Sunday, January 3, 2010

Hey babe

That's how several of the gazillion OkCupid e-mails I've received begin. Real nice.
This online dating thing, it's a killer. Sometimes I really, really, like it; I'm happy when I get that little pink envelope icon meaning that I have mail. Other times, I feel like I'm in a bikini on stage and all these gross guys are ogling me, judging me, and making inappropriate sex noises while they rub their hairy, portly bellies, much like the way I envision trolls to act. Thanks, but no thanks!
I've received three messages from one particular human, a member of the male gender (I'm being generous here), and his profile picture, actually, his ONLY picture, looks like something you'd see on a Sexual Predators bulletin. I had to block him. He really had a way with words; each message to me was no more than two sentences, but they had so much power, so much perversion and degeneracy, that even the low-down scandalous broad in me shivered in disgust.
I have received some nice messages from some seemingly nice men, but I still am not sure what to do with them. When I write to a guy, I have a formula I like to follow. I keep the e-mail short, I try to make it really funny and ridiculous, and then I finish it with a vague remark, so that the receiver of my message is left baffled, intrigued, and perhaps, wanting more. The last e-mail I wrote was to a guy whose profile stated that he had an excellent bedside manner. The subject title of my e-mail to him was, "I like a good BM." My first sentence then was, "I'm interested in hearing more about this excellent bedside manner of yours." The pre-pubescent boy in me thinks it's hilarious that the first thing this guy will read from me is, "I like a good BM," which we all know stands for "bowel movement," but then I turn it around and ask about his Bedside Manner.  I'm so curious to see how he will respond to that...
Also lately I've been thinking that I really have nothing in common with hetero dudes. I couldn't care less about sports and I've never seen a single episode of Lost. That to me sums up what straight men like. The only groups of people I can get along fabulously with are gay men and funny women. Everyone else pretty much falls through the cracks. Sometimes I wish I could just date gay guys. They make me laugh, they have a great fashion sense, a good eye for design, they have manners and smell nice, and we could just cuddle for a little while every night. They'll tuck me in and do my dishes before leaving my apartment without stealing or breaking anything. That would be the ultimate for me. Well, not the ultimate ultimate. Earlier this evening I was having dinner at Miss Yip's with Billy when I told him that I was messaged by a guy in Key West. I said, "He seems alright, like we could get along great, but he lives in Key West. What am I supposed to do with that? Is he gonna teleport his penis to me?"

(Aw crap... I think I better put Lost on my Netflix... shit...)

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