I’m thinking of letting Wordle write my profile.

I’m kind of an *expert* at, ummm, finding things online to distract me from, ummmm, actually being productive, whatever that means.

Enter Wordle.net.

You can input any old text or hook it up to stuff you’ve already written and it jumbles the words together in neat patterns.  And you get to pick the colors.  And the font.

It can take forever to get it just right.

I connected it to this blog, picked some colors and the above picture is the result.

I love that “BOB” is huge… (and that “fuck” appears more than once)(and that “Hiab” is included)(and “killer means cult person”)

Anyway.

I’m gonna input my Match.com profile and see what happens.  (But I probably can’t share it here, cuz, you know, I’m anonymous….)

Real post coming soon, I promise.

toodles,

violet

 

Online Dating 101: Don’t Be Pathetic.

[First, I want you to know that I’m writing this from my iPad and it’s been a long and fucking frustrating day with no internet access and WordPress being bizarre. So the formatting could be weird and there is no cute image.]

It always shocks me when people seem to think that certain social rules (like, oh, politeness) apply in the online dating twilight zone.

THEY DON’T.

Rude is the new polite.

And questioning other people’s rudeness makes you (a) totally rude and (b) pathetic.

Exhibit A: Newsflash Bob

BACKGROUND: My profile says I’m 46 (I am) and that I’m 5’7″ (I am) and that I’m interested in men who are 45-58 (this changes) who are at least 5’10” tall (this doesn’t change) and who live in a certain geographical area.

Why the height specification? Because I know what I’m attracted to. Yes, I’ve been attracted to less-tall men, but those were specific extraordinary circumstances. I’m not saying less-tall men are any less attractive, they are NOT. I just don’t want to be their GIANT girlfriend.

Anyway. About Bob. (I guess Bob is going to be my generic name for online dudes, until I think of a better, more fitting one.)

First, Match told me that Bob saw me in his “Daily 5″ and was interested. So I took a look at his profile.

Heavy sigh.

Bob says he is 61, but looks much closer to 71. Bob is 5’6” and Bob lives a billion miles away (or a couple hundred miles, either way, he’s outside of my “geographical area of interest”). Of particular concern is that Bob seems to have a lot of dogs that are (a) taller than him, and (b) more intelligent than him, in a deviant way. None of these things are total deal breakers though. So I read his profile.

*HELLO* deal breaker.

Bob, it turns out, writes like a serial killer. I hate to keep using the “serial killer” theme, but it just works. Here’s a snippet of his profile:

HELLO! DID not know BACK in the day nor NOW! what criteria is most important….. Are YOU an educated, strong, witty, feminine women with her own sense of STYLE…?…!…? I LOOK forward to hearing from you…!…!…!…!!!

Great.

Then, of course, Bob winks at me.

A couple days later, Bob writes me an excruciatingly long message (NOTE: first messages should never be long, EVER)

Here’s a short excerpt from the message:

Out of your 1362 emails, please READ Mine…! YES I’ll say/ask anything to get an email read…..weeeeeelllll not anything…. But I do hope you take a chance & read my email….I’d LIKE that! Some HOW you popped up in my Daily 5 I found your profile interesting & feel we may share similar interests WHEN trying to figure out which of the roads to explore at each intersection…on the adventures THAT lay AHED! Some RANDOM….. THOUGHTS & sort of things (?)….that we may share and enjoy together! Walking & hiking with my (OUR) dogs…would that

(that is how it ended…?)

Again. WTF?

First, to the trained eye (i.e., MINE) it is obvious that this is Bob’s attempt to make a form letter look like it isn’t a form letter.

Second, Bob writes like a serial killer.

And, finally, Bob is obviously trying to manipulate me into adopting his tall, deviant looking dogs. No thank you, *Bob*.

So, in keeping with online dating etiquette, I ignore Bob’s message.

Bob, however, doesn’t understand how all this works (probably because he is 80 and new to the internet) and becomes somewhat perturbed by my failure to respond.

So he sends this little ray of sunshine message — a full 12 days after the first message.

HELLO recovering extrovert….NEWS flash…!!!!!

[note: in my profile I say something about being a recovering extrovert to highlight the fact that I’m practically a shut-in, of course.] Hi … Stop the presses….and you can stop the 12-step meetings…From my experience…you’ve fully recovered from resembling an extrovert…!…!…!…! Hopefully….YOU’LL prove me wrong

Now Bob has gone too far. “News flash”??

Here’s a newsflash, motherfucker:

Bob,

Today is your lucky day. YES. I’m writing you, but don’t start CELEBRATING yet.

