🎶 Lonely… I am so lonely… I have nobody … To call my oooooooooooOOOOwn! I am so lonely.
I hate that song. It sounds like an autotuned sack of drowning cats, and who wants to hear cats drown? (If you do then you are a deeply, deeply disturbed individual).
Still, the song is catchy and you will hear it in your head all through this post. Muhahaha! 😈
Anywho, let’s dive into this post, shall we?
Once upon a time, I was engaged.
Pfffffftttt! 😂 No, I wasn’t. But I could have been. I was in a serious relationship and had actually started to become one-half of a whole thing. But alas, the lass was not the lass for me. Don’t ask me what happened because I won’t tell you. All you need to know is that I am a single man.
Oh, the joy of being free! And with this newfound freedom, I have freely chosen to get back into the dating pool even though I cannot swim. Yes, guys, I have willingly chosen to search for someone who will try to change me into who she wants me to be. She will try to be subtle about it, though. She’ll throw around an, “I don’t like that shirt,” here and an “I like it when you are clean-shaven. Your beard is too scratchy,” there.
Someone who will ask me what I want to have for lunch or dinner and when I tell her what I want she’ll say, “I don’t feel like fries.” (What does this even mean?)😕
Then I’ll ask her, “Well, what do you want?”
She’ll say something weird and healthy and like the gentleman that I am, I’ll tell her, “That’s fine. Let’s have that.”
“Is that what you want?” She’ll ask. Like she doesn’t even remember that I wanted fries. But I’ll answer in the affirmative.
“Are you sure?” She’ll ask and my patience will wear thin because I just want to scroll through the memes on my Instagram feed and have some fries.
“Yes,” I’ll say. And she’ll look at me like she doesn’t believe me, et cetera et cetera.
I’m not saying all women are like this. I would never say that, out loud. But I am typing it. Because it’s true.
Still, I’m looking for a girlfriend. And I just made a Tinder profile.
I know, right!
The following is taking place in real-time:
It feels weird to know that there is someone out there just swiping left on your picture.
I just swiped left on ten people! Ten! This guilt will kill me. Aren’t we all wonderfully and fearfully made?
No, Tinder. Do not put up my Facebook pictures.
Stop insisting Tinder!
Ooooh. She’s pretty. Look at her profile.
Oh my gosh, I just super liked a person. What is even happening here? There’s no manual!! *Abort! Abort!*
That’s a terrible picture, you girl. You’re making this too easy. *Left*
That’s a stupid About You, Mark. What is wrong with you?
And there are a lot of people on here. Kwani there was a memo?
That Super Like freaked me out. I think I’ll delete this account. It’s not worth it. Jesus did not die for this.
Future wife, if you’re reading this, the message below is for you.
Dear future wife,
This isn’t one of those romantic letters people write. Me I (when we meet, my grammar will improve) just hope that you are insanely hot on the outside (but not in a feverish kind of way) and beautiful on the inside. I hope that the Lord has granted you wisdom because you will need that to deal with my stubborn self. I also hope that you go to church because sometimes I don’t feel like going and I will need someone to nudge me (the wisdom thing will apply here).
Future wife, me I want you to know that this Tinder thing is just an experiment. I shan’t look at and/or objectify anyone else apart from you. I also hope that you aren’t on Tinder because I do not want to accidentally swipe left on you. Also, you must have a sense of humor or I will most definitely swipe left on you.
Future wife, also don’t ever say you don’t feel like fries. Fries are not an emotion, they are life.
In other news, bei ya avocado imeshuka.