Is English Your Second Language - Dating Part III

Is English your second language?  In the grimy underworld of online dating, this seems to be the question I want to begin most messages with.  I'm fine if it is your second language. Let a bitch know so I don't think you dropped out in the 3rd grade and now you're out in the world messaging me pretending to be a grown ass man with a job & shit.  

Being a user of online dating services numerous times over the last 7 years I've noticed that some serious fuckery occurs.  Not just the members are guilty of said fuckery.  The sites blow ass chunks too. These dating sites need to take a lesson from Fuckerburg and get their shit together.  It can't be that hard.  Facebook is a free site and and those bitches know the last time I pooped and what kind of toilet paper I used because you can be damn sure there's ad for it the second I log on.  The only thing these sites have in common with Facebook is their nonstop need to get my money.  Denied.

The sites

A perfect example dating website shenanigans.  My first day back on display, I go directly to my matches because I'm all excited and shit because the man of dreams is going to be waiting for me. Negative.  You know who was waiting in my matches?  My next door neighbor (an ex meth dealer who was released from a federal penitentiary two years ago, and has seen me naked a million times because I don't close my curtains - zero fucks given here), a dude I hang out with every Friday night (for years), my ex best friend's brother-in-law (who I know well enough to have spent 9 days in Alaska with), my first Florida boyfriend's little brother (I've known him since he was 12 and still know him as an adult because he might be a bar whore), and a guy I've known for years (and cannot fucking stand). It was like Facebook's "People you might know".  I already know all those people and I have zero interest in them.  Zero.  So much for meeting new people, shitty dating website.  I wanted to just give up immediately because seriously, this kind of bullshit makes my face squinch up. I'm not attractive with a squinchy face. Trust me.

These sites also get off on subjecting its members to horrible quizzes.  They are tedious, annoying, and by the time I finished with just 2 of them (there are 5 on this particular site) I wanted to stab every person on the site.  Seriously, if the fucking men and women on these sites can't even bother to read the paragraph I so painstakingly typed up to describe my bad self, I'm pretty fucking certain they aren't reading the 3 page long quiz results to see if we are a personality match.  Get off my tip with your tests, dating site.

The members

Please, please read my list of my Dating Profile Dont's by clicking HERE after you finish this post. In addition to that list, I've found some new shit that bunches my thong (and it's hard to bunch a thong). Men with the profile pic of them in bed.  You know, the head on the pillow looking all dreamy?  So not.  They do not look dreamy.  They look downright scary.  Scary like they have bitches tied up in the basement.  I'm not sure the reasoning behind this particular pose but if you know anybody who's particularly fond of it? Tell them to fuck off for me.

The profile "about me" section is not meant for 1 line of text that says: "I'll fill this out later" or "If you want to know, ask me" (and about 75% of profiles state one of those).  If I wanted to ask you shit, I'd be at the bar asking not trolling a goddamn website, BITCH (I totally shook my head like a black girl while I typed that - picture it).  The best fucking thing about a dating website is that you have time to properly describe yourself without downing 7 vodka drinks like at the bar.  For fuck sake, handle that shit.

Every guy on the site cannot have the tag line "Looking for a Good Woman (usually spelled women)".  There needs to be a limit on tag line usage.  Like email addresses.  There can be only one, motherfucker.  Sites, do your damn job.  Good woman, my ass.

And last but so not least - This is my 3rd attempt to date via the internets.  There are currently 27 men on this particular site that I have talked to at least once since the first time I did this shit 7 years ago. Each and every one of these 27 men has the same profile picture as they did then.

Every.  Single. One.  

Makes ya' think, don't it? 



PPB aka the Precious Princess - The Princess is a twice divorced, currently single, self-proclaimed member of the mentally hilarious. She has been referred to as living under a rock stocked with vodka and anger. Her 13 year old “Mini”, who is carbon copy of the Princess, is often the subject of blogs, and Facebook posts. In addition, she writes about dating, the dumbness of boys, life after 40, and shares stories from Bananaland which is both her past and current residence. She is the owner/sole admin for the Facebook page Precious Princess's Guide to Bananaland where she is famous for her rants and her blunt, honest, and sarcastic look at life. She blogs both extremely funny and all-the-feels posts at Princess Bananaland. She hates people, kids, and karaoke. She uses all the swears and makes up dirty words.

