What kind of psychopath doesn’t like a long walk on a beach?

I have a confession to make:  I’m a masochist.  Not even one of the fun ones who likes to have her nipples clamped with Chip Clips or spend time on the correction bench.  I seem to own a special kind of masochism that makes me post my profile on Internet dating sites.

This would be the paragraph where I explain why I need to resort to the lowly world of Internet dating.  I would first assert my status as a non-loser, rattle off my killer schedule that proves it’s impossible for me to meet people in real life, and try to differentiate myself from the masses of drooling losers who pay $30 a month to have a computer set them up with a social reject like some sort of electronic shadchen.  I’m not going to write that paragraph, because you already know I’m a loser, and also because I don’t pay $30 a month; I use a free dating site.  Admitting to online dating is awkward, and there’s just no getting around it.  We’ll just push through and get to the point of this post.

How many times do you think I'll mention nipples in my post?

How many times do you think I'll mention nipples in my post?

So every few months or so, I realize it’s been a while since I got laid asked out on a date, and I go to my trusty free dating site.  I update my profile, check carefully for spelling errors, make sure there are no nipples showing in any of my profile pictures, and cast my line.  Is that the right terminology?  To cast one’s line, like when you go fishing?  If it’s not, what I’m trying to say there is that I am metaphorically throwing my pole over my shoulder, thrusting it forward [God, it really has been a while, hasn’t it?], and hoping my hook goes not into my leg but into the water where it will catch a manfish.  Wow, totally non-creepy.

The next hour or so is wrought with anticipation as I watch the replies roll in.  Some sick Pollyanna voice in my head tells me that one of these unread messages in my inbox could be the man who will change my future into a tandem-bike filled reverie.  As you can imagine, this has not happened in the history of online dating, no matter what the commercials might tell you.  I’m not sure if I would want it to, since any bike that requires my legs to coordinate with another person’s is destined to end up mangled in a ditch, as my legs barely coordinate with each other.  I’m watching the responses rolling in, and this is when reality jumps up and says, “HA!  You stupid bitch!  Do you think if Prince Charming existed he’d spend his nights browsing for single white women between the ages of 25 and 35?”  No, these are the motherfuckers who are looking for me:

HI

HI

My God, where to begin?  With the message subject lined “hi”?  How about the one that says, “hi”?  Ooooh, there’s the guy who says “HI”–I bet he’s a take-charge kind of dude the way he uses ALL CAPS.  In this particular set, I managed to only open two:  “wow” and “for real..”.  Let me just say, it only gets worse when you open them.  The message inside of “wow” turned out to be a run-on sentence.  It wasn’t like a simple mistake, either; he took what should have been four or five sentences, jammed them together, then removed all traces of punctuation.  “for real..” at least used punctuation.  Unfortunately, that punctuation was the disturbing “/////” between every sentence.  For some reason those look like Norman-Bates-kills-blonde-chick-in-shower punctuation marks.  I read between the lines.

His message:   Hi.  ///// Saw ur profile. ////// What u doin this weekend? //////////

What I read:  Hi.  /slash/murder/scream/blood/ Saw ur profile. /want/to/wear/your/skin/ What u doin this weekend? /I’ll/keep/you/in/a/crate/in/the/basement/

Yeah.  Sorry Charlie.

I’m going to give these guys some helpful online dating tips because I am a nice person.  I really am.  I flip over beetles who have gotten stuck on their backs so they won’t die on the sidewalk.  When I see turtles on the road I’ll stop and move them so they won’t get hit by cars.  This is the same reason I give rides to my alcoholic neighbors walking to the convenience store for their evening 12-pack of Coors.

This post is my way of giving back to the community of men who will never have the pleasure of spending an awkward evening at a restaurant with me because their profile/message makes them look like a moron.  We’ve already addressed the subject line; let’s cover some other topics.

flymoneyguy4u

flymoneyguy4u

Your user name: You do not need to include the word “guy” in your user name; this is a given. If it contains a number in place of a word (e.g., “4” instead of “for”), it has 2 go. <–See how irritating that shit is? Should also not read like a rap nickname, particularly if you are white and not Eminem.

