Thursday, December 31, 2015

If I Was A Slob, Would You Date Me?

     Attention ladies!
     I’m 5’9” and 235 pounds of pure fat. I have a 4-day growth of beard that’ll rub your cheeks raw. Even the black, curly hairs on my shoulders need a good trim. I bathe once a week and call my mom every night, after which I prefer being alone with my thoughts for two hours. I wear the same Chuck Norris t-shirt and khakis I sleep in and own every DVD Adam Sandler ever made. My favorite sports are ESPN ladies’ billiards and Monster Truck Racing. I like slow walks to the liquor store and warming my feet on a HD-TV screen. I appreciate candlelight dinners when you prepare them, especially the foods of Eastern Europe, like beef tongue and kielbasa. Quiet evenings at home are my dream. I’ll play Halo: Combat Evolved and stare at your ass while you cook.
     Wanna date?
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     No?
     That’s the reaction I feared. You see, I used to be the kind of guy girls would die for. Handsome as hell, with rich parents and Einstein-level brains. That was my torment. I had no way to tell if a girl wanted the flawed, real me inside… the old “if I was a carpenter” syndrome. Then I got an idea from my roomie at college. He was a slovenly mess and didn’t have pretty girls by the score.
     So I took a page from his book. I became a slob. Unfortunately, my scheme worked too well. The type of girls who used to jump my bones now avoid me like the plague.
     That’s why I’ve composed this candle in the darkness, as I search for the good woman for me.
     Is it you?
     Here’s how to find out: Next time you’re at a party and spot a repulsive, snot-dripping loser, ignore his grizzly façade. Instead, employ your considerable charm. Seduce him. You may discover under his stomach-churning exterior a wonderful rich brainy guy. Me.
     On the other hand, it might be my roommate.



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