The dating site’s matrix determines that we are both dog lovers and like to travel, we both eat and…small world…go to the gym. 100% match! The cornerstones of our real profiles are the personal essays and photos. The essay is our pitch, the chance to tell our stories and describe ourselves as we perceive we are perceived. Or hope we are perceived. Or how we would like to perceive ourselves.

We try to highlight our most unique, positive and desirable traits. Turns out most people like to laugh, are trustworthy, and are charitable. Our pasts are in our pasts. Everybody’s kids are the most important things in their lives (I hope we’re treating them as such.). And everyone just wants to meet someone nice to share nights by the fire, be Harry to Sally. (Or vice versa, or two Harrys, or two Sallys. As I am women seeking man, I’ll write in that tense.)

Some essays begin with the list of positive attributes. He’s “handsome, honest, caring, funny, successful, and modest.” Clearly modest. He’s a skydiving, mountain climbing, surfing, guitar player; when he drinks, he drinks Dos Equis.

What about the men who invite women to message them if “you have beautiful, long legs?” They bring my insecurities right to the surface. I wish I was the sexy, classy, sophisticated, accomplished woman you seek. Most of us aren’t. Most of us, and most of you, are good, regular people trying to lead good, regular lives.

The essays that make me read on have natural voices. If he cares to, he proofreads. If he’s funny, his essay is funny. If he’s casual, his tone is casual. If he’s honest, it doesn’t feel like a pitch. They leave me curious, wanting to know more.