The other side where you think just saying “hello” and having one badly taken photo and a half-assed profile will make me want to engage with you.
What it does is make me want to gouge my eyes out with a spoon. There’s enough written on my profile for you to comment on, to at least try and engage me in conversation and the plain “hello” is just a sign of carpet bombing the ladies in your matches.
My Stepmum says I’m to keep casting my bread onto the water as you never know when a fish will want a nibble. That’s all you’re doing, hoping by sending enough messages you’ll find a fish to nibble your bait. *pause*
A friend of mine likes to tell me I’m fussy but I just can’t be arsed to try and strike up chat when the patter is becoming all so familiar.
Me (at least trying): Hi, how are you? Having a good week?
Him: Alright. What are you looking for on here?
I know what he’s doing, he’s trying to suss out if I’m a “one and done night of fun”, a normal woman looking for an actual adult relationship, or a stage five clinger who will murder his pet rabbit.
Me: It would be nice to find someone to date, someone who isn’t into playing games.
Him: I’m not into playing games, well unless it’s in the bedroom. Do you like playing games in the bedroom?
And there we have it. From shit chat to sex talk in three simple messages.
Surely it’s not too much to ask to find someone with a bit of something about them? And I don’t mean gonorrhoea. Your shit chat is not big, not clever, and definitely not subtle. You may as well tell me straight off the bat that you have a massive knob and want to bend me over the sofa whilst watching your team stonk it home against their rivals.
I like witty repartee, a killer smile, and some interests beyond getting tanked up at the match on a Saturday and trying to have cyber sex of an evening and if that makes me a snob well then, spank me on the bottom and call me Arabella.