Saturday, August 4, 2012

You're Not Really Selling Yourself.

Sometimes I wonder if this blog is just my platform for cyberbullying. I have been thinking about that a lot the past few months, which is why the posts have been pretty infrequent. I'm certainly not trying to be a big jerk, and I try to always acknowledge my own character flaws whilst I tear somebody else down. I'm moody, generally angry with the world, too cynical to see the point of having kids, and flaky as hell. Having laid that out, I think to myself "Am I really in a position to judge men who send me emails including typos, bizarre fetishes, insults, and uncomfortable advances?"

I guess the answer would have to be yes. The problem is, the emails just keep getting worse. Here is what I believe to be a very general rule for hitting on another person: try to sell yourself. You don't walk up to an attractive girl and attempt to ask her out while you are wearing your beer-soaked Linkin Park t-shirt from last night's kegger, and you don't immediately inform her that you partied alone last night because you have no friends and that you can't wait to get back to your mom's house to shower off your stench. You don't. Right? So why do I get this email today:

I know what you're thinking. This really isn't that bad. Just bear with me.

Ok, so this guy is going into this telling me that he's predicting a total shutdown on my end, and he's letting me know that most people judge him. Why is that, guy? Do you think maybe it's the way you present yourself? Do you think it might have something to do with that little rain cloud that's floating over your head, or the cute little donkey tail on your rump? Buck up. You're on a quest for LOVE!

You give up hope, but hopefully I'll still want to get to know you. Did you give up hope or not? If I respond to you, will I be met with complete indifference seeing as you have already given up hope? I'm confused.

Well, shockingly, you wrapped things up nicely! You handed me a compliment, and then left fate in my hands. I'm slightly intrigued, you paradox of a man! Let's click on through to your profile!

Oh. I am really struggling to figure out why you are even attempting to use an online dating service. You know you don't have to, right? Is somebody making you do this against your will?

Now I'd like us to think back to the concept of selling yourself to a potential date. What is this man doing wrong? Abso-fucking-lutely everything. I feel insulted, cynical, and depressed. Granted that's pretty much how I am anyways, but still. Your help is not needed. I don't think I need to put a ton of effort into describing how he has failed, so I'm just going to make a list.

1. You think this dating site is a joke. You know that I have also signed up for this dating site and took time to carefully fill out a profile, right?
2. You say there are no normal people on here. Every woman who you take the time to email and who then looks back at your profile to decide if she wants to go on a date with you is ON THIS SITE.
3. You have been searching for someone special for months? You should write a book. That's incredible.
4. You enjoy sports and hanging out? Put that in the book.
5. I wonder if you're including the email you sent me earlier today in the category of "sweetest nicest messages ever". It was ok, I guess. But that's just me being generous because I'm only half paying attention to this blog and half looking at my dog who has cottage cheese on her face.
6. You make it clear that you do not give a crap about the first date. Oh my god please pick me! You're so dark and brooding, like Donnie Darko. Everyone judged him, too.

Look, I'm clearly losing focus making this list, so let's be done here. The cottage cheese is now on my dog's feet and tail, and I'm not entirely sure how it happened. The point is, negative guy, you didn't sell yourself to me at all, and I'm so incredibly uninterested. I considered writing you back and giving you some advice and perhaps a big old "Chin up, buddy!", but you also seem a bit angry and I'm a little reluctant to go there.

OH WAIT! BREAKING NEWS! I have just recieved a second email from gloomy doomy paradox man! Let's check it out:

Ok, for those of you who aren't familiar with the Plenty of Fish dating site, you are somehow notified when someone else on the site views your profile. I say somehow because I don't know how it works. I've never been notified, but I certainly have been called out by many angry men who can tell that I looked at their profile but did not email them. It always frustrates me when these guys do get angry because come on, I'm reading your profile to find out if I want to talk to you, it's not a fucking commitment cerimony. Clearly, this is what happened here with negative guy.

Yes, I kind of do think I'm better than you. I'm not saying this about anything specific, I mean, am I better than you at pool? Probably not. Taboo? I truly don't know. Dr. Mario? There's a good chance. Pictionary? YES. Uno?

