Le biscuit dans le nez

The dark, dramatic mood of film noir is evident in the photography it inspires.  We immediately feel the vulnerability of our subject as he is presented to us partially exposed, his arms drawn close in a fetal, shielding way, alluding to both his naivete as well as the experience-driven need for self-preservation.

The contrasting shadows of the folded curtain behind him evoke the unknown; who lurks in the background, what fate awaits our muse?

The juxtaposition of the Japanese snack cookies with--what the f*ck?  Why is there Pocky in this picture?  And, sweet baby Jesus, is that one up his nose?  You can't snort a cookie.  It goes in your mouth.  At least Twizzlers Guy had it right.  And he had a shirt.  Forget all that bull crap I just said.  I have no freaking idea what is going on here.

I need a drink.

Dust bunnies

Thankfully, since this is not two-way video, you don't.  But, sadly, I do.  And I can't un-see you...which is quite probably the greatest barrier to the success of our relationship.

Why, pray tell, are you on the floor?  Have you fallen and can't get up?  Because if that's the case, then for the love of God, stop taking a damn selfie and scooch closer to the phone to call for some help.  Warn them that you're naked.  And that apparently your floors are slick otherwise you wouldn't have fallen down in the first place.

But if you haven't fallen and dropped your smartphone just out reach...why are you down there?  I shudder to think where you may have attached a Swiffer cloth.

There's absolutely no good reason why I would be laying on my own floor naked, prone and alone unless I had some sort of TIA after getting out of the shower.  Even then, however, I wouldn't be like, "I need to get up, I need to call for help, I need to put on a robe...but let me take a selfie first."

And then I certainly wouldn't make it my profile pic (yes, his profile pic) on a dating site because that's like saying, "Hey, dudes, I fall down a lot.  You like that?  It's hot."

And has anyone been in a bachelor's home lately?  Believe me, you don't want to walk barefoot on the floor let alone allow your tender bits touch it.  And does this guy have pets?  Cats?  Because just the thought of dander in my crannies is causing me to break out in hives.

So get up.  Stop reaching for E.T. (I imagine he's probably moving those little legs as fast as he can to get away from you).  This isn't seductive behavior unless you're a python.  And if that's the case, I can certainly get you in touch with some people who might be interested.

Why can't it just be Monty?

So apparently the python pic was not an isolated incident.  However, in the cases above it seems as though these lovelies have already consumed their taxidermied animal brethren, leaving only themselves with their clearly not-so-great-at-decision-making handlers.

Please note that these are two different guys who posted photos on two different sites.  That alone should shatter any faith in the online dating system.  However, one does seem to be a little smarter than the other--I'm talking about the one who does not have one of the five largest species of snakes in the world wrapped around his neck twice.  You know, the one not flashing a wedding ring either.

Let's hope natural selection is in play here, and, guess what, you've been selected to take one for the team.

Sigh.  And then there's this guy.

No, they're probably not, because they just aren't (especially when there's a pair of them hanging from the back of a trailer hitch and I have to look at them in traffic--God, I hate those), and neither are the 21 baby ball pythons that you're raising in your house (although I do give you points for username creativity).  Good thing you don't have kids because DFS would surely take them away.  I know this because I'd be the one calling them.

Always buying more?  Aren't you already bordering on an infestation?  I'm so not coming over.  Or within a five-mile radius of your home.  And get that thing off your neck before I start going all Darwin on you, too.

And just when you think it's safe to go back into the life mate search, here comes one more snake dude.  Mad props for not having it wrapped around your carotid artery.  There's hope here.  Except if those are your babies, I'm not really seeing your potential in fathering mine.  I was going for something a little less reptilian and predatory.  And the only snake I want in my house is that belonging to a plumber after I flush that thing.

Fun fact:  a natural predator to pythons is the cougar.  I'm 41.  Just sayin'.

Because it was there

Again, people wonder why I'm single.  THIS.  This is why I'm single.  Because Pen Guy is what's available.  Because Pen Guy thinks posting this photo is rational behavior.  Is he picking up satellite radio frequencies with that setup?  If he's got a Lego and a jelly bean stuck up there too I'm going to just call the Pink Sisters right now.  A friend commented that maybe this one is a self-made millionaire and has nothing else to do with his time.  No.  No amount of money could make this better.  The only plus is that I, too, prefer blue ink, but for the love of ultra-fine Sharpies, I will not borrow a pen from this dude.

And then there's Twizzler Guy.

If it doesn't fit in your nose or ear, stick it in the next available hole, your mouth.  And DON'T forget to take a selfie.  And post it on a dating site.  You never know how many Twizzler- and walrus-loving women are out there until you try.  I'm sure all of the Red Vines ladies gave him a thumbs down right off the bat, but those Twizzler gals...myself included...we considered it.  Because it was late and we were hungry and food has replaced sex in our lives.  Some of us even snapped a screen shot...as of an example of what not to post on the Internet.  

