OKCupid Profile Attempt #002


My profile for some months way back when.
RESULTS: Not well.


My self-summary
Let's do the math here, odds are astronomically low you'll find someone decent and compatible, odds that only lower in the online realm. On a dating site, the only thing you have in common is that you're all potentially on the market. At least in reality you're brought together with people by a common interest, be it a job, or a LARPing group, or whatever. Even a bar is better social meeting ground because of proximity. Here on OKCupid everyone's shamelessly waving their genitals. Let me get to that.

Pay attention, this is the most interesting profile you'll read all week. What kind of female is deranged not to get any real world attention from real life gentlemen? Barring maybe isolated farm girls from Idaho, no self-respecting woman has any business on this site. OKCupid is the dwelling ground for females with wooden legs and other such crutches. And that's okay, some men, like myself, enjoy character. Yet, the amount of absolute stock options is flabbergasting. I plead of you, someone, please tell me why the girls here are as hard to differentiate as Lemmings, and sport the same faded green hair?

Every profile begins with an immediate denouncement, e.g. "no guys with spines, please," "not really looking for anything," "don't message me unless you're -also- a fan of Tostito's Hint of Lime flavour chips." My favourite is "NOT LOOKING TO HOOK UP!" This one's the most funny, as it's like you're putting it there to remind yourself. Who, but a slut, would be damaged enough to hate the idea of hooking up? You learned from experience. You might as well shout, "Easy target, here! Getcha free snatch, here!" I'm saying this not as a negative judgement, but as an observation.

Who are you kidding? Men enjoy getting physical, sometimes too hastily, but did you ever consider there's a method to the madness? After you've shared some sexual depravity of the likes that even Jesus would perform the "father, son, holy ghost" gesture, you learn about a person. Sex is like the hidden handshake, if the person is able to perform it to your satisfaction, you're part of the same club and free to tell them anything. I mean, it's hard to feel socially inhibited with someone you've just treated like your personal waterpark. Just keeping it real, reader. Just keeping 'er real.

That said, I'm not too interested in physical intimacy, mostly stemming from my fear of creating an infant. We're under a judicial system that prefers a woman's rights to equality, and as bleak of an economic future as one can imagine. No kids, ever. I want a child like I want tech vests to get back in style, which is to say, not at all. In case you can't tell, I'm trying to make a living with jokes. In case you can't tell, I'm broke. But once I can afford it, my next of kin is going to be a notarized vasectomy document.

As you by now have guessed, I'm interested in sociology of it all. Hey, it's my strong suit. I'm an honest man. Perhaps that's why I've chosen to create a profile giving unsummoned advice, as such: nobody cares that you like Ameile, yoga, your iPhone, sushi, or coffee. It says nothing about you that you're a college student or enjoy the outdoors. Yeah, I like air, too, babe. How about an opinion? Some substance? How about you put to use finally the eloquence your college career should've afforded you? I see none of it. Proof that OKCupiders = deranged. Irrefutable, verifiable fact.

Despite all this misanthropic rambling the idea of new interpersonal relationship is exciting, so if you're still reading this, by now you've realized I'm your soulmate. You're not mine, but that's irrelevant. All I ask is that you have dimples, body hair, and no more than three friends. Any more friends and you won't be able to relate to the extreme isolation that entails finding Antique's Roadshow an enjoyable viewing experience, alright. And if you don't find appraising antiques engrossing to watch you're a dullard. It's nothing personal.

If god can halt this cosmic mockery via the vessel that is my life for a half-second, a kind, interesting, non lipstick-on-a-pig-looking person will respond to this post and we'll shoot the shite about my fascination and overuse of British slang.

The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I love feminists, but only because I'm attracted to women who are full of hate.


You should message me if
you'd like to hear from me because I'm only interested in women with initiative. You can wear the pants. You're Oprah, I'm Stedman.

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