In an attempt to better my dating odds, I joined an online dating service that caters to those of us who suffer from a mental illness. It's a gathering point for erring encephelons. Truly a moment to truth in advertising. A profile may contain information about favorite music, types of food, height and weight, a photo, and a list of that persons mental disorders. One can even do a member search based on what mental illness you want, or are trying to avoid. The last profile I read said, "I suffer from a serious anxiety disorder, and would like to meet someone who knows what that is like. Please, though, no personality disorders." I hope a compulsive liar contacts her and lies about having anxiety when he really is, well, a compulsive liar. Or a psychopath.
My profile honestly tells my tale of woe. I checked off borderline personality disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, severe depression, bipolar disorder and social anxiety disorder. Why hold back? Some of the people who contact me clearly need to up the dosage. One woman wrote to me, "I get really mean when I'm manic." Excellent! Not just mean, really mean. That means she alternates between really mean and severely depressed. When she's not trying to kill herself, she wants to kill you. And the pictures that sometimes go with the profiles are priceless. A dissheveled person is seen looking angrily back at his or her friend who apparently insists on taking a picture. In some pictures there is a wan smile. The implied tag line on all these photographs is, "Look how normal I am!"
Without a doubt, my favorite part of this website is the mailbox. Once you sign in, it will tell you how many people are interested in you. If two people find you acceptable, it says, "You have 2 people interested in you." But if nobody writes you or expresses interest in any way, the site informs you that, "Nobody is interested in you." Damn! I don't need a computer to tell me that nobody is interested in me. Prick.
I'm not ranking on anyone here. It's a good site for people who have a mental disability. Otherwise, you'd have to explain to your Match.com date that you think god is talking to you through your nose hair trimmer. Or that you can only bring yourself to leave the house after after a shitload of benzodiazepines due to, "crippling paranoid anxiety." At least with the crazy person dating website you're bound to meet someone interesting. Have you seen the commercials for Match.com? Middle-aged people dancing around like teenagers and claiming that they have found "true love" with their "soul-mate." Those people make me nervous. If the relationship doesn't work, they'll be on the crazy person's dating site after a few weeks in a psychiatric ward.
They even have a dating site for Democrats, which I totally understand. What could be more awful than falling in love with a beautiful woman who turns out to be adamantly pro-Bush. It would be like the Crying Game. I'd much rather discover a dick between my partner's legs than a copy of The National Review. Compared to thinking the war in Iraq was a good idea, a dick is nothing. I don't know how James Carville does it.
No comments:
Post a Comment