I digress. The thing is that I am generally slightly better than you at life. I, too, often feel that a depressed donkey may be my spirit guide, BUT I HIDE IT. I buck up, put on a smile, perhaps I take a quick shower, recycle the empty bottles of wine, and I try to make eye contact with some cute guy on the bus. And if an attractive man should speak to me, I DO NOT shrug my shoulders and say "GOD, this bus is such a joke."


p.s. I intentionally chose the black & white Eeyore as opposed to the full color Eeyore in case anyone needed anything else to be depressed about.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Grand Slam.

If there's one thing that I really go nuts for it's when a guy uses sports lingo to express his strong sense of compatibility with me. I mean, when I reminisce about my exes, I frequently find myself throwing out phrases like "cheap shot", "running out the clock", and of course "shuttlecock". It's so rare to find a guy who really gets that.

Oh wow. He totally gets me! John, this is a serious homerun. Don't be bashful. How could I possibly worry about your grammar when you have presented me with sports terminology and a total disregard for what I eat?? Now, I haven't read 50 Shades of Grey, but I imagine it starts out JUST LIKE THIS.

My online profile does mention that I am of the vegan influence, and that is followed up by something along the lines of "I don't mind if you are not vegan, I just care that you try to make ethical decisions and respect my choices and I'll respect yours." John gets it. He has really spoiled me by letting me know that he just does not give a crap about my choices. Not one crap. Maybe even negative crap. He really read between the lines here, because that is exactly what I meant. Grammar shrammar, this guy is a gem.

Let's see what else make us a homerun! A beautifully cropped screenshot of John's profile that I created in my super cool Paint program is below:

OH.MY.GOD.WE.ARE.TWINS. Motocross? Check. Driving aimlessly? Every Tuesday night! Fire?? I LOVE fire!  Oh, the stories I could tell. One time my roommate's cat walked too close to a candle and his tail caught on fire. Ah, the laughs we will share!

I'm having a hard time finishing this post because of a little condition called semantic satiation. Google it. I wrote "fire" too many times and now my brain is frozen. I believe my case of "SS" (as the kids call it) is terminal, and I don't know how much time I have left to putter around on this blog. So let's just get real, John. I don't like sports. Respect and not giving a shit are not synonymous. Fires are very dangerous. Only I can prevent them, and I take that responsibility very seriously.

Also, all this talk of homeruns is making me want to watch some Homestar Runner clips, so I'm gonna let him take it from here:


Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Love & Herbicidal Warfare.

Last night I happened to check my dating site to find an interesting new message. I was intrigued by this one because this guy did something new- he sent me a Youtube link to a song that reminded him of me. Hey, I can get on board with that! I like music. I especially like music that is about me. In fact, I am pretty sure that many famous singers stalk me for musical inspiration. (You hear me, Adele?! I know what you're doing. Strumming my pain with your fingers, singing my life with your words. It's cool, I guess. Something to tell the grandkids about someday.)

Anyways, let's see if this guy chose an appropriate song for me. I will accept "You Are So Beautiful", "Your Song", or "Let The Bodies Hit The Floor".

Arward, did you send me R.E.M.'s "Orange Crush"?? Really? Really? It's fairly common knowledge that "Orange Crush" is about Agent Orange, right? So, do my photos make you think of herbicidal warfare? Arward...are you planning to bomb my apartment with chemicals, thus smoking me out of my home and causing me to run into your arms?

Google thinks that there are many ways to interpret the lyrics to "Orange Crush", so let's give you the benefit of the doubt and see if any of these other explanations are a bit more flattering.

Theory #1: "Orange Crush is the most kickass orange soda on the planet! It's kinda hard to find, but once you taste it you'll never drink any other orange soda."

Theory #2: "In California where the 5, 22 and 57 freeways meet, notorious for traffic congestion."

Theory #3: "When there are three people in the back seat of a car, the two by the windows will shout "Orange Crush", and then crush the person in the middle."

Theory #4: "When an orange surprise goes horribly, horribly wrong, and an orangutan bites ones penis."

You know what, let's just stick with the Vietnam theory. First of all, I prefer Sunkist to Orange Crush any day, I've hated driving in California ever since I found myself driving the wrong way down a four lane highway in L.A., I have super pointy hip bones so just go ahead and try to crush me in the back seat of a car, and finally, I'm going to have to defend the orangutan because it sounds like you had it coming.

You should have just gone with this song, because quite honestly, it is more romantic than Vietnam:


Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Read This. Or Not.

