Dating Profiles and how NOT to write them!

Going by the sheer lack of positive responses over months/years/adult life from any form of female life it would appear I am more undesirable than an undead, hunch backed and openly canibal axe murderer at a wedding, who just knocked over the cake and spilt red wine on the bride’s dress to boot!

So I’m going to write my shopping list here and accept the fact that it’ll be diner for one until my mortal form expires, and should that axe murdering canibal want to invite me to his wedding as I suspect he will have more success than me; then I’ll add ‘human seasoning’ to my list, so at least then I can be part of his wedding diner and feel useful!!

Toilet paper
Kitchen towel
Milk – 2x 1pt green
Fresh pasta
Pasta sauce
Chewy bars/breakfast bars
Human seasoning
Olive spread
Salami Slices

PS; If you think I’ve left anything off my list feel free to let me know


You follow the glittering breadcrumbs of hopeful enlightenment as they beckon nicely “Ask for help, we can help you” drifting into the glimmering den of optimistic décor that lulls naturally suspicious senses into wilful repent of their pessimistic ways

The words leave your mouth with the dry heart pounding anxiety of expectation lingering on each syllable “I need help…” as into the lulled motion you make a humble request

Then the walls shrink into reddened hue, demanding faces form in the cracking surfaces of a formally optimistic décor as the door behind slams shut with a force to push you back towards the now glaring face of that siren called hope “WHY” it shrieks aloud to pierce your eardrums “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING BY WASTING OUR TIME” in response to the humbly small request eked out in now shamefully loaded hushed tones as that demonically figured form says louder “WHAT DO YOU DESERVE”

No help follows you from that place, the echoes of grimly shouted resentment carry each a dagger for the space in your back exposed to those burning words as you doggedly run with panicked pace from that place now beyond dark, only shame is earned in asking for help that day

A stony will expunges the hopeful lightness that elevates the heavy burden of living, the one salvation felt by it sapping mercilessly every positive tinge so daring as to make a note of discord against the consuming hatred of all you thought was true

Shattered truths or positive perception under foot

A figure of one does stare back in deathly colour from the cracking mirror enveloping the crimson emotional liquid shed in angst from your broken fragmented mind, another fragmentation occurring in silent pain for the knowledge that no one wants to hear your screams, or worse; will not reply with kind return as that ideal now fills that place where hope is void

The grim reaper simply informing you as casually as a simple light hearted exchange; of the verdict as damning as a death sentence “You have learned your lesson, now always know that only you are able to be faithful to the fated trust others have destroyed, when trouble calls and you deal with it all alone”

Your crime; to say “I need help” now a brand that will never fade

Graveyard Marriages, Midnight Ceremonies

To her he looked a way to say it all
She had a body and no shovel
He had both and asked if she needed
She agreed they should never meet again
After he dug her a hole, got a morning coffee and bought her fresh bagels
And when the police asked why they never got rid of the shovel
To them it was as close to a wedding ring as each could bare

All I said was…

“Ok; so maybe I was blunt, didn’t have to be that truthful and could hold back the venom a bit

All I said was ‘why is she wearing a pavilion designed by an half drunk monkey and that hair do looks like it could be in a horror show’, I can’t help that the hysterical woman has the emotional limits of an emotional five year old

But please Judge; I don’t think it deserves the firing squad, and I mean that bunch of ropey recruits look they couldn’t even hit the wall behind me if it was in their face

Almost as dopey looking as you Judge

…you look angrier somehow and I think I should really shut up now”

The fatal catch

So the world so willingly offers help to a broken man

Positivity offered in abundant wealth

But the fatal catch is not to be overlooked

The only one to fix the damage and find new hope

Is the damaged self now suffering

And who has given up on hope

But if it keeps the world happy…

Let them believe thier attempts can have an effect

As the broken man quietly marks up his wrists!

Humorous sign posts to bad places!

I’d like to report a missing person…

…Please give me their name and when and/or where you last saw them?

Name; My will to live, when; the day I was born, where; booking ropeless bungee jump lessons

…And what did this person look like?

Ten times worse than me…

…I’m sorry sir but we can’t help you


…Because you look like your dead, which means anything in a worse state is likely not to be alive anymore, but I can tell you which department to file your death certificate with

The Cheer behind the Sneer

Blunt was the description used when the flatly staring humanoid form that you spoke to somehow regained the power of speech, the now only vaguely shaking figure of a person roughly stammering sentences as they pick up the shattered remains of their sense of social values.

Now you have to infuriatingly verbally placate the numbed entity barely stammering some off putting argument about ‘you can’t say that’; I did… ‘that is offence’; it’s the facts… ‘why are you so anti-social’; Why are you the proof that humanity still hasn’t evolved basic intelligence…

As for your real feelings… those less than positively versed replies you keep locked screaming inside of the jail cells concrete set into the logical part of your brain remain thankfully concealed but in the even deeper concealed part of your brain you know the toxically anti-social contaminated reason for why they are best left unrevealed, which isn’t actually horrendously vile but merely that they are offensive to the ill conceived truth (and intelligence, common sense, etc etc) of the challenged masses!

Then a mere speck of time later some other person’s jaw takes the same cliff style leap downwards in response to ‘another incident’ as the gapingly open void presented is fantastically posed to welcome flying wildlife to nest in it, thankfully only a minor reaction to your act of kindness compared to the rudely loud shouts of the backward looking masses wielding pitchforks and torches that you face on a scarily common basis.

Now; the words ‘act of kindness’ and ‘you’ may not instantly trigger a variable flood of cheery reception from the masses so awfully stammering still in trying to comprehend your last (emphasising ‘unintended’) verbal assault but those with a deeper understanding of you than ‘why angry mob suppliers keep raking in the profits’ wouldn’t be so shocked.

Yes your compliments are sometimes treated with the same level of reaction as a hazmat team dealing with a nuclear leak, maybe the crooked reality bending monstrosity that is your smile scares away the creepiest of clowns holding red balloons and possible the room could be less morgue like without you in it but you are actually capable of deeper kindness, better understanding and more practical yet positive wisdom than any of the dumbly milling around humans (offence very much intended!).

How is this possible?

Because you are broken; yes folks you are a broken individual with exposure burns from emotional fires staining the tattered canvas that flies as the remnant flag of your now past noun referred to humanity, and no that’s not an insult but a compliment… honestly it is!

Without the fluffy rounded edges so annoyingly engrained into the insultingly ignorant masses you cut to the heart of matters with the efficiency of a cat attacking an open tuna can, that shocking event immobilizing the dimly staring horde, that you over casually refer to as ‘just another crap storm’ fails even to illicit a feigned air of surprise as you wade into the mess as a nurse unemotionally treats a gushing wound.

The fact you coolly used the words “You look a mess, anxiety episode or just a plain panic attack?” then you say to the still dumbly frozen flock of bodies you are seemingly swarmed by “let’s get you away from the idiots and put you back into a functional state, you can’t cock up everyone’s day forever” to which the horde gasped… the person you’re helping however; they smiled.


Like the gruffly posed old man/women in the American movie that no one likes, but ends up helping out in the most unexpected way; you are, can be and will be a good person in abundance to friends, family and trusted co-workers and even stretch that hand to the undeserving detractors circling in vulture like fashion.

Are you a social butterfly stretching its wings in mesmerising patterns, wowing the masses with dazzling social pyrotechnics to amaze Elton John’s wardrobe director? No

Are you going to excel with equally mesmerising form in the arts of positive projection and the finely attuned societal manipulations others deftly manoeuvre, without losing a leg to the minefield of faffy emotional awareness? The distinct limp and red stuff staining your career hopes answers that!

Do you really care? NO!!

But can you be a good a person? Yes

Are you equipped for an honest relationship with a like minded or accepting soul? Yes

Do your friends and family still like you? Yes

So should you care if an anti venom kit is a basic requirement when conversing with/interacting with/been near overly common idiots (for their sake)?! Fuck No

Pets for anti-social people


The dog walked itself to an animal shelter in a huff, animal welfare officers on your door having survived the viper’s nest of intertwined vines and exotic man eating plants miscellaneously acquired through the wilful abandonment of any sort of lawn care.

The cat just complained you were too cold and merciless, the local animal population having branded the feline in question as the most maliciously cold creature to exist a fitting epitaph for your own personality.

Why did the chicken cross the overly dangerous motorway at rush hour; it was a crap load safer and less hazardous than been anywhere near you!

The slave that made Cinderella’s life look as royalty; didn’t even report you to the police after escaping because they purely loathed having to forcible put anyone else through the torturously painful experience of sharing a room with you.

Now you are left with ‘it’; that thing that perfectly defines anti-social in every jagged barb protruding from its skin with intended malice in the relished pain forcefully endured when you have to move it, a gift from an ex that in morgue like foretelling that spelled the misery soaked future you now willingly drown in with ‘it’ by your side.

Defining your longest term relationship damningly with how long that wretched green entity has survived the almost cruelty defining lack of care you less than lavish it with, a singular spec of liquid callously poured on it once in a memory flash that you need to actually feed it.

Relationships come and fatally crumble into descending hell, friendships left on the other side of bridges that daredevil suicide applicants won’t step upon even and co-workers milling aimlessly around falsely projected illusions fade out and leave, but that thing you still drag around stands, surviving and staring.

The Cactus you lovingly ignore, the companion that viciously rivals ever anti-social instinct ingrained in the naturally occurring offence you laughingly cause the world around you, notwithstanding the point that you personally treat it with more worth than a family member when forced to transport it to a new prison cell/home/abode!

When your last girlfriend jokingly said “Would you get rid of the Cactus for me”, you’ve never seen offence so quickly produce a violent exit upon pointing out the green bar steward would outlive you and her!

The only pet perfectly crafted in the deviant depths of hell for societies miscreants like you…

All hail the Cacti, Mother Nature’s reflection of all that is wrong with creations like you!