And I don’t mean bland either, I mean boy howdy f’ugly ugly.

Seems I always have to do some considerable digging before I can find a profile of someone who didn’t look they were the product of a genetic experiment gone horribly wrong. Why is this? Out here in the real world, I don’t have to take two steps before running into a bonnie lass I’d like to club and take home (and I would too if it weren’t for those damned assault laws.) Yet when it comes to these online dating sites I feel like I’m trapped inside a Twilight Zone rerun.

Now before you go bashing my head in with a 2 x 4 here, I happen to think the men on these sites are even uglier… including me.

I’m convinced part of it has to do with the fact that if you got a girl who is A) drop dead gorgeous, and B) has a heartwarming personality of an angel from heaven, then why in God’s name would she need to use an online dating site? Men from all over the world would stampede to her hometown and start gouging each other’s eyes out for a shot at her. She’d have the pick of the litter.

Nope, what we’re seeing on these sites are the leftovers. Girls who couldn’t attract a guy’s attention probably because they all mistook her for being a guy. Or maybe because they weren’t enthralled by the thought of listening to her rant on about feminist power and why all men should be disemboweled just for being men. Or maybe it’s the mention of an angry ex-husband who owns a gun and likes to drink, all while assuring her prospects that yes, he really did stop drinking this time, and he fully realizes that it’s over between them, so no need to worry.

Mainly though, I think it’s the profile photos they choose to use (the recent ones, not the ones showing how you looked when you were ten years younger and 300 pounds lighter, as if I’m expected to believe those 90s outfits are still stylish even today.)

Look, I understand not everyone is photogenic. I know one girl who tends to look pretty bland in photos, but in real life she is absolutely gorgeous. Sometimes, the camera just wants to be mean.

But when I see some of the photos these girls pick out to use on their dating profiles, I’m seriously convinced many of them have a drinking problem. It doesn’t help that the photo they chose to use actually shows them being drunk either. And yet I can’t tell you how many times I keep running across pictures like this. They’re always in some kind of bar somewhere, holding up kegs of beer and making contorted facial expressions at the camera that tells me either someone just grabbed your bunny boons, or you truly are one batsh*% crazy chick.

It’s not even cute when men do it, but when girls do it it’s downright scary. Here’s some advice ladies (and I use the term loosely): those profile pictures of you giving the camera the finger because you were completely hammered from sampling 13 different alcoholic drinks don’t make you look pretty. They don’t make you look cute or sexy or whatever it was you thought the picture was meant to evoke. If you want the kind of guy who’s never seen a “Girls Gone Wild” video, then please STOP acting like you were one of the girls that starred in one.

Ok, now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, how about the sober photos? Here’s the thing: if the only photo you put up is a shot of you 100 feet or so away from the camera, so far away in fact that your image doesn’t take up more than 3 pixels of space on my monitor, then give it up. I know you’re ugly. Why else why would you use a photo that not even the forensics labs at the FBI could successfully enlarge?

And then there’s the dark photos. You know, the webcam shots of yourself that you took at 2 in the morning with only the glow of the monitor to light your face. So now, not only can I not be convinced that you’re pretty, I’m also starting to wonder whether you’re really alive either. Really, when your profile pic looks more like the ghostly image of an angry Lizzie Borden than anything resembling living flesh, I can only suggest one thing: instead of putting it up on Match.com, send it to Ghost Hunters instead. They love that sort of thing.

*Sigh*

I really shouldn’t complain though. If surfing through a sea of mind bending ugliness is what it’s going take to drive me offline and actually try approaching girls in real life, then maybe this is just the kind of medicine I need.

True story: Guy goes online looking for love, only problem is he’s a 46 year old pretending to be 18. He meets the love of his life, an impressionable 18 year old girl who eventually finds out the man of her dreams is a wee bit older than he let on. Depressed and distraught, she runs into the online arms of a 22 year old stud. Finding this to be a rather unacceptable situation, the guy does the only logical thing he can think of: he grabs up his trusty old rifle, hunts down the 22 year old stud and blows him away.

But there’s another problem: the 18 year old girl of his dreams was also a wee bit older than she let on. As in, she was a 45 years old wife and mother of two kids. Whoops.

By the way, the guy was a church deacon.

I swear people, it’s not like I actually go looking for these stories to show that church people are seriously WHACKED (it was an old news item that showed up in my inbox today). Given my recent string of church bashing though, the timing did seem a little odd. But then again for a guy like me that’s par for the course. Welcome to my weird life, folks.

Got an email today from a dating service inviting me to join their affiliate program. Yawn.