Baby got somethin'

I can assure you with 100% certainty that my anaconda don't want none.  Of any of that.  God help me.  

So at least this guy's bucks are mounted on the wall and not on his groin.  I do appreciate that.  And I assume he's wearing pants--because that just seems like good practice when there's a snake around--I can't tell because his shirt is too long, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt.  And, finally, taxidermy is expensive, so he must have a good job at...what...the herpetarium?  Why, for the love of all things good and holy, is there a ginormous snake around his neck??  Is that how he caught and killed the deer?  Send the python into the woods, let it constrict and kill its prey while you have a sandwich, and then you lop off the trophies for yourself?  Dude, I'd be wary of that snake if you're taking away half of every meal.  He's not just resting on your shoulders, he's calculating the force needed to crush you in your sleep.

Let's also talk about the composition of this photo.  My mental checklist for a good profile picture includes a nice smile, flattering angle and a decent outfit...certainly not stuffed animal carcasses and a predatory reptile. 

"So, that's a nice python you got there."

"I like to keep an apex predator around the house.  Makes me feel safe."

"Really?  I have a gun."

And I will blast six 9mm holes in that thing if it ever crosses my path.  

In the meantime, I think I need to add a mongoose to my profile pic checklist and we'll just let Darwinism sort this one out.

50 shades of not my thing

Since we're on the topic of emails...

If Sean was a dog, I imagine that he'd be wagging and panting and peeing with glee.  I like a man to be excited about seeing me, but incontinence is freally a turnoff.  You pee on my Pergo, you're out.

I can just picture yippy little Sean on a leash.  I bet these guys would like that...

Funny you should ask.  Yes, I do have exceptional leadership skills and I am very confident when speaking my thoughts, but I have no interest in your red room of pain, even if I'm the one in charge.  Now, if you like the idea of me telling you to dust my baseboards and door frames, and to wash my kitchen floor because some dude peed on it, we can talk.  

You'd be surprised at the number of written profiles that include leather whips but absolutely no mention of Indiana Jones, collars but no dogs.  There are specific sites for that, people.  Let's not muddy the waters for those of us actually looking for something more substantial than an orgasm and some welts.  

I particularly like this profile excerpt from.

If correct spelling was a fetish, then I'd be its Christian Grey.  Oh yes, the profile:

Shut.  The.  Red.  Room.  Door.  You'll provide aftercare?  How kind of you.  I always like a tender touch when I'm cowering in the corner.  And you're spiritual?  Let's ask ourselves what Jesus would do.  He sure as heck wouldn't be doing that weird shit, I'll tell you that much.  Maybe you'd like to meet my man-dog, Sean.  He seems up for anything.  

There is a reason why vanilla is the most popular ice cream flavor in the world.  Freal.

Syppin gin and juice

Naturally, I get that little flutter of excitement (or maybe it's just indigestion when I don't take my morning Prilosec) when I see that some dating site has notified me of a new message from someone potentially wonderful (emphasis on "potentially").  But most of the time that flutter turns into full-blown gastroesophageal reflux when I open said message.  

Where to begin with this one...THAT is your username?  Please tell me that you were dictating your profile setup and it autocorrected to that.  And that you didn't bother to proofread it.  Because maybe you can't read.  I don't judge.  If you can't read, that's fine.  There are plenty of programs to teach you.  No, no, not me, I'm not a teacher and I don't care to date someone who can't read, but plenty of programs.  Don't judge me.

Or maybe you got your MBA at the Wharton School, don't like the letter "h" and your last name is Mytongue?  Me-ton-GYOO?  Isn't that French nobility?

Wishful thinking.  I believe the harsh reality is that this guy thinks his username is funny.  Or it's something weird and kinky I don't know about.  Better check my Urban Dictionary app.  Bad idea...besides a wart being a wart, it's several other things, none of which you want in your mouth.  But one definition could apply:

So our online Romeo here is actually a descendant of Louis IX, St. Louis himself, who doesn't use the letter "h" because of that whole thing with the Huguenots and who went to a top-notch business school but is just keepin' it real by saying he gets mouth sores like the common man.

No.

Dude, a wart anywhere is not attractive or pleasant, let alone one on soft tissue, and you should probably get that checked out as it will most likely require some sort of prescription treatment to attack it from within since topical treatments probably won't be effective in your mouth.  And while you're at it, stop licking college dorm shower floors and that won't happen again. 

Also, what the heck does "syp" mean?  Southern yellow pine?  Saskatchewan Youth Parliament?  Syphilis??  Is this a cry for medical help?  You already have a wart in your mouth so God only knows what else you're carrying.  Did you intend to write 'sup?  Because that, coupled with the fact that there were no additional words in the email, would make more sense than syp.  Either way, complete sentences with at minimum a noun, verb and punctuation are appreciated.  

Oh wait, I forgot you can't read.