In lieu of publishing Post #69 I will not be writing about Blum Integers like you all hoped. Instead I will be fulfilling a psfu request that is the perfect compliment to post #68. 

Request: How would you advertise yourself on an online dating site.

Dear Phallus-Wielding Warriors,

I am asian. I know that piqued the interest of at least 95% of you. And not a bad looking one at that… there we go—up 3%. I am equal parts slut and prude, and pride myself on possessing ambivalent personality traits to add to the mind-fuck that is the ‘feminine mystique’. I am vulgar but can mask said vulgarities for special occasions like babysitting and state funerals. I’m a perpetual dabbler, as I have the attention span and direction of a one-winged fruit fly. I’ve been known to skateboard in miniskirts, steal waves from territorial brosefs, paint like a highly evolved 2nd grader, dance like a stripper-robot, and drink like the rapture cometh at least once a week. I’m irresponsible yet completely on top of my shit, and will dazzle you with epic bursts of mediocrity. I shop for clothing in the lingerie section, which I believe adds to my debilitating charm. I also shop for clothing in the children section, to preempt my penchant for buffets and multi-layer fatty foods.

To give you insight on what to expect if you wish to join me on the journey where two become one—where rose petals and hair-pulling become sweatpants and passive aggression, here are a few things I’ve added to my bucketlist:

-organize a medieval crosswalk sword fight

-successfully complete an Edward 40-hands challenge

-make it rain—without the immediate sting of financial destitute

-drive a stick-shift in San Francisco without inflicting pain or death on any hipsters

-party in Ibiza sans ropa

-learn one language per continent.. i’d settle for one convincing accent per continent as well. 

-have one well-spent day, completely devoid of sarcasm….*eye roll*

-enter and leave a shark fight, unscathed 

-write a sick novel, bro

-paint a replica of the Sistine Chapel ceiling but have the one dude, high-fiving the other dude instead. I’m a modernist.

Alright, I’m done bragging about my future endeavors and potential awesomeness. I may just be the absolute worst person you will ever meet. Call me! …please?

I’ve recently been approached by an online dating agency about applying my verbal winning to their blue-balled masses. They believe I ‘have what it takes’ to be an online love guru. They asked me to do my charitable part to help men ‘get theirs’ by writing love letters to future cat ladies with just the right amount of finesse to get their ovaries fist-pumping.

Special kudos to me for writing like I’m wielding a foreskin sword or a mushroom-shaped bazooka. I do agree that I possess the dangerous combination of having a vagina and the borderline abhorrent, vulgarity and speech of a real-life Van Wilder. It’s a gift, I suppose. I declined the opportunity, as it for a lack of a better explanation, gave me the heebie jeebies. But here is a usable template for the clueless men out there that want to boost their editorial appeal and understanding of what women really want.

Hi my name is ____,

I like sex. In fact, I like sex so much, I’ve spent the equivalent dollar amount of 1.5 bottles of protein powder, to optimize the pool of applicants that want a one-way ticket to fucktown on my trouser pony. I understand that sexual encounters can be bartered for things like hand-holding and sushi dinners, which I am willing to offer. Special arrangements will have to be made if said sushi dinners are followed by 2 hours of movie watching of the Rom-Com variety, as such activities deeply sadden Mr. trouser pony. You must be willing to forgive me for my emotional unavailability and sad attempts to dispute said emotional unavailability. C’est la vie.

I’ve been known to be spontaneous, and can prove said attractive attribute by suavely ordering a Jack & Coke one minute and a Heineken the next. Keep the bitches guessing, that’s my motto. I will never ignore you in front of my friends, but I may engage you in a fun game where I pretend you are invisible, while my hommies are present. But please keep in mind, it is just a game, and not a testament to my affection. I enjoy partaking in calorie burning activities including, intense beer pong tourneys and masturbation. I will forever believe that a print-out of my checking account is a sexual conduit and can provide said print-out if it will speed up the panty-dropping process. I will also forever believe my stature and penis are exactly 1.5 inches larger than their actuality, and expect you to go along with said disillusion.

I may respect you and adore you with a Van Gogh-like intensity, but am reluctant to show said affections out of fear for a swift drop kick to my cardiovascular unit. Withhold sex for exactly 3.5 weeks and I will be yours forever. Please message me before I start to bald.

Yours truly,

Hornypants McMidlife crisis