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my dating profile.

In a daymare, it occurred to me that I have to date again. Not today, but eventually. While religion and politics are decidedly divisive topics, I think we can all wear flowered wreaths on our heads, hold hands with our sisters and brothers and sing out to the world that dating sucks.

And it only gets worse when you get older. Okay, there might be a few people who would disagree with me on that point, but where is a thirty-something to meet someone who wisely knows not to date anyone at work, whose friends are {mostly} married and have families of their own — this is the age, and bars seem like a distant pastime reminding one of what whiskey tastes like backwards?

When I thought about this some more — glutton for punishment here, but my sister’s solution for yesterday’s lonely attack was to fantasize about a future — I asked myself if I could muster up the courage to write an on-line dating profile. My answer… the taste of whiskey backwards. People lie. I know, shocker! But what’s more is, no one ever sets out to tell the truth on a dating profile, and you only find out who a person truly is once you’re already way too invested. My solution? A dating website where applicants are only allowed to share their faults, and the trained eye can discern the deal breakers from the more manageable faults. While they are at it, why not offer possible solutions to these ugly quirks, so that the relationship not only starts out on a less embellished note {“I didn’t lie, I just revised the perimeters of my promise.” -House of Cards}, but there is less guesswork involved about how to satiate your other’s desires while also lessening the reality-blow on your end? Yeah, potential suitors can make up their own mind about how to respond to faults, but isn’t it nice to get a heads up? Let’s call the website “True Colors.” If anyone steals my idea, I will fight them. Poor man’s copyright — dated blog.

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Just so you know, I’m no better than the fool I shake my finger at. I too try to act like I’m perfect when I first meet someone. All of my clothes are meaningfully ironed the first couple of months in lieu of using my hair-straightening iron, my voice takes on an unfortunate and not at all accurate Scarlett Johansson impersonation, and I pretend to have read your favorite book before I stay up all night that night reading it. Oh you do it, too. Don’t act like you didn’t constipate yourself, just so you could convince him you are a one-of-a-kind-never-goes-number-two GODDESS. By the way, putting your faults out there doesn’t mean settling in them for life but rather acknowledging that they are currently lingering.

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Here’s what my dating profile would look like:

1. I WILL seek your hair advice, even if you feel like it’s a trap, and even if you say you don’t have an opinion {oh, but you do!}. This periodic topic of conversation may make me seem to enjoy trivial conversations. And I do. I also prefer deep conversations, but I like to channel my inner-chameleon from time to time via my hair, and I value your opinion. Should I dye my hair? Would you mind if it were shorter? Bangs or no bangs? All possible questions. Possible solution: Tell me the truth. I may or may not follow your advice {I’m a woman of my own mind, but I still care what you think}, but at least I know where I stand in the midst of my hair transformations, and I promise not to get upset if you prefer me more blonde.  As long as it’s me as a blonde you prefer.
2. I love my job, and I will talk about it A LOT. Sometimes, I may even have a bad day and vent about it. Will I want you to offer me solutions like most normal people do? No. I just want to vent and do what I had already planned on doing while you back me up. Possible Solution: “I’m sorry you had a bad day. That really does suck, just like you said it sucks.” + glass of wine
3. I sing slightly under my breath. I love to sing, but sometimes I’m shy about it, so it just sounds like dragon purrs or a deer dying. Also, I don’t know the lyrics. Possible Solution: Ear plugs.
4. I need alone time. It’s not that I don’t want to be with you, because I do. It’s just that there are certain things I prefer for you not to see/hear me do. For instance, belting out my deer-dying singing. No one should hear that sound. Sometimes a girl’s just gotta let it out. Also, my favorite exercise is dancing wildly. No, it isn’t cute like when a guy accidentally walks in on a dancing-singing-hair-brush-girl in a movie. It is wild ugly dancing. I like to keep my hair down so I can swing it around while I do this. My hair is the one thing on my body that has never let me down {exception: late 80s, early 90s}. Side-Note: Why is it that most women are so much more comfortable admitting this, to let’s say, admitting we love our breasts? Is it because we are taught to delicately balance self-love with self-deprecation, and our hair is the one thing besides our toe-nails that are dead on our bodies, so we can confidently claim to love the dead thing? Possible Solution: Relish your alone time too, and promise to never be that guy who thinks he is going to walk in on “dancing-singing-hair-brush-girl in a movie.” Lock the door tightly behind you.
5. When something is really funny, but only when it’s REALLY funny, I laugh like Ricky Riccardo. Possible Solutions: Laugh louder; return to the ear plugs
6. If we make it past the dying-deer singing and the Ricky Riccardo laughter, you will have to say good-bye to sleeping under sheets. I will steal ALL of them. I’ve tried to not do it, believe me. I’ve tried, but I can’t help what I do subconsciously in my sleep. Possible Solution: Two sheets; layers.
7. I don’t need you to apologize, I just need you to understand. Annoying, right? But it’s so true. Your apology, when solicited, is wonderful, but it means nothing if you don’t understand why you needed to apologize. You don’t need to necessarily say it aloud, I can tell. Possible Solution: Okay, say it aloud. Better to be safe.
8. I take pride in taking good care of my body, but I’ve come close to giving up on the soles of my feet. After years of modern dancing, bare feet required, and ballet dancing, shoving my feet into point shoes, my feet entered my thirties at a disadvantage. With the addition of my impatient feet stepping out onto any surface without pausing to put on shoes, my feet are deliciously un-smooth. You know what they say about perfectionists? If they can’t do it perfectly, they abandon it altogether. Possible Solution: Develop a rough-foot fetish; trust me and stay away from the zone; pumice away in the night
9. I’m a perfectionist. Possible Solution: Tell me I’m perfect just the way I am or that no one is perfect, but I’m your special brand of perfect. Swoon tactics work well. Remind me that the painfully beautiful Megan Fox has thumbs that resemble big toes. Google it.
10. I loathe driving. Sometimes I like it, but if we are going somewhere unfamiliar in this fourth-most congested city in the nation, I’m secretly hoping you will be the designated driver. Possible Solution: Love driving.
11. I’m sensitive. When my younger brother had a childhood birthday party at a movie theatre, I tagged along as a chaperone. While my brother and his friends laughed at Nickelodeon’s Rugrats, the plot conflict made me cry, and I’ve been leaking ever since at odds and ends. I’m only semi-kidding. Possible Solution: Make me laugh. And don’t worry, that’s not difficult either. My favorite jokes are the ones that create cricket chirps. Awkward jokes are the best. Brings out my Ricky Riccardo laugh. Then ear plugs.
12. I watch so bad-it’s-good TV. And sometimes it’s just plain awful. Sometimes I watch the same bad episode twice because it’s good background noise. Possible Solution: Come on, grab a handful of popcorn and laugh at it with me!; alone time?

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Yes, people will still lie. They will offer up these cute little quirks that no one thinks are really that awful. Perhaps you think my quirks are adorable {hit the LOVE button – you are a rare breed/gem}, and some of you may find that some of the things I didn’t list are awful and that I should have listed them. Maybe my plate with the edges of the sandwich remains is repulsive to you, and it reminds you of your mother’s nagging pleas because of “starving kids in China.”

Bonus: Selling yourself is overrated. That’s what chemistry is for.

What would your True Colors dating profile look like? And do you want to date me? Kidding.