Please be 6’ tall or over and huge because I specified that I like short, slim guys. Or make sure you’re 41 because my age range is mid-20’s to mid-30’s and you think 41 is close enough.
Please don’t send a picture because I said I wouldn’t reply to responses that don’t include a picture.
Or don’t send a picture but ask me to send you one.
Or send me a picture of your d*ck, of your car, of you with your arm around some chick, or of you with a group of guys who are all better looking than you.
Or send me a picture but don’t write anything.
Or write something inarticulate or uninteresting but be sure to include your “stats,” use the phrase “LOL” at least 4 times and end your message with a smiley face.
Or don’t send a picture or write anything; just give me your AIM address and your phone number.
Please brag about not having any tattoos or piercings because you don’t know I have both.
Please tell me I might be your soul mate because I emphasized I’m not looking for a serious relationship right now.
Please send me the same generic reply you’ve sent to every ad I’ve ever posted (to every ad posted on this site by every woman, is probably more accurate) which begins with the admission that you don’t meet any of my “criteria” (but you think I might be interested anyway) and ends with a phrase that I think should be immortalized in stone somewhere: “Please don’t be one of those girls who is a vegetarian or who has a medical condition”—because it makes me laugh and I take comfort in the fact that you are more desperate and/or crazy than I am.
Once I feel comfortable enough to give you my phone number, please make me recognize the error of my judgment right away by calling me when you’re drunk (before we’ve ever met) because that’s not pathetic or creepy at all, and because I told you that I don’t respect people who drink a lot.
Please also call me or text message me every single day (and then tell me I’m rude if I stop returning your calls because I start to feel like you’re obsessive and needy) because I told you that solitude is very important to me and I don’t need even talk to my best friend or my godmother every single day.
When we finally meet in person, please reveal that, in fact, you need to lose more than “a few” pounds, you have recently grown a full beard, you smoke cigarettes, you listen to rap and hip-hop, and you still live with your parents—because I listed those things as turn-offs.
Please say something ignorant or rude about my height and/or my manner of dressing, because I sent you a picture and told you that I’m short and dress kind of punk.
Please be totally apathetic when I ask you where you’d like to go or what you’d like to do and just say “I don’t know…whatever” because I said I like to hang out with enthusiastic, energetic, fun people.
Please look embarrassed when I do something weird or quirky (like flip the lid on the creamer up and down so it looks like it’s talking) or when I walk into a wall like a dork, because I described myself as a weird/quirky dork.
Please be insulted and indignant if I realize I’m not attracted to you and then call me early on a Saturday morning to ask why I turned down your sex offer—because I said I was looking for something “casual” (which must mean I’m obligated to f*ck you and every other guy I go out with, right?).
Please don’t be mature and honest and tell me if you’re not attracted to me. Instead, please ask me out again—or, better yet, say that you can’t go out with me again because we live in two different boroughs and you get panic attacks if you have to leave your neighborhood, because I told you where I live before we went out the first time.
And if we sleep together, please tell me you want to see me again, then email me the next day and ask if we can get together soon, then call me and make plans to pick me up in a few hours, then never show up or call or email me again, even to let me know you’re OK—because I told you that I only asked for honesty and that I had no expectations about seeing you again (but you seemed so sweet and acted so excited about being with me that I was inspired to break my own rules about emotional ambivalence), and especially because I like to make myself vulnerable to guys who are either flakey or pathological (really I do)!
And please try to pressure me into having unsafe sex, or try to f*ck me the second time without a condom--because I must have changed my mind about not wanting to get pregnant, get HIV or an STD.
PLEASE DO ALL OF THESE THINGS SO I WON’T THINK YOU’RE ANY DIFFERENT FROM THE OTHER STUPID, LAME, CRAZY, MEAN GUYS I’VE MET ON THIS SITE.
I need to have my cynicism validated.
Oh yeah—and please tell me how Jordan Almonds got their name, if you know. I’m curious; it’s one of my many flaws.
this is in or around reality