The thing is, Bob, your attempt to manipulate me into writing you via the use of a snarky “NEWSFLASH” annoyed the shit out of me and, although I generally stay on the high road in these situations, I’m afraid you’ve lured me down to your level.

Anyway.

Here’s a *newsflash* for you Bob:

YOU’RE ACTING PATHETIC. STOP IT AT ONCE.

When a woman doesn’t respond to your indications of interest (a wink, a message, another snippy message….) it isn’t because she is being rude, it is because she ISN’T FUCKING INTERESTED.

If I were nothing but a rude bitch, as you imply, I would’ve responded to your first indecipherable message with something like this:

Old Dude —

 

How dare you clog up my inbox with your pathetic attempt at making a poorly written form letter look like some kind of personal message. If you had read my profile, you would know that you are NOWHERE NEAR what I’m looking for in age, body type or geographical area.

 

I have no idea what it is that you think we have in common.

 

For one thing, I’m not attracted to men whose “dress” pants sit up under their nipples. My great-grandfather wore his pants like that when he was like 97 and cute. You’re not cute. Put your pants where normal people wear them for the love of God.

 

For another thing, you write like a serial killer, Bob. Have you ever read anything about serial killers? Seen any movies (those newfangled things they show at the theater?) about serial killers? They all do weird shit with capitalization and punctuation, Bob and they just fucking LOVE ellipses…

 

Finally, I like dogs, but your dogs are weird as shit and I’m super freaked out that you’re wanting to *share* them with me. They look like they are taller than you, Bob and I see a little deviance in their eyes. And if those are your “children” (the middle-aged adults with the glassy eyes and drugged out droopy faces) with you and the dogs in that picture I’m even more concerned. The dogs are deviant and they are the most alert looking sentient beings in your photos. Don’t write me again or I will notify the authorities of the whereabouts of you and your scary little “clan”…

BUT I’M NOT A BITCH, Bob.

And I didn’t want to hurt your ellipses-loving FEELINGS, so I did the nice, polite and proper thing and I didn’t write to you at all.

Then you got all snarky “NEWSFLASH!” on me for no apparent reason and now look what happened.

I’ve had to use you as an example of bad shit that happens when people start acting pathetic in the online dating world.

The lesson here, Bob, is that when a person doesn’t respond to your online overtures of interest, that IS your response. Move on and stop embarrassing absolutely everyone.

Please.

toodles,

violet

[the *extra-bitchy* in today’s post is brought to you by “the internet is fucking down” and “3g is slow” and “WordPress is trying to ruin my entire life!!” and “how the fuck do you format posts on the iPad?” and my period. :)]

Remember when I felt kind of bad for trashing that guy’s profile? Never Mind.

So.

Remember when I trashed that “I’ve found myself and I’m impressed + I’m gonna compare you to my 33 y.o. ex-girlfriend, just so you know…” guy and then I was all “Oh man, maybe I shouldn’t be anonymously trashing people’s online dating profiles, that’s not nice.” and then I was all “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m on a mission from God” ?

Well.  That guy (who, as you recall, winked at me last week)(and we all know how I feel about *winking*…) wrote me a message.  And by “wrote me a message” I mean he strung some letters together in a way that made it seem like he was trying to communicate something, but I’m not sure what.

For the record: I don’t feel sorry for him anymore, at all.

Here’s what he wrote:

Hiab. Great photo and impressive….bobby*

 

THAT’S THE WHOLE MESSAGE.

 

Important Note:  My “username” on match has nothing to do with the word “Hiab” or “b” or “ab” or “H” and my profile doesn’t say that I’m 33, it says I’m 46, which happens to be the god awful truth.

 

I feel like he is the one fucking with me, now.

 

Which is *totally* unacceptable.

 

Dear Bobby,

 

So sorry it’s taken so long for me to respond —  I’m super-busy with electro-shock therapy to address my dating related (where are the good guys, Bobby?!) depression and, well, it took me awhile to fully dig into and digest your message. 

 

 I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a speed reader, Bobby.

 

I must admit to being a bit baffled — when I first noticed your profile (two weeks ago?) you were divorced and 53 years old and, unfortunately, delusional.  Now you are not-divorced and 55, but still delusional.  At least there is some consistency in your life.  Which is more than can be said for a lot of people, right Bobby?  There’s a “plus”…

 

The thing is, I *totally* understand delusion, Bobby.  Sometimes it is just easier than reality. 

 

Plus, it sounds like you are surrounded by delusional “women friends”  (Or imaginary “women friends” – either way, I don’t think they are helping anything)  The thing that concerns me the most about them is that they guessed you were exactly, on-the-dot 41.  What?  I’ve seen your 4 identical pictures (yes, two are in b/w, but they are the same exact picture) and if I were delusional (which happens, Bobby, I’m not going to lie) I would guess you were 46.3, but I’m not delusional (right now) and judging from your picture, and the fact that you said you were 53 and now you say that you are 55, I’m going to guess that you are not a day under 58. 

