I was recently asked by an evil woobie what I wanted in a woman, since I seemed to be sending mixed signals regarding the female race (bashing them to death while yearning for one at the same time). Well alllllrighty then.

I’ve split my list here to those traits I oh-so-badly want a girl to have, and those traits that are complete deal-breakers that will send me screaming and running for the hills. I think once you finish reading through the list you’ll begin to see why I’m still single.

Deal Breakers (Any one of the following will automatically result in immediate disqualification. No refunds.)

• She’s ugly.
• Really ugly.
• I mean damned gouge-my-eyes-out ugly.
• She loves to boss people around, including God Himself.
• Has a mouth like a sailor, and regularly drops f-bombs like a New Jersey mob boss. Not. Cool.
• She has tattoos and piercings in places that hasn’t even been categorized by science yet.
• She thinks nothing of wearing flip flops in subzero temperatures with a full on blizzard warning in effect.
• She is an absolute diehard fan of “reality” TV.
• Modesty is a foreign concept to her. She’d be the girl wearing the tube top at a relative’s funeral.
• She is, for lack of a better phrase, a complete moron.
• She gets her news from Glamour and Vogue magazines.
• She lives to play mind games (unfortunately this might rule out all the women on the planet.)
• She doesn’t say thank you when someone holds the door open for her.
• If the devil is the father of lies, she’s the mother of it.
• She has an ego bigger than the Goodyear Blimp.
• Her idea of doing charity work is to cry a lot.
• There’s never a moment when she DOESN’T have PMS.
• She loves being labeled a “bitch” as if it were a badge of honor.

And now with that unpleasantness out of the way, here’s my list of traits that would make me want to love her up, and love her down, and round and round the merry-go round:

• Shares the same Christian beliefs I do, and at least tries to take it seriously. I’m not looking for sainthood here, but simply wearing a t-shirt that says “Jesus is my homeboy” does not constitute being a Christian to me.
• She’s either apolitical or shares the same basic political viewpoints I do. Seriously, if you’re the sort who thinks Europe is superior to us in every conceivable way, then go live there and leave us ignorant hicks alone.
• She’s smart. Really smart. Yes, I’m aware of the fact that a high level of intelligence would mean she wouldn’t come within a 100 miles of yours truly, but I mean smart in every other respect. Common sense could be her middle name too.
• She’s a deep person. Everything about life fascinates her, and she views it all with a kind of eloquent, yet childlike innocence.
• She’s funny in a quirky but harmless kinda way. She adores corny jokes, while dirty ones turn her off.
• She’s humble and gentle, the very embodiment of warmness, softness and snugglies.
• She makes me want to be a better man. Or more accurately, she tries to help me be a better man.
• She has a heart for giving, and her works of charity aren’t merely token gestures, but defines who she is as a person.
• She’s kindhearted, always aware of her surroundings and who might be in distress or pain, ever eager to comfort those in need. And trust me baby, I need it most of all.
• She’s principled, strong and brave.
• She can look sexy and beautiful while still maintaining her modesty.
• She is a hopeless romantic. She is all about poems and art and literature and music and history and spirituality and all those wonderful things that invite deep discussions and long talks by the fireplace.
• She is a health nut, (but not a vegan.) I kinda need this one too, since my idea of eating vegetables is to add more tomato sauce to the crust when making pizza.

Welp’, that’s it in a nutshell. Soooo…. does she exist? Or should I be looking into getting myself medically castrated and joining the nearest monastery?

I am completely and utterly in love with whoever that hot, hot, hot, HOT girl is on the left sidebar (here’s a pic since the banner is no longer there):

Oh man, the eyes, it’s like they’re staring directly into my soul…

Can ANYONE tell me who she is? Please?? I need to know. I really really really really really really REALLY need to know. Please, if you love me, you’ll help me. I’ll give you money, ad space, my car (ok… maybe not my car), but whatever else you want.

Wednesday night I pulled up to the Starbucks drive-thru again, hoping against hope that Angelic Voice would be there…

“Hiiiiiiiiiii, welcome to Starbucks!” What can I get for you?”

Oh yeaaaaahhh….

While I ordered hot chocolate my MP3 stereo was blasting Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’,” a great background song I thought for what I was about to attempt.

“Don’t stop believin’,
Hold on to the feelin’”!

I pulled up and finally saw her, her hair tied up and revealing a cute, soft face as she put my drink together. I grinned and leaned over to crank up Journey.

Except I accidentally hit the wrong button and the track skipped to CCR’s “Bad Moon Rising” instead.

“I see a bad moon a-rising!
I see trouble on the way!”

SH*&!!!!!!!!!!!!

I frantically tried to get it back when Angelic Voice opened the window to hand me my drink.

“Oh thanks! Hi listen, ummm…” I began awkwardly.

But she had already slammed the window shut.

“Don’t go around tonight,
Well it’s bound to take your life,
There’s a bad moon on the rise!”

After I hauled my sleep deprived body out the door for work, I stopped by the drive thru at Wendy’s to grab some grub on the way. I started making my selection and then began wondering why they couldn’t seem to hear my order. Then I saw the reason why: I had pulled up in front of a trash bin and mistakenly thought it was the intercom.

Whoops.

You know it’s stupidity like that that reminds me of why I can’t get a woman. Who wants to be with an idiot like me? That’s why I’m banking on the sympathy factor, in the hopes that I will find someone who will feel so bad for me that they decide to stay with me just out of pity.

Well a guy can dream at least.

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.

Heath Ledger’s passing was truly tragic, but I have to ask myself, what is it about being rich and famous that induces so many people into thinking, “Hmmm, my life really sucks, let me start throwing down a few and shoot me up some happy juice.”

Naturally, I blame women for this.

No really, think about it. Who else on this planet can take a guy who is:

• Wildly successful, good looking and famous, with his face and name gracing all the major papers on a regular basis…
• Has hundreds of thousands of adoring fans…
• Has enough money to buy his own island and all the toys he could ever want…

…and then effortlessly cause him to wake up in a pool of his own vomit, wishing he had never been born?

It was probably a woman who drove the Joker batsh*% insane.

Whatever caused poor Heath Ledger’s downward spiral, I can guaran-damn-tee you that a woman had something to do with it.

So what lesson can we draw from this? I would suggest this: if you ever become rich and famous and want to truly enjoy your success and live a long, healthy and happy life, then you need only follow one rule: Stay the F*&% away from women.