OkStupid is Getting Entirely the Fuck Out of Control

"OkStupid," for those of you who don't know (and how could you know? I haven't even told you yet) (but you know what, people who think they're smarter than me still say this sort of thing all the time), is what I've decided to call OkCupid whenever it annoys me, WHICH IT IS WONT TO DO this foolishness they keep trying to present as fun facts.

So I logged in earlier this morning (this was before scrambling the fuck out of some eggs, which was a good time from start to finish, obviously) and found a message from some dude* I've never noticed before:

I don't even have a profile on here so I'm not really expecting much back from this. That said I am a way in the closet Bi dude who hooked up with an old friend a couple times and really wants to find a friend with benefits. I'm a 26 year old oil painter/DJ I'm a fit vegetarian. I have a straight profile on here I could direct you to.

Well, alright** then! Let's just break this down, shall we?

I suppose it'll have to be a sentence-by-sentence sort of analysis.***

   I don't even have a profile on here so I'm not really expecting much back from this.

Boy vey ("boy" + "oy vey" = "boy vey") (did I need to explain that one, or does it just sort of present itself and then make sense?), I already love this!

First off, although your profile did turn out to be empty, I think maybe what you were really trying to tell me was, "I don't even have a picture on here," which is obviously what Liz Lemon (and, because of Liz Lemon, Ryan Bish) would call a DEAL BREAKER (alternate spelling: DEAL-BREAKER).

And, as we can infer from the second half of this sentence, you realize that it's a deal breaker. You know, okay? You fucking know, and you fucking know I fucking know you know I- sorry, I always get confused when other people make these jokes; thought I might try it for myself, and what do you know, I really should avoid concepts that confuse me UNLESS they sound like they'd be fun to learn. You know, the fact that I got distracted in the middle of my own pseudo-rant about why We Are Never Ever Ever Ever Gonna Get Together is not exactly what you might interpret as a great sign.

But do you let the fact that you know your deal breaker is a deal breaker, you know, stop you? Which would be the wisest course of action at this point - look how I said "which would be," not "which would have been," as if you hadn't already made the choice you made - because, come ON, if I wanted to chat with "Bi" (more about that in a minute, or more like thirty) guys without knowing what their faces look like, I would either go back to before the Internet was a thing (oh, Internet, we love you) and respond to personal ads in the back of m4m skin mags or hang out at gloryholes, anywhere, anytime, ever.

Anyway. Let's move on.

   That said I am a way in the closet Bi dude who hooked up with an old friend a couple times and really wants to find a friend with benefits.

Cool kids use commas and hyphens whenever AND WHEREVER the sentence calls for commas and hyphens. Also; semicolons; but I don't wanna blow your mind too terribly truly awfully much.

The only things that should be kept in the closet are

a) clothes,

b) shoes,

c) belts,

d) ties,

e) hangers for a through d,

f) maybe a hamper, if your closet is gigantic,

g) heavy boxes full of back issues of comic books you can't bear to throw away even though you don't read them much anymore,

h) another heavy box full of your entire collection of Animorphs, for which I must confess a healthy dose of jealousy,

i) extra Ponies,

j) dead bodies, and

k) anything else in your house that is not you.

I mean, I know better than anyone that coming out is tricky and everyone who does it must do it at their own pace in their own time in their own way, and I understand that some people have perfectly valid reasons for not wanting to come out any time soon or ever, but

WHY WOULD I EVER WANT TO BECOME THE OLD FRIEND YOU HOOKED UP WITH A FEW TIMES while keeping me a total secret no matter how much you wanted it and/or needed it once I got naked?

No, I'm serious.

I'm pretty fucking awesome, you know, so why would I want to put myself through that, ever?

Oh, right, because you're just so hot.

You know a good way to prove that you're hot (which is also a good way to find friends, with or without benefits)?

LET A BITCH SEE WHAT THE FUCK YOU LOOK LIKE.

In conclusion, duh (I would normally say, "In conclusion, bless your heart," but I did not grow up in the South feeling afraid to be who I have known I was since I had a crush on Prince Philip from Sleeping Beauty so I could eventually get the fuck out of the South and waste their our precious colloquialisms on the likes of you).

OH. AND ALSO. Unless it's the first word of the sentence, "Bi" does not need to be capitalized. Ever. Which you would know if you had made it through third grade without failing to retain anything.

