You'd think dating websites would be havens for fat people. They aren't. Oh, don't get me wrong, the fat, ugly and generally unattractive flock to dating websites, they are to the unwanted and undateable what the lottery is to the poor and ignorant, a small glimmer of hope in an otherwise harsh reality. By haven I mean you'd think fat people could cruise websites without fear of persecution, but it just ain't so. There are those occasional attractive people who join dating websites looking for ... well I hesitate to call it love because you can tell they are too self-centered to care about anyone else or they probably wouldn't be single — they're attractive ... someone that meets their overly high, impossible to achieve standards. So what does a fat boy like me do on a dating website? Window shop.
I can only assume it is like walking Rodeo Drive in Hollywood, looking in the windows at all the designer things one can't afford, but wishes they could have, because said things would mean your life was in a better place and you believe having said things will make you happy.
That being said I've about given up on the whole dating scene and simply cruise the websites looking at photos of pretty girls, imagining they aren't as two-dimensional as they probably are in real life.
So what does this have to do with such sites not being a haven, well it gets dicey when you start looking at profiles of attractive people. Most sites will let said users see who has viewed them and when someone like me views the profile of an attractive person, they take it as an insult. I'm sure beautiful women are hounded almost every minute on such sites by less-than-desirable men with cheesy one-liners and the all-to-common; "Damn baby, ur hot!"
In that sense I can forgive them being upset that I'd dare to dream and look at their profile, but it gets interesting when they get so upset they take it upon themselves to send you a message calling you out on your faux pas. Case in point, I recently looked at the profile of a dainty little Texas beauty who the next day sent me the following: "You don't need a girlfriend, you need a treadmill."
Touche salesman. Touche. A guy can't even dream anymore without getting in trouble.
All I can figure is it must be more trouble than it is worth to be good-looking, and apparently it comes with a genetic defect ... The better looking you are, the less modesty you have. I'm all kinds of modest apparently.
