I've come to realize Match.com is similar to Russian Roulette. You load your personal information into the Smith & Wesson stainless cylinder and give it a wild spin. You agree to meet some poor sap and slowly raise the barrel to your right temple. 30 seconds before the the first meeting you hesitantly pull back on the hammer with sweat pouring off your brow.
Let's just say last night I pulled the trigger and dating-grey-matter spewed against the wall and stuck like overcooked pasta. He was definately the sole 357 loaded in the cylinder. Sure there were 5 empty slots, which means the odds were WITH me not against me, but that's not the way dating works.
Im due thought, right? Im due to pull the trigger and have rose pedals and confetti blow out of the barrell and into my hair when some stud who actually LOOKS like his picture or doesnt exaggerate his height by 6 inches walks through the door.
Im going to turn my blogging into Match.com dating updates. I figure with the material these knucklheads provide I could supply some great entertainment for my friends. I will fall on the proverbial sword once again, not as someone looking desperating for love, but as a socialogist/humorist/writer. Stay tuned while I load the revolver.
No comments:
Post a Comment