I really thought I was a person of depth. Then I joined Match.com, and became an online consumer of man-flesh.

Online dating sites are a lot  like ebay - except that the items we're bidding on are  human beings.

I was thrilled when I first checked out the online dating ads. With so many tall, athletic, toned, wealthy, educated, passionate, sensitive, self-actualized, spiritual, and romantic products to choose from, why should I settle for a chubby guy under six feet tall who's losing his hair? Why should I settle for a guy with an average income and unspectacular job resume? Hell, I could be with a man who's travelled the world, is a gourmet cook, owns several businesses, holds three doctoral degrees, and has plenty of time to spare with a soul mate.

 The dazzling men I had the pleasure of meeting sometimes did live up to their online ads - except for the part about wanting a long-term monogamous relationship. Over and over again, I was offered the opportunity to be a "tall, athletic and toned" man's fuck buddy. Over and over again, I self-righteously declined.

"Men are such pigs, " I fumed.  Or were they?

I began to look around me at the men I actually knew. Were they pigs?

I know a man who married a woman with a two year old son. When the woman cheated on him and broke his heart, they divorced. But he requested and received shared custody, and he remains a loving father to her little boy. 

I know a man who married a woman with bipolar disorder. He stood by her side, patiently and tenderly, as she fought to save her own life. And when she could no longer fight for herself, he fought  for her. It took years, but they finally found the right combination of therapy and medication to make her life worth living. Her husband  remained devoted to her welfare through every agonizing minute of it. He refers to her as his "best friend" and "the woman of my dreams."

I know a man who regularly surprises his wife with a candlelight bath and flowers. They have been married for over 30 years, and they are both in their seventies.

I know a man who saved the lives of several developmentally delayed women when their group home caught fire.When one of the women begged him to go back inside to save her pet, he did so. The firemen arrived to see him bursting out of the smoke-filled home with a hamster cage clutched in his arms. The hamster ("Snowball") was fine.

Not one of those men - not one of them - would have received a wink from me on Match.com.  Not one of them is tall enough, educated enough, good-looking enough, or wealthy enough to fulfill the promise of  my 35 dollar a month membership fee.

Besides, I figured I was pretty hot stuff. I may be on the brink of menopause, but I still look good in a thong.  My dating profile could have been summed up with the words "Look at how sexy I am (for my age)! If you are an object of greater or equal value - let's hook up!"

The key word, of course, being "object." 

I am forty-seven years old, and I am just beginning to grow up when it comes to how I view "romantic" love. It is soooo much safer to view other people as interchangeable objects than it is to view them as unique and irreplaceable human beings. There's a limit to how much you can love an object. But an actual person...

I pretty much got what I deserved when it comes to online dating. Perhaps I'll be more ready to date other human beings when I begin to think of myself as one.