It’s been awhile since I’ve perused the online dating databases out there. I downloaded both Tinder and Hinge, used both of them exactly three times and promptly deleted the apps so I could add more music to my phone. (#priorities) I updated my OkCupid profile recently, then forgot my password and couldn’t log in for weeks because I was too lazy and unmotivated to click the “Forgot your password?” link. But recently I’ve been the lethal combination of a) bored and b) lonely, and so I killed some time on OkC.
And was promptly reminded of how unbearable it is.
OkC is a minefield full of the worst mankind has to offer – on one side, there are the total idiots, who I’m pretty sure I’m not even matched with because I think one of the questions I answered once was something like “do you appreciate good grammar?” which I answered with an assertive FUCK YES and marked REALLY FUCKING IMPORTANT. So what I get instead, for the most part, are the pretentious douchebags – the ones who think they’re so funny/cultured/important/intelligent, but are really writing the exact same things as every other asshat on this site.
I messaged a few guys – we’ll see if that goes anywhere, it usually doesn’t – but mostly I collected the worst of the worst of what’s out there to share with my lovely readers. Married/dating friends – do not ever, ever leave your partner. This is what you have to deal with when you’re single.
And this is just a sampling! A very brief one! I got so exhausted so quickly that I couldn’t bear to look through any more profiles, but there’s more where this shit came from. And these are actual answers, copied and pasted verbatim, that these men have chosen to publish online to try to get women to like them.
Many, many men in New York think they are the wittiest, most clever creatures that ever graced this fine planet. But, heads up boys, you’re all describing yourself as the love child of two random celebrities.
If Alex P. Keaton and Liz Lemon had a love child, named David Sedaris the godfather, and asked the Beastie Boys to raise him during the formative years, they’d have me.
It’s been said that I could be the love child of John Cusack and Pete Campbell from Mad Men. It’s been said more than once. My personality is much more John than Pete. Who are we kidding? I’m Larry David.
I am, apparently, either a distant cousin of Bradley Cooper, or the byproduct of an alien genetic experiment involving his DNA and rugged good looks. Depends on the day.
Note: that man did not look like Bradley Cooper.
Since I am in New York, a lot of these men are actors/photographers/writers/comedians/musicians.
I am a poet first and foremost. But my art knows no bounds of any specific medium.
Their thoughts are so deep. In response to “I spend a lot of time thinking about…”
the universe. seriously- i ponder it. ponder it with me.
how situations/things can be more complicated than they need to be and how to simplify them.
They hope you’re thinking deep things, too. In response to “You should message me if:”
You want to collaborate on making something creative, useful, or edible
But there, like a sparkling needle in a haystack, on occasion, there are answers that catch my eye. Most involve sports, dogs, or food. Or they make me laugh out of nowhere.
My friends would say that I’m smart, grounded, and funny. I would say the same about them. Well, most of them. Gary is not that funny. Terrible name too. Pull it together, Gary.
I was, for a considerable amount of time, the Foursquare mayor of a ghetto-ass Kennedy Fried Chicken by my house.
Guys, that’s how you do it. But, most likely, none of you will write back to me. So I’ll just be over here: