Due to the fact that I fill out online dating questionnaires to pass time on long, lonely weekends, I’m used to ads for dating websites popping up on the side of my Facebook page. But I am highly not happy about the ad that Facebook just popped up on me, showing a very nice looking man in his military fatigues advertising a dating website for men who prefer “curvy girls only.” Now, everybody in Dating Land knows that “curvy” is code for “fat.” And nowhere in any of my dating profiles have I ever checked off “curvy” or “more to love” or anything that strayed away from the term “average.” So how exactly is it possible that I ended up on the radar of the dating site for chubby chasers???
Have the dating website profilers determined that women who check the “average” body box are simply overweight women who are either: A) delusional people whose body dysmorphia causes them to look in the mirror and see average-sized women staring back at them, or B) flat-out liars? So which am I? Or did Facebook look at my pictures online and determine I was plus-sized? And should I follow up with that military guy? Ugh. I’m canceling Facebook.
Meantime, I have to go nurse my finger. Seven hours ago, a well-meaning man greeted me, took my right hand in his and squeezed. And the longer this man spoke, the more emotional he got. And the more emotional he got, the harder he squeezed. The problem with that was, on my right hand I was wearing a ring my mother gave me many, many years ago. It’s a simple ring, really. It’s just a simple token of love that I throw on my finger from time to time. But that man squeezed my hand hard enough to break skin, so that ring is no longer a symbol of my mother’s love but a symbol of torture. And seven hours later, my finger still stings. So now I’ve got to go dig through my bathroom cabinets looking for some Neosporin. Yes, the point of that whole side-story was just to complain.