God. Talk about blowing it. I got this submission last night and it was SO GOOD. And then I got distracted playing Destructotruck, which, bee tee dubs, is probably the greatest game online. I really don’t get into online games, but I started playing this last night and I could.not.stop.
Anyway, by the time I went back to check on this dude’s profile, he had deleted all the good stuff. There was this long and creepy short-story about you, the woman that so desperately wanted him, and how he proposed an evening with emailing him would be… It was BIZARRE. So, so sad.
Welp, at least we still have the email that he sent to Emily in the UK:
“I came across your profile and was wondering if you would accept an engagement of witty banter between two intellectuals. Of course this “engagement” may start off as purely platonic but my sensual desires will most likely guide our cohesive unity down more erotic, lascivious, and sexual paths that will include but are not limited to rump pounding, sperm warfare, sexual acts involving food, and an abundance of new unchartered sexual positions where I assert my pure dominance in establishing a realm of absolute sovereignty in your nether regions.
I look forward to hearing back from you Please don’t keep me waiting babe.”
DANG. So… lesson learned: always, always, ALWAYS make sure you do a screen capture, kids.
UPDATE!
Emily posted this in the comments, but I decided it would be better suited within the post.
I found the cached version of his profile on my laptop. It read:
It was a dark and chilling night. The breeze was brisk and whistled a noticeable sigh in air. The furtive gusts shrieked between rafters, echoing the souls culling song, carrying forth melancholic memories from a forgotten past, and fluttering them away into the dusk. “Lonely am I” mused a beautiful young damsel as she lay prostrate, gazing at the TV screen when Leonardo Dicaprio sank into the abyss of the Atlantic Ocean. “Oh poor Kate Winslet,” The emotional young woman cried. She burst out a deafening bawl as she unwrapped herself from her warming fleece blanketed cocoon. She grasped a metallic spoon and pierced the chocolate goodness in front of her and heaved a portion of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream down her esophagus. The sadness momentarily fled her as she focused on the chocolate ice cream melting in her mouth causing a euphoria of erupting taste buds. Her visceral desires were deceiving. “No more ice cream,” she burst, adhering to her promise get her bikini body ready for the upcoming summer. She sternly pushed the ice cream to the edge of the table and grabbed laptop to check for new emails.
She logged on to Plentyoffish in a seemingly abject attempt to find her Prince Charming. The page loaded and her emails were plentiful but void of any real content. Each and every click just appended to the hopelessness already settled from previous visits to the site. “Hey sexy howz youz doing”…. Delete, “When can we have the sexxors” Delete…. “I am in love with you”…. Delete, “How come you aren’t answering my emails”….. Delete, “What’s wrong with me”… delete, “Am I ugly”… delete. She made a final determination that the only types of men she could possibly find on this site are needy little crybabies, men with women hating issues, 50 year old balding divorcees, and possible serial rapists. “It was over” she thought. “Time to put this account out of its misery…” Just then, the lonely young woman noticed a profile she had not seen previously. No, it was not another Rocky Balboa wannabe displaying his oiled up pecs from the bathroom mirror; this one was intriguing for other reasons. “Its hopeless,” She thought, “but I guess I will check it out anyways”. She clicked on the account and her first impression was “he is moderately cute. Ok, I will entertain myself further.”
She read the first paragraph and was instantly intrigued due to this mans lyrical capabilities and his penchant for courtship. A beacon of white light enveloped her leading her to excitedly yell out “this is the most super awesome profile I have ever seen!” She gazed deeply into her little electronic box of hope and temptations and began to feel a strong emotional connection with the man on the other end. Streams of love, adventure, and eroticism all converged into a heavy torrent, drowning the young womans being in euphoric rapids, raising her soul to a state of celestial beauty. No collection of words in all the lexicons created to date could describe her minds pleasures when she envisaged this mans astute, yet charming personality. “I cannot comprehend this burning sensation in my loins,” she cooed. “If this man can make me feel all warm in tingly inside just from my gazing at him, imagine how amazing I could feel if I actually met him in person.” She had to make a quick and decisive move; the blockades of incredulity in her heart were not going to be transcended by eating ice cream and watching Titanic in her living room.
She needed to reach out to a man bold enough to embark on the perilous journey of winning her hearts desire. She crafted her message with anxiousness and meticulous deliberation; she knew deep down that this man was an archetype of the embodiment of munificently romantic, yet carnally erotic ideals, and those attributes, she knew, were lacking in her current male suitors. Her crafty message was complete. She nervously clicked on the send button and waited impatiently for her dream guy to respond. It was not to happen yet for he was offline. She wrapped herself in her warm blanketed cocoon, pretending the soft fleece was the burly arms of her dream lover snuggling her ever so softly, yet with much power and affection shielding her from the lonely winds of detachment with an amiable aura of affection. The comforting tranquility enveloped her as she slowly drifted into a surreal dream world where her mind was free to imagine her wildest and most pleasurable desires coming forth right before her eyes. It was by far the most relaxing and deep sleep she ever had.
No doubt, the dude is a good writer but, CLEARLY… He hates women. Or has never actually touched one. She’s supposed to pretend that the blanket is this dude’s arms wrapped around her? Is she swaddling herself?
Yeah right, douche. Nobody is going to read your profile and get all “warm in tingly.” Haha! Yes, I found the one error in this dude’s lame-ass attempt at erotica.
Douche.Douche.Douche.Douche.Douche.Douche.Douche!
