That’s What I Get for Facebook Stalking

by Amy on April 6, 2010 · 0 comments

“You should meet Kevin McCall,” my friend Callie says. “He’s my Facebook friend. I think you might have some things in common.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, for one thing, he’s really picky.”

Sounds like a match so far. So I go stalking on Callie’s Facebook page, searching through the K’s until I arrive at one Kevin McCall.

Criminy. I’ve seen this guy on Is my world that small after all?

Taking this for a sign, I consider for a minute asking Callie to ask Kevin to check out my Facebook profile and then perhaps email me on if he’s interested and…oh, forget all that. “Care to be my Facebook friend?” I invite Kevin, who has no clue who I am unless he happens to remember I rejected him at some point on (I know this to be the case because I’ve rejected all but two men on, the first culminating in an endless date I couldn’t terminate because the evil restaurant server wouldn’t bring us the check, and the second a planned brunch date on which I was stood up (read here for that painful tale).

Anyway, I wish I could remember Kevin’s Match handle, because there has to be a REASON I rejected him. Poor speller? Doesn’t want kids? Too negative? Too old? (See my dealbreaker post here.)

Kevin doesn’t seem to mind that he doesn’t know me, or he’s too polite to make a stink of it, because he accepts my friendship request, although he wisely (and cutely) inquires if I’m a stalker.

Moi? A stalker? I admit in response to his inquiry to stalking him mildly and recognizing him from Match, at which he reveals his Match handle, a new handle with an updated profile, he adds. Before he can finish his cleverly written sentence, I leap off Facebook onto Match, greedily type in his handle, and start reading. Uh-huh, uh-huh…40 years old (right in my target age range)…not a spelling error on the page (downright miraculous)…no weirdo photos of nothing but scenery or the bottom of his foot…a well developed funnybone…good taste in hobbies…

Then I arrive at…

“And I’m actually 48.”

Screech!!! Say what?

“That’s right. I’m not 40. I listed that age because many women tend to be stuck on a certain age range and refuse even to look at me based on age alone.”

Now I remember the dealbreaker.

Hmmmmm…does he have a point, though? Maybe I wouldn’t have looked twice if I’d seen the “48” at the start. In fact, I probably didn’t look twice the first time I saw him on Match, because he likely had that age listed in his old profile.  Kind of like how I, at the latter end of the baby-making scale, probably don’t get a second look from daddy wannabes who ignorantly assume I’m infertile and would rather take their chances with a 21-year-old with three times the viable eggs.

But an age gap that wide is significant, isn’t it? I want kids. Do I want the father of my kids to be 50 when they’re born? And my parents were more than a decade apart in age; my dad hit a certain point where the age gap really seemed to make a difference in their lifestyles.

And what of the fact that Kevin used trickery and deceit to get my attention? Isn’t THAT a dealbreaker itself?

But what if everything else looks good…on paper, at least?

I’m at a loss. Really. What would you do?

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