How to Social Network for Women on Valentine's Day

How was I to find such a thing in this work-a-day world? A bar? Those aren\'t open at this hour. A pottery class? I’m already an expert potter. The bank? That\'s barely a suggestion. A fourth thing? Now I\'m just going too far. Which is how I came to find myself back on Friendster ...
How to Social Network for Women on Valentine's Day

I woke up this Valentine's Day like I wake up most days: cold and alone, ready to ignore the plights of everyday life. Because it's 2010, the first thing I did was check my e-mail (or "electronic-m," depending on how stupid you are). "Hooray!" I shouted with glee. "An electronic-m from my mommy!" Happy Valentine's Day, it said. Hope you're not too wonewy! Thinking of yousies! Wuv, momsey womsey! "FUCK!" I shouted with considerably less glee. "It's Valentine's Day? I need a date or I'll CRY!" But how was I to find such a thing in this work-a-day world? A bar? Those aren't open at this hour. A pottery class? I'm already an expert potter. The bank? That's barely a suggestion. A fourth thing? Now I'm just going too far. Having already shot down every idea I could think of to get some swink (a slut who winks at you because she likes you), I decided to go the easy way: Online dating. But is it easy? Oh, my gosh, I'm so going to tell you. I thought I'd give Facebook a shot first, because even not sad and not lonely people use Facebook. I set my status and waited for the offers to roll in. Unfortunately, this was my first response:

After quickly deleting my status, I logged out of Facebook, maybe forever. Not yet ready to give up on the more general social networking sites, I asked myself, "What comes after Facebook?" I was and still am banned from MySpace because I won't let Tom be my friend, so I went several steps down: Friendster. I still had a Friendster account lying in wait and ready to pounce like an Ocelot that everyone forgot about because a much better Ocelot came around (The new Ocelot lets you "like" things!). I logged onto Friendster and quickly checked my inbox. There was a very pleasant electronic-m wishing me a Happy New Year sent on January 27th. I then gave a Friendster-style "shoutout" that read, "Is anyone there? I am horny and alone." The first thing that happened was nothing. The second through twenty-fourth things that happened were also nothing, so I updated my status to, "Please?" and finally got some results. The kind of results you can take to the bank (which is a horrible place to meet women). The "result" in question was in the form of a private message from "The Internet." It read:

And so the time came for me to swallow my pride and make a profile on a legitimate internet dating site. I first thought of eHarmony. Unfortunately, I'm an Atheist and I'm friends with at least one gay person, so upon visiting their website I received a mysterious phone call telling me to "Stop visiting our website and please go to Hell, where you will burn for all eternity because Jesus Jesus Jesus." OKCupid would have to do. I set up my profile and waited for the instant messages to come rolling in. They did.

At that point, I received a message from OKCupid demanding that I stop using their service forever. I responded with "More like OKStupid," and felt only slightly better about myself. It was time for my next move, and this was the move I had been dreading all day. I had exhausted all options but one. It was now time to dig into the dregs of the dregs of the dregs of the internet dating pool: Craigslist. From what I understood of Craigslist, the first thing I needed was a really classy dick pic. Fortunately, I already had one of those lying in wait and ready to pounce like an Ocelot that looked an awful lot like my classy, classy dick pic. But what should I say? A picture of my dick is worth a thousand words about my dick, but what about me? I want these swinks to pay attention to the man
behind the dick ("The Wizard Of Jizz?"). Perusing the most recent Craigslist posts, I got a pretty good sense of how I should describe myself. I rolled up my sleeves, contemplated slitting my wrists, and wrote my post instead.

I lifted my finger, ready to left-click on my mouse. This was the moment of truth. This was my last chance at getting a date on Valentine's Day and sticking it to those asshats over at Friendster. This was the longest moment of my life. "What the hell am I doing?" I wondered aloud. "I should just call my girlfriend." So I did that and then we fucked. The end.
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