How the computer places me

I joined an online dating service. You answer a zillion questions and it can be quite interesting to compare your answers with potential dates. Under the "Personality" tab is a graph that shows where your answers sit in comparison to others. That too, is interesting. Potential dates can see that I am more spiritual, more pure, more compassionate, progressive, political and kind, in that descending order. They can also see I am, (according to their statistics) less adventurous, less experienced in love and life in ascending order. How they reach these conclusions is a mystery to me.

But it does make me wonder. How well do I see myself? How well does anyone? It seems to me that we look at ourselves with either rose or mud colored glasses, and very rarely do we see clearly. I know for me it is always a shock to look at photographs and see how short I am. When I look down, the floor is far away. I can't imagine what the view is for my 6' 8" nephew. I watch little kids. They are the center of their world, at home in their own space.

Many years ago I was pregnant and every night my spouse would rub pure cocoa butter on my tummy. I smelled like chocolate and was under the impression that I had no stretch marks. Then I disrobed in a cubicle with a full length mirror. I had big red stretch marks on the underside of my bulge. They had been there all the time but not having a mirror, I hadn't seen them. (Oh, big, big freak out! Why didn't you tell me? I thought you knew!)

In my mind, I am brave and oh so street wise. I am a woman of the world who chooses to stay home and uses excuses not to travel, either the parents or money. How can I be less experienced in love and life? How? I don't know, but I guess I am, because the computer says so. And we all know the computer never lies. (Garbage in, garbage out.) It does explain why most of the matches they send me are old hippies. What rich guy wants someone more spiritual, and pure? It even makes me kind of nauseous. It does make me wonder, just who I am. I won't spend a lot of time wondering, though. Because, like Popeye, I yam what I yam, and have the forearms to prove it.