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.

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.

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.

Foot Fetish

As predicted, online dating was off to a MAGNIFICENT start. This clever man saw right through my meaningless "About Me" section, littered with my favorite authors, musicians, hobbies and whatnot and he zeroed right in on what this girl is all about: using my bare feet as a method of "peacocking" my future mate.

I'm finding it hard to continue mocking this e mail as it sincerely disturbs me. I find feet to be vile.  I have a plethora of tricks up my sleeve to show a guy that I like him, beginning with my words and ending with physical violence, but at no point do I present my bare foot like a baboon's bum to a potential boyfriend.