Perfect matches for imperfect people

In the future, newborns will be implanted with forehead bar codes that can be scanned with iPhone apps to eventually reveal things like name, astrological sign, political disposition, cereal preference and current level of sexual arousal.

And, dammit, guys like me will still struggle to get laid.

I’m so far removed from the horny dating scene that I should be restricted from ever commenting upon it. Yet the topic is irresistible to veteran social observers like me.

Everywhere we look we see loneliness, divorce, heartbreak and longing. Much of the social networking designed to facilitate getting together instead foils the connection. A quick Google search indicates inclusion in a nerdy Star Trek Facebook group and a cold, texted break up message quickly follows.

That’s why I’m fearful of the folly that believes there’s any way to get two people together that doesn’t involve the introduction of lots and lots of liquor, which is how I wound up married with two children lo these many years.

I believe sobriety is a major obstacle to happiness and that judicious amounts of alcohol are a necessary lubricant to an any enduring marriage.

But, clearly, we are on the verge of a day when our cell phones will be able to pinpoint with GPS accuracy the exact location of Mr. and Mrs. Right.

And you know what that means. It means we’ll soon hear the lovelorn lament that’ll go something like this, “Yes, he was handsome, wants kids, has nice hair, is a Ron Paul libertarian, likes pina coladas and getting caught in the rain and, yes, he is cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, but his eyes just aren’t the precise shade of robin egg shell blue I’m looking for in a mate. Maybe something better will come along.”

Yes, with every technological matchmaking, the infernal pickiness quotient rises ever higher.

This is frustrating to men like me who consider ourselves perfect as is, multiple mustard stained shirts and all. I’m lucky in that I found a woman who apparently isn’t even the least bit picky.

I mean there’s not many women out there who’d settle for a chronically underemployed worm farmer/writer whose idea of a splurge is a pizza with pepperoni and sausage. Clearly, I hit the matrimonial jackpot with Valerie.

But because I am perfect, I understand it’s not always about me.

Sometimes it’s about guys who are just like me.

The more that is known about guys like us, the less desirable we are to the opposite sex, not to mention countless prospective employers. In fact, it's true of all of us. The charm of distance and mystery of innocent discovery are vanishing fast.

So I’m advising single guys interested in long-term relationships to do like I did: go find a suitable mate, ply her with liquor and get down to matrimonial business before technological advances render you undesirable before you even open your mouths.

And, girls, you’d better start either purchasing some hearty stain remover or get used long stretches of lonely.

Soon, and you can count on it, the technology that’s supposed to bring us together will ensure none of us ever wants to get near one another.