Tons o’ Tuna: Fishin’ for Love Online


“Face it, girls. We’re only gonna look at your picture. None of us guys is ever gonna read what you write.”

Overnight, my sweet, sexy Fang and I are no more (see Addendum) and I’ve stooped to trying online dating for the first time. And what a rollicking delight it is.

This time, I’m looking for the full package: Friendship plus love, good kissing, and still some HEAT. (Hah! Like all that’s likely. Dream on, Babe.)
 

Never Give Up, Honey. I Haven’t! (I Just Wish That Somebody, Somewhere Would Just Once Respond to My Texts.)


 

My “absolutes” are few (I mean, look who I was dating, yes? But a very nice man who loved me deeply–sniff! Was I an idiot?):

  • The ability to make me laugh and an appreciation for my humor,
  • No obesity (that may be small of me, but it is what it is),
  • Fairness,
  • Something between the ears besides the mounds of hair growing out,
  • Good grooming and hygiene,
  • Reasonable taste (e.g. no double-knit polyester, right?).
  •  

    Okay, and I probably would be hesitant at extreme unattractiveness, or combovers—I mean, just cut your dang hair off, already. You’re not fooling anyone.
     

    I Think I Look Quite Arresting.


     

    Oops—and I, darn my genetics, am deadly allergic to dogs and cats, so that rules out a lot of the better dudes—‘cause the nicer ones would be dog owners, yes? Or at least own one of those lesser feline creatures.

    Clearly the Weaker Pet.


     

    Dregslist

    Dregs: What’s Left After the Good Stuff is Gone.


     

    Some people see Jesus in dregs. I didn’t find any miracles.

    360 ads for men seeking women, and 300 of them were d#ck picks.
     

    I Don’t Get It. Even WITH Glasses, They All Look Pretty Much the Same.


     

    Obviously, these pictures were tremendously exciting to me, particularly as the gentlemen held the cameras close to their members so as to trick we gullible females into thinking their willies were GI-NOR-MOUS. I was fooled each time–and greatly stimulated.

    Unfortunately, I was also unable to tell anything about the gentlemen themselves based solely upon their extremely creative photography.
     

    But I thank them here for all of the repeat orgasms they engendered in my throbbing loins.


     

    Of the remaining 60, 58 were not d#ck’s heads, but were posted by d#ckheads. (The other two? One owns cats and t’other lives too far away.)

    One guy posted two ads, both saying how important honesty was, yet the ads gave conflicting facts. (Saying “lies” wouldn’t be polite.)

    I suspected a college Psych student was trying to get a research paper done (“Which ad will get the most responses?” or “Which types of women will respond to each?”. Curious me sent an email pointing out the conflicts and asking what the story was: Student, or someone who just thought women wouldn’t spot the diffs. The non-student, as it turned out, responded, calling me “angry girl”. Then, a little later, he followed up with another:

    “F#ck you! Now, how’s that for honesty you angry seething c#nt :)”

    It was nice of him to include the smiley face at the end.

    Much Appreciated!

    Well, this wasn’t really very productive for anyone. On to the next site.
     

    Tons o’ Tuna

    After I filled out my Tuna Temptation description, TOT decided that my most suitable partners consisted of motorcycle riders. I have nothing against bike riders, but a dude who makes his top gal-snagging picture one which features prominently his bike, car, or dolls (boys like to call their dolls action figures) is likely not the dude for me.

    TOT does have a top team of psychologist-slash-matchmaking experts, however, so they must know my taste better than I.

    Although I’d said I was not a pet owner, many guys TOT chose for me were dog and cat owners. Perhaps I do NOT get asthma when I hang around these animals or their environs too long. I sure am learning a lot from TOT!

    Each time I looked at any man’s description, TOT would adjust my “Super Catches for You!” choices. If I checked out a black man, 80% of my offerings became of darker hue; if I checked out a younger man, my net grew more youthful. TOT thought that a single peek constituted an entire taste trend.