But then I noticed this:

Ashley Madison is the premiere online dating agency of its kind designed for people in a relationship, either married or otherwise, who are interested in having romantic and intriguing experiences outside of their relationship…

Holy jumping jiminy jam jimbos…

It does beg the question though: has the dating pool become so pitiful these days that one has no choice but to start hitting up married folks for some loving? I have to admit though, I’ve been tempted at times. There’s two hot coworkers I can think of who are happily married (I guess), but man, what I wouldn’t do for a little coochie coo…

I mean come on, so what if a gal drops her skag of a husband to go rolling around in the hay with me, proving without a doubt that she has no sense of loyalty, faithfulness or moral fiber whatsoever? Biiiiiiiiiiiig deal. I mean all that talk about soulmates and one true loves, pftttttttttt, that is so 10 minutes ago. It’s all fairy tales and bunk anyway. We live in the REAL world now, doncha know?

I’m telling you man, a dating service like this just can’t miss!

Slate isn’t yet on my block list, which is why I was able to come across yet another one of their lame articles, this one espousing on the issue of sex and religion in the lives of American teenagers.

The central emphasis of the article of course was on the usual liberal notion of how promoting abstinence encourages even more booty calls. But then I found this particular gem:
 

What really matters is not which religion teenagers identify with but how strongly they identify. After controlling for all factors (family satisfaction, popularity, income), religion matters much less than religiosity. Among the mass of typically promiscuous teenagers in the book, one group stands out: the 16 percent of American teens who describe religion as “extremely important” in their lives. When these guys pledge, they mean it.

So let me see if I have this right: those who actually take their religion seriously are far less likely to be plowing the field. And this is newsworthy… why again?

If anything, it only reinforces the rather obvious point that a large number (if not the vast majority) of young people claiming to be Christians today are pretty much full of it. They may pay lip service to God, attend church regularly, and speak the language of “Evangelese,” but they are about as much Christian as this bottle of Pepsi I’m drinking here. Look, you guys want to roll around in the hay, or get hammered at college frat parties and wake up in strange places the next day, or flash truckers driving the opposite way, or unabashedly drop f-bombs because it makes you feel like a Soprano, then go right ahead. Just don’t call yourself a Christian. It really frosts my cookies when you do.

I think part of the reason why I get all bent out of shape over this is because it doesn’t exactly make my search for THE ONE any easier. I want to meet a nice CHRISTIAN girl, but now that even bra burning, baby killing streetwalkers are touting themselves as children of the kingdom, this sort of makes my efforts to find a virtuous snuggly pie a little daunting, to say the least. Honestly, if the profiles from dating sites like Match.com were to be believed, then just about 99 percent of the women on there are Christians. But if I’m to be the 31st guy in the supermarket express line that is the sex life of many of these “Christian” Match girls, then I think they might want to do a little more soul searching to discover just what exactly their true religion really is.

Apparently unable to steal anyone’s heart the usual way, an unidentified thief stole a woman’s credit card and charged $1,400 for a computer and various dating services…. (Source: http://tinyurl.com/2zzmpd)

And I’ll wager he’ll actually find somebody too, even if that means getting married in a prison chapel.

My subscription to Match.com expired recently, concluding yet another sad chapter in my never ending search to find my snuggle bunny. I got over 300 views, and of those who read my profile and sent me winks, many were either 19 year old single mothers with 5 kids looking for a Daddy, 40-something year olds looking for a boy toy, or Russian women looking for a visa. I actually paid money for this?

There’s little doubt Match.com has been amongst the crappiest crappity-crap crapfest of a craphole dating site I’ve ever used. And what irks me even more is their glowing boast of how millions subscribe to their dating service, yet what they don’t tell you is that those “millions” get shrunk to thousands by state, then down to hundreds by locality, then to dozens when ruling out the whackos, then to one who is PERFECT for you, but just as you’re about to wink at her, she closes down her account after the guy at work finally works up the moxie to ask her out.

You would think an alternative dating site might prove more fruitful, but it seems the same women can be found on these sites as well. And I don’t mean similar people mind you, I mean the SAME EXACT women. Evidently this is the choice I’m left with: pay 30 dollars a month for one dating site, and if I’m unhappy with it, I can cancel my account and sign up for a completely unrelated matchmaking site for only 10 dollars more a month, offering… uh…. the same exact group of single women.

I’m beginning to think ringing up the DC Madam might not be such a bad idea after all. What I don’t get though is how some of the brothers can sign up for these very same sites and meet the girl of their dreams 30 seconds later. Fine. Here’s a toast hoping your marriages end just as quickly, where your precious love is replaced by alimony and child support payments that quite unfortunately for you will never, ever end. So there. Bastards.

But I’m not bitter.

Really though, I’m getting tired of you fricking happy dappy, lovey dovey, smoochie woochie herd of pervs always getting in my face no matter where I go. I can’t enjoy a hot chocolate at Starbucks without you sitting next to me and nuzzling noses. I can’t watch a movie without you guys sucking faces or stroking each other’s hair front and center. I can’t even go to the park and just try to enjoy the mother-fricking nice spring weather without seeing a whole parade of you walking around holding hands, or playing kissy faces, or rolling around on the grass as if the world were your very own bedroom.

May you all spontaneously combust into ashes. May the plague of mankind descend on you like molten lava on a village. May the wasps of a thousand hives sting all your insides with deathly poison. May… lots of bad things happen to you.

I need to take some valium now.