A quiet lonely Sunday passed. I’ve gained weight with TC, we cooked every night and I can’t eat the # of courses he can sustain. TC calling at London midnight, wandering about Covent Garden. Tiger in the night. Prof. Tim calling, he’s on watch over me, similar to TC, he says some new crispy treat is not far from my grasp. The talk with Peter/SSK drove me to look at match.com, sorting by various criteria. Reading various entries. As an e-marketing person, I think carefully about everything I write, a comma, sentence structure, one wrong move and the viewer won’t buy (obviously I ain’t working that magic in this blog). So observations from match.com, I started off with the people’s pictures.
Sunglasses – why in god’s name would someone have a profile picture of themselves in sunglasses. The eyes are the soul of a man and these types have something to hide.
Black box over former BF – the stupid grin hugging some other dude whose face is blacked out. You had a BF before, who cares, you’re used merchandise, no one wants to be #2, find another photo.
Obvious queen – it hits’em at 30, they get all queenie, you can see the drama in their face and god knows what’s stuck up their a** in that photo with that smile on their face.
With a woman – OK I have some of those (I love getting photos with Super Sexy Kitten, she so hot), but you have a fag hag, big deal – usually fat ugly women (bad marketing – get as many pretty thin big boob’d women, into your photos and that works).
Drinking – glass of wine (this is a queer after all), obvious, I drink, I get drunk, I fall down, sorta person!
Shirt off – Ain’t I pretty, obviously this guy’s ego has gotten to him or he’s here for a hook up (post on craigslist a whole lot faster response). Your pecs have no place on match.com, if that’s your primary selling feature, you’ve got other issues. Most of these guys can’t seem to write a profile text in complete sentences.
Photos from worldly places – so you bought an airline ticket, good for you, my mommy lets me go to the bathroom all by myself. I wanna see you, not that you’ve been to Omaha.
Tiny photos – you’re paying to have a profile, at least put photos bigger than 1/2″ inch big for us to check out your manly self. Shows total lack of effort, lazy MoFu. Even better are the photos where you are 10 miles back from the camera stroking a camel or something similar.
Hair going (hair gone) – I know, nothing you can do about it, but boy do these guys go quickly after 30. I kept dialing back the age range so at least most of them had hair.
Not looking at the camera – this seems to say you are deceptive, can’t deal with something head on (or you’re ugly as hell). Some guy, lightly airbrushed, staring off into the distance.
I read a number of profiles. Starting with your ‘handle’, the words dude or boi or sexy seems a bit over used. I really enjoyed the profile from some haggered 43 year old, who my father at 80 looks better than, writing about how “hot” he is, looking for a young “boi” and included a number of half naked photos. Thank god, I hadn’t had lunch yet.
In your profile you should be executed on the spot if you write, “I don’t know what to say” and then go on to write 15 paragraphs. I also like the ones who start, “I am a good guy”. OH good, I was looking for the person my mother warned me about. I’m asking for Mensa scores in the future.
I’m getting there folks, give me a bit of room to work. Part of the process is not to figure out what you want, but understand what you don’t want. But a nasty taste in my mouth is developing. Where is my brown tiger?