I canceled my Match, JDate, and Nerve memberships when I met someone I was ready to date exclusively.  Recently, though, I’ve become a marketer’s dream because I simply had to email this guy, and doing so meant signing up. It was all thanks to an IM window from my matchmaking friend Erika which read, "I think I’ve found the guy for you. He sounds just like you–read his summary!"  She was being serious and thoughtful, looking out for my dating hellfare.  She included a link to his personal ad. Wow!  He was just like me.  And then some.

Here was my profile:
I don’t like long walks; I cab it. Hiking to me sounds like a fate worse than death, yet I love the idea of camping. I think it’s the food. Second, who doesn’t like to travel? And why does everyone have to say they like "curling up" with a good book? Come on people. I Love Milkduds in my popcorn and cold air; movies are a given. The girl can cook and dress. And please, dear god, enough with the jeans to evening gown cliché. Yawn. I use lotion on my legs and like high thread count sheets. I have so much passion, I assure you, you’ll be floored. I can bait my own hook, but I’ll count on you for moving the hair off my face, back scratches, letting me eat the fries off your plate, and definitely good bedtime stories. Flowers from Takashimaya certainly don’t hurt, especially when sent to the office, but I’ve learned romance is about sacrifice and compromise..about lemon water in the middle of the night.

You don’t pronounce dog, “dawg,” lounge in Sean John velour, and you know jewelry belongs on a woman, not your neck. If you want to cook me dinner on the second date, you’re cheap. You don’t refer to yourself in the third person or drink anything pink. You do eat carbs but will never Blackberry over dinner. You would never say, “the bomb.” If you always order chicken teriyaki at Japanese restaurants, I’m not the girl for you. I need someone with a sense of adventure, even if that means a spicy tuna roll. LOL would never be used in any of your communications with me. You live in Manhattan and ideally live alone. You’ve experienced pain at one point in your life, have evolved communication skills, and want to find a partner in crime. You’re intelligent, tender, and audacious with an enduring sense of character. You know when to swallow pride, grab me, and fight for it. An emotionally available man who doesn’t acquiesce because it’s easier than confrontation has a spot beside me. Men with mommy and daddy issues or who manage their anger with drugs or alcohol need not apply. A robust sexual drive is essential, really, no seriously, I mean it. Enjoy listening to music, with me by your side, sipping wine from your glass. You won’t mind if I drag you around the city and have you hold my light meter while I photograph the grit and splendor of the city (for a living). Holding my hand and kissing me on the street is a have-to. It’s all about passion. I crave it and give it, good. A good first date would include honesty and alcohol. And, most of all, be armed with attention span, an appetite for everything, and an open mind to chick flicks and music that might as well be a chick flick. Oh, and you can’t mind that my Toy Fox Terrier, Linus, sleeps under the covers with me and licks my sweet face.

Here is Stephen’s Profile (aka nycmedia):
I don’t like long walks; I’d rather use a car service. Camping to me sounds like a fate worse than death, yet I love the idea of hiking. But to be honest, I never have been camping. Second, who doesn’t like to travel? And why does everyone have to say they are "tired of the club scene"? Come on people, I saw you last night freezing your ass off, waiting in line for bottle service at some cheesy west side club. I love cold air; movies are a given. This college educated guy can’t cook. And please, dear god, enough with the "sweat pants to black tie" cliché;. Yawn. I wear a suit 5 days a week I like high thread count sheets and love my 4 adorable nieces.Except I am losing my cool uncle status as they grew into teenagers. I am cokcy yet blunt, successful yet not arrogant, witty and attractive, I assure you, you’ll be floored with my dynamic and sometimes flawed personality. I won’t take you to a Sizzler-type buffet or what I like to call "public food". I’ve learned friendship is about loyalty, sacrifice and compromise.I never, ever lounge in Sean John velour, and I know "bling" belongs on a woman, not my neck. If you want me to cook you dinner, we’ll starve and end up with takeout. I don’t refer to myself in the third person or drink anything pink. I enjoyed Notting Hill, Love Actually, Scarface and True Romance. I will never Blackberry during dinner. I would never say, “You da bomb.” I did own Paula Abdul’s CD in 8th grade but I also saw the Beastie Boys with Run-DMC in grade. If you always order chicken teriyaki at Japanese restaurants, I’m not the dinner partner for you. I prefer friends with a sense of adventure, even if that means a hot dog from the corner of . would never be used in any of my communications with you. I live in Manhattan and thank god that I live alone. I’ve experienced great joy, pain, love and loss and am thankful that I was raised by two older sisters, but never taught how to do laundry or cook.

I know what you’re thinking… it’s a fake profile; it’s all a joke. I’d emailed him warning him to remove my writing from his profile without ever receiving a response.  So I used the cell phone number he’d sent me from a while back (thank god for archives) to speak with him about this.  He answered the phone, "This is Stephen."  He sounded southern yet anxious.
"Hi Stephen," so it was a real name, "I got your number from an email you sent me from match.com."
"Oh, is this the redhead?"  Clearly he’d recieved my email earlier in the day, or he wouldn’t have known the color of my anything.
"Yes, this is she."
"Yeah, there’s been a big misunderstanding.  A friend of mine, a married guy, stole my photo and is pretending to be me.  Ran up the charges on my credit card, too."  None of this makes any sense.  If you’re friends with the guy, close enough for him to swipe your credit card number and your photos, couldn’t you get it to stop?   If you’re receiving unwanted emails, wouldn’t you have cancelled the account a long time ago? 

The boy mad-lib’d my profile.  Clearly, the boy needs to change his screen name. I hear he’s taking suggestions.  nycplagiarist just rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?  Or am I being too harsh?  Is he telling the truth?  Perhaps I should change my screen name to matchdetective.  You decide. (PS, His profile is now down… shocking)