At this point in my life, I’ve whittled down the number of people I’m friends with to a relatively select few. I’ve known most of my friends for years – in fact, I’ve known some of them for over a decade. I’d like to think that after all this time, they finally understand that I am fundamentally a socially irresponsible hermit/vampire who is prone to cancelling plans at the last minute or falling asleep and missing them entirely. I know that this behavior is somewhat selfish, but honestly, you only live once, and I’m pretty sure that on my deathbed I’m not going to be turning to my children (and/or multiple pugs) and saying, “My only regret is that I didn’t go out to more shitty bars where no one chatted me up and my shoes got ruined by drunk bitches who spilled drinks on them.”
YOU look like you’re going to kill your whole family eventually, so I should probably not date you. Pre-emptively. For when that happens.
Um…oh my God…okay, so right next to a photograph of two adorable dogs, you have a photograph of you next to…I don’t even know, Rip Van Winkle? Old Man Time? Old Man RIVER – that’s getting closer! A Gorton’s fisherman…in 1960! He’s half your height and also his torso is disproportionately long.
You appear to have pockmarked skin, which means that you are either a time traveler or you had cystic acne.
Woah…you have SERIOUS hair. Like, a hairline that starts roughly 3cm above your eyebrows! “My self-summary: I don’t like putting up info about myself online (in case the terrorists use it to blackmail me and my friends) but, alas, times have changed, so… you want to know about Elias? I’ll TELL ya ‘bout Elias.” Woah. “I’m the guy in the purple suit and crazy clown makeup” – spelled MAKUEUP – “I’m the prideful lion. I’m the lone wolf.” Well, you can’t be a lion AND a wolf. You have to pick one of the two. “What do people notice about me? My hair.” No kidding…your hair is positioned wrong on your head! You should probably curse God for that, the fact that you have that situation.
This is the first in a series called “Caroline Plays Mean Quickmatch.” Mean Quickmatch is a game in which you scroll through the ‘quickmatch’ option on Okcupid.com and make nasty and superficial comments about each of the prospective suitors that appears.
Few things irk me more than being told to be quiet by a stranger. Once a man on the Jitney told me and my friend to ‘quiet down’ because we were on the ‘quiet bus.’ He then proceeded to knock back four shots of vodka in ten minutes and pass out with his shirt unbuttoned and beer gut on display. Hey dude: it’s called the ‘quiet bus,’ not the ‘thinly-veiled alcoholic’s mobile nudist retreat.’
I just don’t want to have to worry about the old woman in the aisle seat breaking her hip when the bus stops short while she’s standing to let me out.