Or: I Finally Figured Out How to Quit Zoosk
Guys. Today is an important day. A day of both joy and sorrow. A day of celebration and mourning. A day of overly dramatic, hyberbolic statements in introduction paragraphs.
Today is the day I finally completely rejected the advances of Zoosk and demanded it never talk to me again.*
*And that it return all the mixtapes I gave it.
Now, everyone** knows Zoosk and I have had a tumultuous relationship. For one thing, the first time I tried to quit it, it repeatedly crashed until I gave up and read all the nonsense poetry people were writing to me.
**All the people I imagine read this in the quiet comfort of my own head
And then I was hooked. The pickup lines were too impressive. Too ridiculous. Too…incredibly obviously not going to work. Honestly, things were getting bad. I was going to end up TLC’s My Strange Addiction, confessing to strangers how I just couldn’t quit reading the bad poetry of pickup lines on the Internet.
Something had to be done.
(It’s also possible that I’m just maybe seeing a real live guy. Maybe.
…Shut up. It IS possible!)
So, on this solemn occasion, I bring you (for the final time)…
(Better defined as “Zoosk Poetry.” The dulcet words of potential woo-ers in the Land of Zoosk.)
“Do you have a map? I keep getting lost in your eyes.”
(No. I don’t have a map. Man up and stop to ask for directions. Duh.)
“I hope you know CPR, because you take my breath away.”
(Nope. I took it, therefore it’s mine. I’m not giving it back.)
“What does it feel like to be the best looking person in this room?”
(Oh man. We’re getting super metaphysical here. In “this” room? Like, the one-on-one chat “room” you’re trying to start with me? Or the room of Zoosk? Clarify here, so I can know how flattered to be.)
“What’s your favorite scary movie?”
(Oh, we’re starting off with movie quotes? Then how about this one: “I thought you’d be taller.”)
“Why aren’t you in jail? It’s illegal to look that good.”
(You don’t know that I’m not. Stop making assumptions.)
“Describe in one sentence the kind of person you’re looking for.”
(“Not a serial killer.” Wait! That’s a fragment. Let me try again. “The kind of man who does not end sentences with prepositions.”)
“Why is a good looking person like you still single?”
(….This is not a legitimate question. Try again.)
“I know you lost your phone number, so here’s mine. <phone number included.>”
(…Know what? That’s thinking outside the box. It’s also a way to end up getting drunk texts from strangers at 3 in the morning.)
“When I saw you, I fainted and hit my head. I need your name and number for insurance reasons.”
(Oh, holy crap! Of course! I’m SO sor-wait a minute. This is a trick!)
And, the best of all of them:
“You r pretty enough.”
(…Wait. Wait wait. Pretty enough? Enough for what? What system of measurement are we using here, and what’s the competition? I need answers!)
And so an era of dating website mockery ends. At last, I shall no longer stay up until 2:30 in the morning on a work night, flipping through messages to note down the very best ones for blogging purposes. My pre-geriatric bedtime shall be restored!
I know. This leaves us all very sad.**** So I shall leave you with a thought experiment to take your mind off things:
****Also there have been exactly zero actual doodles in this post.
I present to you Schrödinger’s Cake.
Guys. The cake might be a lie. But it also might not be. There could be cake in there.