Friday, June 28, 2013

The Dating Scene: More Grim Tales

They say that backlash doesn't play like the original did. That's a fancy way of saying that sequels aren't very successful since they lack the originality of their predecessors.

To that I say, bunk.

Awhile back, I shared an experience I had on a certain dating site. My ruminations guiding me, my imagination soon had me being attacked by a biker gang and having to work in a diner for a week in order to come up with enough bus fare to get home. (Biker gals are tough. Tough, baby.)

I'm not out to top that daydream. Lately I decided to sneak another peek at the ol' "love and happiness for $89.95" site. It wasn't my intent to make fun of any specific person then, nor is it now. With that said, following are a few experiences I've had recently on that same site.

"Beulah In Boone", a hair stylist with a bald spot, seems like a nice person. Slightly cynical, the woman thinks President Obama should include scalp conditioning in the Affordable Care Act. "If the government would include mandatory perming to cover bald spots", claims the winner of the 1989 National Tall Hair Contest, "there wouldn't be so many people suffering from low self esteem." I tried explaining that self esteem comes from within instead of from appearance, but Boone's best would have none of it. "Do you realize how many people could benefit from perming thin areas? And how much better they would feel about themselves?" My response was largely ignored by the determined woman. "I had a few of those fancy 'dos myself in the 80s. Gave me the profile of an ice cream cone." Her claims that I could probably carry the look off if "the cut was right" led me to believe that the operator of Chair Number Three was trying to drum up a little business. Besides, when I was enrolled at Virginia Western, I lost more than a few pencils in those things. We disagreed about her rationalization regarding hair styling being included in Obamacare, but we left on amicable terms with regard to big hairdos making really nifty built-in pillows.

"Tricia DollBaby4" is a jack hammer operator in Beckley. A woman "married to her career", as she states on her intro page, the lady proudly shows off no fewer than nine pit bull tattoos on her twenty-seven inch arms. "I'm a renaissance girl, really", she claims. "I can't find shirts in my size, so I cut old bed sheets and make a front side and a back side to them. Then all I have to do is make a place for the buttons. I don't worry about sleeves. When you have guns like mine, you don't want to hide them." I asked her why she was on a dating site if she's "married to her career". Her response, "I'm looking to make friends" seems a little odd to me. I suspect that the woman is looking for some well-heeled guy to pay for all of those protein bars necessary to maintain her magnificent biceps. Having weight-trained myself in the past, I find that her pride and joy strikes a chord of empathy within me. I'll have to place her dossier in the "maybe" file. Besides, I might be buying an old Plymouth Duster, and I could really use someone who can hold the transmission in place while I bolt it in.

A woman of distinction, PriscillaPerfect is the quintessential belle. Prissy, as I've come to know her, believes in her daintiness so devoutly that she absolutely will not leave the house when the wind is blowing, lest the ruffles on her dress flap about and make her look "icky and unkempt". High maintenance doesn't come close to describing the Dear One's astounding collection of shoes. "I have at least forty-eight pairs", sniffs the professional homemaker. "Of course, the pair I use when I clean the kitchen in no way substitutes for my magenta laundry room slippers". Replying to her self-description  with my own, ol' Prissy informs me that a real man should be clean and tidy at all times. "If you have work shoes, that means you do work which makes you all sweaty and gross!" I haven't the heart to tell this well-intentioned, if haughty, matron of narcissism that my educational background rests to no small degree on an in-depth understanding of ego defense mechanisms.

Maybe I should have told her that I'm a bartender, which is similar to being a counselor except it's cheaper and a lot more honest.


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