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."

Deleted.

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.

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:

Baleeted!

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:

Deleted.

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.

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.

Deleted.

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.

CVS.

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.

Booyah.

Not very. My apartment is extremely drafty.

No.

Deleted.

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.

Deleted.

I'm Real.

I've found that a lot of people on these dating sites specify that they are looking for someone real. I mean, I get what they are trying to say with that, I just think that it's a stupid way to phrase your desire to find an honest, sincere, ethical partner in life. Don't ask me if I'm real. I mean, are we having some sort of philosophical debate? If so, I'm going with Edgar Allen Poe and saying that it's all a dream within a dream. Are you testing my familiarity with J. Lo hits? If that is the case, then I will admit that perhaps "I'm Real" made an appearance on one or more mix tapes back in high school, and obviously it was the Ja Rule remix with all of the swear words, and yes my friends and I blasted that song while driving around town in an old brown Volvo, but I still judge you for bringing up the song, albeit a classic, in this online dating context.

In all fairness, guy, there's a really good chance that those boring, lame, cliche, try hard girls are being real. No one really strives for any of those qualities, so it seems unlikely that they are faking you out in any way by pretending to be boring, lame, etc. And I think I mentioned this in a previous blog post, but I have been referred to as an emotionless robot in the past, so you actually may not be very astute in thinking that I am the real girl you have been searching the internets for.

Let's check out another one!

I wonder if this guy's stupidity is in any way related to his heartworm? He also appears to be a stalker. I just feel like this profile is 50% stupid, 30% cliche, and 20% threatening. Being a real woman and not a robot, computer, roomba, or inflatable doll, my brain computes that as unattractive.

Deleted.

$cash$

Well, last night the hubcaps were stolen off of my highly desirable 2001 Toyota Corolla and then I went to sleep only to have a horrifying dream that I was bleeding out of my belly button and no one in the hospital would take me seriously and they put me in a semi-collapsed wheel chair that I kept falling out of and then I woke up and thought "this will probably not be a great day." Alas, I was wrong. Look at this e-mail, and keep in mind that this post is a two-parter:

First of all, buddy, this is a dating website and somehow you've made me feel like I'm in a J.G. Wentworth commercial. "Call J.G. Wentwoooorth, 877-CASH-NOW!" Also, I'm not really model material. And I believe the age limit on America's Next Top Model is 27 (not that I've ever even seen that show and I certainly didn't have to refrain from just writing ANTM because I'm so familiar with it.) So.... what's your angle? Let's check out your profile for a little insight:

Again, I feel the need to remind you that this is a dating website. Anyways, let's dissect this profile. Your interests are mostly just brands, do you know that? That doesn't lead me to believe that you are an individual with much depth.

If you are a professional modeling scout, as you say, then why exactly are you soliciting clients on a dating website?! You're not fooling anyone. Just because you toss an inappropriately capitalized "Professional" into your profile doesn't mean that you are one. I watch a lot of Lifetime, Law and Order and Criminal Minds, and if they have taught me one thing it's that this is the set-up for a crime. You know who would never forgive me for falling for this? Derek Morgan. Dr. Spencer Reid. ELLIOT STABLER. All important figures in my life.

I am, however, intrigued by all of this talk of financial gain and the many dollar signs you have used to confirm that you are indeed a professional and that a date with you would equal many dollars for me. Perhaps if this photo shoot could be done with some class, I would be willing to look past the fact that there's an 87% chance that you are the next Craigslist Killer, who I will fondly nickname eMurderer (like eHarmony, get it?).

Wait. WAIT. Not only will this photoshoot involve bathing suits and lingerie, but I have to bring my own?? No deal, eMurderer. That's where you lose me.

Deleted.

A Poem.

Clearly I'm not a big fan of guys who put no effort into their messages to me, so I was conflicted as to whether or not I should make fun of this poem. The guy obviously put in some effort, and you know what they say, A for effort, right? But hey, it's not like the first line of said poem begs me not to mock it.

How uncomfortable.

