I'm (Almost) Thirty...Where Is He?

Something happens when you enter your late twenties and are a single girl living in a big city. That something is called panic. As you sit at your favorite watering hole and look around at your extremely attractive, highly intelligent, witty, funny, sports-loving girlfriends, you start to wonder: What’s wrong with us? Why are we all single? Are we going to die alone? It’s totally different for guys. They are sitting at that same bar wondering: What’s wrong with our waitress? Why are we all sitting here with empty beers? Are we going to die of hunger?

You can see where the disconnect happens.

Are they faced with a nail polish color cruelly dubbed “I’m 30. Where is he?” that mocks their singledom while nicely complimenting the ruddy undertones of their pale, Irish skin? No. They are not. (I have two bottles.)

Everyone has that wave of six weddings in one summer or the three girlfriends who are excitedly expecting and expecting you to care. Don’t get me wrong. I do care. I’m happy for the newly wedded and the parents-to-be. But, there is no celebration for the girls who “didn’t get married to the wrong guy” or “didn’t go home with the right now guy after a few too many vodka sodas.” No. We single girls are left to our vices. So, when faced with another weekend of cocktails with my girls – which really was code for “discreet husband hunting” – I couldn’t bear the pressure. I figured, hell, I’m online enough already (I can stalk a new love interest on Facebook while I search for that hot Michael Kors watch on Nordstrom.com and pay my Comcast bill…all at the same time. What’s the word you’re looking for? Skills.). Why not use this technological prowess to my advantage? And so, I turned to the dating professionals: Match.com.

Now, I will have you know that I am totally normal. Ok…almost totally normal. I have a few idiosyncrasies and neuroses that make me totally adorable and original, right? Right. So, I was a little weary of entering this uncharted dating domain. Wasn’t “Match” (as the seasoned users affectionately refer to it) for the freaks? The people who had no social skills and were holed up in their basements in holey pajama pants eating Cheetos by the fistful? I was skeptical and judgmental. But, the dudes on there all looked so normal. I take that back. Most of them looked so normal. And some of their profiles made them sound normal, too.

So, I decided to get over myself and give this thing a shot. The online hunt began…it was actually more of a one-handed scroll so I could dedicate my left hand to the bowl of Cheetos.

After hours of crafting the perfect one-pager comprised of all of my professional and personal accomplishments, sprinkled with egomaniacally downplayed highlights ("I’m blonde, love sports and eat hot dogs without mentally adding up the calories…until later that night"), I felt like I was ready to launch “Cyber E” into the dating universe. I chose not to do a quick search of the three blocks in my area where 329 other women were also simultaneously clicking submit – and 32 men were clinking some Wits. I had put myself out there. Literally. And now, I just had to sit back and wait for the men to come a flocking. And to step away from the browser refresh button. Was this thing broken?