Dating Bonanza

A Screenname, A Headline.

First, I need a screen name, a log-in.

One that’s great because everyone will see. Okay, not everyone, but here’s hoping a bunch of guys on the Onion Personals do. A screen name. For my profile. Something either totally ambiguous or something funny. Not something like: moving4wd (that’s just sad), not anything like sexy1 (ew) or swankkat434 (why?).

A screen name. And then I need a catchy headline, just a sentence or phrase. One that’s witty but not too witty, self-aware but not meta-obnoxious, maybe has a reference, but one that isn’t too pop-fun-woo-hoo-party-gurrrrrlllll or too academic stick-up-your-ass-boring. One that makes people look, obviously, but isn’t one-foot-in-and-one-foot-out, nothing like I’m Supposed to Write a Headline. That’s just a truly pussy thing to write. Who would date that person? Also it can’t have those kinds of words—nothing like ‘pussy’ that might give the wrong impression or totally offend. I guess that’s obvious. It should be a little edgy but not so edgy that it seems sarcastic or disingenuous. You know? A screen name. A headline.

Been checking out some guy’s profile headlines for fodder. I read this one the other day: This is a headline that is trying to grab your attention. Which, first of all, has too many words. I could cut three right now. Also: uh—not that creative. But it does grab your attention (or mine anyhow). It’s the word “grab”. Grab is a great word. It sounds like what it is. Like crooked. Crook-kid. Grab.

Headline Pressure Too Much To Take 

For a reason I can’t explain, this makes me laugh. Headline. Pressure. Too Much. To Take… I can hear the pressure building.

Area Man Sure The Onion’s Server Must Be Down (Or Something). 

Hilarious. Hil-ar-ious! I want to steal this headline. I’m upset I didn’t think of it. Please date me.

Given up on a clever headline 

Wow. Great attitude. You’re already giving up? In that case I totally want go out with you tomorrow!

Ok, super judgmental, I know, but—seriously?

Nasty, Brutish, and Short 

I do like a Hobbes reference, but do I like a Hobbes man?

because nothing says intimacy like the internet 

Fun-ny. Sounds like an ad for cologne. A little negative, though, right? And also: fun-ny. See, this is where I’m attracted to a person that I should probably-definitely not date. I want to email him right now.

Not In My Profile

This is not going in my dating profile:

The Most Private Thing I’m Willing To Admit Here

Blank. Not answering this.

I am allowed to not answer. It’s my choice, I realized.

This is not going in my profile—The Most Private Thing I’m Willing To Admit Here: My fear is that I won’t know how much I don’t know. My fear is that I’ll realize it later and hate myself. Or that someone will realize it before me and hate me first. I’m afraid I’ll never know what or who I am, at all. My fear is everyone else will and they’ll leave. My fear is that there is no reason to stay. My fear is that I’ll be exposed. My fear is that I’m totally invisible. Or that I should be. I’m afraid I won’t explain it well enough. I’m afraid explaining doesn’t even matter. I’m afraid I’ll be understood. My fear is I’m wasting my time. My fear is that the time that I have is worthless. My fear is I’ll never have potential. My fear is that I’ll die at the exact moment I realize I do. My fear is that I’ll get paralyzed and do nothing and it will be like I’m already dead. I’m so afraid, I feel paralyzed. I’m afraid it will always be this way. I’m afraid my mind will stop working just when I need it. I’m afraid I won’t remember. My fear is that I’ll die not remembering who I am, or that I’ll die knowing who I am and that it will feel as empty as not remembering. My fear is that I’ll hold back when I should give or that I’ll give when I should hold back. My fear is that I’ll think it’s me when it’s really you or that you’ll think it’s me when it’s not, at all. What if I mess up? What if it’s a mistake? What if I’m wrong and can’t fix it and I can’t go back. What if I ruin it? My fear is that I won’t contribute anything. My fear is that no one will remember me. What if the answer was right there and I just didn’t see it. I’m afraid I’ll repeat the same mistakes and I won’t even notice. I’m afraid everyone else will.

Do I have the right fears? That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid that I’m afraid of the wrong things.

Jake wrote it better:

It’s deer and bees that do most of the killing. 

