Think how to write a dating profile for a man got what it takes to write for Cracked. Please type the following code. Hey, why can’t I vote on comments? Cracked only offers comment voting to subscribing members.
Subscribers also have access to loads of hidden content. If we’ve ever made you laugh or think, we now have a way where you can thank and support us! As a child of the Internet and confirmed weirdo, imagine my relief when they finally took that last bastion of in-person awkwardness — dating — to my laptop instead. I got the feeling that a lot of men on that site would message literally any woman who had a profile, but the optimist in me wanted to believe that there was a limit. Maybe there was a woman so awful, so toxic, so irredeemably unlikeable that no one would message her, or if they did, at least they would realize they never, ever wanted to meet her. I did not accomplish my goal. In making this profile, I made sure my creation touched on every major facet of being truly horrible: mean, spoiled, lazy, racist, manipulative, and willfully ignorant, and I threw in a little gold digging just for funzies.
I maintain that there is not a human on this planet who would read this profile and think, “Yes, I’d like to spend any amount of the fleeting time I’m given on my journey around the sun getting to know this person. Facebook photos for this profile. Only that last bit is relevant here, I guess. I figured any profile with photos of a beautiful woman would get a few messages from men whose boners were willing to overlook her personality. The captions on her photos were just as draped in red flags as her profile was, so there’s no way they were totally clueless as to how awful she is, but sure, I figured, maybe she’d get a couple of messages a day from people with especially low reading comprehension. She got 150 messages in 24 hours.
OK, I thought, pouring myself a stiff drink as I prepared to sift through these messages from actual, living men with functioning central nervous systems. Maybe none of them read her profile, or maybe they thought that she was fun-crazy instead of actually-ruin-your-life crazy. I just had to convince them that she was the latter. My new goal was to get these men to stop messaging her back. Want to guess how well that worked? I’ll give you a hint: I’m confiscating everyone’s penis until further notice. In trying to convince these men that they’re better than this, my first strategy was to just say horrible shit.
It was not as successful as I hoped it would be. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, sure, but I guess that’s how it is. But what if meeting her would have clear, lasting consequences? What if there was no such thing as a one-night stand with her? What if the effects of coming into contact with this woman were devastating and permanent? I’ll level with you, readers: This wasn’t so much a tactic as it was a result of the mental and emotional toll this social experiment was taking on me. After reading 500 messages from men who apparently had just slapped their semi-erect penis on their keyboard a few times and pressed “send,” my already flimsy grasp on reality was loosening.