I saw perhaps the stupidest television ad last night for a Dating Club. I shan't identify the Club in question, because I have no desire to actually encourage anyone to join it. Suffice to say, this Club operates on the Internet, and caters to men. Personally, when I associate the words "Internet" and "Caters to Men", I usually think "porn".
So, naturally, I checked it out. I AM male, you know. I went to the homepage and looked around a bit.
What happens is that singles are, indeed, invited to join this exclusive club for very-important and exclusive people, and just so you guys have a chance, the membership is -- so they claim --80% female, making a for a 4-to-1 ratio of women (who probably don't look anything like the surgically-enhanced-airbrushed-sperm-burpers on both the commercial and the website). And of course, the 20% of male members, should you become a member -- the creme de la creme of masculinity -- belong to a carefully-selected, privileged caste, entitled to hunt in an exclusive domain, in a target-rich environment.
Think of it as being given permission to hunt in the King's forest.
I fucking laughed my ass off. It's great marketing, though, I'll give 'em that much.
Because think of it this way; if you truly were that sort of rare breed of man, why a) do you need help getting dates, b) why the hell are you looking for them on the Internet, of all places, and c) why are you hitting what is, for all intents and purposes, the dating Bunny Hill, where the level of difficulty is low and your odds of success have been artificially skewed in your favor?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know someone will say "But some men just don't have any time to find a good date...". Yeah, right. There's not a man on earth that can't find the time to hunt vagina --particularly if he's one of the exclusive, very-important and select few this site makes their members out to be. If you really are that great; good-looking, sophisticated, smart, well-off, then you should have women tossing their knickers at you. The way most women regard casual sex these days (it practically grows on trees), this should be a no-sweat exercise for that exclusive-sort-of-man.
If I had to guess, there's probably four average-looking-but-seriously-mental chicks for every pork-rind-eating-lives-in-his-mother's-basement-loser online -- but they all have credit cards and self-esteem issues. So, why shouldn't someone make a buck off of it?
If you want a date, Gentlemen, go out and get one. It's almost becoming a lost art amongst men these days. You only have to talk to her. Start with "Hello...", and go from there. So long as you act like a gentlemen and give no indication that you're a serial killer or child molester, you're probably on your way. Mind your manners, be polite, and remember that "No" usually means "Not right now, but maybe after my girlfriend leaves....". Unless it's followed by a knee to the groin.
The worst that can happen is that she'll tell you to get lost. Suck it up and fix bayonet again, Lad!
I swear, every day that passes it seems that technology puts more and more space and obstacles between people.