 

And that is being generous.

 

As was the 33 year old confused cult-girlfriend you USED to have. 

 

I’m guessing she told you that she couldn’t believe you were a day over 33 on account of how much you two had in common and the fact that you were the best lover she ever had. I’m right, aren’t I Bobby?

 

I want you to hear this, Bobby, because it’s going to help you in the long run:

 

THAT’S WHAT WE ALL SAY TO OUR CURRENT LOVERS

 

To say anything else would be counter-productive, Bobby. 

 

I’m not saying she was lying.  She probably wasn’t lying at that very moment (you know, the one right after the great sex but before she realizes that you’re still married and your daughter is her age and you’re just leasing that fancy sportscar)  But just because a 33 year old thinks you’re her soulmate and the best lover ever (during the time period wherein you are both cult members) doesn’t mean you are *actually* 33.

 

I’m sorry, but it’s just the truth.

 

So when you say in your profile “I’m going to compare you to my 33 year old ex- girlfriend, just so you know” the message is really “I’m a total douchebag, just so you know, and I’m 58 but age doesn’t matter when it comes to me, it only matters when it comes to you, and if you’re not 33 I may hang out with you, but you’ll never really be good enough for me.”

 

It’s not a good message, Bobby-o.

 

And neither is the one you sent to me today.

 

Normally your delusions wouldn’t bother me, but when you sent me a personal message addressing me as “Hiab” you crossed a line, Bobby.

 

This is a Hiab:

 I am not a big orange crane, as I think you know.  And I resent your use of the term “Hiab” to refer to me.  I have feelings, Bobby, unlike big orange crane machines.  Who hardly ever do.

 

And as for the rest of your “message”?  What. The. Fuck.

 

What photo is great?  What is impressive?  My big orange crane claws? 

 

Why even bother writing anything if that is all you can come up with?  Especially when you’re following up a fucking wink…  Hellooooooo the wink let me know you thought I was fuckable based solely on my profile picture, you’re not covering any “new ground” here with the non-message you sent.

 

Oh and just so you know, Bob, I wouldn’t fuck you even if you *were* 33, or 41, or 53, 55 or 58 (which is probably your real age) (not that it matters, the point is you’re a total dick) and I’m basing that statement solely on the total douchebag-ness that is your profile and the waste of time and space that was your “message” to me.

 

Which in unfortunate for you, Bobby, because while I may not be a speed-reading orange crane with massive claws, I’m a GREAT fuck.

 

xoxo

violet

 

 

There.  Now I feel better.

  

toodles,

 

violet 

*  his name isn’t “Bobby” — but it is something with a “y” on the end, and two consonants in the middle, and…. 🙂

p.s.  I don’t really think Landmark Education is a cult, I just like to fuck with my best-girl Irene who has been trying to recruit me get me to do it for YEARS.

 

 

 

 

 

UPDATE ***Profile Translation: The “I’ve finally found myself and I’m totally impressed” douchebag.

UPDATE, YO:

Oh man.  So this guy actually changed his profile to show that he is 55 (when I’m right, I’m right!) and “Currently Separated”…. which he totally should have done BUT it makes me a little nervous because, you know, did someone read this blog, figure out who he is and let him know that I’m anonymously trashing him on the worldwide interweb?  Or worse, did he somehow stumble upon it and realize it was about him?  Yikes. 

Me:  “Shit!  Maybe my anxiety about this poor fella is an indication from GOD that I shouldn’t be anonymously trashing other (unsuspecting) people’s online dating profiles on my blog. It may be hilarious, but it is not very, ummm, nice.”

 

Also Me:  “Are you fucking serious?  Why else would God have given you the ability to write, access to a blog,  ten years of largely unsuccessful (whatever that means…) and occasionally outrageous online dating experiences and a shitty disposition?  Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Violet.”

 

Me:  “Excellent point.  This isn’t a self-indulgent blog, it’s a mission from God.”

toodles,

violet

[ORIGINAL POST]

I’m sure you’ve read my “Aboot” page by now (and yes, I know it says “aboot” instead of “about” and no, I’m not Canadian.  I just like to say that word, “aboot”.) and my post about the time I invented online dating, so you’re pretty clear on how I’m totally qualified to pick apart online dating profiles and act all superior and jaded and snarky.

Well, I am totally qualified.  And, obviously, jaded + super snarky.

Anyway….. Shall we begin?

