Match.com is a Crap-Shoot

...and The House Always Has the Advantage.

Never mind that I'm 6' tall. Well, 6' 3/4". But who's really measuring... Never mind that I've been called a Powerful Vagina. (I cannot take credit for this term; my coach saw it in Rolling Stone and suggested that I read, digest, and report my findings back to her.) These two immutable traits can make or break me before this horse is even out of the gate.

Never mind that I have a fancy Ivy League education. (Upon reflection, that could work for or against me also. Think: Powerful Vagina.)

Never mind that I am a competitive athlete with bigger biceps than most men I know. (Oh dang, PV, right?!)

The main thing anyone who is on Match needs to know: If you don't have a GREAT PROFILE PHOTO, GIVE IT UP.

Now I'm not saying people don't read the profiles, although I have my doubts. But, in the end, it's all about the photo. Some men have already realized that. That is why, when you meet them, they look absolutely nothing like that old black & white best-photo-ever-taken-of-them-15-or-so-years-ago-photo.

So yesterday my newly single friend, NGirl, and I set out to achieve the PPP, or Perfect Profile Photo. This is tricky work, because a Girl must put aside any creative and fashionable ideas about what makes a good photo and think like a guy. Dangerous Territory. Men on Match use language like, "looks as good in jeans as she does in a little black dress" and "outdoorsy". Translation: thin and naturally pretty. But I know for a fact that both men and women worldwide vote Angelina Jolie as their Fantasy, so you can imagine my quandary here. Further Translation: thin and doesn't watch a ton of TV sprawled on the couch eating a bag of Doritos. For obvious reasons, let's move on.

So preparing for the shoot. One upside to roping a great steer would be that I could finally cut all my hair off, signaling The Death Knell to trying to attract the male species. A head of long, dead hair seems to be right up there on The List with the LBD with most men. But since I am still unofficially in the attraction phase, I heat up the hot rollers in an attempt to acquire some volume. Steer or not, when the nose hairs outnumber the head hairs, I'm out. Luckily there are battery-operated tools for this very problem. I have a few people on my Christmas list who may be receiving one in their stocking this year.

NGirl and I set out on our Optical Odyssey with the camera. As Tyra says, The Light is Your Friend. I learned this the hard way, as we clicked through the initial shots and I realized, with some degree of horror, that I am looking a hell of a lot like my grandmother these days. A professional photographer, makeup artist, and good lighting just aren't in the budget. While NGirl is off powdering her nose, I take matters into my own hands and pull a Madonna, circa Desperately Seeking Susan, capturing my visage auto-photographically.

Although we ultimately walked away from the afternoon with a few choice jpegs in our folders, we decided that the calcium is really paying off: the clavicle is really the last thing to go. But more than that, I realized a very important thing: it is a really good friend indeed that will tell you, in all honesty, that you are much prettier in person than your photos may suggest. She's a keeper.