So recently I was umm, inspired, to create a profile on a hot new* online dating site called OK Cupid. Not because I am in any way interested in dating, but rather because I enjoyed the rather comprehensive and thought provoking set of profile categories and personal questions it offered. I felt like it would be fun to write things that sounded like the real me, not some polished douchebag that sounded all fake and turdy. Of course, the real me is, in fact, pretty douchey and more than a little turdy…but not fake. Except in the sense that I remain anonymous on this site like some kind of totally unimpressive superhero whose only special power is the ability to sabotage any prospect of financial or emotional success in a single bound. It also occurred to me that it could make for a pretty decent ongoing series for the site. Hence, the Techno Hobo has dipped his tiny toes into the digital waters of online dating.
*yes, that’s facetious. I would never use that phrase for anything ever. Ever.
The following is the actual profile with the actual answers to each respective category. There are also hundreds of questions that they ask for purposes of honing your potential matches. I may, or may not, decide to post some of those answers in subsequent posts. I guess you’ll just have to hold your breath…
My Self Summary
Hello. My name is Chet. I’m new to Portland and I have very big muscles. I can lift heavy things like grocery bags and obese pets. I also have a really big vocabulary. Like, REALLY big. If you’re into super hot guys who will totally be sexy in front of you then I am probably gonna make you get all excited.
It’s been awhile since I joined this thing. Honestly, I expected to be married by now… Is it possible that I am TOO good looking? Maybe my mom was right… Just kidding, my mom doesn’t talk to me anymore.
I should tell you that I don’t have any money, so if you’re looking for a sexy guy with lots of money, I’m not him. I’m also not sexy, in case that wasn’t clear.
Most people get on here and try to make themselves sound desirable…presenting their respective persona in the most flattering of lights. I am going to buck that trend and talk the way I talk in real life, and say the first things that come to me in an honest stream-of-consciousness sort of mental barf, because that’s what I sound like in person. I talk a lot, and I talk really, really fast…especially when I’m nervous or anxious, which is most of the time…especially around the lady-folk. I promise you though, in time you will find it endearing. After that you’ll probably get sick of me, but there will be a window, however brief, where I amuse the shit out of you.
I don’t like cats. That includes your cat. I won’t like it, no matter how much you swear it is more like a dog than a cat. I know a cat when I see one.
I am not what anyone would call “manly”. I think sports are stupid, and I am not particularly athletic, despite the fact that I look like something of a meathead. I don’t have a car or know how to fix one. I own very few tools. Your mother will not be impressed, and your father even less so. Most people think I’m gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that…
What I’m doing with my life:
I keep trying to convince people that I’m a writer. That’s what I want to be, but I haven’t really produced anything of substance. Still, just to be safe I drink a lot and sometimes smoke Lucky Strikes. I know they’re bad for me, but they make me look really cool. I’m not going to write the Great American Novel, but I might have a shot at getting something into Reader’s Digest. I know a guy who knows a guy…
I drink cheap red wine. To offset the low quality I drink an enormous quantity. I live on the top floor of a condo building near the top of a very steep hill, so I have to buy in bulk…because I don’t have a car and I’m not gonna walk all the way to Trader Joe’s just for one bottle of Two Buck Chuck. I mean, that’s just ridiculous.
UPDATE: I’m on a diet. In order to motivate myself, I’ve decided not to shave until I lose 20 pounds. Consequently, I’m starting to look like that sexy werewolf Alcide from True Blood….if he was much shorter and ate a lot more donuts. In a couple more weeks I’ll probably cross over into the “grumpy terrorist” beard stage…followed closely by the “Biblical hero”. I’m hoping that super powers will be included. However, the best I can probably expect will be the power to not attract any women. Well…there is always the possibility that I will actually lose 20 pounds. Then I will be super-sexy AND not look like Suicide-bomber Moses… Aaaaaaaaand, that’s about where the FBI tracking should kick on. Yay.
UPDATE: I don’t actually have the beard anymore. I just thought that section was funny, so I kept it. Stop judging me. What, like you keep your profile up to date? Exactly. Roll your eyes at somebody else, sister. That shit won’t work on me. I mean it. Knock it off. Right this minute. Please. Oh, c’mon, baby. I didn’t mean it. Stop crying. Please. You know the sight of tears makes me go all limp. I’ll never make you cry again, baby. Promise.
I’m really good at:
- Farting in my sleep.
- Being sexually underwhelming.
- Leaving hair all over the bathroom sink.
- Making ladies get super horny.
- Cat punting.
- Wearing shirts with lobsters on them.
- But seriously… I can grow a pretty decent mustache.
The first things people usually notice about me:
This question is predicated on the assumption that I think people notice me in the first place. However, for the sake of argument I will assume that, on occasion, they do. In which case they probably notice my crippling insecurity. Oh wait…I suppose that’s what I feel when people first notice me. In that case, I would have to say it’s my tremendous lack of confidence, evidenced by a pretty significant slouch and an apparent inability to make any amount of eye contact.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food:
I am a big fan of Bret Easton Ellis. I enjoy stories where rich, pretty people are secretly miserable or serial killers or both. It makes me feel better about being economically destitute and only slightly attractive.
