I keep thinking I’m going to crack the code. I keep not cracking the code because there is no code.
I signed up for eHarmony. It’s expensive. I thought that having to pay for the service would lend a seriousness…
No, that’s not the right word. Let’s try willingness. I thought perhaps eHarmony’s method — along with the expense — would lend a willingness to engage in the process that interactions with free and/or cheap dating sites haven’t provided.
I gave it a week before asking myself how this could be so much worse than cheaper and more casual sites. How was this possible?
Here’s how eHarmony works. You take a personality quiz and the site gives you matches based on your compatibility score. Since my filters have failed, I figured what the hell, let someone else make the selections for me. If their matching algorithm thinks me and some guy are a good match, well why not give it a shot?
Here’s why not.
First of all, the same garbage rules apply on eHarmony as on any other dating site.
That screenshot above? The guy asked me if I wanted to talk. I wanted to get a feeling for who he was first. I asked some questions and he unmatched me. This is not unusual. Nor is it when they match and don’t message. Or their messages are uninteresting. Or they message and haven’t read my profile. Or. Or. Or. These unsatisfying starts are common and happen on all the dating sites. It’s boring. Yawn.
eHarmony was no different but they lock you into their matches only. I got several high compatibility scores with guys holding military-grade weapons in their photos. With guys who professed their love for The Lord. With guys who say “libtards swipe left.” You can’t filter that stuff out, eHarmony doesn’t you the option. You don’t have to match with them, but you do have to wade through them. The site gave me a very high compatibility match with a guy holding a fish who wanted a woman who loves spending time with small children. His small children. Another high match score came with a guy who said he was on the trajectory to becoming a rock star when he was saved by Jesus Christ. And there were any number of MAGAs.
It was a week. Whatever. I wanted out. I emailed eHarmony to cancel. I did not ask for a refund, just to cancel future payments.
They said no. My trial had expired. Why did I deserve an exception to their cancellation policy?
I told them their matches were garbage. Okay, I was nicer than that. I told them they were matching me with people who had values incompatible with mine and there was no way around it.
They offered me an additional three months at no extra cost.
Why, I asked, would I want more of something I want none of?
They said no cancellation, again.
I emailed the director of customer support. I never ask to speak to a manager. I bypass all that and go right to the executive level.
They canceled my future payments, as I had requested. But they included a condescending note. “Give the service a chance in the remaining period left on your account. Most people don’t see themselves realistically.”
Fuck you very much, I thought. Did you just call me ugly?
I perched over my keyboard for a while, then decided to make coffee. I’d got what I wanted, they canceled my payments. I would gain nothing by sending an essay on self-awareness to some weary admin who screens customer complaints while their boss is shopping for NFTs. You can’t filter out NFT or crypto-bros in eHarmony either. It’s messed up.
Later I did some reading up on eHarmony. In addition to all the things I mention above — they control who you see, they don’t allow you to search or filter out certain attributes — I read that the personality quiz ranks some people as unmatchable. If you’re unmatchable, the service doesn’t suggest you opt out because capitalism is amoral, yo.
I should have done the reading before I signed up, but I remain such a foolish optimist.
Maybe this will work, I think.