I am a Charmless Husk

From Shopify.com
From Shopify.com

I know I’ve already discussed my inactive Bluetooth, but the problem runs deeper still. A few months ago a friend and I decided to enter the greatest in manliness, hairiness and meat-eating competitions by signing up to an online mating (not a typo) site. We pitted our manliness against each other by trying to see how many dates we could get out of this breeding ground. We also agreed to share the online name of anyone we got a date with to see if we could get a date with the same girl (hopefully a girl). Then, in what may be the epitome of not taking other people’s feeling seriously, if we got a date with the same girl we would write-up our dates and compare how well we did.

That is not the bit that has led me to consider myself a charmless husk. I had every intention of being a gentleman on any date, so I didn’t feel too bad about the slimy, indecent jerk-wad motivation that underpinned any date.

The site I signed up for, OK Cupid, is free and surprisingly well maintained. You have a questionnaire and your answers to the questions guide who it is that come back in your search results. It has something to do with “compatibility”(?) But then it has some other functions that in no way undermine the “compatibility” thing; “Attractiveness”, you can rate members out of 5. In an exercise I like to call Picking Your Photographs Very Carefully I consistently got 4 and 5 out of 5 on this superficial game i.e. the one that matters in the digital equivalent of a chimpanzee’s dangerously oversized testicles.

Despite this, not one date. In fact, I rarely even got a reply. Despite being hot (according to the socially awkward OK Cupid community of girls with self-esteem about as high as an ant’s knee-high socks) something I had written, somewhere, meant no one replied to me. Perhaps it was the give-nothing-away name “AdventF”. You can Google that, even with the term “OKCupid” and literally nothing comes back (at least, it doesn’t now that I’ve given up on that project and deleted the profile). But that’s what I do; Allallt is equally meaningless. And I don’t think being unable to Google a person is an issue.

No, I think I have to come to terms with the fact that I am charmless. People read what I had to say and thought ‘Oh, okay’, but didn’t care. Any hope of getting a girl to think “Uhn! I want him!” or, at the least “He seems interesting” is hoping beyond my ability. I don’t know when this happened to me. I used to be a charming, witty, quirky manslut. The fact that I was a manslut stands as evidence that I was actually charming, witty and quirky. I was so suave that I even had friends, who I had never done anything with, who just assumed I must be a “sexpert”. So what happened to me? Am I afraid of girls, now? I blame Disney for making women believe men are always charming and rich. Even the street-rats.

Part of the problem is that I know other “charming” people, and I hate them. They are not charming, they are sleaze-bags who prey (I’m sure the real word is “predate”, the prey is the victim) on girls at their most vulnerable and lie to them and do all the other stuff I never lowered myself to. They betray people’s trust to get into people’s pants, and everyone one of them I can name I would gladly kick the crap out of. But I digress.

Maybe I’m afraid of sex. I don’t mean “AAAAAARGH! A VAGINA! HELP ME!” I’ve had sex held over my head for a long time as a carrot, a stick (there’s a completely innocent sentence that still gave you mental pictures of splinters you didn’t want) and a tool of guilt. I was with a girl who clearly had an unhealthy relationship with sex, and used it as a way of manipulating me. Maybe that’s what has screwed me over. It’s actually very difficult to give off “I would very much like to have sex with you” vibes if the idea is scaring the penis off you.

Noooooooo! Penis! Come back. I need you for peeing standing up.

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