17
Apr
12

Psychological Profile

We’ve all heard horror stories about the poor sap that puts his faith in online dating and ends up bilked out of thousands of dollars by a Swedish bikini model who professes her undying love for him. My guess is that it was probably a middle-aged fat guy somewhere in Wisconsin preying on the lonely and desperate. Scams like these are perpetrated every day. Before you know it, you’re funneling money to support some dude’s hooker and gambling habit for the empty promise of a blowjob. In reality, you have a better chance of seeing a unicorn or curing cancer. Some choose to believe that people are inherently good, but I’m calling bullshit. I’m going to share a personal experience, because I care about you… or something. After reading this, you should be able to spot a fake profile and potentially make an amazing one of your own if you happen to be a deplorable human being with no conscience and an overwhelming desire to crush dreams.

I’ve been fairly open with the fact that I’ve made some attempts at the online dating game. Don’t be naïve… it’s definitely a game. You essentially pick out people like you’re ordering from a catalog. For the record, it’s a pretty crappy catalog with what appears to be an unusually large clearance section (like pants with one leg three inches longer than the other). My ex used to hate it when I told people I ordered him on the internet. Hey, it was a fact.

I’d recently had a bad experience on the dating site in question… ok; it was a good experience that didn’t end up going in my favor. I was in one of my ‘F everyone’ modes, and the only reason I was still on the site was because I missed the cut-off date by two days and got sucked into another month of hell. I was already pissed off at anyone with a penis, so I really didn’t care who was e-mailing me. After a week or so, I received an e-mail that interested me… because I was all but certain it was someone who would either financially rape potential suitors or bury them in his backyard. I was immediately skeptical because the guy looked too perfect. I’ve never seen such great hair and eyebrows. I think my exact response to whatever shitty introduction he had was, “awesome fake profile picture. Either you’re the laziest person alive or you found that picture in Italian Vogue.” Who has one picture? Probably a guy who’s unable to produce more than one because it isn’t him. A normal person would go with their gut, but I just couldn’t be content with letting that go. I probably saved a few of you from falling victim to this guy with my two week cyber investigation. You’re welcome.

The following is a list of where this idiot went wrong…

1) He chose a ridiculous first name. He opted to embrace the Italian Vogue theme and go with ‘Marco’. If your plan is to stay as anonymous as possible, I would recommend Steve or Joe.

2) His imaginary profession was ‘surgeon’. When selecting your fake job, you definitely don’t want to overstep. Let’s face it; most chicks watch ‘Grey’s Anatomy’. I’m pretty confident that I could perform an appendectomy after all these seasons. Minimally, you’ll need to be prepared for at least one follow up question. For example, “What’s your specialty?” If you don’t know what type of surgeon you are, that could be a red flag. I’m an idiot, and I can think of a dozen different flavors of surgeons off the top of my head. Dissecting frogs in 8th grade doesn’t necessarily qualify one as a surgeon. My advice would be to say that you deal with fidelity bonds or something equally as boring. There aren’t any primetime shows in the line-up about it. I’ll guarantee that nobody has a follow up question for that! Broads will be begging you to talk about something else… anything else.

3) He was unwilling to take a picture with his smart phone of him posing with a copy of the current day’s Plain Dealer. I wasn’t being particular… Sports section, Entertainment, Comics… I afforded him some flexibility.

4) He was equally as unwilling to scan-send me a copy of his driver’s license.

Dr. Marco Italian Vogue finally caved when I told him that I’d never met a surgeon who was un-Google-able. I went on to explain that the medical board had record of three physicians in Cleveland with the first name Marco and none of them were remotely do-able. Sorry about that, real Dr. Marco #1. There’s a distinct possibility I will require an angioplasty in the future and you come highly recommended.

It turns out that Dr. Marco Italian Vogue is actually a married father of three from Brunswick. If I had to guess, he installs pools. After I suggested he seek psychological help, he naturally asked me for a second chance because he’d really grown to like me. Maybe once he takes my advice and trots out ‘Fidelity Bond Steve’, he’ll have a shot.

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About the Broad

A humorous look at dating in your mid-thirties and the other hilarious things that happen around us on a daily basis.

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