Deer and bees, deer and bees. 

We are afraid of the wrong things. We are afraid of the wrong things.

Strip Poker with a Married Genius???

A guy I’m not going to date, screen name TheLoverPlus1, tagline Strip Poker with a Married Genius??? wrote a Why You Should Get To Know Me section so long, with such cracked out punctuation, that despite his friendly email and the provocative screen name/headline, I put off reading it for a week. I had to build up the energy.

It was as if this guy somehow transformed his frenetic self into a profile. As though he became the page. Just browsing it, you know it’d feel exactly the same talking to him. You’re exhausted already.

So…have fun:

First half (and I swear this is what/how he writes): he’s married and not leaving her. Not leaving her….They’re both totally cool with this, etc …. He’s happy. She’s happy…He has so many friends and love and honesty and support, etc….. Don’t expect him to leave her….if you love someone set them free…everyone is so different and unique… Yay everyone! …. Explaining how funny he finds the cropped nearly nude photos of himself, it’s crazy ….ha ha ha … funny!… can’t believe he’s put these images online to seduce the reader!!! …also let’s face it, isn’t that the point here??…seduction?? his headshot photo is professionally-taken….FYI… very successful, lucrative career… thriving, really. Very high I.Q. …. list of achievements …list….list… and so young! Can’t believe it himself.….he’s handsome, he is, see photos….he’s sexy… more sexy than the photos suggest, you’ll see…I.Q. did he mention? … it’s no joke, it’s high, he’s clever …. multifaceted interests… really talented… he has interests…more interests…also, a lot of his interests — he’s really good at them… clever, took all AP and honors classes….AP! ..smart. …

Then: his desire to have strip games (have strip games?)…his desire to have strip games put another way…his desire to have strip games put differently…his desire to have strip games repeated… interest in strip games explained… desire to have strip games justified… joke about strip games…ha ha ha!!!!…hilarious…just hilarious… request for proposals for new/other kinds of strip games… he hasn’t thought of everything!!!…you could have some good ideas too!!…. he’s open!!…in closing — his desire to have strip games.

What he’s most passionate about: Sex.uality.

He emailed me inquiring about my interest in strip games. My What I’m Looking For specifically states Single Men, but it would be out of character for him to read it, let alone take heed. Anyway, it’s possible he has the most accurate personality-to-profile conversion in existence. I feel like I know him already.

Bare-Knuckle Dating

It’s like the world is one big boxing ring and dating is like a match with infinity-bouts of infinity-rounds of infinity-minutes.

You don’t even know what fight you’re in. You just go from one to the next.

At some point you notice you’ve got a swollen right hand and a left fist you can barely close. The other guy is five for five, all KOs, and all you can think is: Keep ‘em off balance, win. Win and you can get out of the ring for good.

But the thing is: You’re not Sugar Ray Leonard, 1976, photos of the ones you love taped to your socks.

My journey has ended. My dream is fulfilled. This is bare-knuckle boxing. No one lifts the rope up for you when you enter the ring. And no one touches gloves with you before the fighting begins. There are no girls, increasingly less-dressed as the night advances, girls wearing platform heels, circling the ring, holding up cards that mark the moment. There’s no one to let you know where you are in the midst of it all, or to give you just a minute of rest. Instead, somehow when you arrive you’re in the middle of the ring and it’s the middle of the fight and you’re already a bit dazed.

The fact is, your ring work isn’t epic. You think I’ll probably kiss the canvas. You’re not even in shape, or not as in shape as the other guy. There are no weight classes; half the time he’s twice as big as you. There are no coaches or trainers; no one to help set the strategy or cheer you on. No one yelling Gloves up! Gloves UP! or What did we practice? Stay steady! when you’re feeling the pain.

There’s no cornerman waiting to offer you water, to reduce the swelling, to stop the inevitable bleeding. And there’s certainly not the third man in the ring to call out the long series of obvious and intentional fouls, the head-butts and low blows.

You can’t go the distance, and there’s no one there to throw in the towel.

Keep ‘em off balance, win.
I’m finished…I’ve fought my last fight.
My journey has ended.
My dream is fulfilled. – Sugar Ray Leonard, 1976