I’m sure many of you have heard of the horror stories from P.O.F. (Plenty of Fish), a dating site. I heard them all too, the creepers, the weirdos, the ones that are DTF (down to f…), the uglies, the junkies, and surprisingly: the super rear “Unicorn Tang” (a type of rare fish in the ocean).
Regardless of what I had heard, I decided to try the “FREE” profile. Of course, if you don’t pay, you don’t weed out the bad and the ugly, so you’re stuck with a public profile that promotes your singleness to every possible user. However, at least it was all the users around my area, because why not, shortened that radius. By now, you’re probably thinking “wow, what a dumb idea!”. Trust me, I was thinking the same, but, what did I have to lose?
So there I was, filling out what felt like an everlasting questionnaire, once I thought I was done, of course there was more! If you want better matches, P.O.F. asks you to fill out more “psychological” questionnaires, each one being about 100 questions! (Things could be different now, I’m talking about the experience I had back in February 2016). I finally finished filling in what seemed like the most intricate job interview for some big position, little did I know, I’d end up here today…
I went through it all, I got the random messages to meet up, I got messages to take photos, messages containing photos, and nonetheless, messages asking “which one are you?”. Did I mention that my profile picture consisted of two girls, a blond one, and a brunette? Of course, after hours of answering questions, my profile stated I was the brunette in the picture.
By the next morning I had over 50 messages, at first, I tried opening every single one of them, reading, and replying. Some people got some pretty angry replies. However, once I opened a message, I somehow received 2-3 more. This became an overwhelming and long process. Instead, I started looking at the subject line, the little pictures (because even though looks aren’t everything, they are our first impression) and then deciding if I even wanted to bother with it.
Somehow, that message that was mentioned earlier, the one that said: “which one are you?”, really intrigued me, so of course, I opened it. Aggravated at the fact that this person didn’t take the time to read my profile, I still responded. Why? Not too sure, but I’m glad I did! Unlike him, I read his profile, and his profile picture was a “selfie”. So, I decided to reply with a “read my profile and you’ll know, talk to me once you’re done”. So, he did, he messaged me after, and he was also apologetic. By now it was late at night, and I had to be up early for college the next morning.
A few days went by, I had forgotten about P.O.F. and the conversations that I had been having with this intriguing person. It wasn’t until Monday morning, (February 8th, 2016), that I saw a ginger child, and that child reminded me of the ginger I had been having a conversation with on P.O.F., so, I rushed home, opened up the conversation and there it was… His phone number. Yes, yes, I messaged him, he replied, and so he asked me out. He also wanted to meet me that day, so the adventurous me said “sure”!
Not long before our date, he called me. We spoke on the phone, we talked about what we wanted, and I literally said it all, my expectations from a man, my needs and my wants (with that being said, he shared all of his as well). And guess what? I didn’t scare him, he still wanted to go out, and so did I. So we did, we met at the Keg, he showed up in jeans and a green sweater and running shoes, and I was wearing coral dress pants, a white blouse and a nice pair of flats. “How unfitting for the first date”, is what I first thought. He noticed my look, and apologized he didn’t dress up.
After a bottle of wine, and a wonderful meal, I reached for the bill to pay for my food, he reached faster, and took care of it. What a gentleman, I thought.
I know that P.O.F. is an intimidating site, filled with tons and tons of weirdos, creeps, junkies, the bad and the uglies, however, MY ONE was there too, waiting for HIS ONE. And here we are, spending the rest of our lives together. So as much as I hated P.O.F., I also owe it a HUGE “Thank You”.