As time goes by, Internet dating is moving away from the realm of the live-action roleplayer and the milk-stained overcoat-wearing man who lurks in bushes outside gated communities. Sites such as Lava Life have taken the phenomenon into the mainstream, meaning that more and more people are attempting to find love using these websites, with varying degrees of success. One common problem facing these loveless losers is the vast array of different people vying for one’s attention, forcing the user to trawl through pages and pages of unsuitable suitors in the hope that one piece of wheat may be hiding in the chaff of bad haircuts.
But a new website seeks to change all this. Vacuous People was started by Hans and Jurgen Jugendherberge in their native Germany two years ago, and the site has crossed over, with an American version days away.
Vacuous People (VP) filters out inadequate would-be soulmates from their files by ensuring that only blank, inane people are able to enrol. From there, members can read other users’ profiles, safe in the knowledge that the other people are all as devoid of interest as they.
“We use a combination of questionnaire and picture analysis to determine suitability,” Hans told me in his boudoir. “A potential member must answer various questions about their opinions on politics, art, hobbies and so on. If that person shows to feel strongly about anything other than going to the gym or tanning salon and drifting through empty, thankless one-night-stands, we block their entry then and there.”
“Caring about the environment may be seen as an asset elsewhere,” his brother added, “but if it’s more than a superficial nod in the direction of Mother Earth, we don’t want to hear from you. Sorry.”
Existing members are also called upon to view photographs submitted by prospective members. If the newbie seems too interesting, the members give them a low score on a scale of 1 (“very interesting”) to 10 (“Paris Hilton”). After three days, if the rating is less than five (“moribund”), then they are told that they are not welcome. A quick for anyone about to submit their photo: if you wear glasses, the chances are you won’t get in.
In the spirit of fair play, I tried to become a member of vacuouspeople.ca, which has been running for two months now. Unfortunately I failed at the first hurdle, apparently getting immediate censure for not ticking “don’t know” as my political affiliation and nailing my own coffin by not ticking “bars” as one of my interests. Even if I had have succeeded here, my picture gained a score of 3 (“somewhat interesting”) and so I would have been turned away at the second hurdle. (Incidentally, some of the comments were quite painful to read. They included “He looks like he could be a talented humorist” and “I’d definitely kick him out of bed for quoting Fichte”)
So I encouraged an acquaintance – let’s call him Ian, because that’s his name – to see if he could join, and give us some ideas of VP’s benefits. He had no trouble being accepted by the other empty-headed denizens, as he is as vacant as a specialist SUV parking space at a Greenpeace office. He spends more per year on fake tan than on transport, and if you ask him what his hobbies are he says “milk”.
Ian went on several dates with members of VP, and he praised the other members highly. They were very attractive (as the website promised) and offered no interesting or stimulating conversation at all. In one case, according to Ian, the date lasted three hours and nothing was said between him and his date throughout. Then they went to his apartment and had sex.
VacuousPeople.com really does look like a great place for blank, empty-minded individuals to connect, get to know each other’s lack of opinion or just compare eating disorders. It really isn’t for the type of person who enjoys conversation topics more stimulating than ‘things that are brown’ or ‘I like breathing,’ but it comes especially recommended for rich heirs and heiresses, celebrity impersonators and people with trendy haircuts.
The Imaginary Reviewer likes long walks on the beach, cuddles on the sofa and reviews. Check out his profile at www.lonely-reviewers.com!
Showing posts with label Online dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Online dating. Show all posts
Wednesday, 4 June 2008
Friday, 2 May 2008
Special In-depth Review: Imaginary Friend Finder
Finding imaginary friends has always been a difficult task, and it’s hard to be sure that your special immaterial pal is the right one for you. Now, with more people engaging in busy lifestyles, it’s getting even more tricky to find enough time for imaginary friend searching. The new website Imaginary Friend Finder (imaginaryfriendfinder.com) claims to be the solution to our friend-finding needs, whether we’re too busy, too shy, or if we just want to meet as many new imaginary friends as possible.
My own imaginary friend, Sally, left me over a year ago, hoping to find herself on a deserted island in the middle of the River Thames. It has been a personal struggle to get over the loss, but I feel I have moved on enough to be able to find a replacement. With this in mind, I decided to give imaginaryfriendfinder.com a try.
My first reaction to the site was how easy it was to join. I opted for the Premium Membership, at a cost of $39.95 per year, which allows me to upload as many photos of myself as I wish and send unlimited messages and emails to other users of the site. The free membership has limits on these actions. Once I had uploaded a few pictures of myself, written about myself and my interests and ticked various options for the types of friends I was interested in imagining, I was ready to go.
Scanning through the imaginary friends’ profiles, I was struck by the wealth of different personalities and interests of the people on offer. Some were interesting to me, others less so. From my stated interests the website recommends imaginary friends whom they think will match up with my profile. I chose some that piqued my interest and arranged to meet them.
The first of my prospective new imaginary friends was Gladys, a three-hundred year old masseuse from Portland, Oregon. She met me on a flying cloud and talked at length about peanuts and how they were originally mined in ways similar to diamonds. I sensed that our conversation was making the other patrons in the bar feel awkward, possibly due to the volume of Gladys’s voice. I was getting looks of sympathy from the couples and waiting staff, and I knew that it was not to be between Gladys and I.
One good feature of imaginaryfriendfinder.com is that comments can be made on the veracity of people’s claims on the site, and to the accuracy of the imaginary user’s photographs. So the next time I logged in I was forced to make it known that while her picture showed an attractive blonde (not unlike a young Brigitte Bardot), when we met she had green skin and teeth made of fingernails.
