My mom had pushed me to use eHarmony for years. Anytime I was single (and a few times that I wasn’t) she’d tell me how I should get on that site because this friend and that friend had found an absolutely wonderful person on the site and is now overwhelmingly happy in their great relationship. After the end of a pretty lengthy relationship, I finally took her advice and ponied up the money for a membership.

I was quite irked that I had spent what seemed like a pretty high amount of money, considering nearly all of the other top dating sites were free, on the site, it still had advertisements, mostly for their premium services. Paid sites shouldn’t monetize their users the same way that free sites do, but that’s just my opinion. Otherwise, I was impressed at the amount of information that the site took from me and claimed that it would pair me up with someone who was scientifically compatible based on a high number of qualifiers. It would give me periodic notifications about people that it had found, and I’d rarely see a profile I didn’t like. When I’d send a message, I’d never get a reply. Also, I’m presuming the website had given notifications to ladies out there about my profile too.

Much later, I’d come to realize that people probably had been reading my profile, and were simply turned off by it. I regret not saving a copy of that profile just for posterity. Immediately prior to drafting up my profile, I had completed reading Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged and had taken quite of bit of Rand’s Objectivism to heart. With a high degree of certainty, I had loudly professed in that profile my pride in my own self-centric mindset, my selfishness, and rejection of anyone in life life who would only have me to use me for their own gains. You know, stuff that appeals to ladies.

In the entire year of membership that I had purchased, I had a single response. Regrettably, I don’t recall her name. I do recall that we immediately hit it off, sharing long messages through the site, pretty quickly we switched to texting so we could communicate at work, and after she told me that she was working for Doctors without Borders out of Paris, she hit me up for cash. Then I figured out she was actually an African man. I broke it off with her after that. She persisted for weeks afterwards, continuing to send me texts, pretending that my discovery of the truth hadn’t changed our young relationship. But it had, and they all went unanswered. I imagine she moved on to ask other eHarmony users for money to pay for that life saving operation for that fictitious boy or girl.

I recalled this story after watching Mike Bobrinskoy’s stand up comedy re-telling of scamming a OKCupid scammer. It is hilarious and succinct, but pale in comparison to the scope of Mike Berry convincing Nigerian scammers to re-create Monty Python’s Dead Parrot sketch.