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

The idiots guide to avoiding death at the hands of a depressive

Never sell a positive you can’t guarantee, never reassure someone when there is no hope to repair a situation

Idiot: It’ll get better, you’ll meet someone one day

Depressive: I’ve been single for double digit years and that’s the third person to reject me this month

Idiot: Plenty more fish in the sea

Depressive: I’m going to die alone

Idiot: Never give up hope, there’s someone for everyone

Depressive: (lifting heavy object)

Idiot: (no longer conscience and now bleeding from a head wound)

Selling false hope to a depressive is the equivalent of telling a terminally ill patient they will have a long and healthy life, que the lack of a positive response and some heavy sighs from the nearest intelligent person!

Don’t offer pointless and useless help, advise or assistances

Idiot: Here; have this cuddle, and you know you can tell me anything

Depressive: Don’t touch me, or I’ll hurt you

Idiot: Don’t be like that, I am here to help you and listen

Depressive: I don’t want to talk to you, go away

Idiot: I want to help you with my love and caring attitude

Depressive: Ok; so I offended a co-worker because they were a whiny bitch, lost my job and the boss told me I was ‘too morbid’ and should ‘care more about others’ like the person who couldn’t take a little joke about suicide that wasn’t even that bad and just because I was holding a knife to my wrist I am a ‘risk to the business’….. (etc etc)

Idiot: (Endless screaming as the mental health nurse sedates them)

Pointless and useless help is not useful, blindly damning and is it bound to cause aggravation and stress; yes!

The new definition of pain you feel as either 1; they take you up on your offer but you are wholly not prepared for the fire storm of crazy, or 2; they are using you as an emotional punching bag to release all that pent up crazy

So ask yourself if you really thought it was a good idea, as the mental health nurses reassure you that you might recover the ability to sleep without nightmares one day

Don’t mollycoddle

Depressive: I don’t need your sympathy

Idiot: You going to be ok, do you feel ok

Depressive: Do you have eyes, I just showed you where I was cutting myself

Idiot: I think you need a hug, lets have a hug and make it all feel better

Depressive: If you do I’ll…

Idiot: You really need a hug don’t you, tell me what’s wrong and get over here

Depressive: No, but you are going to need a medic

Idiot: (flying across the room as a fist hits their face)

Depressive: Well that actually helped

Idiot: Why are there two of you, I can’t hug two of you and the cartoon monkey is telling me…


In the art of dealing with depression you don’t crowd, placate or offer hollow sympathy (unless the last time a depressive punched you it really did damage!) but accept that distance is the best part of wisdom

A beverage, some space and distracting humour are by far wiser strategies

Inappropriately Appropriate Humour

Inappropriate Humour:
Laughing when you read “I’d like to preface this with a very staunch explanation that         this has no bearing on intent. I have no plan or intention to harm myself”

Laughing at the above and realising you feel zero guilt!

A big thankyou to a fellow blogger who makes these enchanting illuminations possible;

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

Conversational Humour; How not to do it

Person: He killed himself

Grief councillor: It must be very sad for you

Person: It’s hard to believe he’s not coming back

Grief councillor: And you must accept that to move on

Person: The bar steward is gone forever, how can I move on

Grief councillor: Bar steward?

Person: Yes; ‘bar steward’ means annoying because he screwed up my plan

Grief councillor: (blank stare)

Person: He was meant to be reading the elegy at my funeral, now I can’t kill myself until I make another friend willing to do it

Grief councillor: But you and he were friends, you must take some positive from that

Person: I will; he can’t tell me anymore what not to say in his elegy