Reader Mailbag: How to Make a Good OKCupid Profile

8 Apr

REDACTED asks:

I gotta be honest man. You have the best profile I’ve ever read. Both in terms of being well-written, paced and humorous, and also as probably able to wrangle in more women than any other jerkoff profile I’ve seen. Respect.

That being said, I’m curious if you could give me your thoughts on my profile. I know it’s kind of a lame thing to ask, but fuck it, you get it. Do you have any advice for me on how to better attract chicks on here?

OK, well first of all, thank you for saying such nice things.  I like my profile, too.  I get a lot of these emails because of reddit users briefly discussing me months ago.  And most of my visitors are dudes from out of state.  So, thanks guys.  I wish you were nubile young women from Southern California, but, fuck it.  At least someone gives a shit.

But I should tell you– I get an incoming email from an actual girl in my age range about once every two weeks.  If this is in fact the best profile on the entirety of OKCupid, and I am a six foot one athletically built white guy who is gainfully employed in a major metropolis, and this is the unsolicited message yield one can expect from an “original” and “humorous” profile, men are genuinely fucked.  Plus my response rate on outgoing emails is about fifty per cent, my phone number rate when I ask this fifty percent for it is about fifty percent, the call back rate when I leave a message is about fifty per cent, and the amount of dates that actually result in sexual intercourse or wanting to see the other person again is fifty per cent, and so on.  I am in a Zeno’s paradox of pussy where you are walking halfway of halfway of halfway along a wall forever and by the time all the hoops are jumped through the possibility of having an actual relationship is functionally zero. So even if this profile is so fucking great, it’s like– the most lethal Nerf weapon ever invented.  There’s just not much you can do. Continue reading →

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Talk to Your Kids about Sex

7 Apr

My mother was a feminist. My single mother, which means, God bless her, that I was raised as a feminist.  It means my sex and relationship talks from her were about respecting women.  About not taking advantage of women, not hurting them, not raping them.  After my stepdad came into our lives I never discussed these things with him.  It took a few conversations with my father to sort out the one thing that I really and truly needed to know about sex, which is: you’re not a bad looking dude, and don’t worry, you can get laid.

He’d had a very different life than me.  I lost my virginity at seventeen; at that age he had been picked up for dealing heroin and given the choice of going to the clink or enlisting in the marines at the height of Vietnam.  He told me stories like “one time I beat up this black guy so bad that I was checking the papers the next day to make sure I hadn’t killed him.”  He had a tough, colorful life.  I was on scholarship to a prep school where they had not one but two competing a capella groups that in any sensible community would have had the shit kicked out of them on a daily basis.  I was going to a school where they flew in math geniuses from China and all the girls wore docksiders and no makeup and were second cousins with Winston Churchill and if they ever saw a penis they would explode.  The occasional accidental erection of their horse was the only stiff penis they had ever seen, and they had absolutely no curiosity about expanding their knowledge.  A rich new England WASP girl is basically born elderly, in terms of her sexuality.  This is why she has time to focus on things like perfecting her application essay to intern at the U.N.  When I started at this fancy school, it was immediately clear that none of these girls would ever show even the remotest interest in me; they barely showed interest in boys at all.   Continue reading →

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This, by the Way:

6 Apr

is the only sad picture of Kenny Rogers in existence. Every other photograph of him he is smiling his ass off, like he just stacked Dolly Parton and Linda Ronstadt on top of each other and grew a second dick.

Which he did, in 1978.

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Protected: Old News: Seventy Seven Cents on the Dollar

5 Apr

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To the 35 Year Old Virgin

4 Apr

Go lose your virginity at a whorehouse.

Do it tonight. Forget about it being something “special.” You have been a virgin for 35 years- no matter what you do it is going to be “special.”

Think of your virginity as a cancerous growth on your face. It pops up at puberty, and at 13 it’s cute, like a beauty mark. But it slowly grows. By 17 it’s starting to look a little weird and people that still have it are at a social disadvantage. By 20 it’s malignant, with irregular borders and three huge Armenian chest hairs coming out of it. By thirty fucking five you have something that looks like it should be on Baron Harkonnen about to pop all over some poor slave and you need to get it cut off before it metastasizes to your brain.

So here’s what you’re going to do. There is a neighborhood in Fontana called “Felony Flats”. This is about a 45 minute drive outside L.A. Basically you’ll come to a whole district of cinder block buildings with big signs in front that say things like Osaka Massage and Kyoto Massage. These people will actually be Koreans, but let’s not split hairs. I applaud them for not giving a fuck that we think all Asians are alike. Pick any one of these places. They all have ample parking.

