internet daters anonymous.

Hello, my name is Lainie Quinn, and I'm addicted to online dating.

Lava, Match, Lemon Tonic, eHarmony… you name it, I've tried it. I know I'm a junkie; that's why I'm here.

I have spent hours wading through countless men's profiles on the various internet dating portals – each site promising to produce "the one" provided you follow their grocery-list "shopping-for-a-man" protocol, and (of course) "check out" by purchasing the credits required to communicate with the "merchandise".

I mean, seriously, when you really stop to think about it, internet dating – like any other business – is concerned first and foremost with staying in the black… In an age where full-grown adults are overwhelmingly incapable of finding a mate, it's in the fat-cat cyber-dating magnates' best interest to keep the rest of us chasing the ever-elusive carrot that is your "soul mate". When you sit down and tally the ticks, our personal failures ensure their financial success.

So you sit down, hash out your personality by completing a few standard multiple-choice questions (as if preferring dogs, cats or fish is really something that's going to help you find a compatible partner); fill in a few limited, clichéd questions such as five things you can't live without, which I'm sure for most of us aren’t nearly as philosophical as the ones we choose to submit… Exactly what type of man do you think I would attract if I actually wrote:

:: Monthly Brazilian bikini wax
:: Tampax
:: Ceramic Plated Flat Iron
:: Almonds and Raisins (a not-so-guilty pleasure)
:: Mascara

Don't forget to jot down your shopping list of "basic" matching criteria (height, weight, eye color, education, if and where he should have tattoos), and finally upload a few flattering photos of yourself and you're off to the races!

Then you either:

:: Go the totally reactive route: Sit and wait for winks, smiles and/or messages to roll in
:: Opt for passive aggression: Flag appealing profiles by sending out a wink or smile
:: Shell out credits and proactively contact interesting parties with an email.

It all sounds innocent enough, but on this precarious hunt – whether you are the fish or the bait – comes with absolutely NO quality control; dud or diamond, it's the luck of the draw. And from what I've seen, the pickings are pretty damn slim. On my quest I've encountered the geeks, freaks, cheap-skates and toxic bachelors.

Cheap skates:

There's the guys who can't be bothered to purchase credits – and make a point of saying so in their profiles, which is essentially declaring: "I'm too cheap and ambivalent to put any effort into this whole process. Go ahead and contact me if you dare – I will waste your time."

Online dating is a player's paradise:

These guys say that they're just looking for a fun time and don't think they'll find what they're looking for online, which is code for: "I need some action. Call me for a good time, but don't expect more than that." For the single guys that are in their early twenties this is fine, but you wouldn't believe how many of these commitment-phobe men are pushing and past thirty!

Last chance for romance:

Of course there are some men looking for relationships out there. They're easy to spot because they usually describe themselves as looking for a "soul mate" and include how many children they'd like to have in their profile. That wouldn't be so dastardly if one of this breed of man was even remotely attractive.

There are some cuties, but from my experience they generally post model-esque photos where they're glaring at the camera with their look of "blue steel". They are hot shit and they know it. There's the frightfully heinous, the weak and meek, the cocky and juvenile… and let's not forget the tragically disturbed.

So what keeps me coming back? Despite my ability to diss the online dating scene, I still can't manage to totally dismiss it.