Back when I invented online dating, I was super naive and I generally had to actually meet a man in person to notice the huge red “douchebag” flag waving over his head (or meet him, sleep with him, date him for years and then marry him, but that is a different story) but now I’m an expert and I can pretty much flush them out based solely on their dating profile. 

 Well, the obvious douchebags, anyway.

One of the most entertaining kinds of douchebags is the “I’ve found myself and I’m TOTALLY impressed by Me”- douchebag.  These guys are generally in their mid-40’s to mid-50’s, are recently (or, like the guy below, NOT) divorced, are obsessed with their physique, have discovered some form of “spirituality” (in quotes because my definition of spirituality involves a little more humility than most of these douchebags), and have become convinced that they are truly God’s gift to women.  Especially significantly younger women.

Behold the profile intro of one such “Totally Impressed with Myself”-douchebag:

NOTE:   This guy identifies himself as a 53 year old divorced man living in a fairly exclusive neighborhood just outside the Denver metro area.  He put up 4 pictures — two black and white and two in full color, all of the exact same shot of his smug face.  I grudgingly had to give him points for NOT putting up pictures of his house/car/motorcycle/muscles/ex-girlfriends, but then I was forced to take them all away for putting up 4 of the exact same picture, douchebag.

Things went downhill from there.

BEGIN TRANSLATION (the douchebag’s words are in italics…):

And who are you? Someone who gets me …and you are someone whom I feel the same:

Translation:  That was a rhetorical question….I don’t care who you are, as long as you worship me.  Plus, I don’t know how to use punctuation or proofread.

If you have never done landmark education or something silimar, you probably won’t get me.

Translation:  I’m in a cult.  If you are not in the cult, you aren’t going to “get” me.  Plus, I’m not familiar with the rules of capitalization, which is fine because the rules don’t apply to me or anyone else in my cult.

If you are not physicall attractive, slim, beautiful, honor your body, love adventure and possess an unstoppable passion for living full on, you probably won’t get me.

Translation:   What I’m really trying to say is that if you’re not gorgeous and skinny and perky all of the time, you won’t “get” me.  It would also be great if you don’t know how to spell and aren’t detail oriented, like me.

If you don’t value great wine, engaged conversations, romantic sunsets and sunrises, the stars at night, and a butt kicking workout at RedRocks…..you probably won’t get me.

Translation:  I say that I’m 53, but it’s more likely that I am at least 55 and I’m pretending that I’m 30-something.  For example, I’m a total hipster, evidenced by the fact that I’m advertising that I “work out” at Red Rocks [which most people spell “Red Rocks”, not “RedRocks”]– which means I run up and down the stairs of an amphitheater with all the other hipsters — not for the exercise, but to show how hipster I am.  I’m lucky that  I haven’t had a heart attack, as far as you know.  As part of my hipster persona, I act like I know a lot about “great wine” and “engaged conversations”, but the truth is that I prefer to drink Viagra-laced PBR and don’t really believe in “conversation”,  per se.  I mean, I LOVE to talk about myself and everything that I’ve discovered about myself and how awful and unenlightened my (almost) ex-wife is,  but then I would just like you to not-talk, unless you’re telling me where the bedroom is or what a great lover I am.  Mostly I want to point out how fucking unique I am — who else “values” sunrises, sunsets and stars at night?  Hardly anyone, as far as I can tell.

However, if any of those things do resonate with you…then just perhaps there is a possiblity we could change the world together….

Translation:  I seriously doubt these things will resonate with anyone else.  I’m clearly more sophisticated and enlightened than other people, especially the women on this dating site.  If, by some slim chance, there is a woman out there who has noticed sunrises, sunsets and stars at night and who is a total hipster like me and is young and hot, I might be interested in more than one date with her, if she is lucky.

I am very young for my chronological age. I recently asked about 20 women, to guess the age….average response was 41. The most recent relationship, she was 33. Just so you know….you may get compared to her (just kidding…sorta)

Translation:  I’m totally lying about the little “poll” of my “women friends” that I’ve described.  First, what kind of person would ask a bunch of women how old they look and expect them to tell the truth?  Second, who guesses “41”??!!  I mean, people guess things like “early-40’s” or “mid-50’s”…. no one puts an exact number on another person’s age.  Give me a break!  The real story is that I joined this cult and discovered how awesome and good looking I am when I started fucking a 33 year old chick who is also in the cult.  Then I left my wife, who wasn’t young and gorgeous and skinny any longer, for the 33 year old.  Things didn’t work out with her, plus my 32 year old daughter was not supportive of the relationship, but that isn’t going to stop me from pursuing young women, hello….!  Why not?  I’m very impressed with how I look, so impressed that I believe that I deserve….nay, am entitled to be with a MUCH younger woman.  Who is, of course, gorgeous and above all, skinny.  And, mostly, I want you to know up front that I’m totally hung up on the 33 year old….. not the actual person, but the fact that she was pretty and young and now that I know I’m entitled to be with hot, young chicks, I’m always going to be on the lookout for them, even if I’m out with you, which is fine because I warned you up front.

