‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all across Match
Singles were searching for someone to catch.
The profiles were hung on the Internet with care,
In hopes that a hottie soon would see theirs.

The women were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar daddies danced in their heads.
I had my belief I’d find a good chap,
One with real brains who’s not full of crap.

When from my computer there arose such a clatter,
An email had come of some urgent matter.
Away to my mailbox I clicked in a flash,
Would it be someone great or someone I’d bash?

I skimmed past the wink from the pictureless fellow
To get to the good stuff I hoped was just below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a half naked picture the dude shot in the mirror!

The note said, “Hey baby, I want you- love, Rick.”
I knew in a moment he must be a dick.
Why are my suitors always so lame?
I know what I want so here I’ll proclaim:

He’s dashing, a dancer,
Whose answers aren’t fiction.
A comic, a cutie,
With honor and conviction.
No religion or kids,
He’s romantic and tall.
Throws trash away, throws sass my way,
Has classy ways all!

And then in a twinkling, I heard my mail jingle
My hopes didn’t raise he’d make my heart tingle.
The email and photo were pleasant, I found,
And the full profile text had a hilarious sound.
He spoke a few words, ’bout his interests and work,
And to my surprise, didn’t sound like a jerk.
He said that he thought lots of emailing blows,
But he’d like to meet me, if that’s what I chose.

I sprang to reply, he sounds like a catch,
Is it possible I’d finally meet someone on Match?
I had to exclaim, ‘cuz he sounds outta sight,
Happy Matchmaking to me, may this be Mr. Right!