An Irreverent Look at Internet Dating 

Great Lengths

"How can I see you?" said the response to my personal ad. "It's not that tough," I thought, as I clicked on the button which would get me to their profile. The guy, per usual, had left out the pesky little details such as anything else about him: his likes or dislikes, types of accessories and important numbers, such as nose size, etc. Not that I'm picky, but it would be nice to know at least something about whomever is asking to see me in person.

Oh, but wait a minute. There might be one teensy-weensy impediment here, after all. He lives in EGYPT! That's 7,590 miles away from me, and I don't think there's a coffee shop that I frequent between here and there.

"I'm very curious to taste and feel and see the reaction from receiving this dick," read a long distance (albeit charming) invitation, sans airline ticket, mind you, from Peru.

What the heck are these guys thinking, anyway? Don't get me wrong; I am very appreciative of those who take the time to write, but I just don't get it when they live in East Bumfuck and write about seeing, tasting, feeling each other.

"I will show you the ways of the world and help you explore the deepest reaches of the forbidden zone," says another, en total. The Forbidden Zone, as it turns out, is located someplace in Germany. I take it that I have to get there on my own speed, but he really didn't specify further. And, once again, I had to find that much out, using my own investigative prowess.

Is it that some men maybe reach fruition somewhere in the middle of creating these e-mails and then afterwards, completely spent, think to themselves while smoking that cigarette, "Oh, what the hell, I'm half-way done with the letter; might as well hit the 'send' button.", or do they just have these incomplete thoughts as a matter of regular course, and expect me to fill in the little details, such as the fact that they live umpty-squat miles from where I do?

And, what about the guys who send out the obvious mass-e-mails to all the females who have ads, thinking maybe that maybe they should just, for economy's sake, hit everyone with the same line, because after all, everyone is living in the same place: his imagination: "You know something, I did not sleep last night. I  kept thinking about you and fantasizing about making love to you. you might think that I am frustrated or what, and I don't really know what u will think about me after reading this, but the fact is all night long you were in front of my eyes."

Sure I was, Dahlink. Sure I was.

How could I not be charmed into jetting my way to this guy in Texas immediately?: "Click on my pic and estimate how big! Good Luck!"

He really doesn't want to hear my approximation, I'm certain, and as for luck, I decided to make us both winners, and not hazard a guess at all. I've been to Texas, and I happen to know for a fact that not everything is bigger there.

Truthfully, I've stretched my imagination just about as far as it will go, and I cannot seem to reach the great lengths about which men are boasting in my e-mail. If they're that gargantuan, they should be able to reach me, I'd think, either by plane, boat or appendage.

And, while they're at it, if they really want to make a connection in their flight of fancy, they should at the very least finish one complete thought, maybe send along some travel arrangements and if they really want to score some points, throw in a quart or two of some really good ice cream.

After all, the way to my heart isn't only through these fragmented descriptions of their measurable charms; they should also be able to show they can actually go the distance and finish with something that leaves a smattering of good taste.

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Copyright 2002, Cirious Business. Do not copy without permission.