every girl's got a little crazy in her...

Ok, this is going to sound a little psycho, but the truth is... as a member of the Female Race, crazy is unavoidable, as it is an unchangeable part of my DNA. And honestly, when one member of the Female Race gets crazy, she shares her crazy with other members and then the crazy spreads like a disease. So, what happened here is that I contracted my crazy from my good friend Blondie McSmartyPants.

Blondie McSmartyPants, as you know, recently ended a relationship with Tooly McWankFace. And when I say recently, I mean like last week. This is a fresh wound here. So as per standard crazy post-breakup behavior, Blondie immediately began scouring match.com to see if he had re-posted his profile. Then, on Tuesday, she discovered that he had indeed re-posted his profile. Crazy just got crazier.

Now, there is one inherent problem with match.com: when you look at a dude's profile, it shows up on his "See who's viewed you" section of his page. So if you view it today, it shows up. If you view it tomorrow, it shows up again. How in the world do the match.com creators expect us to secretly stalk dudes if we're constantly showing up on their "Who's viewed me" page??

So there are two things that caused the crazy to spread from Blondie to me: 1) She told me about finding Tooly back on match. That wanker! 2) She asked me if I had ever searched for my ex. Dammit! I hadn't even considered that! (For those of you who don't know the back story, my ex - Douchey McF***Face - and I broke up in August. While Douchey and I didn't meet on match, that doesn't mean that he wouldn't sign up to try to find the byatch of his dreams. And just for the record, I am COMPLETELY over him, but honestly, I am just a curious person by nature).

Here's what happened. I got curious. Duh. So I conducted a search for men of his age range, height, location, etc. I was very specific so as to narrow the field. And after browsing just two pages, I found him. My heart stopped. What a douche. But, I hate to say this, the crazy didn't stop there. It really does get worse - way worse. I did not want to click on his profile, because the last thing I wanted to do was to give him any sort of impression that I think or care about him at all. So, I immediately IMed Blondie. What do I do?? She was in the same boat as me. She had been consumed by the crazy. I know I should not have turned to her, but the crazy was running coarsely through my veins. I was not thinking straight. In haste, we shot ideas back and forth about what to do. How can we properly stalk our exes without them knowing it?

"I've got the BEST idea," Blondie wrote (in reality, not a good idea at all). "We can create a FAKE PROFILE!"

"OMG! That is such a good idea!"

No it's not. But... it was too late. The crazy had already won. Blondie moved quickly. She suggested using the photos of her coworker, who is happily relationshipped. Brilliant!

So immediately upon getting home from work on Tuesday, I set out on my task of creating a faux stalker profile using Blondie's coworker's photos! We'll call our newest match.com member Hottie McAsian. Let me tell you this... it is hard work making a match.com profile! So many questions! So many things to make up! But by the time I had sat down in front of my laptop and created a fake gmail account for Hottie, there was seriously no turning back. I was in it to win it. I had to create a fake birth date, a fake college, a fake degree, a fake job, and even fake interests (Hottie really loves the beach and experiencing new adventures - ok, maybe there is a little bit of me in this fake profile...) I felt like Dr. Frankenstein creating my monster. It was so much fun! After about 40 minutes of hard work, my creation was complete. I just needed to wait for the profile and photos to be approved.

When I finally had my chance, I logged on immediately to stalk Douchey's profile. Eew. So glad that relationship's over. Viewing his profile ultimately brought me no satisfaction, other than knowing that I am glad I am no longer with him. (That, and the thought that I am way too hot for him anyway.) After viewing his profile, the crazy started to slowly wear off. WTF were we thinking? But, since we already had the profile up, we figured we'd check on it every once in a while to see who's winking at her. If Douchey or Tooly wink at her, we both thought, they're going down. (Crazy clearly still lingering).

As a non-paying match.com member, the only thing you can do on the site in terms of communication is wink for free. You can also see those who have winked at you. What you can't see is "who's viewed you" or emails that have been sent. We didn't envision this being a problem because we were only anticipating using her profile to stalk our exes.

But here's the crazy part... Hottie has had a fake profile now for about three days. I logged on to her profile this morning, just to see what kind of action she's gotten (and to see if Douchey winked at her, which he did not). You will not believe this, but she has 19 new emails and 40 winks! Are you kidding me!? That is more emails and winks than Blondie and I put together! How is it possible that our fake profile is more popular than our real ones!? Waaaah we are crying!

If there is a lesson to be learned here, folks, it's that stalking is bad. And so is creating fake people. Or using real people to make fake people to secretly stalk real people. Ugh. What a giant, crazy mess...

On paper

I should have seen it coming with Tooly McWankface. I mean the guy even actually referred to himself as a tool on multiple occasions. Is it a requirement of match.com men to lead with their flaws? Can't you keep those to yourself? Or at least until I've met your parents. Then maybe I could associate your self loathing behavior with some f-d up parental unit. Self deprecation is not sexy.

So what did I see in Tooly McWankface in the first place? Well I seem to have developed a taste for white collar douche bags. You are probably familiar with this breed of man-child. On the outside they look like they've got it all together. The job (accountant, lawyer, sales exec), the education (private schools their daddies paid for), the resume, the house, the car, the cuff links. But on the inside they are insecure adolescents with addictive personalities and debilitating Oedipus complexes.

Well Tooly was the epitome of white collar douchebagery. He was a classic workaholic and admittedly so. He told me this the day I met him. My white collar fantasies of briefcases and cocktail hours kept me interested. But eventually the extent of his workaholic douchebagery became exceedingly apparent. He was incapable of any spontaneous interaction. Compelled to report to his desk no later than 7am and stay put until 7pm; it was also a non negotiable requirement that he continue to work until midnight once he arrived at his empty apartment (which could pass for corporate housing). Sunday afternoon dinner party? Heck no-he's too busy for that. Spontaneous drink downtown-no its a school night.

The sad part is, when he could schedule me in, I really enjoyed spending time with him. I found him to be interesting, challenging, intelligent and surprisingly passionate. But what would the future hold? Me begging for a few hours of his Saturday, or cold dinners alone? So I had to ask him, even though I knew the answer-does this really qualify as a relationship to you? 4 hours a week? I spend more time with the baggers at Nob Hill. And though he admitted I was right, this was in no sense a relationship, he was not equipped to meet my dating expectations. So we (he) decided not to continue this "relationship" and reported this to me last night in a cold and distant phone call. I wept like he was my first love and thanked god he wasn't there to see me deconstruct, particularly since my mascara wasn't waterproof. He maintained an aloof and professional demeanor and treated me like a client. I hope I won't get a bill for that! I will miss his steady, strong energy and his big sad eyes. I won't miss feeling single when I have a boyfriend. Like his manhood, his existence was only on paper.

Now that Tooly McWankface has released me from the burden of trying to convince somebody to have a life, I am free to wander the streets of match.com again. Final vote: dud