Your tagline:  You are not looking for “the love of a lifetime”, or “someone to snuggle with in the winter”.  You are trying to get into my pants.   One of you mentioned trying to fill a missing void, which came straight from the Department of Redundancy Department, but at least it’s on the right track.

Your profile:  Use a picture that was taken this century.  If your profile says you are 38 but your photo is clearly your “casual pose” from your high school Senior portrait session, I am going to assume you haven’t been attractive to humans since 1995.  Include information about your actual lifestyle.  There is no way all of you prioritize “long walks on the beach” on your lists of interests.  I’ve been to the beach–there were no roving packs of men enjoying long walks on the beach, and according to your profiles, there should have been thousands of you.  Maybe you were all inside having a candlelit dinner in front of a fireplace at the time?  For serious, tell me what you actually enjoy.

My profile:  Read it.  It will give you insight into who I am as a human being, and thus, directions into my pants.  If you are not interested in anything below my picture, you are thrusting your pole in the wrong direction, bud.

Addressing me:  Don’t use the words “darlin'”, “sweetie”, “angel”, “lady” or any combination thereof.  I will know you did not read my profile, because if you had, you would have gathered that I am none of those things.   Men who use these words without irony will not find my feminist theories endearing.

how u doin

how u doin

Your message:  “How u doin” is not a message.  Neither is “u hott”, “hit me up on IM” or “great tits”.  I’m thinking you should have at least three sentences in there, one about what you thought of my profile, one that makes me want to go to your profile, and one inviting me to make the next move.  Don’t forget the punctuation.

I’ll be honest here.  I’m not trying to help these guys out.  I’m trying to help me out.  A week of reading these horrifying messages from men who spend two seconds putting their profile together, and I’m done.  The profile comes down.

This is when I usually I remember that I like being single and having the freedom to surf the internet topless in the living room while eating Kit-Kats for dinner and listening to Mickey Avalon at top volume.  After all, the Internet is rife with sites that sell sex toys whose spelling abilities I could give two shits about.

P.S. Nipple

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4 Responses to “What kind of psychopath doesn’t like a long walk on a beach?”

  1. Pange Says:

    Okay, I don’t want to blow smoke up your ass, but the truth is, I did meet my husband online. Way back in ’99 before all the cool kids were doing it. It’s only taken me about a decade to be able to admit that we did meet that way and not in a bar. lol

    Keep searching. There are several right ones out there. I think. I mean, it’s been awhile since I was looking.

    Love the blog, didn’t know you had one. You’re officially one of my bookmarks now. Don’t you feel special?

    • tiffanized Says:

      I do feel special! And, as cynical as this came across, I have met several very nice men this way. Not good for me, but good looking, intelligent people. I’d be willing to wager I’d have worse luck through “traditional” routes like bars and fix-ups.

  2. Janetrigs Says:

    I ❤ you.

  3. Cleo Says:

    Hah, I just found this blog when I googled “dating sites for non-losers” (I of course didn’t really expect any quality hits, but found a few lulzy sites totally unrelated to what I was looking for) and you’re exactly right, naturally.
    I’m not quite 25 yet, I just turned 24, but the dating pool is pretty much the same everywhere–the males seem apt to hit on anything with a V the same age as them or younger, so the same guys hitting on you are also hitting on me. And yeah, they’re as boring, unimaginative, and indicative of stupidity to me as well.
    I tried replying to some of them with some friendly advice on what might make them more likely to catch a date, and no matter how nice I tried to sound, I was always met with hissy fits and temper tantrums from males who had already determined THEY are fine, it’s the REST of the world that’s lacking. e.e
    So, like you, I also give up.
    It’s those damn romance books I read sometimes (only good ones…there ARE good ones, believe it or not) that get it into my silly head that maybe, maybe there’s a decent guy somewhere in my age range and location, but of course the decent ones are so few and far between, they’re gobbled up the milisecond they become single–leaving the indecent ones to flock to the dating sites.
    C’est la vie.

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