    Is Kitteh Using “Tuna”, Too? (Duh. Of Course Kitteh Would Choose Tuna.)


     

    I decided to search TOT on my own.

    I managed to find a few guys whom I felt were more in my ballpark. For one thing, their self-descriptions showed that they had reasoning abilities beyond “I’m really into riding my two hogs.”

    Golly! I Just Realized One of Those Hogs May Not Be His Bike!


     

    The first prospect in whom I had interest not only didn’t deign to respond, he fled the site immediately upon receiving my query. Take THAT, ego!
     

    Do You Think My Tuna Selfie is Part of the Problem?


     

    The next two and a half hours I spent looking through an uninspiring set of drab descriptions without a hint of creativity or wit. Yet each man claimed he had a “great sense of humor”. They were all playing an excellent joke by hiding it. Even in their photos.

    They Looked Like This Coen Brother

    By the end of that time, I was a bit depressed (and missing Fang–we couldn’t have that). I was also foolishly exhausted–I had stayed up way too late and it was far past my lupus expiration date.

    I’m afraid I strayed off the sanity reservation as a result, and began responding to ads I should not have, in a manner I should not have. I regret a couple of the messages I sent that night, or regret their tone.

    Only One Was Worse Than This Bossy Sign (SOMEone Forgot the Magic Word.).


     

    A couple of the less impolite messages:
     

    Dear Frank,

    In your ad, to be frank, I don’t know what it was that appealed to me, other than your frankness, which came across as frank frankness rather than rank rankness (i.e. the false-osity of a lot of the other males on this site). Not that I can really tell the difference, being Aspie, but I can kinda sorta tell, now that I’m older and less of an Asp–or I like to think I can (and am). –O. Babe  (Nope. In the light of day, clearly still pretty much an Asp.)
     

    Frank Didn’t Respond. Not All Frank-ness Wins Friends.


     

    Dear Athletic-Build,

    Notice one of your interests is “Snowboaring”. They must be much easier to spot against the winter whiteness ; ) –O. Babe
     

    It’s Especially Tricky to Hold a Boar-Spear Steady While on Skis


     

    Dear What-Fit-Are-YOU?

    You say you want a “normal fit” woman. Many woman I see normally fit at least two actress-widths, except in the richer beach areas. The men I see look like they’ve just EATEN two, when it comes to their middles, much though they may wear huge shirts to hide it.

    Interestingly, yours is the first ad I’ve seen that posts only a head shot. –O. Babe
     

    Sexist Modern Dating Expectations Which Women Have Totally Bought Into


     

    Dear Almost-Perfect,

    I’m sailing along, reading your description, which sounds terrific. Then I get to the age data. You’re a 51-year-old man. To contact you, a female “MUST be between 30 and 50″.
     

    Brother. You Men Kill Me. –O. Babe


     

    I had noticed a similar “must” for several other men, so I decided to exclude from my next search all men who wanted to date women 20 years their junior.



    Wanna Guess What Happened?


     

    Which dating site should I try next?



    (In the interests of fairness, “Head Shot” man did write back and claims he is quite svelte below the neck.)
     

    Addendum: For the Ultimate Word on D#ck Pics

    Whether guy or gal, I promise you will be glad you took a side trip to

    The Out of Context Penis, if for the pictures alone.

    Addendum: The Split With Fang

    Fang committed what I consider an unforgivable error–and did it more than once. We needn’t go into what. No, he didn’t cheat on me. He’s a good man. Just not great at the fairness part of being a couple. I still love him, and still don’t know if I made a terrible mistake. Best not to think about it.

    I said, I have to stop thinking about Fang as quickly as possible so that I don’t go running back to–Oh dear: I just had a vision of his arms wrapped around me. Time to get fishin’ again. Sigh.
     
    An Online Sea, No Fish For Me
     

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