I generally accept any set up offered to me. I don't ask many questions. All I want to know is age, height, weight, and what she does for a living. I don't want to hear about her amazing eyes, or how well she did on her LSATS. Just give me the damn the number.
The other night, when a friend called offering to set me up with her "friend" from work (friend, in this case, meaning some random chick she works with whom she barely knows, but who's single and has a vagina) I asked my usual questions, and I got the number.
"You can check her out on Jdate," my friend said, once the deal was already done.
"You're gonna make me get up off the sofa now and walk three steps to the computer? Fine. What's her screename?," I groaned.
"It's *****," she said.
I looked up *****, and the conversation continued.
"She's cute to you?" I asked.
"You don't think so?"
"No. No I don't. Plus, the picture of her drunk on vacation...not very enticing."
"What? So you won't go out with her because of some bad pictures? I'm telling you she's cute."
"You know what?" I replied with fervor, "I don't care if she's a fuckin' supermodel. You're setting me up with someone who wrote 'You're it! That's right honey I am talking about you....Booya!' in the "About Me" section? What the fuck does that mean? What kind of person is this? Does she stand upright?"
"I have no idea what that means. You know people write stupid shit in their profiles. I'm telling you you'll like her," she pleaded.
"No I won't. You should've kept your mouth shut about the profile. I'm not calling this chick."
"Because of a profile?" she whined.
"I'm gonna date a chick who writes 'That's right honey I am talking about you....Booya!?'' What're you fuckin' insane?," I proclaimed.
She resigned rather easily, and said, "I should probably tell her to change her profile."
"No. You should probably try and set me up with people you know well instead of random strangers you've spoken to twice," I explained.
She sighed and said with genuine concern, "I just want you to meet someone."
"I know you care, but don't worry about me. I'm going on Millionaire Matchmaker. I'm gonna find my special someone with the help of an abrasive, and scary looking Jewish broad who can't get her own boyfriend to propose."
"Don't you need to be a millionaire first?," she asked.
"I'll wait for the version where they set up socially inept millionaire women. I can be one the mimbos that applies."
"Good luck. I'll keep looking for you just in case that doesn't work," she said.
"Thanks," I responded. "But I feel pretty good about this one. I'll keep you posted."