And just so you know: The divorce will be final within the month…..and is good with that, took alot of effort, but worth it in the end….

Translation:  And just so you know: I’m a TOTAL DOUCHEBAG.  Yes, I totally lied about being divorced already, but that is because I need to hook up with a new young chick ASAP before I remember that I’m not, in fact, 41 or as good-looking and interesting as the 33 year old made me feel.  Plus,  even though my wife just left me six months  ago — right after she refused to join the cult and then found out about the 33 year old — my marriage has been over forever, so it’s not like I’m on the rebound or in any kind of emotional turmoil at all.  I’m totally not, my thinking is completely rational.  The 33 year old?  Old news.  We broke up yesterday (again) but it’s FINAL this time (unless she wants to fuck again).  And just so you know:  I’m not really 5’10.  I’m 5’7″ and a half, but I took a poll of my women friends and they all guessed 5’8″, so I rounded up. Plus everyone knows that women search online profiles for “divorced” men who are “over 5’8” and I wouldn’t want to limit my chances with hot, young chicks just because I told the truth, obviously.  Did I mention it’s all about me?  It is.

END TRANSLATION.

Here’s the thing:  I’m not making a word of this up.

This is an actual profile intro on match.com.

What an ass.  Seriously.  I’m guessing he didn’t ask his 20 women friends to read this profile before he posted it, because even if they are delusional about his age (which I doubt) there is no way a sane woman would read this profile intro and think “this guy sounds really interesting…. and he’s such a good writer….”

But, here’s the BEST PART…

I “favorited” this guy’s profile as soon as I read it, of course — I mean, how could I resist?  This is so blatantly offensive that I had to make sure I could find him again in order to skewer him in my blog.

And then he winked at me.

Asshole.

I sooooooooooo want to send him a link to this post.

But I won’t.  Only because I’m afraid the people at match might not think I’m as funny as I think I am (like that would ever happen…) and they might ban me from the site for life and I would lose access to all this awesome material + potential dates…. 🙂

Cheers!

violet

Dear Mr. Attension to Detail, I’m dreaming of one of these in pink metal. Love, Violet.

So there I was, obsessively sifting through online profiles of unsuspecting men who happen to live within 200 miles of me, hoping to find either true love or someone to humiliate on my blog (or both, naturally) when Mr. “Attension to Detail” (hereinafter “Bob”) sent me a virtual wink.

 Heavy sigh.

I kind of feel sorry for him, honestly.

Which means I  feel sorry for him in the exact same way that I feel a little twinge of sorry for the religious zealot who shows up at my door with a pamphlet and and no idea that I’m actually Satan.  In the flesh.  [insert fake smile]  Which is to say, of course, that I don’t feel sorry for him at all, because I didn’t ask him to choose to identify himself as Mr. Ironically Misspelled Headline  and to then make his headline even more ridiculous by writing this:

I am easy going and someone that lives life.I like to have fun no matter what i am doing even at work.I am the person who can fix anything and don’t need to call the guy, I am The Gay. Looking for someone that wants to make life an adventure not a chore.Looking for someone that likes to go on motorcycle rides,Camping,Vegas,anywhere there is a beach,and just hang out.I can make any situation fun and can be serious when need be.Also I like to build things out of Metal.You dream it i can build it.I have no baggage just luggage.Lets make this are first adventure together.

 

And I sure as hell didn’t ask him to *wink* (a/k/a the lamest, most passive-aggressive-ist thing to do to indicate that you are kinda, sorta, in a “I’m too lazy to write even one little word” way semi-interested in another person on an online dating site) at me at 5:30 on a Thursday afternoon (a/k/a the “Oh Shit It’s Thursday And I Don’t Have a Date Lined Up for the Weekend” witching hour in online dating world) when I was feeling particularly snarky and jaded.

 

So, feeling grateful for the material that had just fallen into my lap, I decided to totally fuck with Bob.

  

Dear Bob,

 

I don’t know how to fully explain the emotional rollercoaster you have put me through today, but I’m going to try, which is all anyone can do in this life, right?

 

When I first became aware of  your indication of interest, I was all  “Oh look, a man who lives in my state and isn’t 72 and/or wearing overalls in his profile picture is showing me some attention!”  This was followed up with confusion because, as I’m sure you know (or maybe you don’t, which I’m starting to doubt) sending someone a wink online is super passive-aggressive and could mean anything at all, Bob, even something sinister.

