In the words of Ron Burgundy after jumping into a bear pit, "I immediately regret that decision."
I joined Match.com.
I am not sure what was the final tipping point. Maybe it was after a night out at a Hollywood club and noticing any available guy in sight was either gay or extremely metrosexual. Maybe it was after spending two days talking to a friend (my age) about her upcoming nuptials and comparing her apartment (or rather, elegant condo) to my apartment (three words: ping pong table). Maybe it happened after I watched 27 Dresses over the weekend and decided that I wanted a James Marsden all of my own. In any case, last night, while I was supposed to be watching screeners for work, I focused most of my energy on creating my match profile. Which is awkward and uncomfortable, even if I am the only one who is really going to see it (that and any guy between the ages of 23 and 30 who lives within 35 miles of Santa Monica).
I went through the general process of filling out information about myself, what I look for in a date, and uploaded a few photos. I have to admit the entire time I was doing this I was not feeling all that resolved about my decision to join Match. However, life is short, the time is now, yada yada yada...
This morning I woke up and the realization that I actually bit the bullet and joined Match set in. Especially after I started receiving emails that someone sent a message or "winked" at me (huh?) or my personal favorite--some dude in Morocoo wrote me some lame note in French. Which brings me to ask the following question: What was I thinking?