YEAH, I SAID IT. I may have made it through third grade without failing to retain any math, but you know what I don't try to do when I'm on the Internet?

Go to math websites and expect them to take me seriously when I talk about math.

So I guess what I'm saying is, one of us is a champion and one of us is a wannabe.

I'll let you figure out who's who. If you get confusified (it happens to the best of us, of which you are not one), take a minute and observe the serious Black Girl Stare I'm throwing in your general direction right now.

   I'm a 26 year old oil painter/DJ I'm a fit vegetarian.

Okay, if we can pretend for one second that your lack of a picture was not a deal-breaker (which we can't, because it fucking was), you really should have opened with this! Oil painter/DJ? Do you do fling colors at the canvas like the canvas is your bitch when you're not dropping beats? Do you paint people's portraits (YAY FOR ALLITERATION) while they make their song requests, in which case you would need to have superspeed, since, duh, how long does it take you say, "HEY MISTER DEEJAY WILL YOU PLEASE PLAY PAPARAZZI"?

So many questions!

But, for reasons best kept to yourself (as if you had any) (for anything, ever), you decided to save this until after I had judged you and found you lacking for reasons (I keep using that word) which I explained in explicit detail as they were happening.

If all you wanna do is get your brains fucked out, why do I need to know that you're a vegetarian? Am I supposed to bring you a meatless lasagna when I come over to fuck your brains out? Am I supposed to carry that fucking heavy pasta tray dish thing with me when I circle the block a few times because your girlfriend hasn't left yet? Most importantly, why on Earth (or any of the other planets, you know, the ones named after Usagi and all her little friends) would I ever even entertain the thought of wasting a meatless lasagna on a self-hating self-hater such as yourself? MEATLESS LASAGNA IS AWESOME AND BRINGS JOY TO THE WORLD, SPECIFICALLY THE PART OF THE WORLD THAT IS OCCUPIED BY MY MOUTH WHEN THERE IS MEATLESS LASAGNA IN MY MOUTH OR NEARBY, so the fact that you're a vegetarian is what we could call a useless fact.

But we won't do that either, because I don't want to waste an Animaniacs reference on you either, not even unintentionally.

   I have a straight profile on here I could direct you to.

Unless they're on ~really~ ~good~ gay-for-pay sites, straight guys (usually) don't even kind of interest me. And even then, how much time to I have to be wasting on pornography? NOT ENOUGH. (Do I mean that as in, "pornography isn't important enough to waste any time for" or "I don't have enough free time to waste on pornography"? It could really be taken either damn way, couldn't it? Yes, yes it sure could.)

Cool kids don't end sentences with prepositions. Or rather, they we try to avoid it. Sure, it's difficult sometimes (I hinted about thinking about doing it at least once in the previous paragraph; you'll only ask me for a hint IF YOU'RE WEAK), but my point is that we're heroes (what's cooler than a hero? NOTHING, that's what, and most of my favorite heroes start being heroes when they're kids) because we try.

You, on the other hand, don't even know that you failed.
___________

Well, there you have it. I'm not entirely sure where most of that came from, and I didn't expect it to be so long (dirty), but I'm pretty happy with it (dirtier).

Now that it's done, I honestly can't decide if I should

a) actually send it to him,

b) post it to craigslist in a random city,

c) hold on to it until I have generated enough similar essay-article-blog-list-things to assemble a book called How To Do Anything You Want To Do Unless What You Want To Do Is Impress The Fuck Out Of Me,

d) publicly display it on my OkStupid profile (what's he gonna do, get all butthurt about how everyone knows no one with a dick knows what he looks like? UNLIKELY) (but if that did happen, the "Hide" button is there because sometimes you need to actually click it),

or

e) do all of the above

after

f) braiding the fuck out of Pinkie Pie's mane.

Don't worry, I'll figure it out.



___________
*The fact that I'm calling him "dude" is faint foreshadowing of how this is about to go down; unless it's "Dude, I love you, but I'm way too high to follow this conversation right now, so how 'bout skipping to the end, mate?" I basically never use "dude" as a term of, you know, endearment.

**"Alwrong" should be a word to describe times like these times.

***What is an "s" word that means "analysis"? If Google was speaking to me right now, I'd just look it the fuck up.