A little while ago I posted about going through a break-up
and all of the shitfuckery fun that that entailed. I got a lot of lovely
words from readers (read: lots of useful advice on how to drink my problems
away) and it helped a lot (my doctor might disagree). Now that summer is upon us, it’s become clear
to me that I need to push myself to get out there and meet some new
motherfuckers. What’s the best way to
meet people? Online dating sites, of course!
I’m mostly just looking for more people to drink vodka
slushies with while dodging the cops in shady areas of town… but apparently I’m
supposed to play coy and appear like I have my shit together so that I will be
elusive enough to draw in attention from unsuspecting girls on the
internet. (When I say ‘unsuspecting
girls on the internet’ it really just makes me sound like a predator, doesn’t
it? …Ya, that’s what I thought.)
I’m not going to dick you guys around and pretend online
dating is a foreign phenomenon to me. I’ve rode that bicycle before… numerous
times. I’ve met a lot of people off of the World Wide Web, and for the most
part, it’s actually worked out very well (says the single girl.) I’ve made some
great friends and my liver has met many highly capable contenders, but let me
tell you, it takes patience. And by
patience, I mean balls of steel. Allow me to elaborate.
When you online date, you have to brace yourself to feel
like a sack of shit, covered in boogers. In other words: You will take your
time writing out a witty, concise message to someone you think you’d get along
with, take a deep breath and hit ‘send’, and wait for their response. A day
later you will see that they’ve since been online, they’ve looked at your
profile and decided that you aren’t worthy of their time. What the fuck? You complimented them and made
it clear you were just looking for a friendly chat, but they’ve decided you’re
a hideous beast from the depths of their nightmares and you should go fuck
yourself. (Okay, fine, I may be overreacting, but I’m in a vulnerable place,
guys, and these bitches be whack.) Maybe
I should consider adding more bling to my profile pics. I hear women like shiny
things. (Why yes, I am talking about vajazzling.)
I have only been on the site for about a week and while I’m
already pretty fed up with it, I’m trying to stay positive. I have learned,
however, to steer clear of it after a bottle or two of wine. Trust me when I
say that there is nothing but shame and horror emanating from the computer the following
morning when you browse the ‘sent’ folder of your newly pimped-out profile. You
probably should have reconsidered messaging that girl to tell her she’s “hot as
balls”, or from sending that girl with the boyfriend and kid two ‘e-roses’
alongside an e-card reading “i cuold be yerrrr evreythinging.”
Live and learn, right folks?
I must say, a deep thought!
ReplyDeleteIt's rare, but sometimes it happens!
DeleteTWO SETS? bitches will be lining up!
ReplyDeleteTwo sets of tits between 2 women... I assure you that I don't have 2 sets. That would get very complicated to coordinate.
DeleteOh, but yes, bitches be lining up like crayzay.
DeleteFucking cosmo. I love my hotmail address. It's code for "fuck the police" and yeah, I made it when I was in the tenth grade and most definitely high, but WHATEVER.
ReplyDeleteI can't cook.
(I can, but for me, saying I can't has resulted in a significant other who takes care of all the cooking because he thinks I'll start shit on fire.)
Now I'm dying to know what this 'code' for fuck the police is.
DeleteI'm happy to know you were rebelling via e-mail address. I hear that really sends a message, so to speak.
;) Clever ploy, lady. If he questions, start a fire.
For the record, my brain totally went to dirty toe sex. Not foot sex, just toe. I hope you still love me.
ReplyDeleteAnd dear god, good luck. Its a fucking nightmare out there.
ReplyDeleteOf course I still love you. Toe/foot are one in the same, aren't they?
Deleteand THANKS. I'm foreseeing a lot of 'party for one's with extra vodka slushies. And you know what? I'm okay with that. People just hold me back, anyway. Losers.
Cosmo is one of my favorite humor magazines. I like the part about making him look at your boobs instead of your eyes. I'm pretty sure if you need a shiny necklace to accomplish that, he's probably batting for the other team.
