THE ONES JOHN WEST REJECTS
Entry posted by Roxanne Wilde
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A few years ago, my cub-of-the-moment & I had parted ways during one of our numerous tiffs/spats/bloodletting rituals. He had picked up his bucket & spade & stomped off into the sunset, leaving me desperate & dateless for the first time in years... & so it came to pass that I became - albeit briefly! - embroiled in the internet dating scene.
At first, preliminary investigations proved to be huge relief to me. Finally, people more deranged than I am! Of course, there were the garden variety crackpots, weirdos & loonies. That's expected. Every social movement needs its mascots.Anything involving the desperate & the lonely is bound to have a lunatic fringe.
However, it's the seemingly average people who turned out to be the most depraved... & the most dangerous.
There was the 'desperate' housewife: bored by her security & wanting to risk it all, simply so she would have something to whinge about to her overworked GP. Her motive?;Getting another Valium script. There was the bastard straying hubby, wanting a piece of bleached teenage fluff to bang in the backseat of his new generation Monaro whenever the missus was hosting a lingerie party. Finally, there were the 'meltdown madness' cases: people who had simply unravelled midstream, & were looking for others to take down with them as they sunk into the depths of their suburban, whitebread life crisis.
When did it become so hard to meet someone normal? Why is it that once you work through all con artists, showponies, circus freaks and lunatics, only a couple of decent contenders remain? I'm curious to know if anyone has actually found a partner & lived happily ever after. This is what I discovered during my pleasure cruise through the following dating sites:
RSVP: a bargain basement of sad, middle class drones who never meet anyone because they're chained to their work desks. On the rare occasion a public debut is staged, delightful behaviours such as acute social ineptness, paranoia & agoraphobia painfully emerge. You can't help but wonder if your dream date has emerged from beneath a rock, or the bowels of a dungeon. Any displays of pity or benevolence are miscontrued as interest. You are then lumbered with a simpering, adoring puppy that trails after you everywhere. After awhile, any fleeting thoughts of charity dissipitate, & all you want to do is kick it... HARD.
Public holidays become things to be feared, not anticipated. You know that any inclinations towards holidays or general getaways will be hijacked & turned into a hideous public debut as a couple. Even worse, these people never miss a photo opportunity. Suddenly, you understand how some people develop agoraphobia - they simply can't stand being seen in public attached to THAT.
You are dragged to various family gatherings, your tortured demeanour echoed in the faces of the in-laws around you. You secretly wonder if you would end up just another face in this human portrait of tragedy if you somehow lost your mind & ended up in marital harness with your paramour.
Lavalife: This Barbie Playhouse is populated by bastards who are cheating on their partners, & bitches who figure that one love is never enough. These shallow cardboard cutouts are an indictment of the Western modern lifestyle. All of the members of this site could be used as characters on Survivor - fit, tanned, aesthetically pleasing & cognitively challenged. You know that without producer intervention, these people would starve to death OR eat each other in a bastardized yuppie version of Lord of the Flies.
Prescription sunglasses, hair extensions, needless plastic surgery, dwindling IQs, Valium & antidepressants, mix-n-match kids, & a strange moral vacuity are considered to be symptoms of the Lava virus. Early stages are typified by an affection for soap operas, attending women's gyms & microbreweries, & listening to Delta Goodrem & Darren Hayes' solo work. Terminal stage sufferers resemble Jackie O, & disintegrate into a Kyle Sandilands-type persona.
Thse people are the ones chosen by Kylie Minogue, Lara Bingle, & Jen Hawkins as their rent-a-crowd friends. Photographed frolicking by the pool or on the beach, flea market shopping in a foreign bazaar, being massaged by some underpaid native, or boogeying up a storm on a tiny resort dancefloor, these guys make the frivolous into a lifestyle. Life is so footloose & carefree, you wonder why on earth these people ended up single. Then you meet them, & it becomes startingly clear: these people are boring, vapid, & about as useful as Lara Bingle. In bed, they're about as exciting as fucking mud. Their singledom is natural selection at play.
Adult Match Maker: a tragic meat market of sorts, where the people who never got laid in high school compete with each other. Think 'The Running Man' in handcuffs & a gimp mask. The prize? Being degraded & exploited on an endless carousel of one-nite stands. It never fails to amaze me what depths some people will go to when locked in a spiral of despair & loneliness. That is when the bottom feeders emerge, the sensory beacons honed to whalesong of desperate self promotion, macho posturing & shrill giggles.
Ever wondered where the producers of Jerry Springer find their guests? Look no further - I think I know the answer, & it aint purdy... no sirree! Any dignity is quickly surrendered at the sight of these train wrecks in various stages of undress. Speaking of which, I vote for a mandatory review board to assess whether people can publicly display photographs or films of themselves naked. Why? Because there are some people who should NEVER be seen naked, except by a health or adult industry professional. Even then, penalty rates should apply...
Oasis Active: a pound for smug, self-assured yuppie puppies. Individually, they loftily consider themselves far above the rest of their species. However, Planet Reality sees them pidgeonholed as arrogant, celibate germophobes whom nobody wants as their office Secret Santa. Back in the grim, dark recesses of their early adulthood, their peers flew the coop & spead their wings into independence. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, these bitter little trolls decided that there was no need to leave home when they never brought anyone there, anyway. Thus, they're in their 30s & STILL living at home with the 'rents.
They preside over the local Dungeons & Dragons group with gusto, an iron fist in a not-so-velvet glove. Alternatively, they stage a coup of the local TAFE's art film collective, sending the original board packing into exile. They then use each viewing as an opportunity to grandstand about why life cheated them out of becoming the next Stanley Kubrick, & why they could do it better than Quentin Tarantino. These people are living examples of what a pretentious private school education can end up doing to your children.
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I'm sure that there is a happy ending for these people. I believe in urban fairytales. Just look what a little bit of faith & spin has done for the Santa cause! However, I now acknowledge that I won't be the cyber heroine of the hour. If I were to rely on these sites to bear me fruit, I'd be cursed to singledom for time eternal. After all, 'prostitute' hardly looks inviting on my profile's Employment status line.
Unless, of course, Josh Hartnett or Ashton Kucher become the new Member of the Month over at Spice of Life.....
Now THERE'S some cubs I'd happily crawl ten miles through the snow to reach!
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