Whaddaya say, my roosterific compadres and fine feathered friends. Guess who’s dropped down from heaven on high to slather some steaming, sensual Relationship Schmear ™ on that broke ass bagel you call your love life? Me! Cockblock. It’s me, Cockblock, I’m back. Hello!
So, hey, let’s spit some real-real on the real really quick, for real: human interaction is hellllla lame. Like, making eye contact? Shaking hands? Engaging in small talk about jobs and apartments and the economy and whatnot in hopes of eventually stumbling on a conversational subject that doesn’t remind you of the terrible lingering inevitability that awaits us all at the end of our LifeQuest?
To quote a terrible person circa 1995: puh-leeze!
Heartfelt emotional conversations are so over. Now we have smartphones, bee-yooootch!
DO: MAKE A PROFILE ON EVERY SINGLE DATING WEBSITE EVER
OkCupid? Of course, stupid! J-Date? Why wait?! RedneckAndSingle? Quit ackin’ like you ain’t ready to mingle!
Look at it this way: if you were going fishing, would you have a better chance of catching a sexy-ass trout if you cast just one fishing line, or, like, eighty?! That’s a trick question, “playa” in ironic quotation marks – you ain’t gonna get you none if you don’t dangle yourself out there first and foremost. White and waspy? What’s stopping you from logging onto BlackPeopleMeet and tracking down the Nubian king of your dreams? Nothing. Nothing is stopping you except for your dated views on race relations. It’s 2012, sucka. We have a Samoan guy in the White House (I think??). Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson enjoys a multi-faceted and storied career in entertainment media. Racism has been done for, like, ever.
DON’T: TRY TOO HARD
Nobody likes a square, and there’s nothing more geometrically resembling a square than acting like you’re actually interested in building a relationship with someone you’ve met on the Internet. Some fine-ass shawty just digitally wink at you? Pshhhshhsh; play it cool, son. Wait a full month before responding and even then, who’s to say you’re gonna call her by the right name? Not this guy, who’s telling you to do the exact opposite are you even listening to me dogg for real.
Women love a bit of mysteriousness in their would-be-suitors (citation: the honeys in my bed right now aw hell naww) so be more Batman than Bruce Wayne and watch the chickadees pile up, ya dig, dogg?
DO: PHOTOSHOP THE HELL OUT OF YOUR PICTURES
Oh hey, nice angled MySpace selfie you took in your tiny ass bathroom mirror.
“NOT!” Haha, good one, Cockblock!
Think of it this way, friend-o: if Burger King ran realistic photos of their slimy-ass cowstacks on billboards, how many Whoppers do you think they’d sell? Probably a whole lot because Whoppers are effin’ DELICIOUS but that’s totes beside the point.
Everyone has the same dating profile pics – at a bar with friends, outdoors at some scenic landmark or other, bawling openly while questioning the meaning of it all, at a bar with friends – but how many purported pick-up artists have shots of them pile-driving a dinosaur? It’s a market just waiting to be filled.
DON’T: OVERTHINK IT
Get your listening ears out, because ol’ Cocky-B is about to lay the truth out flat like a pancake or maybe a nice duvet. Or a rug? Yeah. A sick-ass oriental rug. Classy as hell in here.
Lads and ladies aren’t crazy about a turkey that tries too hard. OkCupid may be asking for “essays,” but that don’t mean you need to be scripting theses about your formative years growing up in some dumb- ass suburbia in South Dontmatternone. Give them the quick sell, like you walkin’-and-talkin’ in an Aaron Sorkin movie – razzle and dazzle them – then let them get really bored with the real you much later on. There’s a million fish in the sea, but trust me — none of them want to hear about your political views. Oh please, I’d love to hear about how you signed that medical marijuana petition back in ’09. TELL ME MORE, FREE-THINKER.
SO IN CONCLUSION
Get out there, get at them, and get gone the next day before it gets awkward and they’re asking you about “the future.” What does that even mean, “the future.” I don’t know, maybe we’ll be living in space colonies. Like I’m a damn psychic or something.
Anyway, until next time ‘round, muchachos!