I’ll just list some things I like in no particular order. Please don’t start nagging me about being disorganized. We haven’t even met yet…I’m not ready for your criticism.
A Confederacy of Dunces
My Morning Jacket
Built to Spill
[Insert list of indie bands no one has ever heard]
Leopard-print banana hammocks
Umm…ok, that’s it, I think… Oh, and long walks on the beach… Those are literally the only things I like. Yes, I know what “literally” means. I also know how to use it correctly in a sentence. See, I just did it twice. Well, OK, once. God, this constant nagging is really starting to wear on me…
The six things I could never do without:
3. An audience
4. Anxiety (OK, I would like to do without it, but I’m afraid of what might jump in to fill the space it left behind…oh, the space! I’m terribly afraid of space… Not “outer space” space…but more like figurative space. Well, also literal space. Like, Wyoming. I’m afraid of Wyoming. Way too much space.))
5. Fancy micro brews
6. Cat repellent
7. 7-item lists
I spend a lot of time thinking about:
…some way to bridge the disconnect between my love of fancy micro brews and the intensity of my displeasure deriving from the extra 20 (OK, 30…) pounds I can’t get rid of…and how much I don’t like cats.
Seriously…isn’t this supposed to be a civilized country? Why would anyone want an animal whose toilet is inside and doesn’t flush? That’s just insane, when you think about it. Also, I’m allergic to cats. Probably because they stand in a box of their own excrement and then curl up on your pillow. Oh what, it’s OK because they have cute little paws? I bet you wouldn’t let ME do that shit…just sayin’…
On a typical Friday night I am:
Wishing I had someone more interesting to drink with… Preferably, someone who shares my perfectly reasonable and in no way disturbing loathing of cats… Also, I’m wishing I could fit into tight black t-shirts like Hank Moody. That’s pretty much every night, I guess, but Fridays are no exception. I also tend to wonder why I couldn’t find more time to write something during the week, then I make hollow promises to myself about how I will do better next week. I can do this thanks to the manufactured enthusiasm brought on by fancy micro brews, and I really believe it…at least until sometime Sunday afternoon, when I suddenly realize how many calories those fancy micro brews have, at which point I fall again into a deep, swirling shame spiral that saps my confidence to the point that I am absolutely certain that everything I have ever written or might someday write is probably just a bunch of crap…
The most private thing I’m willing to admit:
I’m afraid of sharks to the extent that I refuse to enter swimming pools.
I sweat profusely whenever the temperature gets above 68.
I’m only attracted to women who aren’t attracted to me. To clarify that, I’m not saying I’m attracted to women that are out of my league, necessarily. It’s not about looks or status or some stupid thing like that. I mean I’m attracted to women BECAUSE they’re not attracted to me. I immediately lose respect for women who find me attractive. I mean, how demented, disturbed and deranged does someone need to be to want to go out with THIS?!! Like Groucho Marx said, “I don’t care to belong to any club that will have me as a member.”
I was born with my brain on the outside of my body.
I am philosophically opposed to my own existence.
I hate soup spoons.
I generally piss myself and run screaming like a little girl in the other direction at the sight of greyhounds. I mean the giant anorexic demon-rats, not the buses….though I’m not a huge fan of those, either.
I’ve been fired from almost every job I’ve ever had.
I am allergic to unicorns, but I love them anyway. Not in a physical way, of course.
I have impossibly thick and lustrous hair.
I once had food poisoning so bad that my colon actually fell out into the toilet. OK, not really…but for some reason that just popped in there and I thought it would be funny to make people squirm. You’re welcome.
I have enough pairs of underwear to last me for two weeks. That’s because I don’t have laundry at home, and it’s important to be able to last a long time between trips to the laundromat. It’s also because I can make one pair last a whole week.
I believe in chivalry, in spite of the fact that I have met several women…
You should message me if:
You don’t mind men who cry a lot…or if you enjoy the self-deprecating artist type who grew up with 6 step-parents and therefore has an almost clinical inability to maintain any kind of meaningful relationship with women, least of all his own mother. And if you like baggage…lots and lots of emotional baggage. I mean HEAPS of it. I have mommy issues, commitment issues, my self-esteem is appalling, and yet somehow I am incredibly narcissistic and often arrogant and insensitive…when I’m not crying.
Here are some deal-breakers:
1. You have extensive neck/facial tattoos, especially tear drops
2. You are married/ poly-amorous.
3. You weigh more than me. I weigh 130 pounds.
4. You think size matters
5. You want to point out the apparent hypocrisy of #3 and #4
6. You don’t like sarcasm
7. You are older than my mom
8. You ARE my mom
9. You are a cat
10. Your cat is a cat
Click here to read some of my answers to personality questions on OK Cupid.
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