Ok, if it is not self-evident by the title to this post, I have explored the route of online dating as a means to obtaining the benefits of a relationship, among whose perks include sexual gratification. I have approached this effort with the same level of chivalry and gentlemanly-like poise that I engage in my day-to-day exchanges with the female populace yet have, inexplicably, failed in so much as receiving a handy. For those of you reading this who have never seen me in person which, based off of my encouragingly mediocre site traffic is probably in the realm of zero, I’m like, a seven. And I mean a solid seven. If I weren’t under six-feet tall, I could probably be a part-time model for Sears Roebuck, or something. Grandmothers and moms alike approve of me unanimously, and on more than one occasion I have been given the phone number of some unknowing daughter/granddaughter/niece/etc. in the hopes that I might pursue her. It must be my gentle features. (Also, do women know that their mothers are incessantly trying to set them up with people they don’t know?)
With that being said, I now turn my attention to the women of OKC and say unto thee: For the love of Christ, lower your fucking standards. I do not know what type of witty commentary or chastity belt-opening question I am supposed to infer from your profile (that contains a maximum of thirteen words, one of which is a verb) in order to get a response from you. I mean, you gave me so much information when you told me that you “are just living the dream!” and that you “love laughing and having fun”, which has done so much to separate you from the hoards of people who are so quick to admit to “despising all things enjoyable” and are “really just trying to find someone to wallow in sorrow with”. Thank God you gave me that gem of information, Every Woman Ever.
Honestly, I mean I realize that a lot of you are on the site because you are picky to begin with. Why else would you be single (unless of course you’re a complete yeti, but then you wouldn’t be so stingy about responding then, would you)? But seriously, do you actually think that a 35 year-old tech mogul who recently sold his third start-up, has six-pack abs, and whose hobbies include “saving kittens” is actually going to message you?
I actually feel like some of you are pondering this. Incorrectly, I might add.
In my tenure as an OkCupid user, I have messaged 22 people and received responses from (drum roll please…) three! Three women of sanity and exceptional taste! Two of which, I might add, almost immediately deleted their accounts afterward for reasons unknown. Here are some of my failed attempts. I will insert commentary so as to give some context as to from where my questions are stemming.
To: Blonde 20-something
You had me at Bangarang. [She made a bangarang reference when talking about the film Hook.]
If you haven’t been to the Emporium in Wicker Park, I suggest you check it out considering your “really good at” section. [The Emporium, for those unfamiliar, is a combination bar and arcade in Chicago with classic video games like Frogger, Galaga, Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat, and Duck Hunt. One section of her profile included her talents in Duck Hunt, among other games.]
So are you originally from Chicago, to ask a completely unoriginal conversation starter? [What the fuck else did I have at this point?]
Oh, and I’m still not convinced Biebs is male. [She said to message her if, at first, you too thought Justin Bieber was a woman.]
This transaction occurred on October 5. I’ll let you know if I hear back.
See another of my failed efforts below.
To: Brunette twenty-something with practically no information to generate questions in her profile
So how long have you been in the States, and what brought you here? And may I ask what it is you’re cheering for in your fifth picture? [She was from somewhere foreign, though I no longer remember where. Given that her profile had minimal info, I used my creativity to check out her photos to grasp for questions. That was the best I could come up with. Honestly women, what do you want from me?]
She deleted her account.
I present to you my last example.
To: Brunette with terrible grammar
I’m awful at creating witty online banter, but you come across as a cool person with a good sense of humor. How about you just let me know if you’d ever like to either exchange pleasantries or go grab a drink or something, and this can spare me spending 10 minutes trying to think up a mediocre message to send to you? Deal? Ok.
Probably not my best.
Admittedly, these aren’t the most interesting things to read but, like I said, I’m trying to pull questions from practically nothing. You can’t make chicken salad out of chicken shit. If nothing else, at least I’m not coming off as creepy. You think that would at least pique someone’s interest enough to have them look at my profile, right? Which, by the way, screams with hilarity!
Here are snippets from it, at least the parts that don’t just have me listing off every single book I’ve ever read to sound smart or naming my favorite bands, movies, etc. Behold! My abridged OkCupid profile:
So I was sitting at home listening to Jock Jams volume 7 and catching up on some episodes of Sarah Palin’s Alaska when I really thought that I’d be doing the female population a disservice by being single. I mean, what did you do with your evening last night? Exactly.
Anyways, somewhere around track 5 – the Baha Men’s timeless stroke of musical genius known as “Who let the dogs out?” – and inspired by greatness I figured I would craft my own personal art display that you’re now reading. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re welcome.
I really hope you understand sarcasm.
I know, fucking hysterical, yet its genius continues to be ignored. It then continues with legitimate information about me as a person, namely the boring things that show nothing about your personality yet everyone sees as being required reading despite the fact that you will then have nothing to talk about on a first date. I go on.
I spend a lot of time thinking about:
how it’s possible that Shaq never won an Academy award for his performance in Kazaam.
Holy fuck, was that witty! I fucking wrote it, and I still peed a little! I’m sorry, did my words not gently caress your feet and shudder across your nipplets in a way that would sexually arouse you via my verbage like some E.L. James she-porn, Women of the Internet (that was a 50 Shades of Grey reference, One Dude who is reading this)?
On a typical Friday night I am:
Taking Zumba classes with the women from my Oprah book club. We’ve really grown close these last few months. That, or threatening to drop-kick my neighbor in the dick if he doesn’t turn his bass down.
Look out, ladies! Fit man coming through. And he’s comfortable with his masculinity!
The most private thing I’m willing to admit:
When I was three years old, my mother took away my diapers in an effort to force me to use the toilet. I held my crap in for almost three straight days until I just pooped on the floor. Guess who got his diapers back.
Don’t ever tell me I never open up to you, Future Girlfriend. How much more of my soul do I need to bare?
Alright, ladies, I’m at a loss for what more you could want in a cyber-connection. Go fuck yourselves, I guess. I know that’s what I’ll be doing.