Online Dating: One Man's Opinion

The passage below was actually on a guy's profile. Seriously, this dude NEEDS his own Blog. He's got a little too much to say to the world, like the rest of us bloggers, haha. It's also mildly entertaining at least. I wonder how much action he got from this... To me, there are a few red flags... I counted about 472. Ok, so I wouldn't date him, but I couldn't help but ponder... Will he ever shut up? Do I want him to? Is he completely nuts or does he have valid points despite rays of skewed sarcasm? I imagine a guy like Dennis Leary on the other end of this...

This whole online dating scene has an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7pm instead of 7:30. Entertainment for the caveman was simple: Man kills food, woman burns it, giant pterodactyl swoops down, chases woman, woman falls in mud. A good laugh is had by all. We get Plentyoffish.com.

I don't know why I bought a computer. Computers are ruining the country. Computers and women. And they're quite similar because I don't know how to turn either of them on. You know what I would do if I was Prime Minister? I'd take a big empty province that nobody's using, y'know, like Saskatchewan, and I'd pack every pregnant woman in the country into donut trucks, and convoy 'em all to Saskatoon.

Being a man is all about making mistakes and not caring. Those articles that say married couples have sex every month are just sensationalistic lies perpetrated on the public to sell magazines. It's hooey I tell you, hooey! I'd like a nice juicy steak, medium rare, with little brown potatoes on the right side of the plate, ketchup on the left, where some people waste space with vegetables. And for dessert, a roast beef. Soon my mouth will be alive with dead animals of every race and religion. Feed me, or feed me to something. I just want to be part of the food chain. You know another thing that uh, you know another thing that makes women such a blessing to us? It's like when you're sitting somewhere and they come over to you and say, "What are you thinking?" And you start thinking, "Y'know, if I wanted you to know, I'd be talking." But you actually can't say that to 'em or they'll kill you. And they're allowed to, see it's that whole period, p.m.s. thing. I don't know, I'm not a doctor, but I think that p.m.s. stands for "Pummel Men's Scrotums".

Yeah, doggone it, if we men could only be comfortable with our age like you darn gals. You know, I mean, in the morning you go into the bathroom, a little blush, a little mascara and voila, you got an old woman scared of rain. Then you try to clean and jerk your breasts into a bra, ease some exercise pants over that front and back belly, go down to the market and flirt with the bagboy. I guess what I'm trying to say is it's just pretty pathetic when we guys try to cling to our youth. You know, when you share a bathroom with a woman, you got nylons hanging on the curtain rod, you got Nair where the toothpaste should be, a bottle of vinegar lying around. I mean, what do they do in there, make a salad?

Britney really did used to be kinda sweet and likable. It seems hard to remember now but it really was true. Remember? Christina was the tramp and Jessica had no career and Britney was the****tease jailbait virgin who outsold both of them put together. It was a simpler time in North America I like to refer to as 2003.

I speak with wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who goes blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it. I'm not looking for a girl with a deep throaty laugh like the sound a dog makes just before he throws up. When I speak to my sweetie, I wanna hear bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up. Love should hurt, like the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall. I'm not looking for anyone with vocabulary as bad as, like, whatever. The brain doesn't need blood, it just needs to be kept wet. I'm a living example of how the brain doesn't really need blood to work. They call me Flipper... Flipper...

Lawn sales and garage sales are based on the bigger idiot theory. You know, you sell things so dumb, that some bigger idiot would buy it. But the flaw on that theory is that eventually, you will get to the head idiot. And unfortunately she is some poor sap's wife.

You know what I need, someone who can swing a bat and look good doing it. Baseball is a Canadian tradition, like fathers chasing their sons with power tools. I'm looking for someone I can go out and enjoy doing things with. I work alot and in my spare time I enjoy going to the gym. Fitness is important to me, people should take care of themselves. My other interests include playing mixed slo-pitch in the summer and trying to get the odd golf game in. I'm not very good at golf but I enjoy going out and cursing and throwing clubs around.

I'd like to thank my mom and dad for their good genes, I wanna thank God too, word to Jesus. I tend to make up my own words, or spell old words in some super awesome way, don't argue, just go with it. Thank you and god bless.

I get asked why I'm single and I try to think up all the reasons why, or I come up with some witty answer that deflects how I really feel. The bottom line is that I fell hard for someone I was interested in a few years back and quite honestly I'm not over it in that I didn't like how it ended or how I acted which resulted in that outcome. If I could go back in time, I would change a lot of things that happened. I think you meet someone very special on so few occasions in life and I think you truely realize how special they are when they aren't around anymore.

I hate Christmas. The mall is full of nothing but women and children. All you hear is, "I want this", "Get me this", "I have to have this"... and then there's the children. And they're all by my store 'cause they stuck the mall santa right outside ringing his stupid bell. As if you need a bell to notice a 300-pound alcoholic in a red suit. "Ho, Ho, Ho" all day long. So, nice as I can be, I go outside, ask him to shut the hell up. He takes a swing at me. So I lay a hook into his fat belly and he goes down. Beard comes off, all the kids start crying and I'm the badguy. But Christmas isn't the time for regrets, that's what anniversaries are for.

First Date? Nothing as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but a real duck that is actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a landmine or something.

There's no answer that can go here that isn't sappy or makes absolutely no sense. So I'll just say the perfect first date would be one that didn't involve death or sex or chocolate-covered midgets. Something fun and goofy, like stealing cookies from 7-11 then eating them by candlelight behind a dumpster, while being serenaded by a rabid pack of gophers wearing old navy jeans and coca-cola sunglasses.

You think I'm a loser? Because I have a stinking job that I hate, a family that doesn't respect me, and a whole city that curses the day I was born? Well, that may mean loser to you, but let me tell you something. Every day when I wake up in the morning, I know it's not going to get any better until I go back to sleep. So I get up, I have my watered-down Tang and my still-frozen Poptart. I get in my car with no gas, no upholstery, and six more payments. I'll never play hockey like I wanted to. I'll never know the touch of a beautiful woman. And I'll never know the joy of driving through the city without a bag over my head. But I'm not a loser. Because, despite it all, me and every other guy who'll never be what we wanted to be, is out there, being what we don't want to be, forty hours a week, for life. And the fact I didn't put a gun in my mouth years ago - that little fact makes me a winner baby!

I don't celebrate birthdays or holidays. Oh sure, it causes irrepairable emotional scars. But it saves a few bucks on presents. I'm not perfect, but I'm working on it.

Should you choose to date me... I do solemnly swear to refrain from hitting on or flirting with other women. I shall not speak to another female, except as expressly permitted by you. I will not turn off my cell after two pints, nor shall I consume above the allowed volume of alcohol without first phoning for a taxi and calling you for a verbal waiver of said alcohol allowance. I understand that even if permission is granted to go out, you retain the right to be pissed off with me the following week for no valid reason whatsoever. I acknowledge my postion in life. I promise to abide by your rules and regulations. You reserve the right to obtain and use my credit cards whenever you wish to do so. I hereby promise to take you on an unlimitted shopping spree should I not return on agreed upon times. On my way home, I will not pick fights with strangers. Upon my return home, I promise not to urinate anywhere other than in the toilet. I addition, I will refrain from waking you up, breathing my vile breath in your face, and attempting to breed like a rabbit.

Haha!