Yes, I was once a paying member of Match. I enjoyed the humiliation of web-based personal ads. Why should I deny people from the other 49 states the chance to see how much of a loser I am? I deserve to cry out "Try Me!" to men nation-wide, and the internet is just the drool-covered tool for me to use.

One date was with the commissioner of a sports league. The average of our 2 ages combined is probably 36. I am 28. When I asked pops, "Can we go outside? This music sucks," I really only wanted air--not to solicit a geriatric makeout session.

"I asked the nanny to stay over tonight and watch the kids, so I'm free to go over to your place," he whispered.

I punched him in the chest and said, "You're a jerk for assuming I'd do that, you know." I was actually laughing while saying this because the huge set of balls this guy had surely didn't match the roll of mentos in his pocket he called a dick. I could tell this, because he was rubbing it against my crotch.

So I wanted to have a bit of fun. Just to see if he'd do it, I instructed him, "Say it: 'I'm a jerk'!"

"I'm a jerk," he said. "And I'm not getting laid tonight, either" said the defeated look on his face.

Another time, I met a short computer salesman named Jeff, whose wife had left him for another man. He had found the emails they wrote back and forth, and the separation had happened only 2 months prior. The "date" was a coffee table therapy session.

On a wholly unrelated note, I had very bad gas that night.

Let us not forget Steven, who did give me a fabulous red scarf from Sweden when we first met. He is a real-life Art Van Dalay who is in the importing-exporting business, and he travels extensively to Europe. At one point, he'd promised to take me to the English country side. He was wealthy, he had the biggest penis I ever did feel inside a pair of FTLs (but never got to see), but I just wasn't ready to be his wife. That's what he wanted right away, a wife. That, and also I wasn't into forced phone sex sessions. Steven sure liked his phone sex, and once coerced me to talk dirty to him.

...Oh my god, I've been phone raped...

And then, there were those dates of unrealized potential that never got past the initial conversations:

• Jeff, who sounded friendly and looked cute, but the Ward Cleaver-ish way he scolded me for breaking our first date irked me. I can't help if I wasn't up to meeting another stranger and putting on my game-day face.

• Brian, who couldn't handle the fact that I was too apathetic to agree to meet, and sent me a crazy long email that postulated on my personality flaws

• Russ, who sounded like Alvin the Chipmunk if David Seville had kicked him in the throat for doing a threesome with Chip and Dale (DON'T tell me you didn't know C&D were gay, now.)

• John, who shattered that "bad boy" image he was crafting for himself when he revealed his "rebellious" tattoos were of wolves. Yeah, nothing says ass-kicking psycho freak like a wildlife tattoo. Don't tell me you recycle, too, you rebel!

Being single (yet again) sure has it's advantages. And use Match.com if you want them all extinguised quickly with humiliation.