We laughed, and then went on discussing our own dating disasters.
For the next week or so, I went about my business as usual, but this Emily Dickinson idea wouldn’t go away. It would be an interesting art project, if nothing else.
Early on, a guy asked for my real-world profile and I sent it to him.
Instead, I stand at the window and lower it down to them in a basket. Well, technically, Jane Austen was the zombie killer, not Dickinson, but close enough.
There were also emails from men who were utterly confused, who wrote things like, “Why?
There were no boob-squeezing selfies or come-hither stares. So why was Emily Dickinson succeeding at online dating to a much higher degree than I ever had?
It was obvious that she didn’t fit in with the cool kids. At first, I found it curious, but after a while, I realized that Emily’s experience was merely an extension of the Ok Cupid experience in general. When we create a profile, we’re projecting a certain type of image. Well, she was famous, for one thing, and dead for another. Men do tend to fetishize famous dead women, especially if the woman in question has a head full of neuroses. If most modern men met these women in real life, they would call them crazy, but somehow, in the safety of death, they become worthy.