Sad Frown Vodka Face

Sad Frown Vodka Face.  I have this.  I have this a lot. Not because vodka makes me sad but because people make me sad. There are bad people in my life who think my love of vodka should be integrated with a love of people. Specifically bar people.  These lousy fucks are insisting that I should go to a bar and pay triple the price for my delicious vodka and wear pants while I participate in complete fuckery.  This is all wrong.  This is not how I do it.  This is not how I do it at all and here's the fuck why:

I work with people all day long.  Co-workers.  Customers.  All goddamn day I manage to hide my disdain for the human race.  I'm attentive, understanding, and downright fucking pleasant. Everybody is under the impression that I'm fanfuckingtastic.  I hate them.  They don't get me.  I'm sarcastic and witty.  People aren't.  This is fine. I don't hate them because they don't get me.  I hate them because they aren't me.  I like me.  I'm comfortable with me.  Me gets me.  When I take me home after a long day at work we have a great time.  My patience for the outside world ends promptly at 6 pm.  And then...it doesn't.  In addition to being a lover a vodka and a hater of people, I am a parent and that shit means there are kid things to tend to: parents, teachers, assemblies in the middle school gym, and the absolute worst - other kids.  I shoot the fuck outta my comfort zone each and every day.  Coping with the minutiae of every day life wears my ass out.

I have serious anxiety.  I shoveled my meds in like a good girl, hand over fist, for years.  Last year, I quit.  The zombie life wasn't fun anymore.  I needed to feel things again.  I feel eleventy-million times better but I FEEL THINGS AGAIN.  I am acutely aware of my emotions.  No - I don't understand them - that would be crazy.  I'm just aware of them. Anxiety and the unknown are a bad mix.  People = unknown.  I cannot predict what people, specifically strangers, will throw my way.  At work I'm paid to deal with these situations.  At home, not so much.  For the safety of myself and others, I tend to take the most familiar route to all the things.  I try new things.  However, I try new things with old people.  People I'm used to.  People who know my crazy and embrace it.

Bars fucking annoy me.  I hate cigarette smoke (yes, I smoke, shaddap). The smoke consumes me.  I don't like the smell and it plays hell on my allergies.  An hour into the smoky bar scene I get fat, watery eyes and I become a creepy mouth breather who grunts her words. Additionally, some fuckhole I happen to traveling with will insist that we sit "really close to the band so we can hear them better". Now the talking and the hearing are gone. And then there's the asshole of the group who wants to sit inside because "It's way too humid out here and my hair will get frizzy".  Inside is either a) smoky as fuck, it's dark and there are 3 men from Deliverance sitting at the bar or b) you can't smoke at all, it's dark and there are 3 men from Deliverance sitting at the bar.  Also, bars have karaoke.  A lot of karaoke.  I cannot take karaoke in any way, shape, or form.  #Ihatekaraoke   There's people at the bar.  A fuckton of people.  People I don't know and people I know all too well. Neither are good.  If I wanted to see these people, I'd invite them for brunch (champagne style).  I don't.

I'm not looking for a man.  If I accidentally fall over one at the grocery that's cool but I'm not out on the prowl.  Hunting down men in bars is what I did 10, wait, and 20 years ago.  Not only have I outgrown it, I live in fear of it.  I was the party girl. I couldn't keep up with the men I met.  It was fun. No, I thought it was fun.  I know now for certain that shit wasn't fun.  I gained nothing from that time in my life except massive utility bills from sheet washing and Sad Frown Vodka Face.  This me doesn't want to get hopped up on goofballs and fall for some guy who pays attention to me because he wants to get laid.  I'm no longer that person and the desire to go back in time is zero.  Waving the "come out and meet someone" flag in my face will get you set on fire.  I've already met all the people I'm going to like.  At least for now.

I love to sit outside with friends, listen to a great band, have a few cocktails, converse, judge the other people, and nosh. I rock the theater, stand-up comedy, and concerts.  A day drunk at the beach with friends is spot the fuck on.  Hanging at local events, trying new restaurants, and day trips are how I do it now.  Hell, a day of people watching with a good friend is fucking tops.  Life is way too short to have Sad Frown Vodka Face.  I choose Happy Smiley Vodka Face.  That's how I do it.  If you don't like it, fuck the fuck off.

Thank you to my good friend Briton over at Punk Rock Papa for making my Sad Frown Vodka Face not so sad.

