Strongly Worded

upDATE #500,223: Google Mastery Edition

I thought I was a good Internet stalker, I really did. I can work all kinds of googling magic and explore one's possible whereabouts on Facebook, LinkedIn, alumni directories, phone directories, image searches, and professional associations. I do this because I might come across general information that might endear me to a guy (or not), and also because I want to confirm that a guy is telling the truth. So, if we're going on a date, and you tell me you're a lawyer, I may very well look you up on the local Bar Association website. While membership in the bar association does not prevent you from being crazy or scary, it does make it more likely that the other information you're sharing is honest and accurate.

Knowing that others also engage in this information-gathering behavior, I am very careful about what information I put out. When corresponding with internet dating prospects, I do not reveal my last name, specifics about my work, or my phone number. I use a yahoo email account that
does not include my name in the "from" field. This is not about being cagey. This is about protecting my safety. I recognize, however, that if someone truly wanted to stalk me (God forbid), I have enough of an Internet trail to make it happen. Last night this was confirmed.

I went out with this guy who told me almost immediately that I had challenged his googling skills, and that it took him several minutes (as opposed to the mere seconds it typically takes) to find out my last name, past three residential addresses, workplace, age, and work history. He
did this because yahoo attaches an IP address to every message, and because I emailed from a work computer (in the student computer cluster, no less--not the one in my office), he was able to trace the source of the email and then combine my first name and the name of my workplace to find me on LinkedIn. And then it was a hop, skip, and a jump to everything else.

Apparently IP Boy has orchestrated the top 10 google hits that come up when his name is googled, to present himself in the most flattering and competent light. He actually mentioned this: "as you must have seen in my LinkedIn profile, I attended blah blah school and worked at blah blah company." In fact, he actually contacted the very prestigious school he attended, and asked them to re-tag an article that mentions him, thus catapulting his affiliation far up on his google search results.

It turns out that IP Boy and I actually have friends in common, and we had a fairly interesting convo in which he really did ask questions and listened. That was cool. However, it felt like an informational interview. He actually asked me where I see myself headed, career-wise: "So. You want to be a dean. Tell me more. Where do you see yourself doing that?" And then he'd mention all the deans he knows and how he's fully going to introduce me to them. And I'm all: Whoa. I am so not ready to link my professional reputation with yours.

He seemed like a genuinely nice person, though (albeit way slick). We really did talk about meaningful topics. While he is definitely not my husband (not even my boyfriend, not even my next fling), I could totally see kicking it over coffee sometime.

And then we left the bar and I noted the real problem. More than the slickness and the stalking? He drives the most revolting car of all time. It is a monstrous, boxy, Hummer-esque, gas-guzzling affront to all that is good, and green, and anti-war.

And there was no way I could have googled that.

Posted by Dori at 7:10 PM