ReplyDeletemy thoughts exactly.
DeleteWell this wasn't sexist at all. Thank God we've gotten to a place where men can respect women as equal partners.
ReplyDeleteFor the record, I happen to find smoky eyes appealing (but I'm a woman so my opinion doesn't matter), but it depends on where the date is. Mini golfing at 11am might not be a primo time to be made up this way. But it is a good time to make sure I look at your boobs and not your face. You don't have anything intelligent to say anyway. Now get in the kitchen and make me a damn sandwich woman!
At least you have a tip for online dating. When you message the girl make sure you make fun of your own email address, that will most definitely get you a date. If that doesn't get you laid make sure she knows you don't wash your sheets. Or wait, is that only acceptable for men?
Not sexist at all. just science.
DeleteI also like a smoky eye. Get it all over my sheets if you'd like. I'm sure it's worth it. (Not you in particular, but you get what I'm sayin')
Not washing my sheets is always a guaranteed lay.
I met my first husband on the internet. Without getting into details, I'm going to mention that one time, when he was supposed to be home with me, where my parents were visiting to help make dinner because I was recovering from knee surgery, he showed up 2 hours late because he was showing a 16 year old boy from his tennis club around town.
ReplyDeleteSecond husband, awesome. Met him in a stinky bar, both of us stumbling drunk. Stick with the classics.
Amazing.
DeleteI'm going to have to say... this is great advice.
Ohhhhhh so I've been doing it all wrong. I usually start with, "I can't cook worth a crap. So don't ask." -.- Now it all makes sense why my dating life has suffered.
ReplyDeleteObviously.
DeleteA few years back, I was sitting in the employee area of my job flipping through a random Cosmo that I found. My boss walks up and says "You know. Someone once told me that Cosmo only exists to tell women what to fix about themselves so they can find a man." I replied with "I guess I don't need to be reading it then." And I haven't picked up one since.
ReplyDeleteYou're a smart lady. I try to stay away, but every so often I get sucked back into the humour of it all. (And by humour, I mean horror.)
Deletelmao i love cosmo. They always have some pretty ridiculous things. Sad thing is, there are women out there who really take this to heart. I wonder how many women upgraded their email to gmail after reading that article. Lol.
ReplyDeleteThat's a very good question. I have a sneaking suspicion the number is offensively high.
DeleteI read it with very critical glasses with the hopes of getting some laughs. If someone takes this shit seriously, they should seek help. Or a slap to the face.;)
I know men that, if a woman planned on pursuing a romantic relationship with them, it would be best to open up a Cosmo, and follow their dating rules verbatim. It's easy to avoid them. They usually stay at home all day(in their mother's basement, of course), grunting and eating bacon.
ReplyDeleteAh yes, the old basement bacon eaters. They probably read Cosmo, too.
DeleteI used to think you hit your peak, hilarity wise, when you talk about animals. Now I've changed my mind because this entry made me do a full on snort in the library. (Seeing as you often talk about animals and dating, I think it's safe to say I find you hilarious every day of my life).
ReplyDeletep.s. I am now @gmail.com in light of this startling new discovery. Get in line.
ReplyDeleteI can't do that smokey-eye make-up thing, but I am mother-fucking gangbusters in the kitchen. Is it okay if I smear things I cook on people's sheets? Because it wouldn't be the first time...
ReplyDeleteI appreciate this post because it allows me to enjoy some of the humor and absurdity available in the pages of Cosmo. I actually can no longer read that illustrious publication (even to mock it), as I feel like too much of an ass screaming at a magazine.
I can't cook and I occasionally do a smoky-eye, but I do have a gmail account. So I'm 2/3 of a Turbo Slut. I might sign up for an AOL account so I can be Slut Queen Supreme (major life ambition... also possibly the name of a hooker who cases outside of Taco Bells).
ReplyDelete