You know, people are insane. It's the second reason in my long list of reasons why I'm terrified to ever have kids. Either my kid is going to be subjected to lunatics all of his/her life, or my kid will be the lunatic. Sadly, I'm not sure which one is more likely. I tend to think that I'm not one of the crazy people, but I'm pretty sure that's what a lot of crazy people say. The point is just that people are insane, and I imagine that they have a club with regular meetings and newsletters, and this man is the president.

Why do I sense so much anger? You're really selling yourself. Or not. From the get-go you are presenting yourself as incredibly conceited, implying that unworthy women are constantly vying for your affection. I just find that difficult to swallow. If you truly are so amazing, I can't imagine why you are refusing to share a photo of yourself with me. Furthermore, you don't even know me and you are treating me like a contestant on Singled Out. You are in NO position to tell me that I have to prove anything to you in order for you to throw some love at me. You contacted me, bud. Why don't you give me a reason to not delete this message? Also, don't throw things at me.

I also feel like you think you are very deep, but the insight you are dishing out is both rude and untrue. Honesty starts with what I really want? I can't define who or what I'm looking for into words? Wrong. Honesty starts with not lying. And I actually can define what I'm looking for using my words, which is why I filled out this dating profile. I imagine that in your crazy person club, the motto is something like "Clubs cannot be defined, they come from within. If you want to apply for membership, don't."

So, the most important thing about a relationship is spending time together, is it? What about compatability? Shared hobbies? A similar sense of humor? Communication? No, I suppose those don't matter as long as you spend crazy amounts of time together. Even if you are both miserable. You know, going by that logic you may as well kidnap your dream woman and hold her captive in your basement. She probably won't be thrilled at first, but after a few years she'll realize that the time spent in your basement being unhappy and resentful has blossomed into affection! She will exude maturity and selflessness and profess her undying love for you. Then, and only then, can you throw some love back at her.

Getting deleted starts with you.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Repeat Offenders.

A lot of the guys on these dating sites are pretty damn persistent. Or stupid. I always wonder if they are intentionally e-mailing me again and again and again, or if they just e-mail so many girls on a daily basis that they have no clue who they have already contacted. This is not a good technique. I don't know if they know this, but most people kind of want to feel special. This doesn't make me feel special:

Well Dan, thanks for shuffling the order of the words around a bit on your second try, but I'm gonna have to decline.

Here's another good example:

This one pissed me off from the get-go. Don't you tell me to tell you about myself. That's not how this works, jackass. It's very complicated, I know, but allow me to lay it out for you:

Step 1: Read my profile.
Step 2: If interested, message me.

That's all. That's really all you have to do. What you have illustrated to me here is that two-parter projects are overwhelming for you, so you just do one part of it all half-assed and then you expect the other person to pick up the slack. You are now making it so I have to go to your profile and read it to see if I even want to bother writing back to you, and then I have to reiterate most of what was in my profile because you didn't bother to look at it, and then send you the damn message. Since that's clearly a load of shit, I ignored your e-mail. Over the next three days you sent me three more e-mails. Now, did you forget that you had already contacted me? I don't think this is the case, because you did switch up the content of your e-mail drastically on your second attempt...but then you hit a wall. Creating two different e-mail messages short circuited your brain, so you just kept sending me the second one over and over, because clearly it is the superior message. What girl doesn't like to be called "sweetheart" by a stranger? Personally, I live for it, muffin.

Now here is a repeat offender who definitely sent me all this crap on purpose:

This string of e-mails left me feeling very Circle-of-Life-ish. It's like in the span of three e-mails you met me, we had our first fight, and we broke up. Except I wasn't involved in any of it.

Finally, there's Larry:

Hey Larry. So, I know that you read my profile because you made that hilarious joke about feeding me a cheeseburger, indicating that you know I am vegan. You have convinced me that dating you would be an absolute riot, I mean, think of all the jokes you can make in the future! "What are you going to do for dinner, graze in the backyard?" "We were meant to eat animals because they are made out of meat!" Just shut up. You're unoriginal and your joke sucks. Furthermore, I hate the use of LOL in any context at all, but you have gone and tainted it even more by slapping it on the end of that remark.

