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."