A friend shared this screenshot of an online dating profile she encountered, and aside from the fact that this man is obviously insensitive garbage, um…no psychiatric illness RHYMES with depression, you fucking nimrod. People don’t have “cepression.”
I mean, I guess depression rhymes with itself? But that’d be a pretty shitty poem. You should take a creative writing class or something, I bet you could learn some ways to work around that mental block. Or even just Google “words ending in ession” — Oppression. Concession. Transgression. Impression.
Sooo… You’re saying your plan is a padded room?
I am legit staring at this man’s face in his OkCupid profile, trying to decide if I’m physically attracted to him.
I don’t think I am, but he lives in goddamn Delaware, anyway. *shaking fist at geography*
I’m at least sending him a “we need to be friends” message.
I’m not 100% sure about this guy I’m about to message on OkCupid. If I’m being totally honest, he might be too smart and too chill for my silly, hyper ass.
But in his profile photo, he’s pouring shredded cheese into small, hollowed-out pumpkins to make individual fondue pots, and… well, people, my needs are simple.
While I was on vacation I got a message from this OkCupid gem.
He seems nice.
Oh, OK, this isn’t fucking weird at all.
Photo 1: My iPhone’s wallpaper.
Photo 2: The main profile photo of a dude who just messaged me on OkCupid.
I’m not saying I wouldn’t be talking to this OkCupid guy if he didn’t have an adorable black dog with blue eyes named Oliver who likes to snuggle.
But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor.