Tag Archives: okcupid

My OKCupid Profile, for Your Amusement

Disclaimer: Hello again! I’ve been MIA for a while, but I’m now unemployed and therefore very capable of posting every week. Plus I missed your anonymous faces.

While I was on OkCupid, I had this deep fear that someone I knew would come across my profile. Not because I was embarrassed to be on OkCupid, but because I didn’t want them to see what I looked like in desperate “I hope you find me attractive” mode (ew, gross). In person, both in dating and platonic situations, I feel like I come across as fairly normal, nice, and reserved. If you met me in person you probably wouldn’t guess that a peen has touched my b-hole. On the internet though, probably because of the anonymity, I come across as a crazy, self-deprecating, loud-mouthed motherfucker who has definitely had her b-hole breached by a peen.

This does not translate well to online dating. Not surprisingly, I’m bad at selling myself as someone you could potentially see as a date. My self-deprecating sensibility combined with my concerning habit of telling the world about my most embarrassing, horrific moments hasn’t snagged me a bunch of winners. Case-in-point, the OkCupid profile I crafted last year. Then-Carly thought this thing was a fucking piece of genius. Now-Carly is slightly wiser.

I present to you my annotated OkCupid profile, which was written with the actual belief that it would attract normal, wonderful human beings.

OKCupid Profile_Annotated

Brought to you by OkCupid and a year of being single.

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If you Lie in a Breakup, It Will Come Back to Haunt You

Remember “Jay”, the super nice OkCupid guy who just wasn’t my type and everything went wrong on our first date? Well, I broke up with him (do you call it breaking up when you’ve only been on two dates?). And I did it in, like, the worst way possible way — I texted, “Hey, when’s a good time to talk?” Jesus Christ, I would hate to date me. I’m the worst. Jay tepidly replied, “Um, I can call around 2.” Dreading the inevitable, I watched the clock as it drew closer to my sentence and filled the time by watching the Golden Globes. When my phone buzzed exactly at 2, I hesitated, partly because I would do anything to avoid a breakup conversation and partly because Emma Thompson was presenting and I love her to death. Did I mention I was at my ex-boyfriend’s at the time? No? Oh, okay, so yeah, I’m an awful person. Anyway, I muted the TV and took a breath.

Me: Hey! Thanks for calling. How was your day?
Jay: Great!
Me: Awesome! Okay, so you’re a fantastic person but I’m not physically attracted to you so we should stop dating. Don’t take it personally.
Jay: I wouldn’t dream of it. Have a great life!

And then we laughed and hung up. JUST KIDDING. What actually happened:

*ten minutes of painful small talk later*
Me: Okay, so you’re a super awesome person and I really like you, but…
Jay: *heart cracking in two, envisions a future of dying alone* [Or this is what I pictured happening at the end of the other line. Maybe I should start overestimating the guys I date and underestimating how much they really like me]
Me: You’re really great. I just want to take a break…from dating. Like, all people.
Jay: Why?
Me: Because…

I could feel Jay starting to suspect my excuse was really just an excuse, and I jumped on the first reason I could think of that he wouldn’t dare question.

Me: Because my grandpa died. [This was partly true. Like 30% true. Okay, 22%. Which leaves roughly 80% of me being a terrible person]
Jay: Oh, god, I’m so sorry.
Me: Yeah, it’s been hard. I just need some time to focus on myself and family and stuff. And when I mean ‘some time’ I mean, like, six months?

Yes, I used the Dead Grandpa card. But before you think I’m 100% awful (it’s just 80%, remember?), let me explain. I hate hurting people’s feelings and really, really, really didn’t want to ruin the rest of Jay’s life by rejecting him (like I said, I should stop overestimating my effect on guys). So, I pussied out. And I figured six months would be plenty of time for him to meet someone else and forget all about me.

Jay: I mean, I offer my condolences. That’s awful. I’m so, so sorry.
Me: Thanks.
Jay: Wow. That sucks.
Me: Okay, yeah. So…
Jay: But you still want to be friends right? While you figure out your stuff?

I knew this plan wouldn’t work.

Me: Obviously, yeah I want to be friends!
Jay: Cool, can you hang out this week?
Me: *face plant* I’m busy this week.
Jay: Next week?
Me: ……………………..Sure.
Jay: Great, I’ll text you then.
Me: Awesome. Just…awesome.

*sigh* And that’s how I roped myself into going on a friend date with a guy I failed at breaking up with. Luckily, I fully planned on sticking to my word of taking a break from dating for six months. Unluckily, two weeks in to my dating abstinence the universe introduced me to the person who’s now Boyfriend. When I met with Jay for our totally platonic friend date (which turned out be really fun in a totally platonic way and Boyfriend was totally cool with it), we talked about how my soul-searching bachelorette life was coming along (“Just great, love being alone, yup no one loves me, yay!”), which morphed into conversation about past relationships, good and bad. With no first date pressure, we got to honestly say what was awkward about our own first date and share anecdotes about the best/worst first dates we had. And of course, I talked about the best first date I’ve been on (my first date with Boyfriend) because I have a disease called logorrhea where I can’t keep my mouth shut (at least I was smart enough not to mention Boyfriend was a current boyfriend). Jay listened to my enthusiastic tale before asking “So what happened to him?” I shoved a forkful of food into my mouth. Now, I could’ve grown a pair of balls, been honest for once in my life, and told him how my Eat, Pray, Love sabbatical was thwarted when I met someone who truly makes me happy. Instead, I went with, “Uh, you know. I got busy, homework, you know.” He nodded and mercifully moved on. By the end of the night, he asked when I would be available again. I wanted to say never because this was clearly a terrible situation, but of course I said: “In a couple weeks!” I think I’m going to have to fake my death in six months.

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Don’t Eat Dumplings on a Date (Unless You Want To Look Like a Sad and Unattractive Chipmunk)

I recently went on a date with a guy (“Jay”) I met on OkCupid. He’s super nice, funny, cute, into all the things I’m into…and yet I’m not attracted to him. At the end of the date, I could tell Jay wanted to kiss me (and we all know how I like to avoid those things). I was waiting for my Uber and staring intensely at the app that counted down how long until the car arrived when Jay stepped closer. Three minutes away. I tried to start a conversation that would distract him from his current objective. Two minutes. He shifted, antsy, trying to get me to face him. One minute. I turned to say goodbye and he kissed me. Godamn. One minute to go and the bastard snuck one in. Soon after, he asked for a second date and since I’m a girl who can’t say no (I clearly have a very healthy sex life thankyouverymuch), I agreed. I mean he’s a great guy. He opens the car door for me and insists on paying for everything and pulls my chair out at restaurants. The dude is hardcore chivalrous. It’s very sweet. When my cat died, I decided to cancel the date. I texted Jay and realized how much it sounded like a thinly veiled excuse after I pressed Send. “Hey, I’m so sorry but I have to cancel…my cat died.” Being the gentleman he is, Jay offered his condolences and we rescheduled.

I drove to his place for our second date and, as usual, was running late. I just love to start off dates where I make him wait twenty minutes (this is a lie; I was sweating and wanted to cry). I finally found his place…which was literally adjacent to the Animal Hospital I used to take Pickles to (“Oh man, please don’t associate that with this date,” he stressfully pled). I hurriedly parked my car in a lot and met up with him. When we got to the movie theatre, he smoothly slipped his hand in mine. In my mind, I cringed, but out loud I was like, “That was smooth.” He chuckled. “I didn’t know there was going to be a commentary on this date.” “Yeah, this is the special features version.” UGH. Who narrates a date? I might as well have been live tweeting the whole thing. When we got in the theatre, it was completely empty. I was disappointed; he was delighted. A couple in an empty movie theatre…I knew where this was going. Sure enough, we sat down and he immediately inserted his tongue in my mouth. Thankfully, a couple walked in shortly after. I was delighted; he was disappointed. Fast forward to the awful movie (“I’m so sorry that was bad. Please don’t associate this with the quality of the date!”) and dumplings for dinner. While the dumplings were delicious, they were difficult to eat in a ladylike fashion. Too small to bite into pieces yet too big to attractively eat, I shoved each big-ass dumpling into my mouth like a caveman, successfully emulating a chipmunk storing up nuts in his cheeks for winter. I have this thing about people watching me eat on dates; I imagine tiny men in their heads holding up signs rating me on my chewing technique. That and my sister says I chew so loud it gives her migraines. Self-conscious, I tried to eat when he wasn’t staring at me, but that rarely happened so I hardly ate. Awkwardly, he wouldn’t take another one until I had eaten mine, so we sat there not eating until he went to the bathroom and I stuffed, like, six whole dumplings into my mouth.

When we finally got back to his house, I discovered that the lot I had hastily parked my car in had been locked by a giant chainlink fence and padlock (“Oh god, don’t let this reflect on the rest of the date!”). I called Uber and while the seven minute countdown began until the car arrived, I tried to eloquently tell him how I felt. Quite the opposite of eloquent, I vomited out a mangled paragraph that resembled this: “So I really like you, but I think I have to be friends with people first, you know, and oh my god I sound like an asshole…Jesus, okay so this sounds cliché but it’s not you, it’s definitely me that has issues with physical contact. That’s not what I wanted to say. I wanted to say that you’re an awesome person and can we be friends first.” And he was like, “Um, so, you don’t want me to kiss you or anything?” And I was like “No!” Even though I meant yes. He forced a laugh. “This is new for me actually. I always used to ask girls before I kissed them but I thought I would try not asking…guess that didn’t work.” I felt so bad for him because he’s such a good person that I tried backtracking: “Wait, wait, girls love that. Just not me. I mean yes, do that with all the girls. They love it. I’m weird.” After that train wreck, my Uber arrived and he asked me for a kiss because I was leaving for winter break. And what was I supposed to say? No? Instead, I agreed, endured, and slunk into my Uber feeling pretty sure that nothing had changed.

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My First OkCupid Experience! It May Take Years of Therapy to Forget

Two nights ago I experienced a milestone for any writer when I chatted with my first hater. I joined OkCupid because now that I’m publicly sad and alone I thought why the hell not. I threw together a profile that made it clear I don’t take myself seriously (I first answered the question “What are you good at?” with “Blowjobs” before I realized people may not know I’m joking) and only an hour later I had a message from RainyDayRed. I’m using his real username because I don’t give a shit about privacy when the person I should be protecting is a scrotum sucking cunt nugget.

Red messages me with the standard hi/how are you/what do you do and I’m pretty much giving my cat a smug wink because it only took me an hour to reel one in. Then Red tells me I’m “too normal. Like boring normal.” Well, that’s fine. I try to make light of the situation. “It’s true. Scientists have studied my normality and been amazed that one person could be THAT normal.” To which Red asked, “Do you think you’re funny?” And even though I knew where this was going the only two answers I could think of were Yes and No. And I said No. “That’s good.” He typed. “I hope your screenplays aren’t as desperate as you are. It’s not a good look for you.” Now, here’s the amazing thing; we were chatting via the internet, which can fabulously be shut off by a multitude of methods: turning off chat, quitting out of Safari, smashing my computer to bits so it never works again…I did none of these things. Instead, I made dumb joke after dumb joke, which gave him all the more fodder to destroy everything I had ever mentally built up. I kept trying for the last word, but it was never good enough. It was like watching a horror movie when the girl walks towards the dark closet and the audience is screaming “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON’T DO IT” but she does it anyway because she has insecurity issues and is almost grateful to find that one person who tells her the thing she’s feared deep down all along: that she’s not funny. I think I’m confusing my similes.

After I absorbed enough of his “You wasted 40gs at USC to not be funny” I came out with my closing line. I angrily typed, “All joking aside, you have a great night” and quit out of chat. Oh boy, did I tell him! He probably went home and cried after that one. But seriously. Literally anything would have been better than that. That was something Mr. Rogers would say if the puppet Mr. McFeely snapped at him. I’ve had three-year-old children give better comebacks than “Have a great night.” I stewed over RainyDayRed’s opinions and my terrible attempt at a comeback and it got to critical mass where I almost drove to McDonald’s to stress eat a Sausage McGriddle, because that fixes everything. Knowing I would never be able to forgive myself for doing that, I stopped and told myself to remember all the people who had ever laughed at something I said or wrote, or told me I was funny. And in reality, those people FAR outweigh RainyDayRed. And they would totally curb stomp him in a fight for me. I stress ate cinnamon raisin bread toast anyway (I take any excuse to eat junk food) and only later thought of what I should’ve said: “Joke’s on you, RainyDayRed, because if you weren’t an asshole I would’ve gone on a date with you and I may be normal over chat but I’m super weird in bed and it would’ve changed your life. But you fucked up because you’re a dick.” Hindsight’s 20/20.

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