Review: OkCupid.com (I'm going to hell...)

Dating Site Debacles: A Look at OkCupid

Based on my site's traffic, it seems people only care when I write about other dating sites and porn. (On a side note, apparently, I’m a big deal in Turkey. So to Turkey, I say, “How ya doin’? Way to be Muslim without being jerks about holding women back. And democracy—not bad, right?”)

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My Review of OkCupid

This isn't my first time on this site. A few years ago, I used it and met a woman. By "met," I mean she said hi and immediately started sending me naked pictures. I’ll be honest, up until that point, I wasn't sure women like her actually existed. We eventually agreed to meet for coffee on a Sunday morning. Within an hour, we were headed back to my place for some sexual relations. And within an hour of that, she was on her way home. We never spoke again. Weird? For sure. Random? Absolutely. Cool? Kinda, but it’s definitely in my Top Five Weirdest Moments Ever (along with the time I accidentally touched SpongeBob SquarePants inappropriately and a night in Vegas that involved three different continents).

Since Match.com costs money and I'm currently unemployed (thanks for nothing, college degree), I decided to check out the free options. I’ll give OkCupid this: it's not PlentyOfFish.com (more on that in a later post). OkCupid has you set up a standard profile with a picture and asks you a series of questions. After you answer 25 of them, the site generates a compatibility percentage for you and gives you three matches, which they call The Quiver. As you answer more questions, the site reveals how compatible you are with each person, which is a pretty cool feature.

What the site also tells you are the chances that your match will reply to your message. In short, welcome back to middle school, motherfucker. You can read a profile, like someone, but then see that they are "VERY selective about who they respond to." Well, my confidence was sky-high until I read that nonsense. So, whether I like it or not, I have to factor that into my decision before messaging anyone.

And here’s where things get weird: I see a girl I went to high school with. That in itself isn’t very interesting—until I remember she's the girl my buddy, Mike, lost his virginity to. Suddenly, my mind, which has been battered by years of poor decisions and alcohol, remembers every damn detail of them having sex. She liked sex in public. She liked sex often. In short: she liked to hump. A lot. At 31 years old, I should be able to think about something other than that, right? Nope. I eventually decide not to message her because I heard Mike has warts on his ding-dong. Is it true? Were they from her? Does Mike like Asian hookers? I couldn't find the answers, so I decided to move on.

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Final Thoughts

The site seems okay, but I have no idea if it produces any results other than random coffee shop hookups.

You’re probably thinking, “Wow, this is a pretty shitty review... It seems like nothing more than an excuse to tell a story about some random sex you had and to talk about a girl from high school.”

Hi, have we met?

Stir events by Match.com - Part Three: This is starting to get sad

Another Trip to the Wilderness

For reasons I'm still trying to understand, I made a third trip into the wilderness that is a Match.com Stir event. If you're new to my exploits in this arena, you can find my previous posts there. To summarize my first two outings:

• First time: I met up with a friend's girlfriend who was not acting like she had a boyfriend.

• Second time: I came with the friend whose now ex-girlfriend was there the last time. I met someone, but after three months, the relationship ended. Why, you ask? She didn't read well, or at all really. She shared intimate details of our sex life with her entire family (mom, dad, three sisters). And when we had a disagreement once (not a fight, just a calm discussion), she responded by curling up into a ball and sobbing uncontrollably for an hour.

So, the other night was my third trip to Stir. This time, I decided to fly solo. My buddy has found himself a girlfriend, and I couldn't beg anyone else to come with me—you know, I had options and whatnot. Now a veteran of these events, I left with many observations.

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Observations From a Stir Veteran

• Drunk girl: I saw her dancing alone again. She's made appearances at the other events, always completely drunk by the time things start and hitting on every guy there. The weird thing? She's very attractive. I couldn't tell you if she was smart because she slurred her words like a stroke victim. Either way, I'm glad she was there.

• 40-year-old dude in a baseball cap: Listen, Billy Jack, everyone knows you're bald. It's cool. You're fooling no one with the hat. Either shave your head or take the goddamn hat off.

• The husky Indian chick (convenience store, not casino): Last time I was there, I made every attempt to escape her, and she actually asked me, "Why did we never hang out?" The reason why doesn't matter; your being a glutton for punishment is what fascinates me. Do you remember being dismissive of what I did for a living? Or telling me that dumb people watch TV after I told you I loved TV? You fall into one of two categories: a liar or stupid. Which is it?

• People who can't take a hint: Luckily, I learned early on when women weren't interested in me. (Okay, it was in 7th and 8th-grade dances, and the fact that any girl, let alone a mildly attractive one, caused me to have a boner hard enough to cut glass. Looking back, yeah, that was probably a factor.) But I watched men and women continue to bombard the opposite sex with questions when that person was making it painfully obvious they weren't interested. I commend persistence, even if I don't understand it, but it's respectable. Either way, raise your self-awareness a bit and move on.

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Final Thoughts

My night ended with no real prospects on the horizon, but I did get a blog post out of it. More importantly, I'm curious to hear about the experiences others have had at these events. Leave a comment and go wild; spare no embarrassing details.

Note: It will show that I have to approve all comments now because some ass-clown keeps posting spam ads for boner pills on everything I put up. To this person, who speaks English as well as a Vietnamese hooker: I hope your grandmother is attacked by an AIDS-infested wolverine, you pathetic shit.