eHarmony Strikes Back!

"Give 'em what they want."

"There's one born every minute."

Yup the world is rife with cliché's. Find one you like, reach out and take it. They're there for the picking. Today I'm gonna talk about the two printed in black and white with. That's right line up the clay pigeons, cuz I'm killing 2 birds with one stone.

I never understood how those first two statements could be related. The same people use them. They musts be related. Of course the same people wish you'd break a leg too. I'm not thinking I like those people much. I hope there's not one of them born every minute, otherwise we'll be overrun with Tanya Hardings.

"Hi! Ow! Whadidja do that for?"

So what are they talking about here? Ex spouses? Ok, maybe not, but they could be, right? Ask Zsa Zsa Gabor. If you check with Woody Allen, his minutes started later than everybody else's, and well, he hasn't given us what we wanted since Annie Hall.

But no. They're not talking about spouses; they're also talking about audiences. People watching you, me, anybody. I could never figure out how they worked together. How could you give em what they wanted when they were born every minute? Especially when by definition, the one's born every minute are suckers. Suckers, you can't really go through them all in one setting, and you can't put them in your pocket for later; the lint just ruins the whole thing.

Suckers stick to everything and never know what they want.

In 6th grade I wrote a story. It wasn't long, because I wasn't catering to the all day sucker. These were young lollies, and I needed to get in, get out, so nobody got hurt--especially me. I read my story to the class. They loved it. I gave them what they wanted. Two pages of cereal killings. That's right, it was called "Corn Flake's Revenge." It told the tale of a breakfast revolution. The kind that keeps the old oats Quaker quaking in his boots late at night. The kind where General Mills rallies his troops and Cap'n Crunch leads the assault against all the murdering children of the world. "No cluster left behind!" echo's their pantry war cry.

My classmates loved it. For fifteen minutes in my sixth grade, I was cool. It's been downhill ever since. See here's the thing. Once you give them what they want, they want more. That's right, I was the dealer to my sixth grade class, but my supplies were limited to the void in my head.

By popular demand and frequent wedgie, I brought back my whole grain warriors for "Corn Flake Strikes Back," cuz every sucker loves a sequel. In reading my story that day I learned an important lesson. The suckers don't always want what they think they want. You should really make sure before you give it to them. My gobstoppers on a stick didn't want "Weekend at Bernies 2" anymore than the paying public did.

I'm not sure if my story was shoved in the toilet faster than I was; the race was a photo finish and Tommy Shaw has the evidence to prove it. See? I learned that I was the sucker, not them. Ricky Nelson was Garden Party right-on, "You can't please everyone." Still my Tidy Bowl blue hair and urinal mint adam's apple started a new trend in the early punk years. I was back on top. Who cared if everything tasted like pine for weeks?

What's this got to do with anything? Well if you've read my blog before, you realize it probably means nothing more than Rob had nothing better to write about today. Today you'd be wrong. Today would be your minute. Today, I'm giving em what they want. Today, I'm tying my childhood trauma to my latest eHarmony post. Come back tomorrow, cuz tomorrow you'll be dead right.

Remember I said I didn't care? I said I found eHarmony Zen by filling out the forms on a lark--an "experiment?" I still stand by that, but I found I cared more than I thought. See, like I told you before, my profile was corn flake generic. "My name is Rob. I'm a guy. I like words, women and song. I am into deep woks and short peers."

No pic, because I'm aloof, and don't care. I'm dark, brooding and looking for nobody. I just want to see who they set me up with. Hey, a free membership is cheaper than my therapist, and just as insightful. Why, through eHarmony, I now know that I'm "flexible, responsive, and sometimes outgoing." Lucy Van Pelt would have charged me 30 cents and made me kick at a football for that information. I got it for nothing! Wow! I feel like a whole layer of sugary goodness has been licked from my surface. I know guys who go to Vegas for that.

So I received posts over the weekend letting me know my "matches" were up to 16. I leafed through them, and they all sounded sane, so I filed them away and went back to work. Sunday, I received 5 "nudges" (cuz that's what they call them) to post a picture. "Give em what they want," eHarmony said. We've already proven that's my motto, so I gave it to them in 1200x1600 pixel clarity.

Within an hour of posting a pic, 12 of my 16 had closed communication for "other" reasons. I'm thinking "Other" equals "Elephant Man," but I have no proof. They'd probably frown if I showed up on their doorsteps to find out.

"Hello I'm here to find out--"

"AAAAHHHH! It's you!"

"I am not an animal!"

PSHHHHT!

"OW! Mace My eyes! My eyes!"

I don't think anybody wants that. Today I looked in, my final 3 are gone and have been replaced with an Alaskan Husky (no, the dog, not an abominable snow girl), a Neverland Princess (she only exists in Google Maps), and a gopher from my front yard. Yeah, the good the bad the ugly and I'm not sure which is which.

So what do I do? I'm the sucker again. I gave them what I thought they wanted and it wasn't right. Now what?

I went out last night. I was a little frustrated and I needed dental floss. Yeah, dental floss, it's the great relaxer, who knew? Anyway, according to the harmony girls, I needed a lot more than that, but this would have to do for now.

At the grocery store, I'm staring through the multitudes of floss. Minty fresh, deep cleaning action, twine of death, it's all confusing if you don't know what you're looking at. I do. I pride myself in my floss-cipline. When I was young I found out that mint and pine don't go together well, so I had to research other flavors. I find the buttered popcorn goes with most anything.

Anyway, there's a young girl looking at wall of sterile plastic boxes. She knows she wants floss, but she doesn't understand how to tell what's in the box. If she takes one home and opens it, will she get something she doesn't expect? They all look the same from the outside, but from the inside, some will make your gums bleed.

"Do you floss now?"

"no but my hygienist yelled at me."

"yeah, been there."

We laugh, and I start going through the floss. I explain the benefits, and try to help her find one that works for her. I even show her which one supports the weight of an ex boyfriend. She takes special note of that one.

She's cute, she's warm and she's appreciative. Oh, don't look at me that way, she wasn't that appreciative. She was "Thank you" giggle, giggle, have a nice life appreciative. It was nice: I gave her floss and she gave me something more. She proved that I'm not a sucker, and there's not a Rob born every minute, and neither is a person who matches Rob. That person was born one minute, and no more. Our time is coming, it's just not right this minute.