By Amy Webb, Dutton, 2013.
This mildly entertaining romp through the world of online dating contains advice to women that can be distilled as follows: keep your profile description short and sprinkle it with words like “fun-loving” and “easy-going.” As for your pic, don’t forget to show some cleavage.
So far, so good, although by the time you reach my age producing any reasonable semblance of cleavage requires a hydraulic pump to power your push-up bra. My daughter, trying to encourage me by telling me I look young for my age, recently said, “And Mom, your breasts are still perky…” her voice trailed off, “Well, sort of.” Yes, my darling child, you too will one day possess built-in plumb lines to find true vertical.
Webb also suggests keeping the online dialogue going for, say, at least a week before setting up a meeting. That doesn’t work with my time frame. In fact, if a man is still trying to delay a coffee date after a few exchanges, I bail. For Chrissake, I wanna meet the guy before one of us goes into a nursing home.
Was the book worth a read? Maybe. I did laugh along with her tales of disastrous dates. Her cast of characters included the epicure/œnophile who finagled her into footing a gargantuan dinner tab; the handsome charmer whose profile neglects to mention that he’s married (at least he revealed this inconvenient fact during the first meeting), and the retail clerk with a passion for karaoke and high-fiving.
But all good romance tales end well, and true to form Prince Charming finally appears and during a trip to Petra, Jordan, bends on one knee and proposes to Webb, all of which is caught on pictures snapped by a photographer who happened to be nearby.
All in all, the book was good for a few chuckles. If you want to know more, watch Amy Webb’s Ted Talk.
(Note: The facts presented in the Ted Talk don’t exactly match the print version. In the book, the IT guy who gets her to pay for the meal is named Jim and the bill comes to $160. In the TED Talk, his name is Steve and the bill comes to $1,314. Either way, Jim-Steve is a louse and we hope that he receives a Sisyphus-style sentence to hand wash wine goblets for eternity in the homes of women he’s deceived, only to have a ring of Henri Jayer Cros Parantoux Vosne–Romanée Premier Cru reappear on every glass as soon as he’s finished polishing it dry.)
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