It says a lot about my personality that I would share a story about my first visit to a matchmaking service with a story about my Canadian Visa Debit card, and give the credit story the lead. As it happens, I rose to write this, with the excitement that I think I figured out why Canadian Visa Debit cards, or at least the one my Royal Bank of Canada issues me, are deemed Internet use cards for online purchaes, and do not have a magnetic strip.

The concept was in my head, because of today’s Matchmaker visit at 4:30 in the morning. I was unable to use my Visa Debit to pay, and I no longer have any credit cards.

When I described my Visa Debit to the disappointed saleswoman, we were both puzzled why the distinction. Certainly American Debit credit cards had stripes, and worked much like credit cards, except the money was removed from existing savings, rather than borrowed, like traditional credit. I remember being super excited when I first heard the concept was coming to Canada. At last I would be able to buy things online without a credit card.

Indeed it works well, and since my savings account has had some extra money in it this year, I’ve used it quite a lot. However that didn’t help me today, when I had sat through 2 hours of pitch, and I was ready to say YES. Id already signed on at least 4 dotted lines and initialed twice extra that I did in fact, understand the descriptions of the matchmaking service, but I agreed it was the right decision and next step in my life story.

EVentually, I ventured to the corner bank machine and withdrew a maximum of $1000 for the moment, paid it as a deposit, and then returned home to pay the balance with my Visa ONLINE Debit card.

That has not yet happened, and I have this idea in my head keeping me up, that it will not happen. It probably will be declined, regardless of the balance. Online means online… not over the phone. EVen though I have a valid Visa Debit card number, expiry and back code, The card may be turned down because it’s a person, not a computer taking the order.

I’m pretty sure I figured out why.

Unlike a credit card, which is loaning money you don’t have, the Debit card represents money you do have. When an online order is placed, the amount of the invoice is confirmed and then removed from your existing balance. Transaction complete. However, when you order from a person, either live in a retail environment, or over the phone, the amount due is confirmed, but not actually removed from the account. The actual money grab is processed later, perhaps at the end of the day, or at some time later. THis gives the client the opportunity to spend it before it’s gone.

This would be fraud if proven to be done on purpose, but either way, the money is gone. The vendor may be forced to take a loss or chase the funds themselves.

Of course, this may have nothing to do with it, and not be the answer at all. I merely created this story because it fit the situation. As UI type it, I see two flaws. I imagine that, had I published it – the first three comments left would be;

FIRSTIES

Excuse me, but I believe you can choose that transactions are processed live at point of sale, and not held later. It has been a long time since the days where cards where swiped under three pieces of carbon paper, pre approved and processed at the end of the day. The hand help wireless point of sale terminals and other electronic processing is as live as the online versions.

3) Even if a sale is opened, confirmed and held for processing, the act of confirmation has always put a hold on the funds for a specified period of time. If somebody were using old school swipe paper processing, they call an approval center verbally and funds are set aside till the sale is finalized. You would not be able to withdraw them.

I’m surprised the comments in my head were so polite. That seems unrealistic depiction of how people generally reply when they think they’ve corrected some online opinions.

Part 2. Oh yeah… I went to a matchmaker today.

In my continuing pursuit of a better me, and extended happiness, I decided it was time to start dating again. I actually made the session as part of my 52nd birthday changes. Level up.

Today, I gained enough confidence to decide to take it a bit more seriously. Previous attempts had failed because dating is contrary to a lot of my quirks. One of my top 3 issues is my inability to ask women I’m interested out. Add to that, my extreme that still thinks maybe I can only date from the less attractive, perhaps overweight dating pool. I don’t deserve beauties. I know using a 1-10 scale to describe this situation will be considered sexist and I suspect women hate the 1-10 ratings, but it does best describe the idea of beauty easily.

I don’t like to use the 1-10 scale of beauty either, because my preferences don’t match the rest of the pop culture world. I rate the face above all, and the right smile is what I can feel in my body. Her shape isn’t nearly as important to me, so my 10 and a buddy’s 10 will be totally different women. Many men, if I am to believe the way they talk, would fall in ,love with a 10 body, even if it came with a 3 face.

Let’s stop that discussion. The point of all the is, I wanted to date, but online dating isn’t for me. Real world dating isn’t for me. Meeting people at Science Fiction convention dating isn’t for me.

Russian mail order brides isn’t for me, although I will admit to looking at their web sites and considering it. If she was right, I believe I could love and marry a mail order bride, except I would probably never truly trust and respect her motive, and obsess constantly about whether it was all a lie, and at some point in the future, she’d just leave and be gtahnakful I gave her a way into Canada… so no, mail order brides would not work for me.

What I really wanted was somebody I know to set me up, but it turns out that is as hard an ask as dating itself. It’s a huge deal to ask somebody to make that kind of suggestion, and be responsible to guess my tastes. I scan the 1cm teeny thumbnails of strangers and friends of friends on my Facebook posts. I consider stalking some of those who clicked LIKE on a joke, and starting a life with them.

