Remember that one time you finally decided to date that person you’d known for six years but never taken seriously because they made too many bodily function jokes? It seemed like a good idea at the time. You were both on the rebound, looking for something familiar and comfortable to ease the pain. And it worked. So much so that you decided to get engaged three months later. Because, why not? And after six months of flying back and forth — because you were, of course, dating long distance — you finally moved in together. And it was everything you had hoped for, minus all the things you had hoped for. And then, nearing the one year anniversary of your living together, you popped a Xanax, packed your boxes, and waited for that person to come home from work so you could announce that you were leaving, and there was nothing to be done that could possibly save your broken relationship. Remember all that? No? Because I do.
A week later, I joined OKCupid for the second time. That week, I got an email from the site telling me about my new matches. And, of course, there she was, right at the top, smiling at me, her username an in-joke that we had developed while watching countless LA Lakers games together. And, sure enough, we matched 99%.
Thanks to some well-timed screen captures, I still have her OKCupid profile. Thanks to my friend’s home-brewed hefeweizen, I’ve also got the chutzpah to analyze said profile.
User basics: Female, 26, Sagittarius, has two cats, fake redhead, agnostic, username originated from NBA star Pau Gasol and his humorous facial expressions
First impression: Cute and silly. A girl who wears sunglasses. A girl who likes teal. A girl I would most certainly write.
Enough about me, let’s talk about all the morons on this site: (My Self-Summary) “Here is what I’ve learned so far from this site: An incredible number of dudes describe themselves as “funny” and/or “easygoing.” // If you have to tell people that you have a great sense of humor, you probably don’t. Sorry. I have never, ever, heard an actually funny person exposit that they are funny. Why would they need to? // As for “easygoing,” what does that even mean? Does it mean you’re relaxed? Patient? Does it mean you’re lacking in drive or passion? Maybe it means you really love that song from “Follow That Bird” about Big Bird spending a day on a farm with those kids. I don’t know. It seems like such a non-trait. What’s the opposite of easygoing? “Being a ferocious complainer,” I guess. // I am intuitive, communicative, and competitive.”
Analysis: Yes, we are one and the same. You don’t ask someone to marry you if you have nothing in common. But, really, there’s a place for wrecking all the guys who might want to date you, and that place isn’t a dating website. If the first thing you share with potential suitors is how much you don’t like a certain group of people, you might have anger problems or, you know, just be a “ferocious complainer.”
I teach companies how to use Twitter: (What I’m doing with my life) “I moved to Chicago from Boston about a year ago. I work in word-of-mouth marketing, and I love my job even though sometimes I never want to hear the phrase “social media” again. I have been doing improv for 12 years, which is a weird amount of time to have been doing improv before moving to Chicago. What do you do when you get here? I’m still trying to figure that out.”
Analysis: An impressive command of the English language, but notice that pattern in her humor. It looks like that ferocious complaining she mentioned earlier. Interesting. I’m sure it doesn’t come out in her interpersonal affairs or anything, though.
And you wanted to be on The Amazing Race: (I’m really good at) “I’m bad at reading maps, swimming, and following what is going on during action sequences in movies. But I’ve got a pretty solid handle on everything else.”
Analysis: Whether its hyperbole or hubris, our subject’s response is a warning, one that harkens back to the third word she used to describe herself: competitive. This is a euphemism for “stubborn” and “intractable.” If the meatloaf she makes isn’t up to your liking, don’t let her know. Write your congressman (and hope she doesn’t find the email while digging through the files on your laptop when you’re away on business, because she will do just that).
My poor fool is hanged: (My favorite books, movies, music, and food) “My favorite book has been King Lear for a long time. The Hotel New Hampshire is another one I usually name. Right now I am reading Asaf Ronen’s Directing Improv, and I think it’s great.
I don’t watch many movies more than once, but I have watched The Muppets Take Manhattan enough times to be able to sing along with the underscoring between scenes. I think that makes it my favorite movie.
[Last.fm list] I’m not sure how reflective of my favorites that is. Every month or two, I inevitably fall in love with one terrible Top 40 song. Right now that song is Rihanna’s “Rude Boy.” I love it. It’s terrible.
Buffalo chicken on anything. Avocado on anything. Potatoes, all of them. Various berries.
P.S. These lists have been my least favorite part of filling out this profile, and also the last way I would ever try to choose a partner. Seriously, are favorite foods a dealbreaker or dealmaker for people? I once dated a guy who only ate Wonder Bread and Dinty Moore beef stew directly out of the can. I can handle it. If you skimmed or skipped this section, high-five.”
Analysis: We must credit our subject with this: she’s got foreshadowing down. It should come as no surprise that she’s taken yet another opportunity to flex her ferocious complainer muscles, humorous though her response may be.
To be fair, The Muppets Take Manhattan is, indeed, one of the five greatest movies of all time, and her love of this movie was probably the deciding factor in my asking her to marry me. Ironic thing about that is — as she so astutely notes in her response — such overlap in taste does not a dealbreaker (or dealmaker) make.
(NB: I am not the ex who only ate Wonder Bread and Dinty Moore beef stew. I imagine he’s probably dead now.)
Crazy cat lady alert: (The six things I could never do without) “My feet (2); a cat’s feet (4)”
Analysis: She could not have given a more honest answer. The amount of time she spent petting her cats with her feet and/or touching their feet was greater than the amount of time she spent doing anything else, sleep included.
But I do feel the need to commemorate my cats’ half-birthdays: (On a typical Friday night I am) “Running, spinning or otherwise at the gym. Friday nights are one of the absolute best times to be at the gym. After that, I’m home. Or sometimes out. I don’t feel the need to commemorate Friday night for being Friday night, but if something’s going on, I’m game. Actually, on the first Friday of every month I suggest going to Town Hall Pub and seeing this show: [improv group, now defunct]”
Analysis: She doesn’t feel the need to commemorate Friday night, but she does feel the need to let us all know that in what can only be described as defensive language.
(She is, however, absolutely right. Going to the gym on Friday night is the absolute best.)
Most of those questions involve bodily fluids: (The most private thing I’m willing to admit) “Can probably be found among all of those publicly-answered questions. Some of my “make public” choices may have been ill-advised. Lucky you.”
Dyslexics need not apply: (You should message me if) “You answered the “definate” question and marked it mandatory.”
Analysis: Really? Really.
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Final thoughts: There is no doubt about it, our subject has a well-developed, highly-specific sense of humor. Its manifestations, though, are colored with negativity, directed towards potential suitors, the dating website itself, and people in general. Several comedians will tell you that for someone to be a successful comic, he or she must have endured a certain degree of suffering and maintain a relatively fucked up view of the world. While this is most likely true, there are degrees to which a comic performer may be tainted, and our subject, though adept at hiding it for the most part, is definitely on the “considerably more messed up” end of the spectrum.
Of course, the fact that I not only matched 99% with her but also asked her to be my wife speaks volumes about my own personal issues. So there’s that.