He was a good guy or so he thought, wasn’t perfect, rich or famous but in his little corner of the world he was king. As he sat back in what resembled a chair, the word ‘resembled’ referring to the faded pattern with its occasional patches of tape and the less mentioned about the four unstable legs holding it up…. To be honest it was like him, nobody could ever figure how the hell it was still in one piece!!
The unflattering glare of the screen illuminated the frown lines on his troubled face, they called it a dating website but he figured it to be a modern age torture device, hundreds of lost souls that had been cast aside by happiness, the ‘last single friend’ or ‘devoured by their career’ and finally ‘giving up on love but giving it one last try’ crowd. In the old days you would be invited to a party and introduced as ‘here’s my friend, he’s single by the way’ and a few parties later you would be hosting a party with your loving partner and saying ‘here’s my friend…’
Now approaching a women was like navigating a social minefield, where you needed an advanced degree in psychology just to tell if they were single, and then you had to call a tactical meeting so your opening line wouldn’t fall as flat as ‘Get your coat.. (Insert slap here)’. Nursing the short fat glass in his hand, wishing it was filled with something stronger than water, hell if it was he could explain away how badly written his opening messages were, an illiterate toad could write better, in fact the illiterate toad was probably one of the success stories the website shoved down his throat to sell itself!
The hollow tapping of the keys, collections of wasted words sent into the void to somehow make him think he had a hope of finding that ‘ole devil called love’ no other song title quite got it like that. “Stop it” he mentally slapped himself “quit that negative crap” this bloody profile wasn’t going to write itself and he was already watching the clock tick past midnight, the god forsaken hours he craved beckoning him with random films, late night creativity sessions to cash in on that moonlit high.
Right; Hi I like blaa blaa blaa, god could you add more cheese to that excuse of a profile text, let’s just add something about wearing pink and how much I like cuddling animals to put the polish on this turd. The grin on his face was as a razor gleaming, letting the delete key cut into the ‘recommended’ format, what was the point of being a wordsmith, poet and attempted writer if you couldn’t have some fun introducing yourself to the world.
And what the hell, it ain’t pretty and it don’t work but if you’re damned, you may as well be damned in style!