PPB aka the Precious Princess - The Princess is a twice divorced, currently single, self-proclaimed member of the mentally hilarious. She has been referred to as living under a rock stocked with vodka and anger. Her 13 year old “Mini”, who is carbon copy of the Princess, is often the subject of blogs, and Facebook posts. In addition, she writes about dating, the dumbness of boys, life after 40, and shares stories from Bananaland which is both her past and current residence. She is the owner/sole admin for the Facebook page Precious Princess's Guide to Bananaland where she is famous for her rants and her blunt, honest, and sarcastic look at life. She blogs both extremely funny and all-the-feels posts at Princess Bananaland. She hates people, kids, and karaoke. She uses all the swears and makes up dirty words.

Dear Dudes

Dear single dudes,

This letter is to inform you that I'd really like you to wake the fuck up.   And shut the fuck up.  Just stop.  Pick your sack up off the floor, jam it in your tightie-whities, put on some non-skinny pants, and grow up.  The whiny, pathetic fucks you have become would make your momma slap you.

Sure, I poke fun at the average male more than I should but in reality I have a lot of respect for you guys. You go through a lot of cockamamie bullshit to get with the ladies; to find that special one who won't cut you while you slumber.  I got a secret, women are bitches.  Yes, I said it.  Bitches.  I am one.  I know this. Vagina equals crazy.  I don't care who you are.  You just have to find the crazy that fits with your crazy.

 But first...

Stop your incessant bitching about the woman who hurled your ass directly into the "friend zone". She ain't the girl for you. Move on.  Just because some sweet thing you sugared up with happy hour drinks doesn't want to move in and make babies doesn't mean she hates nice guys.  Stop that.  She doesn't dig your happy ass, that's all.  Your annoying social media posts about her, the ones where you moan and bitch and feel oh so sorry for yourself because she wants a nice guy but not you (Whine, whine, whine, whine), absolutely blow.  Maybe she doesn't want to be with you because you're not a nice fucking guy. I'll bet you never even considered the fact that you might just be a grade-A nine inch dick.  You think you're so damn nice.  All of you.  Teensy hint boys, you aren't. You can't all be nice. That's not how it works. Or what if maybe, just maybe, you weren't her bowl of jelly (cuppa tea is so overused). What, you say?  How could she not be into you?   It's the stuff romance movies are made of.  I know, sigh, you've never seen one.  I'll give you the gist, he likes her - she doesn't like him, she likes him - he doesn't like her. It happens.  Suck it up. Whatever the reason she friend zones your ass, its her damn reason so accept it and shut the hell up.

You bash these women because they don't want you.  When do you take some responsibility and accept that some of this knuckle deep dating diarrhea you've found yourself in is your fault?  Why are you on the hunt for women who aren't interested in you?  You're always searching.  Searching for someone, anyone.  You are continually the victim of the lady's buy me a drink syndrome.  Have you tried watching?  Listening? Taking your time to maybe, I dunno, meet a woman who doesn't suck the life out of your entire being?  Stop settling for the first one, or even the second one.  Go for number six. Six seems safe.  The woman who wants you will let you know.  She's out there, you guys.  She might not be where you think she is. She might be home reading a book, watching "Love, Actually", waiting for you to call (not text, asshole).  She might be hoping you'll drop by her job with one of those tacky gas station flowers. Not because you're trying to impress her with corny romance but simply because you're thinking of her.  She may just be hanging at the bar, hoping you'll stop in for a cocktail so she can stab you in the chest.  Keep your chins up, boys.  She's out there.  Just shut the fuck up about her.

Exes & Ohs,

#PPB
PPB aka The Precious Princess - The Princess is a twice divorced, currently single, self-proclaimed member of the mentally hilarious. She has been referred to as living under a rock stocked with vodka and anger. Her 13 year old “Mini”, who is carbon copy of the Princess, is often the subject of blogs, and Facebook posts. In addition, she writes about dating, the dumbness of boys, life after 40, and shares stories from Bananaland which is both her past and current residence. She is the owner/sole admin for the Facebook page Precious Princess's Guide to Bananaland where she is famous for her rants and her blunt, honest, and sarcastic look at life. She blogs both extremely funny and all-the-feels posts at Princess Bananaland. She hates people, kids, and karaoke. She uses all the swears and makes up dirty words.