Here’s the thing about me. I am kind of a dick. Wait, I don’t mean it that way. Actually, yea I do. Maybe I mean skeptical? Is that being a dick? Idunno. At any rate. I figured that after posting about some of my potential suitors, it only made sense to follow up with some of the completely fucked up conversations that happen, so that you can really understand how why I am dedicating myself to the betterment of cats and therefore will be adopting 12 online dating works.
Now, I should preface this by saying, I just swipe right. I am not going to read profiles ahead of time, I just swipe until I can’t swipe anymore. And then I “match” with people like this:
Look, in real life, if I was actually paying attention and not sedated blindly swiping, I would NEVER EVER swipe on a guy who has better boobs than me in four out of five of his pictures, forgot to put a shirt on. Because honestly, that is really fucking forgetful! But, alas, I do, and I end up with Jeff, the karate kid. Guarantee we have zero in common. Including I don’t forget to wear shirts nearly as often as he does.
So anyway, the point being, now you know, I have no method in my “swipe” other than “Meh, go for it until you have carpel tunnel or run out of candidates.”
Which leads me to the messages I get. Honest to fucking god, I do this to myself, because, (above) I am an asshole.
There was Andy. The guy who totally didn’t use stock photos for his profile pictures, except, yes, yes he did. He also said he went to Stanford, (Man, I am so dumb sometimes, I should have asked him “Real quick, Andy, tell me! What is the Mascot?” because no one would guess it is the flying rabid pine trees.) but his grammar says otherwise. Then, he wrote me a small biography on what he is doing now, INCLUDING, living in Africa, but not to worry, he has figured out the distance. Only thing he needs is my SS#, DOB and bank routing # and we will be ret.to.go.
So, as you can imagine, based off of shirtless Jeff and Africa Andy, I am feeling pretty fucking confident about my candidates! And letmetellyou, my ego was a boosted by this guy. Who in ONE HOUR messaged me FOUR times AND told me I have a nice chin.
lemmetellyou, nothing boosts the confidence the way that “Great chin btw” does. Nothing.
But here is an example of one of the messages I had, that makes me think to myself “Yolanda Squatpump (you don’t think I really refer to myself as “Nara” when I am talking to myself, how fucking lame would that be? I can be any name in the world when I am talking to myself, today I pick Yolanda Squatpump) you can’t rip on online dating and then do the below. It is not indicative of a princess, which you clearly are not are.
So, there you have it. 24 hours in, and I am feeling pretty confident that Mr. Nara 2.0 is not anywhere close to the fucking interwebs and likely doesn’t have a computer in his prison cell due to spring up any time!