Accidental Virgin by Valerie Frankel

Author:Valerie Frankel [Frankel, Valerie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, C429, Extratorrents, Kat
ISBN: 9780060938413
Publisher: Little Black Dress
Published: 2003-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Stacy, judging from the tone of your last e-mail, I must have offended you in some way. Please know that I regularly respond to reader mail in my column, and it’s my job to be as provocative as possible. That’s what makes the column fun. I didn’t mean to insult you. But if, by any chance, something I wrote has hurt you, I suggest you examine that deeper. Thanks and sorry, Gigi XXX.”

Still not using her real name, that chicken shit, thought Stacy. And how dare she suggest that anything she grinds out like sausage meat could be of real emotional value to anyone? Stacy was only too glad to turn her attention away from Gigi and back to her bulging pack of cyber suitors.

She scanned the messages, instantly deleting those with unappealing screen names (for example, HOTNHORNY might be a sure thing, but a girl had to have some standards; HOLDENC might have homicidal tendencies; DARKSTAR had to be stoner — not necessarily a bad thing, but she was in a hurry; ZYGOTE wasn’t looking for a date, he was looking for a womb). She whittled the list down to 20 on the first pass, still highly encouraged by her crop. Next hurdle: photo and profile analysis. She methodically checked the ad of each e-mailer. If he was older than 40 or younger than 30, she automatically deleted. If he described his body type as “average,” “large” or “a few extra pounds,” she deleted (since she had options, she’d stick with “athletic” and “slim/slender” only). She trashed the men who made less than $100,000, figuring that since she had the opportunity to discriminate, she might as well be traditional.

This weeding-out process was exactly why web matchmaking had so little potential for finding true love. It was too methodical. No kismet. No spotting the man of one’s dreams across a crowded room. A listing of one’s credentials, combined with a grainy photo and a self-consciously written profile, lead to making a paper judgment. If love could be inspired by how someone looked on paper (or, more accurately, on screen), it would be miraculous. Besides, there was the smack of desperation to overcome. Having to advertise for dates, with language like, “Your mother would approve” was almost too hard a sell to bear. On the other hand, people were busy in this city. No one had time to go to parties. Bars were depressing. Harassing friends for blind dates and fix-ups was humiliating. Dating services were expensive. That left work contacts, friends who turned into something more and Cupid’s wobbly arrow. Why dismiss on-line dating out of hand? It could work. On its homepage, match.com claimed to be responsible for thousands of marriages.

Her match.com shortlist:

ADMAN was a 34-year-old advertising executive who lived in the West Village (geographically fortuitous). His photo was blurry, but he seemed well within the range of male attractiveness. He claimed he was “athletic,” made over $100,000, was looking for someone who laughed at Woody Allen movies. Stacy loved Woody Allen.

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