Oh, Alright Cupid... Get In Here!

My dear friend has been going on so many internet dates, I don't have anyone to hang out with anymore. Such thing there isn't a lot we don't share, I started a page on the same site. If I go on dates, I'll just talk about her experiences in life, all while wearing her socks, jacket and back pack... like I don't do or have anything of my own. It's either that or talk about my ex.

My internet dates will ask me about what I like to do and I will say "Rachel speaks Spanish."

Here is the difference between Rachel and I; She is doing things with her life that will help low income people and I want to meet some one who has money. It's not so much that I want to meet someone who has money, as I don't want to do anything for the poor. My ex doesn't have any money and all I've wanted to do are things for him, to help him realize his own potential and feel good about who he is... then he can get it together enough to realize that we would be so happy together in San Francisco. However, my efforts were squandered and now I just end up yelling at homeless people because he isn't around anymore.

HOMELESS GUY: Spare some change, Miss?

ME: [screaming] I can miss you, but I can't change you! [sobs into scarf]

HOMELESS GUY: [to himself] It's a numbers game, Pete.

It's a numbers game... dating and consequently (for me), loving. It's like Scientology invented romance and while everyone else is getting on that space ship of love, I'm locked in limbo with Captain Xenu. So I have decided to surf the international house of hot cakes AKA "OKcupid"....

SIDE RANT:

"OKcupid" is the name of the internet dating site I joined with my friend and I think their ad campaign should go something like this:
"OKcupid- you fix it!"
"OKcupid, what's the deal?!"
"OKcupid, your arrow better be dipped in something fierce, because I have developed a tolerance [the chorus line to Robert Palmer's "Addicted to Love" plays in background]"
"Oh- Okcupid, like some cherub is going to crawl inside of this shriveling uterus and give me a legacy."

END SCENE.

I created my account, answered some questions and went over to Rachel's a day later. She has been going on so many dates lately, she called in sick (to her date), so she could hang out with her favorite person: sweat pants. I came over too. She and I pulled up our accounts and went shopping (our favorite!), but because we are both pretty broke we went shopping for men (shoes wont put a baby in this barren wasteland 5 years from now). Her quick match brought up all sorts of dark, beautiful men, albiet a bit young for my taste. My quick match brought up HUNDREDS of dorky, ugly men. One guy (ironically, the most attractive of my entire brigade) called himself "Atractus" and when I quipped "more like UNatractus" Rachel and I laughed so hard, we realized we don't need men. Besides I can't ask a date to wax my ass crack and Rachel is more than down (pun?).
The reason she is getting more viable hits than me is because she has beautiful hair and isn't a gold digger. I'm not a gold digger, I'm just not open minded. I think, ultimately, I prefer that kinetic spark of seeing someone in a coffee shop, yoga or through their car window as he speeds by and thinking "what if?". What if I see him again? What if he asks me out? What if he turns around? What if I get mugged in front of him and I end up laying out 3 bad guys while he films it so he can tag me on Facebook later?

Soul Mates.

Best ______You'll Ever Get.

People ask me what I want in a fella. I mean, these people are paid professionals and under my employ, but they ask (not a lot of boat rocking in this economy). People tell me I should write more and wear more shirts that show my mid rift. I like to own people, it makes me feel skinny. So when describing my dream boat, let's just say I get motion sickness... which is why he better be sedentary. It helps if he's bogged down with salty snacks. Extra weight makes it extra hard for him to run away or feel good about himself (hot tip ladies, you look way better to fat guys). Another big thing is occupation and when I hear "employed" I think "boring"! Jobs are for goal- oriented people and trust me, you can't run a man with ambition. Oh sure, he can want things, just as long as he doesn't pose a threat at advancing in life. I mean, if he advanced what would I look like? No one would ask themselves "what does she see in him?" and with out that question how could I maintain the benevolent notoriety that is so crucial for any woman to be considered truly beautiful? The best part of this paragraph is when I talk about employing people.

sigh.

I was getting frozen yogurt tonight and the young man working the sweet shop informed me that they only have one size. I asked for him to fill it at three quarters (can't live in stretch pants). As I asked this a tall, thin, female worker walked by, heard my request and rolled her eyes. I immediately jumped behind the counter, shoved her frail head into a tub of ice cream and screamed "I'M SORRY! DOES MY PORTION CONTROL BOTHER YOU?". She wriggled, but her vapid body collapsed under my strong arms (thanks Yoga!). To my defense I was only trying to freeze her sassy eye balls out of her emaciated face when, suddenly, I was snapped out of my lucid daydreaming to the male worker saying "...that will be $4.50, not a lot when you consider we serve our yogurt with love!". I slowly backed out the door yelling "YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT LOVE! NOT YOU, NOT MY FATHER, NOT THE BANK THAT DENIED MY LOAN..." and with that I walked out feeling pretty good, but then I went back to fetch my purse off the counter. I ended up leaving with my head held high. I didn't eat that frozen treat after all and this means I'm going to be all the thinner when I see my sweet fella in just a couple weeks. He's been "looking" for a job and smoking lots of pot (who loves snacks?), so I'm sure to be pretty physically appealing. Turns out the Secret isn't a bunch of bull-shit after all. Thanks Oprah!