Anyways, I'm just gonna come right out with it. That was NOT a good poem. In fact, you spelled poem wrong. In some places it actually rhymes, which leads me to believe that rhyming is your intention throughout this poem, which then leads me to believe that you are an idiot because going with that logic you also thought "you" and "well" rhyme.

Was this emotional vomit induced by my profile? Did it make you "fell" some vibes? I guess I'm going to have to switch up my photos if this is what I'm doing to people. Awkwardly enough, I do know what you mean about my eyes pulling you closer. Years ago I had spider venom injected into my eyeballs and now they occasionally shoot spidey-web at unsuspecting strangers and pull them close to me. Sorry. Oh, you say that I have actually blinded you as well. This makes the spelling errors more forgivable, but not the content.

Also, how do you know how I carry myself? Are you stalking me? If so, you must also be mocking me. I HAVE SCOLIOSIS. God.

Deleted.

Ho.

I have to admit that I woke up this morning feeling a little pissy, so I figured it'd be a good day for blogging. I know, I know. Sometimes I get pretty mean on this blog as it is, so going into it in a bad mood is probably not my best idea. Now that I've acknowledged that, let's move on.

Wha-what?! Uh, not great, asshole. Not great.

No Regrets.

This is the e-mail I got this morning:

Well, that's not a strong first e-mail. You're making me do all of the work! You've done nothing to make me want to read your profile. In fact, you didn't even say hi...you kind of just gave an order. You did say please, so that's something. I want you to know that I am going to go to your profile now, but not because you told me to, because I am nosy and need to know more about the guy who thought that was a good idea.

WHAAAAAAAT!?!?! I really did not see that coming! Wow. WOW. Where to start?

You are correct. I think that you are a scumbag. Please, convince me that I am wrong. Oh. OHHHHH. You're bored! I get it now. It's not like you don't have a physical relationship with your wife, you do, it's just that you're bored with it. Well, if she won't change her ways when you ask her to (and I am imagining that when you asked her you did it via e-mail, worded as a demand but with a "please" tossed in there somewhere, and you probably used the wrong form of your/you're) then clearly your only choice is to place an ad on a dating website for a mistress.

I'm not sure how it affects your scumbag status that you are seeking a married woman to have this affair with. Is it better, because you two can relate? Or is it worse, because now you're lying to two people? Do two scumbags make a conscience?

I do fully understand that you are in no mood for games. You have no time for that shit! After all, you have a wife at home. Probably some gross little kids, too. I imagine a cat. I only say that because I like dogs more, and I dislike you, so you probably have a cat. With a UTI.

You adulterous, demanding, scumbag. I do not for one second  believe that you will treat me like a lady, but even if I did, I can guarantee that I'd have regrets. Partially because I find it annoying when guys are too gentlemanly (don't push in my damn chair behind me as I sit down, you just end up hitting the backs of my knees and then I fall into the chair with no grace whatsoever, and then usually the chair isn't pushed in close enough to the table so then you start pushing the chair with me on it thus learning my weight, which I'm not ashamed of it's just private), but mostly because you seem like an absolutely horrible human being.

Deleted.

Glee and Puppy Mills.

So, something that I put quite a bit of emphasis on in my online dating profile is the fact that I have two rescue dogs. Maybe I live in some sort of hippie-dippie bubble where the term "rescue dogs" automatically means that I have rescued my dogs from a shelter or some crappy situation rather than buying from a breeder, because the term has caused some confusion. A shockingly high number of guys have e-mailed me asking if I train bomb-sniffing dogs, dogs who pull children out of burning buildings, or those dogs who have barrels of whiskey on their necks and rescue people from freezing to death in the Swiss Alps. No, jackasses. Other guys just zero in on the word "dogs" and think that they've made some sort of meaningful connection with me and send me messages saying "I like dogs, too! I just bought a purebred Golden Retriever from the pet store!" No. NO. You're just not reading all of my words.

