Not that I think it’s going to happen, but in the spirit of preparedness, I have asked Steve what would happen if I suddenly dropped dead. Would he date, then propose to, then marry someone else? He would definitely be a catch. I have written him a match.com profile to use in the event that he’s too busy mourning my departure.
Number cruncher who hates to meet new people. Enjoys spending nights with a cocktail in hand: company is optional. Watches the same movies repitively: you have your daily devotions, I have “Forgetting Sarah Marshall.” Spends August-February watching football, reading web pages about football, or watching Sportscenter about football. In the off months, I will complain about missing football and count down the days until the draft. Be prepard to wipe piss off the floor, and wipe shot glass stains off the counter. Thin and in shape, beard must stay. Looking for a woman who puts up with me and doesn’t notice that I’m not listening when she’s bitching. Unemployed, hairy arms, and butter faces need not apply.
If Steve ever left me, the jury is still out on whether or not I would attempt to date someone else. But because these are fun, I’ve made a match.com profile for myself, as well:
Bitchy woman seeking a man that doesn’t notice. Enjoys puzzles, books, blogs, and walks. But if you’re into adventure, I have rip corded once. You don’t have to love what I love, but you must hate what I hate. I will embarrass you when we’re in public and I put my foot in my mouth: inadvertedly offending everyone at the table. I only eat pasta, Qdoba burritos and ice cream. You must be stable and know what you want, since I don’t. No shorties, felons, or prudes. Send picture or I won’t respond: I am shallow and judgemental.