The Glory of Online Dating (part 1)

In my never-ending quest for love, I will stop at nothing to find my "Mrs. Right". So it was only natural that I eventually stumbled upon the world of online dating. It seemed like such a sure thing. The commercials on TV made it seem like the easiest and greatest thing since individually packaged dill pickles.

I sat late one evening watching these commercial people who seemed so happy… so fulfilled by what online dating had given them. These folks seemed so in love. I watched them dance, kiss, fly through the air, whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears, and have graphic sexual intercourse with each other… Suddenly I realized that what I was witnessing was no longer the commercial, but that I had been sitting on the remote and had inadvertently pressed the DVD "play" button, thus starting a pornographic film that was in the player and that I had been violently masturbating to earlier that day. I also realized that my phallus was very erect as a direct result. Rather than stopping the film, I let it continue to play, slid my pants down past my pasty rump, and proceeded to slather myself with cocoa butter. I then ferociously attacked my throbbing member with both hands, greedily pumping my fists up and down while my wide, bloodshot eyes stared unblinkingly at the television screen. Online dating could wait until later.

Approximately four and a half minutes later, I had cleaned myself up, turned off the graphic film, and resumed my regular television watching. I waited impatiently for the online dating commercial to reappear, gnawing at my fingernails and grumbling curses to myself all the while. At long last, it replayed. I sat, completely engrossed and intrigued, perched on the edge of my seat, watching the commercial and furiously jotting down notes into a tablet I keep on the end table for just such occasions. I needed to know everything there was to know about this mysterious technique of meeting women. There was absolutely no room for error. I figured that if I followed the commercial’s advice exactly, there was no chance of failure. Soon, I would surely BE one of those happy, love-infected individuals I saw frolicking across my television screen. The thought of it flowed through my brain and I smiled with glee as my penis throbbed again warmly.

I sprang from my seat on the couch and dashed across my apartment to my computer. There was certainly no time to lose! Every second I spent watching television or masturbating was time that my woman could be meeting someone else and getting away. There was no way I was going to let her escape my grasp. I glanced at my writing tablet and typed in the website that the commercial had advertised. Immediately, a window with a beautiful woman popped up on my screen. The woman was clearly lustful and desired sexual intercourse of some type. She was wearing a low-cut top, which allowed her shapely breasts to squeeze together just enough to make a perfect crease. Her nips were almost visible through the shirt as well. I shivered with anticipation. There was a speech balloon above the beautiful woman that said, "MEET YOUR MATCH TODAY!! CREATE YOUR OWN FREE PROFILE AND FIND THE ONE YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR!!" It sounded easy enough. I clicked the "Enter" button and was immediately routed to a screen which ordered me to enter personal information about myself, such as my height, weight, eye color, hair color, interests, and other completely obsolete facts that no woman on earth would possibly care about. I was livid with rage that these heathens would try to delve and pry into my personal affairs. I lifted my computer high above my head and considered smashing it to bits, but hesitated as I thought of the happy couple I observed on television. I set the computer back down and submissively entered the information anyway. I carefully read the instructions for each entry and page by page, filled in the blanks, selected the correct options, and typed out my introductory paragraph. Then, I uploaded several photos of myself, including the one of me and my step-uncle naked in the bathtub when I was seven, and I looked over my finished profile. I beamed with pride at my accomplishment. Any woman would be outrageously delighted to gaze upon a profile such as this! My profile would surely draw women to it, much like a vacuum cleaner draws particles of filth from an old shag carpet. All I had to do was wait.

After four and a half hours of waiting, staring bug-eyed at my computer screen, I was starting to get very angry indeed. Not one single woman had written to say she wanted to have me in her life! I was growing angrier by the second. I had finished two bottles of wine and enjoyed several stout Rob Roys in the time that I had been waiting and the liquor only added to my fury. With a furious bellow, I slammed shut my laptop computer and passed out, my body falling limply onto a pile of dirty towels.