Match.com = Filene's Basement

Dating on Match.com is like shopping at Filene's Basement or TJ Maxx, whichever you prefer.

You're in one central area chock full of random trinkets, shoes, toys, household items - all things that you could want. But you know in order to find that perfect purchase, you need to spend a little time sifting through the aisles and throwing the mislabeled, broken junk aside.

But suddenly - something catches your eye. Something ... pretty. A beautiful cashmere sweater. It's the perfect color, it's the right price (and on sale, fancy that) and it's a timeless piece to add to your wardrobe. It's love at first sight.

So you get that sweater home and, bursting with excitement, you try it on first thing. But, despite it's buttery softness and rich color, something's just not right. The sleeves are cut wrong so one seam sits uncomfortably up your armpit while the other droops. There's a whole in the back somewhere, too. You look like a woman stuffed in sausage casing and wrapped in swiss cheese.

Still with me?

The world of Match.com is much like Filene's Basement. Sometimes you meet that beautiful sweater in the perfect color and the right price only to find out that really, he's just that imperfect sweater. Yes, I am relegating "love at first site" on Match.com to buying a shitty sweater at a discount clothing store.

This isn't my first time using the dating website (I did a six-month stint last year). I dated quite a few fellas, but none struck my fancy. They were all imperfect sweaters, too. Awesome and near-perfect on the outside, with a few mis-stitches and wrinkles on the inside. Maybe I'm an imperfect sweater, too, just looking for the right person to fit me.

So I've joined Match.com again, following another patch of a bad and broken relationship (with the same guy, natch). I'm not looking for The One, or Mr. Right or Him. I just want to have a little fun. And get my feet wet with blogging. And have a nice dinner or two.

This time I will capture all those nuances and awkward moments that complete each first date, and maybe even second and third, on The Imperfect Sweater. Online dating carries a stigma of only meeting creepolas and old dudes with hairy backs, but I'm hoping to once again find a few gems to dust off before casting them aside again.

How many imperfect sweaters will it take? Last time it was six. Let's see how many I can find this time.