OkCupid – Part Three – Third and Final

And so my brief stint with OkCupid came to an end a few days ago. For the purposes of reference and posterity, here are some of the contents of my inbox.

Boring individuals on OkCupid are not necessarily only male.

okc1 okc2 okc3

Looks like this dude has a sister.

Bitches love pugsit turns out.

The profile picture I had at the time.


Tailor-made openers work pretty well

(Red boxes were used to emphasise in another thread that sexual/cocky overtones had both pros and cons.)




…as do canned ones (courtesy of delicioustacos.com).



And the profile I wrote. Feel free to plagiarise.

Notice – This profile contains HTML code; some of it might not make sense if you’re accessing it via the OkCupid app. It is recommended that you view it through your web browser to receive the optimal _safrica experience.

The funny thing about interpersonal relationships is, the joy we get from spending time with other people is biochemically similar to drug abuse.

I’m serious.

When you crack jokes or engage in great conversation or have amazing sex, your brain releases molecules similar to opiates (things like morphine, heroin i.e. the type of drugs you do <i>not</i> fuck with). That’s what makes it so fun, the social high.

Unfortunately, it also accounts for feelings of loneliness and heartbreak. You’re pretty much going through drug withdrawal, which, as popular media and overwrought middle school teachers have continually reminded us, is the most horrible experience imaginable. This also explains why you get bored of some people (tolerance) and find more interesting characters to be more attractive (more powerful stimulus, a ‘better high’).

So yeah. Anyway. I’m a junkie and I’m looking for my opium. I hope you’re like, <i>good shit</i>, man.

Pursuing an undergraduate degree mostly involving human physiology. I love to study all aspects of the human condition, from anatomy to psychoanalysis. I’m especially partial to neuropsychology and psychiatric biochemistry, which would probably explain the first few paragraphs.

I enjoy copious amounts of weightlifting. If you asked me about it I’d ostensibly claim that it was for the purpose of ‘good health’, when it’s just really appeasing my thinly-veiled narcissism. Basically, I like looking good naked. My shoulders are burly and robust. My thighs look like they’re going to turn into the legs of the Hulk every time I take a step. I’ve been told that quote-unquote “you have a pretty nice ass for a white boy”, which was one of my prouder moments, as I’m sure not many white boys have ascended to this <i>ne plus ultra</i> of gluteal perfection.

I’ve also recently taken up the guitar again. I play anything, with a flagrant disregard for scales and exercises, which I’m sure will catch up with me in due time. The fingertips on my left hand are currently torn and calloused after rending them repeatedly on steel strings. While this has been especially painful, it has improved my playing ability no end. A metaphor for life, really.
If/when we get back to my apartment, you’ll see the guitar sitting on the stand. You’ll ask me to play something. I’ll offer token resistance. You’ll insist. I’ll casually start playing the intro to Metallica’s <i>Nothing Else Matters</i> and kind of hope that does it for you, because I can’t sing for shit. Anyway, as the last notes ring out, I’ll look up. You’ll be looking back at me. Our eyes are locked. We both slowly lean in, feeling the anticipation rise in our chests. Finally, our lips meet, and we share the mirth of a first kiss. Except, the guitar is still trapped between us, digging painfully into my sternum and I have nowhere to place my left arm without risking the safety of the fretboard. I have yet to devise a valid exit strategy from this predicament, so yeah, we probably won’t go past first base on the first date.

My talents are primarily relegated to the creative and intellectual. This probably explains why my most sophisticated physical exertions are that of moving a heavy weight up and down or running really, really fast in one direction.

Anyway. I’m big on the arts and sciences. Though I’m pretty shit at drawing, painting, and dancing, I’m big on literature, music and languages. Concerning the more cerebral pursuits, I love to ponder. <a href=”http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Thinker&#8221; rel=”nofollow” target=”_blank”>I sit like this on the john</a>. I enjoy wrapping my head around things, especially if I get to do so in good company. A corollary of this is that I go nuts if I feel that someone is talking shit. Seriously, you could troll the fuck out of me by just mentioning things like ‘alternative medicine’ or ‘creationism’ or ‘fat acceptance’. My overzealous intellectual elitism knows no bounds.

And finally, in the interest of subtlety and tact, I’ll simply say this: I’m a sensual man. <i>Real</i> sensual.

I have an accent and ethnicity that few people are able to place. Seriously, no one can tell where I’m from or where I grew up.

This is especially useful in interviews.
Humans are excellent in their capacity to adapt and overcome. Barring the loss of basic necessities such as food and water, <a href=”http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hedonic_treadmill&#8221; rel=”nofollow” target=”_blank”>we can get used to just about anything</a>. Then again, I should probably file ‘sex’ and ‘the internet’ under ‘basic life necessities’, since I’m liable to become rabid or catatonic upon the the cessation of either (the horror).

How to placate my existentialist angst.

Out with friends (fuck it, one clichÈ is admissible), inebriated on alcohol and marijuana and smiling like an idiot. Though I don’t remember much, I’ve been informed that I ‘have fun’ on these occasions. I should probably find new friends.

Honestly, I’d rather be in bed having amazing sex with you, in-between lying cuddled up watching episodes of <i>Luther</i> or <i>Breaking Bad</i> or <i>Dexter</i> or whatever series that’s fun to watch but doesn’t add a laugh track to an otherwise romantic evening. I have a great music playlist for special occasions though, featuring artists like <a href= “http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QOLCXPRg650”><i>Emiliana Torrini</i></a>, <a href= “http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jEgX64n3T7g”><i>Massive Attack</i></a>, <a href= “http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7j3eEWmAks”><i>Hybrid</i></a&gt;, and <a href= “http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4E3SNWxCmk”><i>BRMC</i></a&gt;. If things don’t work out, <a href= “http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MK6TXMsvgQg”><i>then I’ve got a great way to end the night</i></a>.

I’ve got a huge soft spot for animals. Huge.

No, this isn’t some contrived admission to convince you that I have a sensitive side. I fucking <i>love</i> animals. I’d convert to veganism on the spot if I visited a slaughterhouse. Which is why I never go there. Fucking hamburgers, man.

I spent the entirety of my adolescence playing World of Warcraft. Ask me anything about warrior tanking rotations pre-Mists.

<a href=”https://fortunerotavolvitur.wordpress.com/&#8221; rel=”nofollow” target=”_blank”>I write a blog.</a>

If you find <a href=”http://www.smbc-comics.com/?id=3179&#8243; rel=”nofollow” target=”_blank”>this</a> amusing, if you have any input about <a href=”http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hard_problem_of_consciousness&#8221; rel=”nofollow” target=”_blank”>this</a>, or things like <a href=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pssdoGtA9Wo&#8221; rel=”nofollow” target=”_blank”>this</a> make you think real, real hard about what you’re doing with your life. Seriously, you’re guaranteed a reply if you can posit something interesting about one of the above.

Also, <a href=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmEbF2uhsZk&#8221; rel=”nofollow” target=”_blank”>this</a>.

So yeah, in addition to the other posts, that pretty much captures my experiences on the site. Had I actually lived in Boston, I’d probably be going on 1-2 dates a week with perfectly agreeable individuals.

If someone were to ask me for advice, I’d simply proffer this: you are only as attractive on the site as you are in real life. If you are an interesting, attractive individual in reality, and your profile accurately reflects that (especially through your photos, especially  through your fucking thumbnail), then you’re good to go. Women on the site are inundated with messages from boring, bland, dumbfounded dipshits who are as romantically inept on the site as they in real life, if not more so. Don’t be like them.


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