This week’s top three profiles.

Let me preface this by saying that I’m not being mean. I’m sure these guys are lovely. However, in the shallow world of online dating, that profile pic does matter. Watch out for stains on your shirt!

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And think about your best angle, which may or may not be from below.

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The unlikely winner though this week has much success with the ladies. I say unlikely because his Tinder profile is upfront  that he is 34, still lives at home with his parents, is unemployed, and has epilepsy. Is it his honesty? Do women want to help him? I’m assured by his bestie that this guy attracts far more than his share of gorgeous single ladies. What do you think?

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“A woman should be like a wonderbra”

So I received this E-harmony email. “Contact me. I’m busy. Bye”.

Obviously a man of few words. It wasn’t a great start to our romance (which is a polite way of saying I had no intention of writing back), but I was curious to see what kind of man would use that opening line.  When I clicked to see his profile, I wasn’t disappointed.

Occupation:  SELF

and the killer line in describing what he was seeking in a relationship:

A woman should be like a wonderbra. Strong, sexy and supportive.”  Genius. Delete. 

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Why wait?

Life used to be simpler. A couple met, decided they wanted to be together, were ready to commit, and became engaged shortly thereafter. That was the case with my parents. And my aunt. 

But even in this cluttered age, love can be straightforward. So this couple met on eHarmony, fell in love, knew they wanted to spend their lives together, and three weeks later were engaged. They wanted to marry immediately, but had to wait the required four weeks upon filing their Notice of Intended Marriage for a civil wedding. And so they live happily ever after.

It can happen.

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The Lioness and the Architect

Thank you to the Lioness for donating this true tale.

Once upon a time, a beautiful young maid ventured out for dinner with her friends. After a lovely time and far too many wines, the group dispersed, and the maid and her Don Juan-esque housemate found themselves at the Rumpus Room. Not long after arriving, Don Juan disappeared onto the dance floor with his latest conquest, leaving our maid to assume nonchalant-I-can-be-cool-drinking-by-myself-at-the-bar mode.

Not for long. “Are you a lioness or a hyena?” whispered a tall, handsome enough man in her ear. The maid was intrigued by the sensual line. Hunting down her prey, or picking over the bones? “Lioness!” Over still more drinks, she found out that he was an architect; he was a bisexual who had been dating an older woman until the kids issue got too complicated, all the while being on call for another man to provide all kinds of sexual pleasure at a moment’s notice. The Lioness knew where she was being led. This was going to be a once in a lifetime wild night, how could she resist!

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The first ominous sign was that his married friend had also found a companion for the evening and was taking over the Architect’s flat, making the Lioness’ den the venue, and harder for her to escape. Despite a promising start, the fervour was cooled by the side effects of The Architect’s anti-depressants, deflating any antics. After the non-event, frustratingly dismayed, the Lioness listened to three hours of the Architect’s tears and problems; his depression, family issues, and relationships, while slowly and surely sobering up.

The next morning, her growling tummy just one part of her unsated, the Lioness found herself agreeing to awkward small talk over breakfast with the Architect. This became even more awkward when the Architect couldn’t pay his $15 share of the bill. Wallet empty, he sought an ATM, but alas, his bank account was empty as well, leaving the Lioness to cover his breakfast. Mysteriously, even to her, she gave the Architect her number when he asked. (I know. Really?!! It’s so easy just to change one digit and run. The Lioness had too kind a heart.) 

For some months, the Architect sent the Lioness text messages. The first described the cold sore that he had developed the next day, suggesting she seek some herpes prevention (ewww!) but they quickly turned into the booty call type. She deleted his messages and number in disgust with many “what was I thinking”‘s, though when faced with a particularly explicit text from an unknown number, she curiously asked “who is this” in hope of a long forgotten cassanova owning up. Alas, it was The Architect, and he was finally cut loose for good.  

And so, the Lioness decided she had had enough of one-night stands and would tread that path no more. Now, you may have experienced that when you decide not to do something, circumstances might lead you astray. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

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