Dispatches from the Dating Trenches: the online dating profile I'd write if I had any balls at all (and wanted to attract, well, actually, no one)

Let's start here:

• Do not show interest in me if you've clicked the radio button next to the word "conservative." I will look at your political alliance before I look at your pictures. And I will dismiss you, no matter how cute you are, if you vote Republican. It's not that I think all such folks were necessarily birthed from the devil's own anus, per sé. It's just that the combativeness-as-erotic-charge model of relationship has long since lost its sparkle for me. And you shouldn't doubt that I will fight with you if your values don't align with my essential secular humanist ones.
• I'm an introverted, irascible bitch. I am not well-moderated. No one has ever called me "laid-back." I am obsessive and the hamster in my head runs his wheel expressly to keep me awake most nights. I'm intense and neurotic. I laugh easily, but I tend to think my own jokes are more hilarious than yours. I am actually fairly kind and if I like you enough, I can even be warm. But I'm what some might call "complicated." If you're looking for an easy, pleasant, cheerful girl, she ain't me.
  
• I do not like groups composed of more than 4 people. I do not like parties. If you promote your capacity as a flibbertigibbet, I'll probably go hide under my bed and not come out until I've stood you up for our first date.
  
• If your profile says,

  "I'm a laid-back guy looking for a girl who looks just as great in a cocktail dress and heels as she does in jeans and a baseball cap,"
  

  I'll consider it reason sufficient to blow you off immediately. Firstly, "cocktail dress?" You know you mean "slutwear"-- which I will wear on occasion, but I'd rather you'd just call a spade a spade. And you'll never, ever catch me in a baseball cap. Hat-hair with normal hair is one thing. Hat-hair with the crazy Jew mess I've got going on is something else entirely. But more importantly, dear catamarans from heaven! Do you have any idea how many dudes write the above sentence, verbatim, in online profiles? I can spot you a quarter. You are hereby instructed to buy an original thought with it.
• Other grounds for immediate dismissal include proclamations of affection for any of the following:
• Titanic
• The Da Vinci Code, book or movie
• Jesus Christ, your lord and savior
• Taco Bell
• taking me to sporting events
• Eat, Pray, Love (No joke. I've seen it. From a dude.)
• Hummers* (It's way worse if you actually include a photo of you and your natural-resource-wasting -small-cock-compensation-mobile. And worse still if it's just a picture of the car, with you nowhere in sight.)
• not reading
  
• Sideways
• sexual "fidelity" in your women
• If you can't put your prepositions in the right places in your sentences, I will laugh at you. I will not, however, go out with you.
  
• If you are actually looking for a mail-order bride, you're at the wrong site. I might be a little mouthy for you.
  

If, however, you comprehend the fact that no adult makes it past age 25 without acquiring a few emotional duffel bags; if you have the good sense not to grow hair into assorted configurations like mullets, comb-overs or pencil-thin mustaches (unless you're John Waters, but I don't know what you'd be doing, looking for the likes of me, if you are John Waters); if you won't crowd me; if you're patient with my oddness because you're odd too; if I think you're funny based on your command of written language; if you see through this pathetically translucent spate of attitude to the lonely girl beneath all the bravado -- well, then? Then, I might berate myself a little less for asking my computer to send me my own personal dreamboat(s).

*I mean the vulgar vehicular behemoths, obviously, not blowjobs. Professing a love of blowjobs is OK with me.