There are so many reasons why I don’t want to be writing this. I am not keen to come across as the self-absorbed asshole that I know I am, and in saying anything at all, I open the door for arrows of rebuttal to be launched directly into an already vulnerable heart. So let me save you some time and acknowledge up front that I am aware of possessing a cup that already runneth over with health, family, friends, gainful employment, and a well-stamped passport.

If this is the only thing that I have to bitch about, then my life is pretty damn good.

Check this drawing out. I just made it, and it took all of 60 seconds. I drew it because I am scared of being sued for defamation of character by the man who served as my model. His photograph came to me via my imposter email account after I got a “nudge” from him due to my non-response of his online dating icebreaker questions.

Am I being too picky? You can tell me that I am, but I will tell you that I reviewed the guy’s profile and searched for commonalities that couldn’t be gleaned from a picture. While his profile had no glaring typos (a plus), he does like the 80s hair band Cinderella. I’m pretty sure that my profile says that I like A Tribe Called Quest…but I am open to other musical genres! That’s just one example. What about the profile of the skinny guy making duck lips at the camera as he holds a sign that says, “You should be here.” I’m not kidding. These are my matches. And maybe I’m just being too picky.

I would like to think that I am receptive to (male) perspectives that will help me to look at this in a different light—but then again, I’m a woman—and we’re all crazy, right? That’s a topic for another day. For now, I’d like to point out that I am 37 years old, and more than anyone else, I am painfully aware of the fact that with each passing year, my stock on the dating market plummets. That’s just a cold fact of being a woman in our society. We do not get to age in the same way that men seem to do it.

I truly believe that when it comes to dating, men have it far easier than women. No one—and I mean no one—wants to be dating at my age. The single people in my age group right now, well, they must be single for a reason…. and yes, I’m throwing myself into that pot of misfit toys, and I get that it’s an unfair statement. But still, it’s hard not to say that the only single ones are the weird ones when you get bites from Mr. Runs on Dunkin’, or you find yourself embroiled in a horrific second date with the human version of Beaker from the Muppets as he reveals his other life as a Christian Gray wannabe. These interactions do wonders for the self-esteem. And I don’t mean that in a good way. It also makes make me wonder what kind of a vibe I am putting out there on my dating profile.

And this brings me back to the unfair notebook sketch of my latest suitor. Sure, I’m being superficial for looking at his profile pic and experiencing a visceral reaction. But let me tell you why. I work hard to take care of myself. Not in the hopes of netting a man, but I strive to work hard, learn about the world and yes—I’ll say it—stay in decent physical shape.

All women have body issues, and before you roll your eyes and think, “Oh god, not that subject again,” I’ll say without apology that I am no different than anyone else. I might not come from a family background that produces the confession, “I spent the whole meeting deciding whether or not I would have another piece of pizza,” but I certainly carry a big dose of that thinking with me around. Every day.

When I do receive overtures from these (to their credit) plucky but ill-matched male suitors, I will be honest in saying that I feel as though I’m now part of a board game where the rules have been changed after I’ve signed on to play. How did this guy get the right to advance to Park Place when he hasn’t made a full trip around the board? I’m not trying to say that I am Park Place (I actually get excited to snap up Baltic Avenue) but you get the general idea.

The bottom line is that many of these men don’t seem to be putting nearly as much work into selling themselves as we women must do when it comes to the online market.   I know what you are going to say: “You’re asking for too much” or “Maybe you should get to know some of these guys before you swipe past them in a half-second.” or even, “When the guy is right, you won’t need to sell yourself.” Allow me to invoke my most exasperated teenage ugly duckling Self and respond with a big fat WHATEVER. Online dating equals online marketing, pure and simple, and we women are held to a much higher- and almost impossible standard. I wanted to be sick when I saw that photo of Kim Kardashian in this morning’s “news” cycle. And meanwhile back in Normal People Land, after my year on the online dating scene, I am constantly left with the irrational and irrelevant question, “What is wrong with me?”

Maybe it’s this city. Maybe I am just too used to getting what I want. Maybe I am just impatient and have too strong of a personality. At this stage, I’m running out of energy on the subject, and again, I feel like an asshole for bringing it up. All I know is that every time I get an email announcing that someone wants to get in touch with me, I click on the link with a feeling of dread.

Maybe I do need to chill out and lower my expectations. Maybe it’s okay that the guy looks like Peter Griffin with no hair on his head. Give him a break- we are all just humans, doing our best to make it in an intimidating world of fellow singles that brandish intimidating defenses. Like I said, I’m an asshole for writing this. I’m an asshole for complaining about the fact that I have to live a life that has sprung from my own personal decisions. I should not be asking for anything more.

You probably won’t believe me, but I sincerely hope that the guy up there—the one sketched out with little thought about how I have just hurt his feelings—I really hope he does find a mate who is a great fit as a life partner. I just don’t think I’m his girl.