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I knew, very literally, that love wasn’t going to happen overnight. We poured ourselves glasses of wine and set about describing ourselves in the best, most attractive, most unique, most intriguing ways we possibly could. Is this what guys are thinking when they list their heights as five-ten even though you know, in your heart, that they are five-seven? It didn’t matter what he looked like (or what I look like, for that matter), or if we had anything in common, or what we were even talking about. More fitting would be “trite,” “absurd,” “weirdly insulting,” and “grotesque expressions of the soul-sucking vortex known as humanity.” Some messages were innocuous enough, but these were in the minority. Less horrifying.) For some reason it seems like standard operating procedure, among those with opposite-sex interests, that GUYS message GIRLS and that is that. I am, however, interested in the betterment of humankind.