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Monday, December 1, 2014

Why I would suck at online dating


The concept of online dating has always intrigued me. I hitched my saddle to my husband’s pony before Match and eHarmony were even things, let alone Tinder and god knows whatever perverted shit there is on the market nowadays. 

Whenever I have a nightmare that my husband leaves me out of the blue, the first thing I think is, “Now I can finally try online dating!” Weird, right? I don’t even ask him why. I just accept it and get to work on creating my profile. 

Here is the raw, unfiltered truth of what dating me would be like:

Please note lack of upper lip.

User name: I like beer and boyfriends.

About me: I'm loud, annoying and always right. Even when I am wrong. I am a bleeding heart that will bring home strays (both animal and human) constantly. I love to cook. Sometimes. I like to drink. Most times. I run so I can eat what I want. I eat more than my running accounts for so there is some junk in my trunk (and frunk—can I make frunk a thing?).

Favorite Movie/Band/TV Show/Song/Color/Brand of toilet paper: Christmas Vacation, The Lumineers, Project Runway, Josh Turner Your Man, Green, Charmin

Six things I can't live without: 
Pandora, wine, running, my friends, my kids and my husband (is that weird since this is a dating site?).

What you're looking for: A woman with a take-charge attitude who can drink beer with the best of ‘em and make a lasagna like Paula Deen (minus the dash of racism). You want a girl with a wicked sense of humor who hasn’t missed a meal and doesn’t back down when confronted with a challenge. Otherwise known as a mouthy, southern bitch (minus the whole being-from-the-south thing).

Marital status: Well, I hope that if I am creating an online dating profile that it would be single. If not, I would probably search for a more specific website to cater to my swinger tendencies. I don’t want to waste my time courtin’ no better-than-though monogamists now, do I? Damn right I don’t.

Age: I stopped counting about 5 years ago. Around the same time I stopped keeping track of my weight. I think there might be a correlation…

Height and weight: Tallish. Getting wider/squishier by the minute (see age correlation above).

Body type: Is celery filled with mashed potatoes a body type? Because if so, that’s it. I have lanky limbs and a middle that resembles copious amounts of raw dough being contained in a rather unstable trash bag. Also, baby got back. Lots ‘o’ back. Sorry, I cannot lie.

Income: The question shouldn’t as much be about income but the amount of outcomes that I have. Target is a toothless slut that sings a siren song that I cannot resist. I have yet to meet a clearance end cap that I can wheel past without magnetically drawing half of the shelves’ contents into my cart.

Education: I went to college. I learned how to master the beer bong, puke and rally, find the cheapest food, tame unruly frat boys, and smoke without inhaling (cough, cough).

Occupation: Writer of words, wrangler of toddlers and maker of home. BOOM! It’s a three-fer.

Smoking/drinking/drugs: Yes, please. Except cigarettes, or crack, or Everclear, or heroin, or, hell, can I just have wine?

Children: No. I mean, I have kids that I generally tolerate pretty well most days, but I don’t want you to put any more in me and I for sure don’t want to create a whole Brady Bunch situation or anything. 

Pets: I have an obese cat who will cut you for a slice of turkey or a chocolate pudding cup. I have a rabbit, but all he really does is eat a lot and crap everywhere. I like dogs. If they aren’t annoying and don’t shed everywhere, hump legs, chew things or nudge my arm with their wet nose so I will keep petting them.

Medical issues: Hypothyroidism, acid reflux, PTSD and chronic depression. Sexy, right?

Sexual orientation: I’m a power bottom.

Likes: Wine, salt and vinegar chips, cake, picking my nose when I am alone, making sure things are lined up just the way I like them or else, seeing how long I can make it without showering, inviting people over on nights you want to just stay in and be alone.

Dislikes: Rascals Flatts, chest hair and black olives.

Who should message me: No one. I’m married you pervert!


If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

6 comments:

  1. I laughed out loud throughout this entire post Julie. "...celery filled with mashed potatoes..." I am dying.

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  2. HA! Frunk. Yes.

    Also, dying over the "celery filled mashed potatoes".

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  3. Clearly we should be best friends since we apparently are exactly the same (right down to the weird nightmares about our husbands leaving, though in mine I'm always trying to figure out how to keep the ring. Weird? Maybe, but I like my ring!)

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  4. "Target is a toothless slut that sings a siren song I cannot resist." This line will show up in a work convo tomorrow for sure. Also, frunk. It's now a thing. :)

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I love hearing from you. It reinforces that writing this blog is not just a silly waste of my brain matter. If you leave a douche canoe comment, I will delete it. I am powerful like that.

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