I'm not entirely sure if this guy made that same error, or simply didn't bother to read my profile at all and is just trying to "sale" me a "puppie":

Let's get the yelling over with so I can just mock you. I checked out the Laughlin Kennel website, and you assholes sell over 80 different purebred dogs!? Are you aware of the dog and cat overpopulation crisis?? Approximately 4 MILLION dogs and cats are euthanized in shelters every year, that's one EVERY 8 SECONDS, and you sell purebred puppies. Do you know how much I loathe you? You love puppies like I love Glee. It's a super cute show and before I even realize what's happening I'm up on my feet singing and twirling around my apartment like a moron while one of my dogs nips at my ankles in an attempt to make me stop and the other frantically humps her stuffed Santa doll out of panic and confusion, but if I were to take a second to really think about the true cost of what I'm doing- supporting a bunch of overpaid crappy actors and squeeling with delight every time they destroy another classic song, while fully understanding that all kids ages 15 and under now think that Rachel Berry is responsible for such quintessential ballads as Defying Gravity and Don't Cry For Me Argentina- if I were to let my mind drift here for a moment, perhaps my twirling would come to an abrupt and world-shattering halt. But tra-la-la I just want to DANCE! Do you see what I'm saying? You, sir, live in a land where puppies jump on clouds and slide down rainbows into your open arms when the reality is that in the dark shadows of your rainbow land there are walls of rusty old metal cages full of hundreds of adult dogs who are used as baby-making machines until they can no longer function, and then they are killed because the bottom line is profit, not compassion. Just. Like. Glee.

Now that this has all come full-circle, I'd like to take a moment to mention that you have a problem with repeating yourself. Either you are very dumb or you think that I am very dumb. Stop it. I understand that you sell puppies (a.k.a. pain and misery) and like "wake on the beach," but something that you blew right by that perhaps could have used another sentence or two was the comment "I love to get married." Do you now? Is it a hobby? Perhaps you could start a bride mill where you keep a bunch of attractive people with qualities that you enjoy in metal cages in your backyard and when you've finished marrying one bride and you're hankering for another wedding, just euthanize your first bride and go grab a newbie from the back!

In conclusion, no, I am not available Thursday or Sunday for buying puppies, country dancing, wake on the beach, or marriage.

Deleted.

Don't Trick Me.

You know who I really dislike? The tricky people on these dating sites who tamper with the subject line to make me think that this is a reply to a previous e-mail. What they do here is they go up to the subject line and type in "RE: RE:" a bunch of times, causing me to foolishly think "Oooh! We must have a dialogue going." and then I eagerly open up the e-mail only to discover that I don't know you at ALL. 
 

Tom. You diabolical bastard. Explain to me what would compel a person to stoop to e-mail trickery. More importantly, did you even put any thought into what you've done here? Sure, the false "RE: RE:" ruse got me to open the e-mail, but you must have known that I would eventually figure out that I was being lied to, and then what? The only possible way to pull this plan off successfully would be to write me an absolutely spectacular e-mail, causing me to forget all about the initial misrepresentation.

You didn't do that.

Your e-mail is rather childlike, and not in a charming or whimsical way. I wonder how it is that you have lived 30 long years on this planet without being killed by something like pine needles or yarn, because you seem like the kind of guy who should have met some freakishly idiotic early demise.

If only you had been a bit clearer on my options here, I would be able to respond to your e-mail and be done with this. It's like, are my choices "BOOM" and "What the hell!", or what? I just don't know. In the future you really shouldn't hesitate to lay out the options for the lady you are attempting to woo on their own separate line, in quotes, and with some unnecessary capitalization. Just a thought.

Watch out for pine needles.

"DeleTed."

Baggage.

There are some really bizarre people in this world, and I think most of them are checking out the online dating scene right now. Here's a tip I'd like to offer up to the online dating community...no wait...let's expand that to every single person in the world: the first sentence that you say to a stranger who you are interested in getting to know should not simultaneously set them up to be insulted and make it clear to them that you have some serious baggage.

Hi. I'm fine. Oh wait, you didn't ask. You're just getting down to business. Alright.

Let's be honest. Sometimes we're all a little demanding. Like when I'm sharing a plate of french fries with someone, and then we both notice that there's only one fry left, and I want it. I demand it, you could say. Then there are other times, like when a friend and I order tempura fried veggies, and let's say that there are some mushrooms mixed in, and I don't like mushrooms, so then I'd generously offer those to my friend. You follow? I hope that answers your question.

