On Internet Dating, and My Immense Knowledge Thereof
If you're one of the nearly half-dozen people who know me personally, I'm sure you realize that one of my more prominent traits is that I am very lonely.
And though that very trait is one of the major reasons why I have become such a beloved internet icon, I recently decided it was time for me to make a change and seek out companionship via the only way that any civilized person would: by posting a contrived profile and a picture of myself on a website with an annoyingly clever name which promises to find my one and only via a mathematical algorithm.
Why not? I mean, are there really any other worthwhile traits except how often I smoke, whether I'm a Republican and if I enjoy being tied up occasionally?
As such, I registered on one of the most prestigious (and free) websites on all the national internets last week, and I have to say that in that time, I have learned much. Oh, so much, dear reader.
Consider: Not only have I gotten as many as three or four responses to my many sent messages through the site's messaging service, I also have managed to suavely impress a number of women of culture and taste so severely that I have left them utterly speechless.
Allow me to give you an example of how I can do this, for your own edification.
(I log on to the website. After checking my mailbox several times despite the fact that it is utterly empty, I begin perusing the profiles of young women who look like they may be able to tolerate the fact that I wear glasses and occasionally write internet comedy. I notice the profile of a lovely fellow OkCupid user who writes that she enjoys books. I now see my chance to use my immense seduction skills upon her.)
ME (TO MYSELF): Ah-ha! I've heard of books!
(I begin to compose a message with great contemplation and seriousness.)
ME (TYPING): Hello, madam. How are you this evening? Sexful, I would imagine.
But I do not write to ask about your emotional state. No. I write to tell you we have a shared interest. A bond, even, that cannot be broken no matter how hard you try to pull on it, even with one of those levery things you can use to open soda bottles with the caps on really tightly.
For, you see, I also enjoy books.
Rarely a night goes by that I don't think to myself, "Hold on a minute. Why am I not booking? Of all the things I could be doing right now, I think I'd most like to book. I'd better go get some. Books, that is."
It is with that wry double entendre that I have rendered the young woman, for whom my respect is limitless, entirely devoid of the ability to speak. I do not receive a message back from her, and know I have accomplished much.
But the seduction does not end there. No, friends. Let me recount another example of the virtual snatch I have not only obtained, but seized. Through suaveness.
(I log on to the website. Upon looking through the newly uploaded photos of young ladies who are trying to hide the fact that they're overweight, I message someone that I've been working on for several days. That is to say, looking at her profile over and over again and wondering what she would look like naked.)
ME (TYPING): Greetings, m'lady. I notice from my reading of your profile -- and take note, I read almost all of the first paragraph -- that you own a car. I'll have you know that I also own a car.
No, no. Hush. No need for hysterics. It is not magic I perform. But 'tis only fate.
HER (IN RESPONSE): Oh really? What kind of car do you drive?
(Success. Oh yes. Oh dear God yes. Now is the chance to take it home.)
ME (TYPING): Ah, I see you grasped the sly metaphor in which "car" meant "cock" there -- but only for me, not you. So where would you like to meet to fuck me? I'm free pretty much all week.
HER: (SPEECHLESS)
Now, friends, take this knowledge and use it wisely. I cannot be held responsible for any of my readers who drown in the seas of virtual poon in which you are sure to find yourself.
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