Mixed messages from match.com can cause insomnia

By STEVE BERLIN
Featured Blogger

I do not and never have claimed to be some Don Juan, some prowling stud guy looking for women, so it is without shame or even embarrassment that I acknowledge my use of online dating services. I have tried several, as a matter of fact, and still browse from time to time. A service I am not using these days, though, is Match.com, which is part of what makes what I am about to say so troubling.

You see, recently, I got another Match.com come-on, but this was unlike any offer I had ever received from them - or anyone else - and it scares me. You see, the subject was : "We have too many women in Arlington and we need your help."

Now what the hell am I supposed to do with that? I mean, sure, I've joked about doing work as a hit man from time to time, but really, who hasn't? I'll admit to probably having broken some hearts over the years, but never, you know really broken anyone else's vital organs. And it's not like I've ever actually been solicited for a contract job, and believe me, as a grad student, I could use the money. But Match.com hasn't even made me a cash offer. Not even unlimited use of its premium services at no charge. I mean, how cheap are these sons-of-bitches?

That isn't even the sickest part of the whole scheme. The body of the e-mail states: "We created a marketing campaign to attract as many of the most captivating women to our site as possible. And it worked!"

That's right. Those sick people set a trap for untold thousands of unsuspecting women, luring them in with the prospect of husbands on the hoof or some such idea but really setting them up for something sinister. It's almost sounds like one of those Patterson cop novel books, "Kiss the Girls" or something.

So now I'm in a quandary. Why me? Nowhere on my resume does it say anything about this kind of work. I'm not even qualified to be hired muscle for anyone. But here we are. Do I take the job? Not really, mind you, but tell them I'll do it and then set 'em up with some kind of sting operation. That would be the right thing to do. Maybe I should just delete the message and pretend this never happened. That would be the easy thing to do, I suppose.

Crap. Good luck getting me to sleep tonight, all this life-and-death business. I was having a tough enough time trying to figure out some econ mumbo-jumbo in one of my classes.

Damn.