I'm one of those people that's been a member of OkCupid for years. Sometimes I don't log in for months and sometimes I check my messages every day, but either way I don't expect much. I can't even say that I'm looking for a partner anymore. I can't even say that I'm looking for a
date. Sure, I've met a few people through the site. Most of them are blocked from my phone and email, but a couple have turned out okay. The odds are still overwhelmingly against a happy ending.
From my perspective, internet dating seems akin to walking down a dark alley with a popgun in your pocket trying to find someone drunk enough to rape. Despite being a person who dislikes generalizations, categorizing people with little or no concrete evidence to back up my assumptions, I put almost everyone I talk to on OkCupid into one of three unpleasant categories. The people I've attempted to date (and sometimes just hang out and drink a beer with) from the site have
all proven themselves worthy of their particular category, so I have no reason to feel that I'm being too harsh. I'm never harsh. Only realistic. I am the only realistic human being left on OkCupid.com.
The "John on a Budget"
These are the people who message me looking for sex, looking for sex NOW, and get more than a little irate when I decide not to log back in for two weeks. Or more commonly when I politely tell them that I'm not here for anonymous booty calls- that's what hookers are for (no judgement against hookers implied). This kind of person, usually a man, uses one of three methods of operation, dependent on his I.Q. and level of inbreeding.
The stupid variety will simply message me asking if I'd like to come over and sit on his dick later tonight. Even though my profile clearly promises that no, I don't. You see, I know he's stupid because he either can't read or doesn't understand the meaning of the word "no." In either case, I'm not interested. He'll often type in an almost incomprehensible manner, as if he's got one hand tightly gripping his shaft or has a severe learning disability because his momma was his sister. There's usually no reasoning with these types of people. They'll just keep asking for my phonoen num ber or titttypiccs or whetre too pic me u p until I stop responding. So I just don't respond in the first place.
Smarter men will feign some interest while assuming they're being vague with their sexually charged questions. Remember, I said smartER, not smart. They'll ask me a question and forget what I said before furiously hitting F5 and responding with a whole three sentences of ego-boosting bullshit. And if I skirt the issue of sex long enough, sometimes they snap, typing expletives and insults as fast as they can to punish me for wasting their valuable time. These sorts of people can be fun to play with, given my mood.
I usually lump "bi" girls into this category too, though I've met some exceptions. These women (if I may call you that, Guy With Pictures of Wife) usually want a three-way. Or they want their boyfriend to get some strange because they're sure he's "getting bored." Or they really are female and
assure you that their husband is fine with them going out on dates with women. This is another stereotype I don't bother responding to. I don't get involved in marital drama. I'm divorced for a reason, for fuck's sake.
The "Bring a Towel"
These are the people I end up meeting when I feel low enough to drag myself out to meet some internet weirdo. I'll get to the towel. The towel is very important here.
Mr. or Ms. Bring a Towel is usually charming in that socially awkward kind of way. They might be really interested in B horror flicks, or play Dungeons and Dragons, or know "back end" as a computer term rather than a search term for pornography (okay, probably both). He or she reads webcomics and used to be in a metal band and has dropped out of college four times because "it's all so superficial, you know?" Sometimes I think I might be able to tolerate this person. Hey, I'm kind of a nerd too. And I'm a sucker for proper grammar. And I'm surprisingly amenable to that "I don't have a razor and I shop at Goodwill" look. And we have a 94% match percentage.
But I'm out of towels. These are the dates that end with one or both of us crying about perceived inadequacies, one or both of us too drunk to stand up straight (and vomiting all over the cab), or one or both of us ready to slit our wrists. I can't stand the high probability of that many bodily fluids, sex excluded. And we all know how likely sex is with the high levels of depression and intoxication and self-loathing. Never mind, it is likely. But good sex isn't.
And the longer communication goes on with Mr. or Ms. Bring a Towel, the more towels I'll need. The number of towels needed increases infinitely and exponentially, especially if sex ever becomes part of the equation. Obviously, I don't recommend going past a conversation about a cool comic you read with this kind of person, but if you do, bring a towel. And buy a discount card for Bed Bath and Beyond because you'll be needing it.
The "Bring a Gun"
This one should be self-explanatory. "Bring a Gun" messages you with a lengthy tearjerker of a tale about how their last significant other framed them for killing the neighbor. Or raping the pool boy. Or the bitch stashed her kilo of heroin in the glove compartment of his car. Or whatever it is that happened. I rarely bother to read it all.
And they've been locked up for the past nine years, and having just gotten off on good behavior and finding Jesus they're now looking for a Special Someone to spend the rest of their life with. And that person is you! They are sure! I do often respond to these people as the potential entertainment value is high, but would I ever meet them in person? Would I even give them my first name? Oh, hell no.
Sometimes people are a combination of these stereotypes, of course, but in the interest of recording my failures a system of classification is helpful. I'm getting to the point where I hope I don't find anyone worth responding to when I log into OkCupid, but despite that, I persist. I can't figure out if I'm optimistic or desperate or bored, but maybe it doesn't matter. This is the internet, right? Nothing bad can happen to me here.
