Alright, so maybe it was the way I answered some of the questions: Like, Yeah, I’m over thirty. Then I tried this internet dating site another friend told me about, called Christian Café. Men in drag, magician outfits, a guy who looked like Santa Claus on a bender. Nothing like making the holidays even more depressing than trying to find a guy on a Christian website that guarantees men with no ‘nads. On a lark I emailed him, gave him my real email address. My last boyfriend taught me never to date someone so young I could have been his babysitter. I started to recognize the smart, funny, mature guy I’d met in emails. If he continued to “show up” he might end up being, you know, The One. If you see contradictions in life, you’re not going to get matched.

So, 45 minutes and 100s of questions later, identified my 24-dimensional personality. My roommate said e Harmony rejected a percentage to weed out “crazy people.” I wondered how she knew this. Right before Christmas, Christian Café offered me two free days. The next time he asked me out, he was less guarded, more fun. The third date, I noticed the earring in his ear looked good against his “not so wild hair.” It turned out he liked Monty Python and Emma Thompson. And he let it slip out that he owned a vinyl copy of the Beatles Bootleg Christmas album. They match people based on statistical probability that they’ll think or act alike in any given situation.

In those ten free days I saw the same guys on line. That means, skip the multiple choice questions and go right to the dowry requirements.

After three years of research in collaboration with Galen Buckwalter, Warren developed a model of compatibility that is now the basis of the company's matching system.

A recurring complaint by eharmony customers for years is the misuse of the website to incur auto-renewals from members.

Five seconds into our first phone call, puts his 8-year-old son on the line. ” I had to hold a conversation with the kid for seven minutes. Men with handles like Shining Armor, Heart4Jesus NYou, Mister Right. He didn’t have his picture posted, but all his must haves/can’t stands were about beauty: must have a woman who is considered very attractive.

Finally I got matched with this Christian man who owned a vending machine company. Not only the men from months before, I recognized men I’d seen them at every singles group in Southern California for the last 15 years. I said no, I wanted to go through the multiple choice first.

How sad is that, to flip back every few months and see that no one wants Mister Right? Roommate: Well, to e Harmony, crazy and artist are the same thing. I’d rather be crazy and interesting, than sane and dull. I saw him at a distance at this wealthy church on Mulholland Drive. Maybe he’d seen me at a distance too, and decided I was too old, since I was out of high school. Two years later, Mister Right was still up for grabs. But had just had an endoscopy and was drugged on Percoset. Men who were never brave enough to admit that, sometimes life sucks and doesn’t make sense.

This time I asked my roommate how she knew they rejected people they thought were “crazy.” Roommate: They rejected me. Susan: That’s not because you’re crazy, that’s because you’re an artist. He seemed cool, but some of his pictures looked a little narcissistic. He kept flipping his hair and checking out the high school aged ‘babes.’ He never emailed me back. I got matched with nice Christian mojo-free men who worked in the Air Force or computer sales.

Not us crazy artist types who see life as full of contradictions. The official e Harmony psychologist was also a guest on the show.

Film: Charlie’s having a hard time because Thelma just died. People whose answers will always be the same at any given moment. ” When my friends ask how we met, I tell them: on a website I wouldn’t recommend to any crazy, creative woman I cared about. In early 2009, I was asked to speak on a TV morning show about my experiences on e Harmony.

He seemed fun, but in our first phone call, he talked about his friends like I already knew them. Finally we got to the open questions, but before he could ask me about the size of my dowry, I asked him why it was so important that his partner be so attractive but he didn’t have his picture posted. It was a long shot of a man sitting on top of a Coleman cooler in a weedy back yard. He stared off in a strange direction, like a Civil War daguerreotype. The others I got matched with looked into the camera but had creepy vacant eyes, like the church had stolen their spontaneity. I figured this kind of matching works for people in the fly-over states who chose their jobs because a college counselor told them they’d like it.