Now let's talk about your issues. Another way that you could have worded this e-mail would have been "My ex was a huge bitch who seriously scarred me, you want in?" I just don't think it's a wise way to initiate conversation, and let me tell you, I'm a very awkward person who has attempted to start conversations by blurting out phrases like "I want to be you!" and "Has your horse ever had babies?", so this isn't coming from a place of judgement, but rather from a place of understanding. You see, with online dating you have the advantage of not having to be quick on your feet. So relax, take a breather, and quite honestly, try a little bit harder.

Deleted.

We Are So Similar.

You may have gathered that I don't like when guys don't read my dating site profile prior to e-mailing me. I'm not trying to sound all high maintenance here, but seriously, it's a paragraph of information that will drastically increase your chances of either a) sending me an e-mail that I may actually respond to because you have said something of some relevance to me, or b) save you from e-mailing me at all because you read my profile and saw that I am vegan, I care about spelling and punctuation, and I'm kind of a bitch. So this is the e-mail I recieved today:

Hi Corey. Right off the bat I'm gonna say that you should brush up on your spelling and punctuation, but you've really just made yourself such a target here that I can't be bothered wasting time mocking your obvious failures, so let's dig a little deeper.

You liar. You didn't read my profile. You just watched a Jersey Shore marathon, slammed your head into a wall and felt like The Situation, signed onto your dating website and sent me this piece of crap. We have nothing in common. NOTHING! And just so you readers know, his profile picture was a photo that he had artfully taken of himself with the help of his bathroom mirror, and he was sporting a white wife-beater, some gold chains and a backwards baseball cap. My photo shows me grinning widely while cradling my pomeranian who is wearing a fuzzy bumble bee suit. We are two peas in a pod!

Moving on. Corey. Let's discuss something that confused me a bit. Are you or are you not telling me that I am sexy? You felt it important to take the time to tell me that you are not here for that purpose, and then immediately after this you tell me that I am sexy. You want to know what I think? I think that you planned that.

It truly is unfortunate that you are the one guy in the world who wants to get to know me for me.

i guess i can learn 2 b like u lol OH MY GOD SOMEBODY SHOOT ME I CAN'T DO THIS.

Deleted.

Come On.

I recieved a few e-mails this morning. Generally I just delete one word e-mails without so much as clicking on the guy's profile. I mean, put a little effort in! But hey, maybe all you needed was one word to accurately convey to me the effect that reading my profile and viewing my photos had on you:

Um, hello? Hello? Can you hear me? No asshole, because this is an e-mail that you have sent me via an online dating website where the goal is to say something charming or funny which would result in my witty response and perhaps some intriguing e-mail exchanges ultimately leading up to a date. Instead, you sent me one word and either you suck with punctuation or you don't understand e-mail.

Deleted?


So I move along to the next e-mail. Surely it will be more interesting than the first...

COME ON!

Now I don't get any punctuation at all? Not even a little first letter capitalization?!

deleted

I am now numb to your one word e-mails. You're all idiots and I'm over this. I refuse to waste my time being annoyed by the lack of pride you have in the e-mails you send out to the world. You're on a freaking dating site. The e-mails that you are sending out are actually attached to your profile, full of your personal photos, biography, location, etc. But if you don't care, I don't care. I'm just going to continue emptying out my damn inbox and get on with my day.

Did you...did you just send me....an ellipses? Just...four...dots? What does that even mean? Were you so disgusted with my profile that you sent the ellipses to say to me "really?" You know, like when someone says "really" a bunch of times, while giving you that patronizing look, until eventually they don't even have to say the word anymore, they just keep on giving you that look, becoming more and more dramatic until you just want to punch them in the face? I don't know, that's just how I interpret this e-mail. I just see in my mind's eye a jackass sitting in front of his computer contorting his face into the most condescending expression possible, sending me some ellipses, and then I see my fist emerging from this asshole's computer screen and punching him in the face.

You know what all of this has taught me? Sometimes less words do say more.

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