The front door will be a steel grate style like the athletic cage in high school- a place your fat ass never visited, so, like the athletic cage in a high school from a movie. Behind it will be a steely-eyed Asian man with whom you might not even exchange words- he might just hold out his hand. Give him $40. Forty in the door, and you’ll tip the girl sixty, but you don’t do that until after the whole thing is over. The man will lead you to a small cell-like room with a bed in it. It may double as a storehouse for disinfectant and Korean Bibles, seriously. Take all of your clothes off and lay down on the bed, with a towel (provided- do not bring your Spongebob Squarepants beach towel) over your dick. It is important that you take off your clothes right away- if you don’t the girl will know you have never been to a whorehouse before and may laugh at you, or try to extort you for more money. Do not ask how I know this. Continue reading →

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Protected: Boners

3 Apr

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Protected: Work emails

2 Apr

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Everything Used to Suck Monster Balls,

1 Apr

and now it completely kicks ass in comparison.

For instance: geopolitical affairs.  Yes, we got wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Paul Kony going all crazy witch doctor and giving a bunch of kids guns that they don’t know which end the bullet comes out.  Well, when I was a kid, there was a place called the fucking USSR that had thousands upon thousands of multimegaton nuclear warheads pointed at your house and the entire world lived under the threat of total annihilation via thermonuclear war.  It wasn’t gonna be a clean death, either.  You would get directly incinerated by a nuclear blast if you were lucky, otherwise you would just have half your face blistered off and then suffer from accelerated cancer that turned you into a bubonic mutant.  And your very genes would be mangled, so that you had no hope of repopulating the earth.  Your children and your children’s children would be hideous flipper-limbed sentient tumors, and the water would be poisoned for ten thousand years and the sky would be full of lethal clouds fifteen miles thick and every food crop would wither and die and if they didn’t you wouldn’t want to eat them anyway because they would be full of cancerous poison.  And you would have dreams about it, as a kid– about once a week you would dream that there was global thermonuclear holocaust and you survived somehow but your parents were dead and the water was poisoned.  Because you’d turn on the TV and Ronald Reagan would be talking some hardass smack about how dangerous Russia was and we were gonna fight ’em and not roll over and that would sink into your head and all your dreams were about the end of the world, when you were eight years old.  What do kids have nightmares about now, 9/11?  Maybe kids in New York can get away with that shit, but we all know nothing is going to happen to you in Indiana.  9/11 isn’t shit.  Your real nightmare should be that no one even cares enough about you to bomb you. What are we afraid of now– Israel vs. Iran?  Who cares.  Continue reading →

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Old News: Occupy LA Part 2

31 Mar

Originally Posted 10/16/11:

I went down to Occupy Wall Street yesterday.  Occupy LA, rather, in front of City Hall.  I wanted to see what it was about, what people were actually protesting, what they actually wanted.  Also, I figured there would be girls there.

The talk on the internet seems to be that OK, it is understandable that people are pissed off about “the way things are right now,” but the “movement” has no concrete goals and really stands for nothing besides inchoate frustration. And so while it’s growing, while it’s spreading worldwide, while cops are cracking heads in Zuccotti Park and Carbanieri vans are on fire in Rome, until this “movement” gets its shit together and actually asks for something it’ll all be for nothing.

From what I saw at occupy LA this is entirely accurate.  First, I was a little disappointed that it is in fact a peaceful, organized protest.  There was a march right before I got there, which seems to have gone smoothly and in an orderly fashion.  There is a tent city around City Hall that is completely confined to the grass with fastidious volunteers appearing out of nowhere every five minutes to pick up cigarette butts.  Protestors happily stayed contained in the few streets that the city had conscientiously blocked off to keep shit from getting out of hand, and gathered around a stage and PA system that seems to have been set up with all the appropriate permits.  There was an adequate amount of Port-o-sans.  The few cops visible were the LAPD’s bike-bound squad of “courtesy officers,” or whateverthefuck they’re called.  They wear purple shirts that make them look like the world’s most militant kickball team.  They kept to themselves, returned eye contact and smiled when smiled at.  This is different, I gather, from New York, where the NYPD is crushing people’s femurs and throwing haymakers at nancy-boy college kids.  As is their wont. Continue reading →

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Old News: Occupy LA

30 Mar

Originally Posted 10/15/11:

Thinking about going down to Occupy LA today.  Not that I give a shit. Or rather, not that I think it is a meaningful movement with any concrete goals. And if they did have concrete goals, they would be impossible to achieve.

Not that I’m against them either—while the “I am the 99 per cent” people complaining about student loans seem dopey to me, far worse is this “I am the 53 per cent (of legitimate income tax payers)” canard; the people holding up signs that say  I bootstrapped my way to the bottom attending a state school while working 30 hours a week at a minimum wage job and never having an instant of freedom, now I will buy a shitty house in Phoenix and have kids who will also have to work 30 hours a week getting yelled at by some undereducated jerkoff because they didn’t adequately mop down the little channel between the beef and chicken grills at Arby’s — congratulations, you’re a fucking idiot.  I wasted my youth grinding myself down to the bone in the most debasing manner possible and now I insist that people with billions of dollars be able to contribute nothing, is what you’re saying.

Continue reading →

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