...but you clicked on it anyhow.
You clearly have at least MILD Daddy issues and/or a problem with authority...or you're a bit bored. I like that, it's material we can work with.
As for the boredom...can I guess why? If all the guys on here were as brilliant, ambitious, outgoing, hilarious, resourceful, athletic, spontaneous, creative, romantic, vertically advantaged and all-around-studly as is generally claimed, would they be on a (free) website posting things to anonymous women they have never met ?
No, they'd be at Club Chasse et pêche or Toqué or some such, in Savile Row bespoke threads besides, asking the sommelier whether the 2005 Faust Cab was ethically sourced from unionized fruit pickers and produced without artificial fertilizers, while debating the merits of Périgord or Alba Truffles with their free-range wild boar terrine. And they would not be shopping for dates online, let me tell you.
How about a bit of REALITY for a change? Here's what those ads should REALLY say. (WITH CURRENT STATUS UPDATES!! YAY!).
1. Bitter, disillusioned Westmount accountant, 35, previously rejected by long-time fiancée, seeks decent, honest, reliable woman if such a thing still exists in this cruel world of stony hearted hatchet-faced b*tches. Must be willing to tolerate occasional misogynistic rants and go Dutch on the check. (UPDATE: Taken. In these economic times, a girl will put up with a bit for the sake of a guy with a career. He picks up the checks now, though.)
2. Grossly overweight 40 year old landscaper, holding out for double jointed South American love goddess for tango sessions, candlelit dinners and sweaty passion. Must have own car and be willing to travel. (UPDATE: Taken. She's Dominican, and only really in it for the citizenship.).
3. Heavy drinker, 35, Plateau area, seeks reasonably attractive nympho-type with a passion for beer, smokes, and watching me start fights with American tourists on Crescent Street at 3:00 a.m. in the morning. (UPDATE: Married, and already cheating.)
4. Bad tempered, foul mouthed, craggy faced 42 year old b*stard living in dump apartment in Outremont seeks attractive blonde with large chest. French or English o.k. (UPDATE: Taken. The only thing faker than her chest are most of her orgasms, but a man's a man.)
5. St-Henri stud, 5'10", brown eyes, weedy mustache, mullet, minor criminal record. Was seeking alibi for the night of July 9th, 2010, between 10:00 p.m. and 3:00 a.m. (UPDATE: Had a hearing in Court, had not been heard of for months. Now in a half-way house, but available to date before curfews.)
6. What`s your dating philosophy? Here's mine. Hot, single, sane: pick two. I've accepted that's all I'm getting. So if you're overweight, but not married or demented, you'll do. And if you're hot and single and it's not just your friends telling you that, hopefully the voices in your head are telling you this ad's the one. And if you're hot and the only voice in your head is the one telling you your hubby is an inconsiderate douche, I'm willing to overlook a bit of ring-tan, ignore the fact that we only ever meet up on weekdays and pretend I don't know you have two cell phones. (UPDATE: Still available.)
So if you've read this far, you either (1) think I'm funny or (2) your self-esteem is sufficiently damaged that anything better than ads 1 to 6 will do. But you're in good company, I hear even Kate Upton cannot hang on to a decent man.
In either case, you might as well know that, just like every other guy on here, I’m sitting in front of the computer with PoF on, nursing the delusion that I’ll hook up with that elusive stunning blue-green-eyed strawberry blonde bestselling author-and-brewery-heiress, who has finally gotten tired of dating those manipulative wealthy playboys who talk to her perfect chest instead of offering up the knee-weakening intimacy, emotional commitment and long soulful glances she so richly deserves.
(Intimacy which, naturally, will be rewarded with regular “sessions” at my 2 ½ near Atwater, involving an array of fun outfits that would make Hugh Hefner blush and delivered with enough intensity to break Peyton Manning’s hips.)
I’m a 39 year old overworked lawyer, seeking a passably hot smart(-ass) young woman who will laugh at my excuse for a sense of humour, join me on short jaunts to the video store (yes, I am technologically Paleolithic) where we will argue the relative merits of incomprehensible foreign romance flicks or standup comedy specials as preludes to make-out sessions on the couch, and send me mushy emails at work. And before you get too excited about the "lawyer" bit, I don't mind if you're only into me for my money, it could work, so long as you don't really understand math all that well. (UPDATE: Oh, no, that part's still EXACTLY the same).
And no, despite the previous comment, you don't have to be a best-selling author, or even a brewery heiress, but it would help if you'd actually read something other than the latest issue of Cosmo, a Harlequin romance or required reading for class, in, say, the last year or so. And despite what #6 might suggest, No Married Women Please. You will have to wreck your marriage without my helpful assistance.
What would I do for a first date? Well, nothing *too* illegal.
Wait, they mean what I would do *on* a first date.
Well, hopefully, *you*. (I'm kidding. I'm kidding.)
Seriously, the same thing as everyone else does on a first date, right?
Couple of B&E's just to whip up a bit o' that romantic tension, followed by an entertaining evening of dinner & champers at Queue de Cheval on the company expense account.
(By expense account, I mean credit card, and by company I mean stolen.)
Fine, fine. No indictable offenses until you know me better.
Coffee first, in public, so you can figure out if I'm crazier than Mel Gibson, have poor fashion sense, insufficient machismo or something.