 

Let me explain.  One time I had a one night stand brief relationship with a guy who, as it turns out, was completely psychotic and I’m not even making that part up, he really was. I know that because I’m kind of an expert at internet research and I tend to check out stories people tell me about things like how they have a criminal record, but that it is totally unjustified because the police completely overreacted and they were unjusty prosecuted all because they barely threatened their ex-mother-in-law (with a loaded weapon) in front of the grocery store, which they wouldn’t have even thought of doing if she hadn’t been stalking them and trying to kill them, with her mind.

 

Anway. Bob. None of that happened exactly as he described it, obviously, so I got scared and stopped responding to his incessant calls/emails/IM’s and texts.  I was hoping he would get the hint and back off, but, as you know, that kind of reasonable behavior doesn’t sit well with psychos, plus I am really good at sex and he wanted more, so he switched up his game and started calling/emailing/IM-ing and texting me about the (probably imaginary) naked pictures of me that he said he had taken with the (probably imaginary) spy camera that he had purchased so he would have evidence of his ex-mother-in-law’s (probably imaginary) attempts to kill him, with her mind.  You know, the pictures that I couldn’t be totally sure didn’t exist….  Then he promised he would probably not post the probably imaginary pictures on the internet if  I would just meet with him one more time to talk about “us”. 

 

 This actually happened, Bob.  

 

I finally had to take drastic measures to block all avenues of communication with him.  Then, several years later, I innocently put a profile up on match.com and guess who “winked” at me about 5 minutes thereafter?  YES, Mr. Psychotic With Probably-Imaginary-Naked-Pictures!  And, Bob, I’m pretty sure his “wink” wasn’t the “Oh hey, I think you’re pretty!” type wink.  It was more along the lines of  “Oh hey bitch, I’m still around and I’ve still got those pictures, just so you know.  Good luck!”

 

Anyway, Bob, all I’m saying is that a wink can mean anything and I’m starting to wonder what exactly yours meant. 

 

I’m usually a pretty good judge of character and my sense is (after seeing your profile picture wherein you look somewhat dodgy and paranoid just sitting there on your little motorcycle in your garage, which is entirely closed up  and appears to be neatly organized and unnaturally clean, which probably means that (a) you took the picture from your secret garage spy camera, and (b) you do things in your garage that you don’t want people to know about, including power washing your victim’s blood off the walls, for one thing, and obsessing over your little motorcyle, for another) that you didn’t mean well, and that certainly destroyed any enthusiasm I had about being noticed, Bob.

 

But then I saw your headline — “Attension to Detail” — and thought “What a clever play on words!  This guy couldn’t possibly be a serial killer, he’s funny!” and I was all excited again.

 

Imagine my disappointment, Bob, when I realized, shortly thereafter, that not only was it  highly unlikely that you intentionally misspelled “attention” in order to make a clever little “play on words” type headline, you also seem to be completely unfamiliar with the most basics rules of the English language.  I’m talking about things like spelling, punctuation and capitalization, Bob, not to mention using language to convey meaning.  And that made me feel bad.  Not for judging you based on how you write (please….) but bad about the fact that your writing is so, well, bad.  Oh, and about how now it’s pretty clear that you’re probably a serial killer, Bob.  Not cool.

 

Then I saw that you’re The Gay and that you like to build things with Metal.  Huge. Fucking. Relief.  I finally know who The Gay is!  So, even though the whole “I like to build things out of Metal” is probably  just more circumstantial evidence of your reign of terror as The Gay serial killer, I think something good can come from this whole “winking” encounter after all, which I’m sure makes you feel less bad about your previous threatening actions online, right Bob?

 

Win/win. 

 

To that end, I’ve enclosed a picture of a chastity belt that I would like you to make out of metal, preferably finished with a shiny pink enamel, if it isn’t too much trouble.

 

Why?

 

Well, pink matches my cookie and I’m starting to think life would be less complicated if I could just refrain from having casual sex (or any sex, really) with psychotic and/or delusional and/or serial killer-type men who hold grudges (apparently) but everyone knows that I don’t have a lot of willpower sometimes, so that is where the pink metal chastity belt will come in — it will make me feel pretty, Bob, and it will probably save my life. 

 

Love,

 

violetfemme65

p.s.  I think I will need at least 5 keys FOR EMERGENCIES, Bob…

 

Bob hasn’t responded, yet.

 

toodles.

 

violet

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

Profile Translation: The “I’ve finally found myself and I’m totally impressed” douchebag.

