Today is Valentine’s Day, a day in our culture that represents our love of more holidays and often is expressed in deep disappointment that we don’t have the day off work. After all, if we don’t have all day off, how are we going to make continuous love to our partners in a bathtub full of roses (isn’t that a scene from American Beauty? Come to think of it, he SPOILER ALERT kills himself in the end, so maybe I shouldn’t be comparing that to excellent sex, unless a side effect of lust for the majority of Americans is suicide. I know I’ve been tempted to kill my partner after he… oh that’s different). Anyways, having the day off would function two-fold one: preparing the ultimate Valentine’s day gift and two: wallowing in a deep well of self pity of singledom (maybe this is where the suicidal tendencies kick in).
I decided this year to end my wallowing by signing up to a dating website, Okcupid. I created a profile I thought was witty for example stating that on a typical Friday night I am to be found burning crosses on people’s lawns. I’d like to clarify to all those silly Klan haters that they are often very small crosses on very large lawns, so it really shouldn’t cause too much of a fuss. I also said in the “six things you can’t live without” that number four was hard liquor and stereos blasting Rhianna. Not surprising when revealing these appealing tendencies along with the fact that I am never seen without my floor length old mink coat (my cat attacked it) and muu muu, I got many responses.
The first comes from a charming fellow: Smoothchocolate. He said in his profile that his full name was Alan Millis (non-descript enough I feel I can post it), but that the ladies call him Alan. I found this fact to be a little confusing. I mean the ladies call me Jayne, but maybe that’s more significant than I previously gave it credit for being. My dog knows me as Jayne too, in fact my mother can ask “Where’s Jayne?” and he’ll look at me. Apparently this represents some deep seated sexually deviancy on the part of my pet. Go figure. He then proceeded to tell the dating world that he really liked pussy and his mother. I was a little disturbed by the relationship between those things, but maybe he meant his cat, and it could also be this kitty and his mother who call him Alan. His message to me was simple, “sup?” I was immediately aroused. So aroused I had to leave the room for a while. Upon returning I told him he was disgusting and creepy to which he replied that “if chicks can’t take his jokes they have no business…” Apparently they just have no business. I’m not sure if this is true, does anyone know how many private businesses are operated by women? I replied that I was giving him friendly advice. His response, “This is why men are paid more.” I told him that frankly I thought men were paid more because they bowed down to their female CEOs and begged for forgiveness for their flaws.
Anyways this was my beau number one. Number two was a 43 year old man who had to hide his profile picture because he was a teacher. No doubt he had some deep-seated desire for students since he was contacting me. One of his photos showed him in bed barely covered from the waist down, naked from the waist up, smiling blearily into the camera. Apparently this was taken by “a friend” who had “just woken him up.” His favorite books included: Aristotle, Calvino, Sappho, Caesar, Napolean. I guess he was searching for a companion to help him create an empire and maybe, following the French Revolution, guillotine some people.
Beau number three sent me a message telling me I was sexy. His profile revealed that the most important part of a new relationship was discovering another’s body and that although his primary interest was sex, he was morally against contraception and abortion. I replied of course asking if I was sexy enough to bear his children and got no response. Typical. I mean, I offer to be a man’s procreation machine and I am flat out denied. Sexy indeed.
The final beau I’ll speak about today was a 31 year old army man. He told I was easy on the eyes and that he could distinguish himself from the pack by his ability to give good massages. He offered to give me a sensual massage as a Valentine’s day present. Perhaps a step up from wallowing, but one step away, clearly, from suicide. I politely declined his generous offer.
These, in short, are some of my dating prospects. There are a few I like and see potential in, but am sure I’ll be receiving more messages about my inherent sexual appeal (obviously) and my less inherent procreation abilities. I think both are pretty strong. People are always telling me I have baby-making hips after all.