So, Kate came over last night and we got stuck into both a bottle of Shiraz and my profile. It soon became clear that we had ever-so-slightly diverging viewpoints on how to undertake this task.
First, she thought I should put in an age of 39. “You want to make sure you’re caught when men put in an arbitrary upper age limit of 40” she told me.
“But I’m 41” I pointed out. She tried to argue with me, but I really can’t stand people who lie about their age, so I stuck to my guns.
Then we got to the “body type” bit. I had a choice of things to tick and I wavered between “a bit overweight” and “quite overweight”. Kate was horrified.
“You have to put in ‘Average’!” she said.
“But I’m not average,” I told her. “I’m plump. I’m even blogging as Patty the Plain Plump Spinster.”
“Go out and look around outside,” Kate said. “At least half the people out there are as big or bigger than you. You are average.”
I know she loves me and it’s probably true in her eyes, but I have an iPhone app that says I’m plump. So I told Kate about my iPhone app that says I’m plump.
“Look,” I said and I showed her my app that says I’m plump. “The app is incapable of lying to be nice to me. It says You have a BMI of 28.5, which means overweight.”
“But everyone expects you to lie a little bit,” she insisted. “Men add a couple of inches to their height and women downgrade their weight. If you say you’re slightly overweight, they’ll think you’re huge. If you say you’re average, they’ll expect you to be slightly overweight. Everybody does it!”
Frankly I was feeling a little put out that Kate thought I had to lie to attract a man and I stubbornly clicked “slightly overweight”.
This sort of thing went on for hours. Kate insisted that I shouldn’t put my political or religious beliefs in at all. “No man wants a woman with strong political beliefs,” she told me. I sighed and capitulated and put “swinging voter” in, even though that’s a total lie.
We also bickered over what sort of stuff I should put in my description. I figured that I should write about stuff that I actually like, but Kate thought that would scare men off. I thought I should upload photos that were recent and showed me doing interesting things, but Kate selected photos that were softly-lit and a couple of years old.
“You can go up to two years old,” she told me. “Any older than that and it starts getting a bit dishonest.”
Finally, well after midnight, with much compromising from us both, I uploaded my profile, finished the wine and went to bed. I’d like to say more, but I don’t want my cover blown!
We shall see what ensues.