I subscribed to a dating site because I had a code for a free one month trial.
I’m actively avoiding dating currently, although my curiosity got me because other than MySpace I’ve never been on a dating site previously. Because MySpace was nothing but a dating site. You know that’s all you used it for. You can lie to me but you can’t lie to Jesus.
So I could look around the chosen dating site without being hit on, I wrote a narrative I thought would be so creepy and off-putting no one would talk to me or reach out to me.
Total fail. Women think I’m “cute and funny.” I’m one of the popular kids in school.
You be the judge. What follows is my dating site narrative.
As an end note, I have been carrying on a wonderful conversation with a lass named Becky. I’m enjoying out chats.
As a second end note, thank the stars there is a “BLOCK” function.
As a third end note, I employed my sister as a pesty lass forcing me to write a lot. Soz, Sarah, I needed a cast member to tie the narrative together. As long as I was making stuff up . . .
Anyway, here is my way creepy dating site narrative. Tell me it wouldn’t scare you off. Remember, you can lie to me and not to Jesus.
So my sister, Sarah, is making me be here. She said, “I read your story. You can’t sign up for a dating site and just put up a bunch of smart ass gibberish. Take this seriously.”
I replied, “You’re not my real mother. Besides, have we met? Smart ass gibberish is not a new development in my personality. Some would say you’re wrong. I’ve already posted my story. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
So Sarah said, “I’ll fill your house with cats.”
I replied, “Look, it’s a misconception I don’t like cats. I just don’t want them alive around me.”
By the by, I don’t like cats. Total deal killer. You can have 14 nubbins and I’m cool. One cat, or even two thirds of a cat, and I’m out. Soz.
My best gal died last October at the young age of 31, and Sarah feels I’ve been impulsive with my dating, and Sarah feels it’s been hurtful to me, and Sarah feels there is no such thing as two thirds of a cat. Apparently, she’s never looked on the side of the highway.
Sarah feels a dating site will be good for me.
A list of interests: Geology; Mineralogy; Surfing; Snowboarding; Live Tuneage; Behavioral Health Advocacy; Stand Up To Stigma; Hiking; Road Trips; Ukulele; Stand Up Comic; Building homemade Volton from neighborhood cats and duct tape; Tagging cows with “Big Mac in Training”.
Super Powers: Magnetic Colon and Ability to calm jittery squirrels with only the power of my mind.
Personal Kryptonite: Shrapnel factory and shovel & rake aisle at Home Depot.
A lass who enjoys smuggling rich white protestants south of the border to harvest produce. And enjoys gigs, hiking, shaving wombats.
Sigh. Sarah is hounding me. Okay, the idea of a perfect match is like the idea of the recipe for a perfect ice cube. Think about it.
Look, I enjoy getting to know folks, and if we end up digging each other, then you’re not some formulaic preconceived ideal lass who doesn’t exist except in Disney films and the Japanese adult film industry. The outmoded idea of the Greek antiquity “soul mate” worked when the entire world was centered on the Mediterranean Sea, but what are the chances I’m going to meet a New Jersey Piney who has no interest in even leaving the Garden State (like any sane person would . . . c’mon, New Jersey still won’t take responsibility for inflicting the world with Bon Jovi)? She has every chance of being my soul mate as my next door neighbor who has cats.
Here’s the rub. If you’re cool, adorable, slightly squishy, slightly firm, have beautiful eyes (I love beautiful eyes) and fun fun fun fun fun fun (channeling my inner-Tigger), then it’s a good chance you’re as close to perfect as the perfect recipe for boiling water. Think about it
Do you know the coolest thing about duck lips? Nothing. Fly low, avoid the radar.
Fighting crime and tooth decay.
Crap, Sarah, you’ve already got a husband. Doesn’t he deserve your expert judgmental ministrations?
An ideal date is purchased from Hadley’s and is pre-pitted.
An ideal date can run the spectrum from watching Tremors (the perfect movie) to using up my frequent flyer miles to travel to Jupiter, seeing as I’ve accrued frequent flyer miles for every questionable decision over my lifetime. First class for both of us, round trip.
Oh! I totally jam on going to concerts. The smaller the venue, the better.
Hoofing around in the middle of nowhere rocks out, too.
Have you heard the song “Middle of Nowhere” by Hot Hot Heat? You should. I first heard it live in 2009 at Edgefest in Queen Creek, Arizona. Great gig. Jimmy Eat World, The Bravery, Mute Math, Bad Religion from memory. Festival gigs are okay, too, just not as cool as a small venue.
However, if you can win tix for Green Day in Phoenix where we got front row, sound check and after party passes, and a very stoked son, then a giant stadium is just swell.
The fun part of that gig was me and my kid got to road trip from Q-Town to Phoenix over the Mogollon Rim, hoofing through Petrified Forest National Park, dropping down through the Verde Valley, digging aragonite ps. after glauberite at the Camp Verde Salt Mine, and then getting to hang with my best friend since third grade, Derek, who lived in Mesa then Tempe and now Scottsdale.
There. Sarah, I’ve rambled on, chasing off any potential mate.