I’m sure you’ve read my “Aboot” page by now (and yes, I know it says “aboot” instead of “about” and no, I’m not Canadian.  I just like to say that word, “aboot”.) and my post about the time I invented online dating, so you’re pretty clear on how I’m totally qualified to pick apart online dating profiles and act all superior and jaded and snarky.

Well, I am totally qualified.  And, obviously, jaded + super snarky.

Anyway….. Shall we begin?

Back when I invented online dating, I was super naive and I generally had to actually meet a man in person to notice the huge red “douchebag” flag waving over his head (or meet him, sleep with him, date him for years and then marry him, but that is a different story) but now I’m an expert and I can pretty much flush them out based solely on their dating profile. 

 Well, the obvious douchebags, anyway.

One of the most entertaining kinds of douchebags is the “I’ve found myself and I’m TOTALLY impressed by Me”- douchebag.  These guys are generally in their mid-40’s to mid-50’s, are recently (or, like the guy below, NOT) divorced, are obsessed with their physique, have discovered some form of “spirituality” (in quotes because my definition of spirituality involves a little more humility than most of these douchebags), and have become convinced that they are truly God’s gift to women.  Especially significantly younger women.

Behold the profile intro of one such “Totally Impressed with Myself”-douchebag:

NOTE:   This guy identifies himself as a 53 year old divorced man living in a fairly exclusive neighborhood just outside the Denver metro area.  He put up 4 pictures — two black and white and two in full color, all of the exact same shot of his smug face.  I grudgingly had to give him points for NOT putting up pictures of his house/car/motorcycle/muscles/ex-girlfriends, but then I was forced to take them all away for putting up 4 of the exact same picture, douchebag.

Things went downhill from there.

BEGIN TRANSLATION (the douchebag’s words are in italics…):

And who are you? Someone who gets me …and you are someone whom I feel the same:

Translation:  That was a rhetorical question….I don’t care who you are, as long as you worship me.  Plus, I don’t know how to use punctuation or proofread.

If you have never done landmark education or something silimar, you probably won’t get me.

Translation:  I’m in a cult.  If you are not in the cult, you aren’t going to “get” me.  Plus, I’m not familiar with the rules of capitalization, which is fine because the rules don’t apply to me or anyone else in my cult.

If you are not physicall attractive, slim, beautiful, honor your body, love adventure and possess an unstoppable passion for living full on, you probably won’t get me.

Translation:   What I’m really trying to say is that if you’re not gorgeous and skinny and perky all of the time, you won’t “get” me.  It would also be great if you don’t know how to spell and aren’t detail oriented, like me.

If you don’t value great wine, engaged conversations, romantic sunsets and sunrises, the stars at night, and a butt kicking workout at RedRocks…..you probably won’t get me.

Translation:  I say that I’m 53, but it’s more likely that I am at least 55 and I’m pretending that I’m 30-something.  For example, I’m a total hipster, evidenced by the fact that I’m advertising that I “work out” at Red Rocks [which most people spell “Red Rocks”, not “RedRocks”]– which means I run up and down the stairs of an amphitheater with all the other hipsters — not for the exercise, but to show how hipster I am.  I’m lucky that  I haven’t had a heart attack, as far as you know.  As part of my hipster persona, I act like I know a lot about “great wine” and “engaged conversations”, but the truth is that I prefer to drink Viagra-laced PBR and don’t really believe in “conversation”,  per se.  I mean, I LOVE to talk about myself and everything that I’ve discovered about myself and how awful and unenlightened my (almost) ex-wife is,  but then I would just like you to not-talk, unless you’re telling me where the bedroom is or what a great lover I am.  Mostly I want to point out how fucking unique I am — who else “values” sunrises, sunsets and stars at night?  Hardly anyone, as far as I can tell.

However, if any of those things do resonate with you…then just perhaps there is a possiblity we could change the world together….

Translation:  I seriously doubt these things will resonate with anyone else.  I’m clearly more sophisticated and enlightened than other people, especially the women on this dating site.  If, by some slim chance, there is a woman out there who has noticed sunrises, sunsets and stars at night and who is a total hipster like me and is young and hot, I might be interested in more than one date with her, if she is lucky.

