A couple of weeks ago on a whim I decided to join True.com. They were offering free month-long trials, and I needed some writing material.

True prides itself on being an internet dating service for hot people. They lure you in with adverts featuring impossibly attractive people claiming to be single and desperately in need of that special brand of geek loving only you can provide.

This couple is apparently being attacked by the Pastel Octopi of Love.

Once you agree to the trial period, you're allowed to build your "looking for" profile. True offers a lot of customization for this aspect of the service. I started out fairly cautious, sticking to the middle of the road on most questions, until I got here:

At this point I remembered I was doing this for maximum entertainment value and not because I wanted something approaching an actual relationship. I went back to the beginning and restructured my profile to only return the best, the brightest, and the hottest men. Let's see the cream of True's crop!

(On a side note, who the fuck chooses "needing improvement?" Plastic surgeons looking for business?)

I also added a little blurb in my "soul mate" section, trying to nail the zeitgeist of detached and uninterested cleverness that characterizes the writers of my generation:

"My soul mate will put up with my quirks: my constantly cold feet, my habit of leaving chew marks in any pen laying around my apartment, my occasional need to be a complete geek, my rampant arachnophobia. They will like dirty americanos and clean socks. They will not say "that's so metal" unless they're being facetious. They will know what the word "facetious" means. They will understand the proper usage of irony. My soul mate probably does not exist."

I sat back and waited for the hotness to flood my inbox. In less than 24 hours, I had over 64 emails waiting for me, from such winners as:

I wish I could say these were the worst by far...but I only pulled an average slice of the Scary Pie for you.

These Lotharios left me messages ranging from fairly long statements about "shilvery" and how totally awesome their motorcycles are...

...to very direct statements such as:

Be still, my heart.

The moral of this story so far? Men on the internet have a dramatically overinflated opinion of how they look. They also think we're going to be impressed by grotesque mispellings and awesome motorcycles.

There was one exception to the general rule of horrific misrepresentation:
Meet Sean. He's hot, he's sassy, he's single. He is, I think, the only attractive man on True.com currently. He lives in Fargo, ND. I'm still debating if he actually exists, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He probably doesn't exist, but it would be nice if he did, wouldn't it? This is what I'm talking about, people. If you're going to do this, do it goddamn right. Don't bill yourself as the Hottest Thing Since the Foreman Grill unless you've got a hot picture to go with it.

True.com also provides member services such as their Coaching Center, where they try to teach socially unfortunate losers to crawl out of their mother's basement and talk to people. This is what my Coaching Center looked like:

I'm so happy there are people like Coach Fite out there to help me find my special woman.

I canceled my month trial after only one week. I actually had to call the True.com service to cancel it, which let me chat for a bit with Theresa, the impossibly perky receptionist. She seemed genuinely confused that I was canceling my free month after only a week, and wanted to know why.

"But, it's free for the rest of the month. Why are you canceling now?"

"Is this call being recorded, Theresa?"

(Slight pause here. When she speaks again I think some of her perkiness has leaked out her ears.)

"...um, I can't tell you that for certain, but it might be."

"Theresa, if you really want to know why, I want you to make sure this call is being recorded. Otherwise, just cancel my service, please."

(Longer pause. Perkiness resumes. She is a professional, after all.)

"Okay, you're all canceled out. Have a great day!"

I thought this would be my last exchange with True, but they proceeded to flood my mailbox with dating spam for about a week after I canceled. I finally managed to clear myself of any True-related spam a few days ago. It was like removing a stubborn tumor. I don't recommend True.com; the level of satisfaction was roughly the same as having drunk fratboys try to pick me up in a dive bar.


Justin said...

Fascinating use of not linking to local bloggers who are lonely and depressed and find many things to be breaking as they continue on their miserable existence.

BD said...

Enough said...