It’s The End of an Era

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.

I'll never let go, Zoosk! I'll never let go!

Those tears of sorrow are super heartfelt, I’m sure.

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.

Cake is better to experiment on than cats

There may be cake inside. There may be no cake inside. There both is and is not cake…Until you look inside.

Guys. The cake might be a lie. But it also might not be. There could be cake in there.

The cake is a lie the cake is a lie

It’s not really a lie if I knew it was once a truth…

More Sweet Poems from the Internet

The Internet is an amazing world of creativity, facts and possibilities. It’s also a dark pit of online dating sites. We’ve already discussed the fact that Zoosk thwarted my attempts to quit their online matchmaking services, but now I have a confession.

I can’t bring myself to miss out on the amazing entertainment value of the seduction attempts of The Men of Zoosk.

Curly mustaches!

The Men of Zoosk: Making handlebar mustaches look better than ever.

For the second time, I bring you:

(Better defined as “Zoosk Poetry.” The dulcet words of potential woo-ers in the Land of Zoosk.)

I think UR a QT!
(Are you a real person? Or are you a Dateline spy trying to trick me into dating a 42 year old man for some special report? I’m on to you!)

<Series of numbers that are probably a phone number but I’m going to pretend they aren’t.> Tex mi.
(Oooo….Is this like the DaVinci Code? Will that series of numbers lead me to understand exactly what “Tex mi” means? Or are you a Texan? There are just so many possibilities here.)

If I sound drunk, it’s because you intoxicate me.
(Dammit. I’ve always wanted to be someone’s anti-drug. I guess I’ll have to settle for being a form of booze. Life goal failed.)

Oh so your too cute.
(Oh so grammar is not your thing.)

What’s your favorite type of naked game?
(Ok. Ok. We’re drawing a line right here. Because this is not a thing real people EVER SAY TO STRANGERS outside of a mental institution. Also, my favorite type of naked game is the one where everyone’s clothes are still on so everyone’s naked is still a secret. Keep it in your pants, or I’m calling Dateline. I have a direct line to them now.)

Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Because you’re obviously an angel.
(Yes. It did. A lot. It’s not very nice to ask about someone’s traumatic history.)

What does it feel like to be a blonde joke?
(…At last. A man interested in my life-long struggle.)

If I sound drunk, it’s because you’re so intoxicating.
(Guys! GUYS! I got this one TWICE! It MUST be true!)

Nerdy is hot sometimes.
(Oh. Are we playing the “sometimes a fact statement” game? Because stovetops are hot sometimes. And the weather is occasionally inclement.)

Honestly, it’s just amazing that these men are still single.* Fellow single ladies, we have our pick of the litter.
*Proving Darwin’s theory of natural selection reassuringly true. 

In other news, sometimes I indulge in activities that aren’t just on the Internet.

This past weekend I went bowling and ice skating. And, because I am a coordinated lady, I fell during bowling. But not during ice skating.***

Figure skaters would look amazing on hockey skates

My hockey skates bring all the boys to the yard. Errr…the ice rink.

***Ok, so I also fell during ice skating, but when ice skating, I fell on top of someone – so I had help. During bowling, I fell all on my own

I would marvel at this, but there’s an obvious explanation. When bowling, I was trying to convince a charming man I was charming, too.**** I went ice skating with friends who already know of my tendency to fall at unexpected times.
****See? Sometimes I interact with real live men. It happens. Don’t look so shocked.

No one to impress = less falling. It’s basic physics.

Only I could find a dinosaur on a date.

As a consolation, I found this tiny orphan dinosaur at the bowling alley. So, you know, there’s that.

So, in summation: Darwin is a genius, and I really like dinosaurs. Happy Monday, everyone.