I am very young for my chronological age. I recently asked about 20 women, to guess the age….average response was 41. The most recent relationship, she was 33. Just so you know….you may get compared to her (just kidding…sorta)

Translation:  I’m totally lying about the little “poll” of my “women friends” that I’ve described.  First, what kind of person would ask a bunch of women how old they look and expect them to tell the truth?  Second, who guesses “41”??!!  I mean, people guess things like “early-40’s” or “mid-50’s”…. no one puts an exact number on another person’s age.  Give me a break!  The real story is that I joined this cult and discovered how awesome and good looking I am when I started fucking a 33 year old chick who is also in the cult.  Then I left my wife, who wasn’t young and gorgeous and skinny any longer, for the 33 year old.  Things didn’t work out with her, plus my 32 year old daughter was not supportive of the relationship, but that isn’t going to stop me from pursuing young women, hello….!  Why not?  I’m very impressed with how I look, so impressed that I believe that I deserve….nay, am entitled to be with a MUCH younger woman.  Who is, of course, gorgeous and above all, skinny.  And, mostly, I want you to know up front that I’m totally hung up on the 33 year old….. not the actual person, but the fact that she was pretty and young and now that I know I’m entitled to be with hot, young chicks, I’m always going to be on the lookout for them, even if I’m out with you, which is fine because I warned you up front.

And just so you know: The divorce will be final within the month…..and is good with that, took alot of effort, but worth it in the end….

Translation:  And just so you know: I’m a TOTAL DOUCHEBAG.  Yes, I totally lied about being divorced already, but that is because I need to hook up with a new young chick ASAP before I remember that I’m not, in fact, 41 or as good-looking and interesting as the 33 year old made me feel.  Plus,  even though my wife just left me six months  ago — right after she refused to join the cult and then found out about the 33 year old — my marriage has been over forever, so it’s not like I’m on the rebound or in any kind of emotional turmoil at all.  I’m totally not, my thinking is completely rational.  The 33 year old?  Old news.  We broke up yesterday (again) but it’s FINAL this time (unless she wants to fuck again).  And just so you know:  I’m not really 5’10.  I’m 5’7″ and a half, but I took a poll of my women friends and they all guessed 5’8″, so I rounded up. Plus everyone knows that women search online profiles for “divorced” men who are “over 5’8” and I wouldn’t want to limit my chances with hot, young chicks just because I told the truth, obviously.  Did I mention it’s all about me?  It is.

END TRANSLATION.

Here’s the thing:  I’m not making a word of this up.

This is an actual profile intro on match.com.

What an ass.  Seriously.  I’m guessing he didn’t ask his 20 women friends to read this profile before he posted it, because even if they are delusional about his age (which I doubt) there is no way a sane woman would read this profile intro and think “this guy sounds really interesting…. and he’s such a good writer….”

But, here’s the BEST PART…

I “favorited” this guy’s profile as soon as I read it, of course — I mean, how could I resist?  This is so blatantly offensive that I had to make sure I could find him again in order to skewer him in my blog.

And then he winked at me.

Asshole.

I sooooooooooo want to send him a link to this post.

But I won’t.  Only because I’m afraid the people at match might not think I’m as funny as I think I am (like that would ever happen…) and they might ban me from the site for life and I would lose access to all this awesome material + potential dates…. 🙂

Cheers!

violet

I’m like Al Gore in that I’m attractive and I’m convinced that I invented something that I didn’t, supposedly.

Remember how, in the old days, Al Gore invented the Internet?

I do.

It was very exciting and right away I knew it could probably turn into something very big.  Except that it really wasn’t catching on very quickly on account of all those scientists hogging it and making it seem way too complicated for regular people, plus way too slow to download porn.  Which made me sad, because Mr. Gore wasn’t getting the kind of credit he deserved and the divorce rate was skyrocketing because of the slow porn.  Not the actual fact of the porn, just the fact that it took FOREVER to download, so men were ignoring their wives AND tying up the phone lines for hours at a time, neither of which has ever been a great idea in the context of marriage.  My point is this — poor Al!  Not only did the man get elected President and then magically not-elected President, the world then tried to deny him credit for his very own invention?

Anyway.  Having always been a champion of the underdog, I decided to help.  I had a feeling that the Internet would be more popular if only its vast energy could be harnessed in such a way as to enrich lives everywhere, bringing peace and joy to the entire world.

And that is when I went ahead and invented online dating.  You’re welcome, Mr. Gore.

Even if I didn’t actually invent online dating (which I doubt) I was probably one of the very first people to try it.  A pioneer, if you will.  An adventuress, bravely sailing into the dark abyss of the unknown, risking life and limb in search of a brave new world and carefully creating a detailed map, so others could follow….

Whatever.

The point is that I’ve been involved in online dating, off and on, for, like ever.  And I have some tips for those of you who, strangely enough, have not been involved in online dating, or maybe even any kind of dating, for awhile…. or ever.  Which, as luck would have it, now probably includes Mr. Gore….

I hate to toot my own horn, but, ummmm, you’re welcome again, Mr. Gore.

Where can one find these useful online dating/dating tips, you ask?

Here, of course!

Except I haven’t written them yet.  On account of how busy I have been inventing stuff, y’all.

Stay tuned.