Back on OKCupid for a minute. The women have gotten worse. They’re not less attractive physically. But the banality of their profiles has, impossibly, increased. Used to be 90% of women were the “live learn laugh love” people. Now it’s 99% . The if you want to know more about me just ask. The I love my dog, I love my job, I love my family and friends. Everything in my life is perfect I just need the right man to share it with. The anything by Haruki Murakami and David Sedaris women. Radiohead. All music except country. Or all music except rap and country. The PLEASE READ MY PROFILE BEFORE MESSAGING ME I AM NOT INTERESTED IN CASUAL SEX cast into the deaf wind like a prayer to a dead god.
The meaningless Meyers-Briggs letter jumbles. Science’s version of Cosmo’s Are You Good Girl Sexy or Bad Girl Sexy test. I have a kid, I love my kid, you have to understand that my kid comes first. Never I have a kid and I put him in one of those bigass industrial tupperware bins with a bunch of plants when I fuck guys off the internet. I’m hoping it will create a biodome.
Breaking Bad, Downton Abbey, Parks & Rec. Many others. Long, long lists– these are women of few words, but when it comes to TV it’s suddenly the god damn Dead Sea Scrolls. You think: is it just a list of every TV show ever made? If I looked would I find Hardcastle & McCormick in there? Supertrain? I’ll never know. No man can read that many titles. Every band that ever played a note, too. Every DJ who ever put a sticker on his Macbook.
You should message me if you are over six feet tall. If you are steadily employed in a job that you love. If you have your own car, the blue collar ones will say. The poor girls. The my baby is number one in my life girls often require a car. The baby daddy was the only guy in the neighborhood with a car.
Once in a while you get a self-styled bohemian. Passionate adventuress, poetess, lots of -ess words. Deeply into yoga. On the beach at sunset, shot from the back, doing the karate kid crane kick stance facing the sunset. Next picture is her dog sticking his face in frame. You should message me if you are passionate. Spiritual. Ambitious. Ambitious? You mean you want money? Consider the lilies of the field, you twat. The realm of the spirit needs no coin. But these girls are from good backgrounds. They know where the bread is buttered. You get out there and put on a suit and yell into a phone about interest rates all day so their floor to ceiling windows can face the sunset. So there’s a nice sound system to play Indian flutes and storm sounds and birdcalls while they fuck the yoga instructor. You should message me if you are deeply spiritual, and over six feet tall.
Used to be this was 90%. Now 99% . You don’t look at your You Might Likes because you know any thumbnail will lead to one of these. A passionate ambitious dreamer who loves her job and her dog and Haruki motherfucking Murakami. You have to cycle through quickmatch now. Quick look at the pictures. Would I fuck her? If yes, quick read of the first sentence. I’m originally from the Midwest but I’m loving all that LA has to off– next. I’m a Bay Area girl and always will be at hea– next. YES I AM BISEXUAL BUT I AM ****NOT**** ON HERE LOOKING FOR MEN– next, you fucking dilettante whom real Lesbians rightly hate. You will end up with a man, and you know this. Better start looking now. You Lesbians Until Graduation in a world where graduation never comes…
Ah, I’m being a dick. There are real bisexuals and of course they’d get fed up. Every message is from some couple, some horny pig of a man and his fake bisexual girlfriend desperate to please him. You are in a tough position. Trust me, I know. Getting pussy is hard. But I’m still one starring you, you cunt. Fuck you for not wanting me.
I love my life and laugh and learn and love and light and libbity labbity loo– Jesus Christ, is this North Korea? Will they throw you in a gulag if you admit you’re a fucking human being? That you get a paper cut once in a while? Yes… my life is… perfect! I LOVE my job! I LOVE my family! The Dear Leader makes the sun rise!
The women of OKCupid are terrified of seeming negative about anything. Except the men of OKCupid. The men, they will pillory. So many guys on here are lame or just pervs or don’t even READ the profiles! DO NOT message me if you are looking for sex, if you eat meat, if you are black, if you are under six feet tall, if you are looking for sex. Guys, PLEASE read my entire profile before you message me, PLEASE be over six feet tall, I like to wear heels. PLEASE have a common interest chosen from the list of Haruki Murakami Radiohead no country no rap every TV show ever made. NO SEX! How dare men not read these illuminating masterpieces. Commit to memory that you don’t like the one thing anyone would ever want from you. Make note that you like yoga and your fucking dog.
But then, you find the one per cent. And as much as OKCupid sucks, one per cent is enough. A blue collar girl who reads books. A smart girl whose big brain is neglected at work, needs an outlet. A girl who can take a joke. Give you one right back. A dirty little Chinese fuck kitten who doesn’t mind a drunk night with a stranger. They are still out there. Still a few precious drops in this dry tit. But even these might not even look at you. Because they’re getting buried.
It’s your fault that it’s like this, you thirsty bastards. I knew OKCupid was gonna die when I heard men were using scripts. You can tweak OKCupid’s source code right in your browser and make it five star every woman in a 25 mile radius. Send a so and so chose you message.* This is on top of men spamming the old fashioned way. Sending copy pastes to any woman with a good picture. Giving a pass to the excruciating dullness and dishonesty of her words. Thirsty men. OKCupid is closing time in a bar where the girls mostly left at 12:30. It will only get worse. Men are just going to become machines. They will outsource their spamming to India.
Men who just want pussy from anybody. Blind pigs looking for any acorn. Well, I don’t want that. I want to talk before I fuck. I need a girl to tell me something. There are fewer and fewer who can, and it keeps dwindling down. They are in relationships with men now, these girls. Three months in the guy asks her to find another girl. She reactivates. Puts the disclaimer on top: yes, I am bisexual but NO MEN NO MEN NO MEN. The circle of life continues.
*Yeah, go ahead and google it, ya jerkoffs.