The very first love-for-non-family-members lesson I learned was this: Often the people you like (and vice versa) will not like you back. I was in kindergarten at the time, and the boy’s name was Michael. He wore round-framed glasses, and his outfit of choice was a pair of jeans and a boldly colored t-shirt with wide horizontal stripes in a contrasting color. Midway through the year, he decided he liked me. He let me know of his feelings by saving me a seat on the bus every morning, consistently picking me to be in his Game Group in the afternoons, scooting his floor mat next to mine during lessons, and sharing his graham crackers with me during snack time. I felt nothing for Michael—or any boy—at the time. So I ignored him. No sweet gesture of his had any effect on me. I just wasn’t interested.
This very basic lesson was just one of many about love and attraction I learned while in grade school. It is also one that the customers who call in seem to have forgotten. In the past work week alone, I’ve heard from no less than a dozen and a half furious people, all of whom seem to be under the impression that because they’re paying for this matching service the rules of love should somehow be different. “Your service sucks, and it doesn’t work!” they shriek into my telephone earpiece. “All the people I’m interested in aren’t interested in me.” Then they demand some sort of explanation, and I have to figure out how to explain Rule Number One in a way that doesn’t come off as condescending. Which is very hard to do. Because I really, really want to say, “Seriously? Come on, now. You expect our service to somehow magically only present you with people who will like you back?”
Only a few days ago, a male caller responded to my, “How may I help you?” with, “Well, you can start by telling me how dare you advertise yourself as a service that helps people find love. I’ve been on here for over a month, and none of the women I send messages to ever respond. I can’t believe I’m paying for this sh*t. You all are a bunch of goddamn crooks.”
Just as I tell everyone with this complaint, I started off by saying—gently, mind you— “I’m sorry to hear that. But that probably means they’re not the right person for you. It’s all part of the process.” To which the man replied, “But if I’m paying to meet people, I sure as hell better start getting some women who show interest back, and soon. Otherwise, we’re going to have a very, very big problem here. You got that?”
I’ve heard so many threats in the short time I’ve been interacting with customers that the only thing that caught me off-guard was how vague and generic his was. It was a pleasant change, because most of the time the disgruntled try to distinguish themselves as individuals by being a bit more specific or unusual in their threats: “I’m going to sue for you for five million dollars.” “I only live about three miles away from your office. You don’t think I won’t come down there right now? ‘Cause I will, dammit.’”
The fact that these adults have such unrealistic expectations about attraction used to concern me. I worried about whether they would be able to find and sustain a relationship with their attitudes. I still worry now, but only because I know from experience they’ll be calling back with another complaint about the imperfect nature of the system or their match or the last customer service representative they talked to.
