or know though close friends. It’s a long-standing running joke among my friends that I’m incapable of dating outside of my social circle.

So about a year ago, prompted by general malaise and the fact that I had just run into THREE of my ex-boyfriends at the same birthday party, I made an OKCupid account.

It was horrible.

Okay, at first it was fun. I highly enjoyed writing about my favorite novels, “Top 5 Things I’d Need On A Desert Island,” and “What I’m Usually Doing on Friday Night.” Who doesn’t like writing about herself? I devoted a substantial amount of time to constructing the perfect profile, starting with a lengthy inner debate regarding prospective profile photos. It made me nervous to show my face; what if one of my friends recognized me? Then s/he would – gasp – know I joined OkCupid! The obvious fact that s/he would have to also be an OKCupid member did not assuage my concerns about appearing pathetic.

I finally chose a photo of myself holding a Nintendo 64 controller in front of my face. That way you couldn’t identify me, but my hair looked really nice and you could tell I was awesome because I played Nintendo 64. Hiding behind cool things in what I hoped was an ironic way became my overall OkCupid strategy.

I don’t remember the specifics of my profile, but I know my username referenced Joan Didion and that it was all very clever. At least, I cracked myself up. I wrote that my talents included speed typing and martini-drinking and made a few mean cracks about people I did not wish to hear from: Don’t message me if you wear baggy pants. Don’t message me if you don’t know the difference between “Your” and “You’re.” Etc. Everything was a joke (except for the pants and grammar snipes, those were very serious).

I finally completed my profile. I looked like an asshole, albeit one with pretty hair andgood taste in literature. “Play QuickMatch!” the Cupid offered. QuickMatch is a tool that shows you photos of different members that its algorithms think you’ll find sexy in slideshow format. You get to rate them on a scale of 1-5.

I kid you not, the FIRST person that showed up was a former GSI (Graduate Student Instructor) from a class I took in college. I almost had a heart attack. But I remembered liking his glasses and enthusiasm for cultural landscape theory, so I sent him a message. He never responded. (Sometimes I run into him at bars and promptly hide. If you’re reading this, GSI, please stop running into me! Thanks.)

After that traumatizing non-interaction, I stayed away from OKCupid. I only logged into the site when I got emails from admirers, and I was consistently unimpressed. Sometimes they were clearly mass emails (um, how do you know I “have a pretty face” when you can’t see it?), other times they were angry messages about how I clearly thought I was too cool for OkCupid so why was I even on it (they had a point). Other times I simply wasn’t interested.

Then, this one guy – let’s call him “J” – “winked” at me. “Winking” is a total cop-out, like Facebook poking, since it displays one’s interest without requiring even a modicum of effort. Nevertheless, I checked him out and was for the first time impressed by an OkCupid member. His profile was sparse in an aesthetically pleasing way, kind of like an Ikea store, and his pictures highlighted his attractive stubble and hip friends. The only details I could determine were that he was 6’3’’, majored in gender studies, and was in a band. Under the “Message Me If” question he wrote something along the lines of “if you publicly eschew gender stereotypes but secretly like them a little bit.” Clever!

I wrote him a message. He wrote back. We added each other on Facebook. I showed my friends his profile and they approved. Then, our correspondence petered out. One of us would suggest meeting for a drink, and then the other wouldn’t respond for weeks (I only messaged him when I was annoyed with my non-virtual love life).

Finally, maybe about three months after the initial Wink, we met at a nearby (we both lived in the same neighborhood) dive bar. It was… okay. He was cute, nice, funny. We talked about our favorite Indian food restaurants and he asked me to go on a date to one sometime soon. But then he never called. I never called him, either. We would still half-heartedly message each other occasionally, until one day when he sent me a Facebook message with a sad-faced emoticon, and the next time I looked at his Facebook profile I saw that he was in a relationship with somebody else. I was not upset.

My OkCupid experience taught me that while I am attracted to and respect men who are earnest, I am repelled by men who are earnest via their online dating profiles. I realize this is unfair, but so is any subjective preference one might employ when looking for a prospective mate. Unfortunately, people who make everything on their profile into a joke are either a) not serious about it, b) immature or c) assholes.

Another reason I don’t think online dating is for me is that I’m uncomfortable with the idea of dating someone solely based on his popular culture references and other sundry likes and dislikes. In my experience, chemistry isn’t based on whether someone likes The Wire or Flannery O’Connor. Sure, having similar interests is definitely an important plus, but I already have a tendency to look for my own qualities mirrored in the opposite sex, and online dating only exacerbates my inherent pickiness. No one really has any idea what chemistry is actually based upon, and I personally haven’t figured out a way to successfully start sparks without physical presence.

I also learned that I might be insane. But hey boys, I love Mario Kart!

EPILOGUE: I showed a draft of this piece to a male friend, who said (via Gchat, obv), “Do you realize the whole piece is like a meta OkCupid profile? There’s an underlying question of how successful you are at presenting yourself as a romantic object online, and you get a weird revisionist chance to do so, because readers will invariably ask themselves if they would date you.”

No, I did not realize that! In totally unrelated news, I’m currently single and you can contact me at katiejmbaker@gmail.com. Here’s a photo of me: