Thursday, August 13, 2009
Chemistry.com Part 11: Consciousand focused
"Consciousand focused," huh?
Conscious enough to hit the space bar between words? No? Okay. The saddest part is this guy's headline is the most interesting part of his profile. I think he meant to say "conscientious." Don't you? Conscious just means he's awake. I like my men awake on dates. It makes little things like conversation more palatable (and possible), unless he talks in his sleep, which is also fun because then you can ask him personal questions he wouldn't normally answer while awake. On second thought, I want my man unconscious. I like a challenge.
His profession? You guessed it: writer.
I found another anti-women's-rights macho man. "I don't believe men and women are equal. I want a woman who feels comfortable playing the role of a traditional partner." He's not interested in meeting a woman who is "overly fanatical about [her] career, [and her] 'independence'..."
He doesn't want a small thing like "personal freedom" to get in the way. He wants to take away your right to vote and turn you into a baby factory. Know your place, girlfriend! It's in the kitchen or the laundry room or the bedroom when he feels up to it. He also doesn't believe the female orgasm exists. What a ridiculous myth! Be sure to have that dry martini with two olives (Not one, not three, TWO!) ready when he walks in the door from work. Or else.
Can I just say I'm getting tired of the guys who jokingly refer to being potty trained? Here's one who is no exception: "I am fully pottie trained and haven't had an accident in years."
Cute. He can use the big boy chair, but he can't spell it. Plus, he'll only have another "accident" if he's really, really drunk.
"I am allergic to pain."
Wuss. (I know. I know. Pot meet kettle.)
"I get frustrated by ... being requested to push 1 on the telephone to listen to messages in English."
It's so difficult to push a button, isn't it? After one phone call to the credit card company, I just write-off going to the gym because I had to push sixteen whole buttons when asked for my account number. Someone hand me my water bottle and a towel. My index finger hurts.
What the hell is a "bag slinger?" That's what the next guy wrote as his profession.
I either envision someone pitching sandbags to create a wall, or tossing an old lady around at a nursing home. The latter is the more attractive of the two, but still leaves something to be desired.
On to a Brit who "has [his] green card."
He wants to reassure you that you don't have to marry him so he can stick around. Good thinking.
But then he says, "p.s. These are not good pics of me but the only ones I have right now. Much better in person. I do not need to wear glasses these are to stop the glare of my monitor at work."
Oh lordy. You don't have to make excuses! Plus, in his profile photo he's wearing glasses outdoors next to a big green fern that looks like it's going to swallow him from behind. He's nowhere near a computer screen. The glare off that foliage is blinding, I tell ya! Is there another word for "next!" I've used that one already.
"Love kids and politics?"
Yep, I love kids AND politics. Whenever I think of kids, I think of politics. They go hand-in-hand, don't they? Wars, health care, Legos, formula...
This professor teaches two classes: "One is on the political history of the nuclear disarmament movement going back to WWII."
Zzzzzzz...huh, what did you just say? You lost me.
The other is "the social and emotional challenges of children with developmental disabilities like autism."
Hence the children and politics comment. Wow, how did he end up teaching two such disparate college-level topics? Something tells me the conversations we'd have would be way out of my league. I like a smart man, and usually one who is smarter than me, but this guy would make me feel downright dumb.
Tommy is a "man for all seasons," but he only likes hippies. "The type of personality I am attracted to is becoming increasingly hard to find. I drive a 'status symbol' car, and have a 'status symbol career,' yet I like 'hippies.'"
And I thought I had problems. Single white yuppie seeks Janis Joplin. Just don't toke in my Mercedes because it will strip that new leather smell. We'll spend our nights in my Newport Beach mansion listening to Hendrix. I'll have my maid wash your tie-dye shirts. Champagne, caviar, incense and patchouli, baby.
The Grammar Nazi