Of course, I don’t. In my head, I imagine looking like a good when they reply with shock and a no. I have inconvenienced them.

The most logical step, seems to be a professional matchmaking service. In essence, somebody who knows me, setting me up on a blind date with a friend they think I might get along with… but on a far more complex basis. Algorithms to narrow down the numbers, but as they lead me to understand, final matches are done by a human matchmaker with self proclaimed expertise. That person, whom I have not yet met, is presented as a big deal. He or she reads a single note card with 22 mathematical traits of comparability, and hand selects a man and a woman to be potentially compatible.

To some extent, this is smoke and mirrors and showmanship, because I’ve had two pre interviews now with two different people, and they simply hand off a page of notes. As I watch with interest, I see that eventually these 3 page check boxes and long intensive discussions mean almost nothing. I may have talked about my sex life in shockingly too much detail to this person, whom I later come to understand is just the friendly face of reception, one among many. She is a sorter. The pre-interviewer that takes my 120 minute conversation and 3 page questionnaire, and changes it to a 15 single digits between 1 to 5. My sex life is a 1 and my communication skills are a 5.

I’m fairly certain I might have offered the exact same numbers if I’d clicked 15 boxes on a computer screen. I’m not certain that this conversation will in any way be discussed with the next level of the process. If I meet the Matchmaker next, either in person or far more likely on a phone call from his or her offices in whatever city. It is probably, at least in the vision in my head, that she will contact me with only the sheet of 15 numbers 1-5 on it, and nothing personal from my 2 hour share fest today. She’ll probably talk with me for a few minutes, and convert those 15 numbers down to 5 or 6, look at her screen, fine a similar woman that matches my numbers and send us both “you matched” emails.

As I look over what I have written above, I seem negative. The performances of this company are impressive, if I chose to tell the negative story. It’s clear that society is losing trust in the dating industry a little in this generation. We’ve learned that men cheat vis the web, but worse, we’ve learned that matchmakers cheat a whole lot more. They fake profiles, and bluff their importance. It seems in many categories.

The interesting part about this matchmaker is that I don’t care. EVen if the negative side of of brain has created a back story of pretence and showmanship, I don’t actually care. Our world is filled with supply and demand, and the prices matter as much as the points in an improv game. People create businesses to service our needs, and in the service industry, hard costs are salaries and not much else.

My matchmaker has a very nice office with at least room for 3 or four sales agents, however it is entirely ;possible that the good looking, nice smile MBA qualified woman I met today is the entire business. The matches are predominately done by computer based on numbers, just like every other dating service.

It doesn’t matter to me, because the service they offer, is the one I need. I have always said I am a man living life in reaction, and this matchmaker is willing to give me a name and allow me to go on a date, without having to risk the ask. It is my ideal world.

I am confident ON dates… just not confident enough to ASK

I am happy with this service, and content to pay the artificially inflated price they have pulled out of thin air. A price that assures the rent is paid to their nice office, and the MBA saleslady gets to wear nice things and drive a nice car. In sales, image is everything.

I will be interested, excited and eager to meet “the Matchmaker”, which seems to be a franchised person somewhere else, much like THE WIZARD OF OZ, and start dating. I don’t need to look behind the curtain. Sadly, my brain does anyway… but not all things in life are destroyed when you find out how they work, like Orange Juice and Magic. Sometimes you can still respect a person for inventing a way to service a need, and then making money from that idea.

I am always happiest when I hear the guy who invented something genius is rich. It makes me sad when I hear stories about the guy who invented the difference isn’t the one with the nice car and home.

I have never had a problem spending money to people, if they’re willing to do things I don’t want to. The problem is only that I didn’t always have the money to do so.

I am certainly willing to pay somebody a handsome reward if they send me eight women to date. I won’t even complain if the first one turns out to be ideal. I may not tell the story that my wife and I met because I paid somebody $4000. That might not go over at the cocktail party.

I have optimism. My life is pretty good, but my universe is always better, when shared.

This post was written between 4:30am and 6:30am on Wednesday August something,. I wake up several times a night to pee, but the 4:30 wake up is often one I have trouble getting back to sleep. This morning, I happened to check email on my way back to bed, and got into an actual task. Mornings are always the best time of my day, and I get a lot of work done, which is why I liked getting up at 5 or 6 instead of 8 or 9 as I have recently.

I admit to smoking a very tiny bit of weed at 4:20 today because it allows me to write my story, and this was one I wanted to journalized. I did not do much, and I did not do anything else. I want to be clear at the end of stories like this, because if I don’t confess, worse will probably be assumed. Friends and family are on addiction drug watch for me, because they have no way of knowing if my drug use stories are true, or lies to cover up an imagined terrible addiction they may have created in their heads. I respect that, so I don’t hide or lie.

I like to write, and a tiny bit of weed enables that in me.

It is now 6:41. I will turn off the light, nap till my Paul alarm good off at 8am, and start a productive Wednesday.

End of part 1.

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