I didn't respond to that horrible e-mail, so you put Plan B into action. You waited a day, just in case I was the moron in this scenario and I needed a full 24 hours to fully appreciate your joke, and sent me ANOTHER freaking LOL. And an ellipses. LARRY, COME ON. Let me tell you a story. I used to have a roommate who laughed like a lunatic at every cliche joke uttered in any movie or TV show ever made, and then when a joke came along that was a bit of a thinker, she was silent. The issue here was that when she was laughing hysterically at the super obvious, stupid joke, she would send some judgemental glances my way, and occasionally say "Do you get it?", as if the reason that I wasn't joining her in her lunacy was because of my stupidity, and not my superior wit. It was really hard for me to not get all up in her grill and scream "I'M NOT LAUGHING BECAUSE IT'S NOT FUNNY! YOU'RE RUINING MY LIFE!", but I never did that because I'm not great with confrontation. However, Larry, this blog empowers me to tell you that you really, really, really are not funny. I am funny. You are not funny. Just me.

If it weren't for my incredible morals, I'd be an excellent cyber bully. Similarly, if it weren't for my many insecurities, I'd be super conceded.

Good riddance, Lar.


Saturday, February 11, 2012

Fact: I'm Not Interested.

I frequently recieve e-mails with a single question or comment in them that really don't do much in terms of starting an engaging conversation, and I find myself wondering what the desired outcome actually is when a guy sends me one of these e-mails. For example, this is a crappy first e-mail: "I saw that you lived in Colorado, nice." This one opens a few more doors: "Hey, I saw that you lived in Colorado, nice! Where did you live? Do you miss it?" Do you follow? When I receive crappy non-engaging e-mails, I often think that it would be fun to respond to them on their level, using just a few non-engaging words of my own, to teach them a lesson about proper first e-mail etiquette.

That's great, good luck.


Oh? Thank you for the fact. I like dogs but my sheets have snowmen on them. Fact.

Do you see what I'm saying? These e-mails, while they are able to boast containing multiple words, are not drawing me in to any sort of dialogue. Imagine if we were having this conversation in person, say in a bar, and these guys were hitting on me. After I tell this guy that my sunglasses are from CVS (circa 1999) then we are left with some awkwardness. I'm not feeling inspired to continue this conversation about my sunglasses and I'm sure as hell not giving them to you. The only message that may have my attention for a few minutes if delivered in person is the whole "My name is Vincent but Paul is my middle name." thing, because...what? Why are you telling me that? Stop it.

Here are a few more, just for funsies:

Um, no. Classy.


Not very. My apartment is extremely drafty.



Thursday, February 9, 2012

Be Honest.

I tend to think that the guys who e-mail me on these dating sites must be in some freakishly dim-witted minority because it's really rare to interact with such an incredible idiot in the real world, but then I stop and count the number of moronic e-mails compared to the number of decent e-mails (and trust me, the bar is set pretty low) and I begin to feel afraid. It's like when you think about alien abductions, and you're thinking "Sure, they obviously happen, but mostly just in Arizona, so we're fine." but then you start doing the research and all of a sudden woah! There's a crop circle in Texas. Bam! Strange activity in the skies over Florida. Shit! ROSWELL?! Did you even SEE The Fourth Kind?! Aliens, like idiots, are everywhere. I believe.

Were you going to try to be witty and charming? Were you, Phil? Because it seems like you gave up pretty quick. If you're not actually going to make any effort to be witty or charming, then just spare me the build up. Why do you have to let me know what I'm missing out on? It's cruel.

Ok, well at least you have another edgy and shocking approach to this e-mail: honesty. The fact that you feel the need to tell me that you are going to try being honest in this e-mail kind of makes me think that honesty is something you struggle with. Most people don't have to preface their honest statements with "Guys, I'm really gonna try to be honest now."

So, you're not witty or charming, but you do love to laugh and you are quick with a joke, but your joke won't be good. Honesty isn't really working out for you, Phil. I'd try lying a little bit, because you just aren't selling yourself.

I see that you want a girl who is sweet, honest (there you go with the honesty thing again), caring, smart, has a great sense of humor, and is easy to talk to. That's a mighty long list for a guy who isn't charming or witty, who can't tell a good joke but who apparently laughs like a jackass at everything everyone else says, and who just isn't very intelligent. If I have to lower my bar, you definitely have to lower yours.