It should be noted that there are various different categories of imaginary friends on the site, catering for different needs. I chose ‘serious illusory companionship’, but it is also possible to be a member who is looking for a casual fictional friend or an erotic hallucination.
My second date was somewhat better than the first, and Mike (who I met in the park) was nice, if a little shy. Apparently he was also new to the online imaginary friend service, but the news that I was in a similar situation seemed to calm him. I’d have to say that my time with Mike was enjoyable, if a little dull, except for the part when we sat next to a mother and her child on a bench. For some reason she felt the need to take her child away, giving me a disapproving look as she did so. Despite the innocence of Mike’s and my platonic friendship, I guess a same-sex imaginary relationship is too much for some people.
After several more meetings with prospective imaginary friends, all with similar results, I decided to try one of Imaginary Friend Finder’s famed ‘speed imaginary friend finding’ sessions. Held in the prestigious Miltoff Hotel, I signed in with the twenty or so other website members. We were led into a hall with numerous tables, each with a different imaginary person sitting opposite an empty seat. We took our places and had two minutes to chat with the made-up person at our table before we had to move on. Scorecards were given out so that we could note any phantasmal creations with whom we could see ourselves being chums.
It was here that I met Julie, who I’m proud to say is my new imaginary best friend. We do everything together, and she has a mischievous streak that I find particularly wicked. Even in work, or when I’m writing, she’s looking over my shoulder, chatting with me and helping me. Sometimes she tells me to burn things, but I try to ignore her when she’s in one of those moods.
It has been three months since I joined Imaginary Friend Finder and in that time they set me up with the most wonderful imaginary friend that I’ve ever had. I couldn’t be more happy with their service, and I recommend it to anyone who has trouble meeting that special non-existent person.
What’s that Julie? You want me to burn them? Burn them all? But…but that’s wrong! I won’t do it! I won’t!
My own imaginary friend, Sally, left me over a year ago, hoping to find herself on a deserted island in the middle of the River Thames. It has been a personal struggle to get over the loss, but I feel I have moved on enough to be able to find a replacement. With this in mind, I decided to give imaginaryfriendfinder.com a try.
My first reaction to the site was how easy it was to join. I opted for the Premium Membership, at a cost of $39.95 per year, which allows me to upload as many photos of myself as I wish and send unlimited messages and emails to other users of the site. The free membership has limits on these actions. Once I had uploaded a few pictures of myself, written about myself and my interests and ticked various options for the types of friends I was interested in imagining, I was ready to go.
Scanning through the imaginary friends’ profiles, I was struck by the wealth of different personalities and interests of the people on offer. Some were interesting to me, others less so. From my stated interests the website recommends imaginary friends whom they think will match up with my profile. I chose some that piqued my interest and arranged to meet them.
The first of my prospective new imaginary friends was Gladys, a three-hundred year old masseuse from Portland, Oregon. She met me on a flying cloud and talked at length about peanuts and how they were originally mined in ways similar to diamonds. I sensed that our conversation was making the other patrons in the bar feel awkward, possibly due to the volume of Gladys’s voice. I was getting looks of sympathy from the couples and waiting staff, and I knew that it was not to be between Gladys and I.
One good feature of imaginaryfriendfinder.com is that comments can be made on the veracity of people’s claims on the site, and to the accuracy of the imaginary user’s photographs. So the next time I logged in I was forced to make it known that while her picture showed an attractive blonde (not unlike a young Brigitte Bardot), when we met she had green skin and teeth made of fingernails.
It should be noted that there are various different categories of imaginary friends on the site, catering for different needs. I chose ‘serious illusory companionship’, but it is also possible to be a member who is looking for a casual fictional friend or an erotic hallucination.
My second date was somewhat better than the first, and Mike (who I met in the park) was nice, if a little shy. Apparently he was also new to the online imaginary friend service, but the news that I was in a similar situation seemed to calm him. I’d have to say that my time with Mike was enjoyable, if a little dull, except for the part when we sat next to a mother and her child on a bench. For some reason she felt the need to take her child away, giving me a disapproving look as she did so. Despite the innocence of Mike’s and my platonic friendship, I guess a same-sex imaginary relationship is too much for some people.
After several more meetings with prospective imaginary friends, all with similar results, I decided to try one of Imaginary Friend Finder’s famed ‘speed imaginary friend finding’ sessions. Held in the prestigious Miltoff Hotel, I signed in with the twenty or so other website members. We were led into a hall with numerous tables, each with a different imaginary person sitting opposite an empty seat. We took our places and had two minutes to chat with the made-up person at our table before we had to move on. Scorecards were given out so that we could note any phantasmal creations with whom we could see ourselves being chums.
It was here that I met Julie, who I’m proud to say is my new imaginary best friend. We do everything together, and she has a mischievous streak that I find particularly wicked. Even in work, or when I’m writing, she’s looking over my shoulder, chatting with me and helping me. Sometimes she tells me to burn things, but I try to ignore her when she’s in one of those moods.
It has been three months since I joined Imaginary Friend Finder and in that time they set me up with the most wonderful imaginary friend that I’ve ever had. I couldn’t be more happy with their service, and I recommend it to anyone who has trouble meeting that special non-existent person.
What’s that Julie? You want me to burn them? Burn them all? But…but that’s wrong! I won’t do it! I won’t!
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