I should just join the circus

There'd be fewer clowns. Have any of you tried online dating sites? Mir sounds about as enamoured of it as I am. She commented on her blog today that although she has clearly stated in her profile that she's only interested in non-smokers, only smokers contact her. I've also specified non-smokers and so far have only had one smoker think I was kidding. The choices are: non-smoker, smokes occasionally and smokes often. I could see an occasional smoker, say someone who only smokes when he has a beer, thinking I might be willing to tolerate that, but would not Mr. Smokes Often realize that chances are I'm going to chuck him and his filthy habit out into a snowbank?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those militant ex-smokers who is smoke-freelier than thou. I have friends who still smoke and I don't nag them about it, nor expect them never to smoke around me, but I don't want a partner who smokes. There are criteria in your profile that you're willing to grant some wiggle room on. If I set the height preference for someone between 5' 6" and 6', I'm not going to throw you back for being 5'5" or 6'1".

But smoking? Non-negotiable! First of all, it took me too long to give up the stupid things myself and I don't need the temptation or someone else putting poison in my lungs (if I'm not getting the fun of doing it myself, no one is) and secondly, when you're not smoking yourself it stinks.

While I've not had a suicide of smokers plague me, I do seem to be a magnet for married men. Which is another criterion in which I allow no wiggle room. I'm not out to play sharesies, boys. The worst of that bunch sent me an epic of an email explaining what a negative, soul-destroying nassssssssty woman he is married to. But he was staying for the sake of his daughter, who will graduate from high school this June and then he's OUT OF THERE! Was I still interested? In being named co-respondent in his divorce? Umm... let me think that over for a minuteNO!

And Dr. Jekyl types. Granted, nowhere in my profile do I state that neither married men nor psychos need apply, but I should think that both restrictions would be implicit. One guy ensured I had every possible phone number I'd ever need to reach him, sent multiple photos and offered to send photos of his kids (never send photos of your kid to a stranger over the internet, dude). Over a period of about three weeks, he emailed me daily, then phoned me daily, and took me to lunch. His last words to me? "I'll call you tomorrow," and based on past performance, I pretty much believed him. That was on Christmas Eve ... and as I said, those were his last words to me.

And then there's Dr. Jekyl #2. We get close. He tells me he'll be in town (he lives a fair distance away). He bolts. We get close. He's going to be in town again. He bolts. During the last (and it is the last) round, he sent 3 long soul-revealing emails and we had one hour-long phone call and a 1/2-hour long phone call and longish instant messaging and he said he definitely wanted to meet me when he's in town later this month. This from a guy who claims he hates talking on the phone, emailing and instant messaging. And then... silence. I IM'd him on Sunday evening after he'd been to his cottage for the weekend (where there is no computer) and he said he couldn't chat because... he had to unpack. Now I'm a patient woman. I can put up with a lot of palaver. But when a man would rather unpack a suitcase than talk to me, it's time to get out of Dodge, doncha think? Of course that's this week... once he drinks the potion again next week, he could change his mind again. But the news flash is... there I'll be... gone!

And now, we're down to the latest contestant, folks. This one is content to IM till the cows come home. We're on week five of the IM Marathon of Hope. And what commitment-phobe man wouldn't love the IMing? You don't have to spend any money. You don't have to dress up. You don't have to get dressed at all. If you get bored, you just claim your phone just rang, or someone's at the door or your kid needs to go to the ER. None of the fuss and muss of real dating where you'd be stuck face to face with this woman and you have no way out until the check comes. What's not to love?

Pass the rubber nose, Bozo. Mama's joinin' the big top.