I've flirted with all sorts of 'dating' sites trying to find a spectacular woman who could stimulate my mind, challenge my intelligence, make sense during one of her complaining/cunty episodes, and successfully pull a load out of my dick daily without making me think of some other hussy while my eyes were closed.
It makes sense for someone such as myself who is primarily exposed to pole-twirling minxes; trying to branch out and associate with a woman who doesn't necessarily frequent Sunday mass, but at least knows what noon and good credit feels like; gotta find a homemaker instead of a home-wrecker.
Somewhat of an experiment, somewhat of an adventure, and a little hope of prosperous love-making, my sister hooked up a profile for me on
Okcupid. This site works like every other love-match bullshit: fill out your profile, upload some pics and browse for bitches to lay some pipe in/onto. Unlike
Match.com or
Eharmony, though,
Okcupid is a 'free' method to obtain 100s of people's horseshit.
Well, to my surprise, seriously about a half-hour into the process, this site asks you an ENDLESS amount of questions; barrages of inquiries that are hypothetically supposed to better your chances at finding the one whom you'd forever want to share sex, money and lies with until your eulogy is read, but sadly only results in a waste of a couple hours of your life you'll never retrieve.
At roughly the 63rd question as I sat there with my sister, both laughing at the ridiculousness of the cross-examining on my monitor, I'd pronounced, "Holy fuck, this would make a great post."
So here are some of the ludicrous questions I'd decided to take a snapshot of (and answer accordingly); Chuck Woolery would have never attempted such silliness.
A better place? Holy fuck. It sounds like ethereal harmony. Imagine if we didn't have to tolerate the idiots who dropped out of some dumb bitch's pussy a few decades ago. Example: You ever talk to someone while it's raining and they say, "Hey, did you order this weather?" Die.
Do I know what sperm tastes like? You fucking kidding me??? Earlier in the signing-up process I'd already said that I'm heterosexual. How the fuck are you gonna ask me if I've played hobgobblin on some guy's shaft then decided to consume the fireworks? Eat shit.
When I see people mistreat animals, I snarl and grow aggravated much like PETA. However, I don't know what that dog/cat/gerbil did in that person's house. That little mutt might have shit/pissed/ate and fucked up a massive amount of property without my knowledge. If the dumb rodent deserves an ass-kicking, I say give it, but don't club any living thing . . . except for seals. Seals kinda piss me off: fatass penguins.
I'm fairly confident that anyone who has dated/fucked a stripper has played out a rape fantasy . . . in her head, at least (Good; we likely weren't thinking of you, either.)
Tolerating someone's verbal abuse from a mate you're fucking regularly is just like drinking tap water when you've run dry on bottled: sure, it happens, but ya try to pay for it not to.
Thanks, OkCupid. Hook me up with a woman who thinks to herself: "Wow, there's a sale at Bakers! Two-for-one shoes if I buy the first pair for $70. I'm saving!"
Legs should probably clock-in at 3rd most important. Graze your armpits every bathe and for Christ's sake, shave your pussy bald. Landing strips and lightning bolts aren't artistry down there. I don't know how often men care about how your legs are befalling the victim of excrescence, but tame the pubes so we don't choke while trying to get you in the mood to actually fuck.
This question was so ambiguous. I don't know if
OkCupid were asking if the bitch knew what vagina or catfish smelt like. I'm gonna say 'her breath' for safe measures. Tic-Tacs are only a dollar . . . I'm sure the broad has at least 163 of them in her purse while standing in line at the gas station at 5 a.m. Splurge.
I don't understand the question completely. It suggests it's okay to beat the bastard if only repercussions don't occur because of evidence. Could depend on what state/providence you're in: Wisconsin ='Ur fucked. Georgia = Hero. Mexico = Father or closest thing she'll ever see to someone working. Tina Turner in the '80s = nourishment. It all depends.
Nooooooo! I'd STAY and help them pack Jolly Ranchers into the glove compartment of my white van. Sometimes I'd throw some Sour Patch Kids on a hook and just throw a line out the window and call it a lure. Dumb fuckers!
Yea, sign me up for that program! I'd love to work 8 hours a day, come home every night and listen to her crap and not even have the primordial thought of grinding out my aggravations pelvic-wise. Personally, I'd rather join the military; that way I at least MIGHT get blown after supporting people who use me.
I uhh . . . answered this one as to what I thought people would want to hear. To be real honest, I would fuck her lifeless body and not tell her the next day. Likely even set up the camcorder if I knew she was that drunk so I could post it up on my site as comedy porn after we broke up. What?? . . . She wouldn't know, and I'd consider that note consensual intercourse anyway.
I'm pretty sure my sister and I laughed at this question for roughly 40 seconds straight.
Somewhere out there are people who fancy the deceased. These mortals might gain pleasure from one-way orgasms. I've seen a couple videos of such acts and have heard some stories, but why a public website allows a question like this to be asked is the real disturbing part.
Ya know . . . look. I'm just about done with this nonsense. I'd already stated to these pricks that I was heterosexual during my horror-filled joining process; now they're asking me if I want inanimate objects up my asshole to achieve sexual nirvana.
What a bunch of shit.
OkCupid is the lamest 'network' mingling bridge I've ever attempted to scurry beyond, and I've read the local newspaper here in Milwaukee for singles so I've already dove into the sewage.