Expert advice for your dating profile.

cubancoachJust me and my paella minding my own business when the woman across from me brakes my rhythm. As I warm up to her (and my paella cools down to me), eventually I’m asked what I do. I should just say “coroner,” and embrace the awkward silence. Nope.


“Neat. What do you write about?”

“I write humor about relationships.”

“Excellent. Hey, would you do me a favor and critique my eHarmony dating profile?”

“You did hear me when I said I write humor, right?”

“Yep. So, you must do some online dating. You should be qualified.”


“Give me your email address and I’ll send it to you to read.”

“Then, I’ll do something the men who see your profile rarely do.”

“What’s that?”

“Read it.”


“Your dating profile is like a resume–you should tailor it to the one you’re trying to impress. In other words, put less emphasis on the words, and more emphasis on the pictures.”

“Really? So guys only look at pictures?”

“Men don’t make it past the pictures unless they contain something they’d like to mate with.”


“Hey, don’t smite the messenger. My advice is to have professional pictures taken. Make them slightly sexy. Smile. Great backgrounds. No pets, children, ex-boyfriends, drunk friends, or buttery nipples–the drink. Also, make sure they are impressive, but not misrepresentations. You want the man to be pleasantly surprised when he meets you, instead of asking who you are.”

“I guess that makes sense. I had some guys tell me they wouldn’t date me because I have short hair.”

“Do you want to date a man who decides the value of his mate based on hair length?”


“Then, those idiots have done you a favor by filtering themselves. Speaking of filters, you should have others, including political affiliation, religion, and the presence of noisy things, such as young offspring.”

“I should specify that in my profile?”

“Sure. First line of mine, if I hadn’t already given up, would be, ‘If you hate Obama, love Jesus, scoop poop with your gloved hand, or pack lunches, move along … nothing to see here.'”

“Maybe I should just begin mine with a claim that I give the best blow job west of the Mississippi.”

“That is admirable, yet an ineffective filter, my dear, unless he lives in New Jersey and has met my friend Ariel.”

“I see.”

She didn’t see. I have communication issues. Let me try this in the voice of my Cuban baseball coach. (He gets through to me, no problem.):

“Pheel, is so easy. I tell ju. All she wan is you leek her poosie. Ju leek her poosie good, she fuck ju. No problem. See? She fuck ju, she fuck nobody else. Ees so easy, I tell ju. She want to give you hand job? Ju fuck dat hand job! Ju wait til she good and wet and she scream, ‘Yes, baby!’ She take off her shoe and give you her foot? Ju fuck dat foot! You got to leek it. No, not leek her foot. Don’t be stupid. Leesen, Pheel. Leek de poosie til she ready, den, only den, ju fuck her gooooood.”

“But, Coach, what if she wants a neck rub?”

“Neck rub? Neck rub?! Ju kidding me? Ju fuck dat neck rub!”

Help me, Cupid! I need matchmaking assistance. I matched with 21 local lovelies. Which should I contact?

Don’t say “all of them,” as I don’t want to be “that guy” yet.

Cathy will help me decide on today’s Nice Guy Show at 11am PST. Feel free to dial in and join us (347) 237-4721.


Your guide to better first dates in 2012.

It’s a new year, Sunshine; resolve to avoid bad first dates. This will require more advanced screening and strategies for quick exits. Since most of your dates will probably originate online, take the time to scan his profile for red flags and insist he sends you three recent photos containing complete body shots. If any of those photos contains a shirt with ferns, sandals with socks, or nose hair, shut ‘er down.

He’ll probably suggest you meet over dinner. Bad idea. So much can go wrong during a two-hour dinner. Meet him for a coffee and ask a close friend to call you five minutes after the date begins. Another option is to meet at the mall for a frozen yogurt. This is also a test to see what sort of taste he has. If his bowl overfloweth with gummy bears and he insists you pay for your own cone, leave him alone.

Lower your expectations because the man who shows up will probably be five to ten years older than the one you’ve been flirting with online. He’ll also be twenty pounds heavier, three to five inches shorter, and may show up with his TGI Friday’s vest still on. He’ll have less hair than you expect in one place and lots more in others. You’re no Halle Berry, so take it easy on the poor fellow.

During the date, ask him lots of questions pertaining to how he spends his free time. This will give you a sense of if and where you’ll fit. For instance, if he spends his free time playing Modern Warfare, lighting farts, or skateboarding around an abandoned pool, ditch the fool.

I realize most matchmakers insist there’s to be no discussion around religion, politics, and sex on the first date. I say nonsense. You need to know sooner, rather than later, if he’s a Mormon Conservative with a diaper fetish. You should also make it clear to the monkey that he will not be granted access to your interior before date number five, a thorough scrubbing, and much tequila.

Here are some other questions, many will consider to be somewhat personal, but I insist will save you hours of wasted time:

  • Do you shave or at least trim your ball hair?
  • Have you tried the blue pill and do you have any left?
  • Do you snore?
  • Do you think it’s funny to fart in front of your girlfriend?
  • How about burp?
  • Do you live with roommates, family members, or reptiles?
  • How many pairs of shoes do you own?
  • What’s the square root of nine?
  • What’s the last book you read?
  • Do you have a criminal record, herpes, or bleeding hemmrhoids?
  • Have we dated before?
  • Does your ex-girlfriend know she’s your ex-girlfriend?

If he is aghast at your forthrightness, shoo him away. You don’t have time to waste on snooty dudes. If he answers all questions without flinching, you may have a keeper; proceed to step two: the dinner date.

Go get him, Champ!

Why are you hanging on?

Divine darlings gathered for a reunion last night to drink wine and catch up on gossip and sex lives. I lurked. Finally, one of the lovelies noticed me and thought she knew me from somewhere. Yep, I dated her friend. I played along, hoping the ex didn’t trash me too thoroughly.

“Hi, you look so familiar to me.”

“You’ve probably seen me on TV.”


“Yep, Awful Chefs, Lifestyles of the Poor and Insignificant, or The Perpetual Bachelor.”

“Ha! No, I don’t know you from TV.”

“Well, Christine, I haven’t a clue.”

“Wow. I’m impressed. You remembered my name.”

“I also remember where we met and what you do for a living. Still impressed, or is this becoming creepy?”

Take note, gentlemen: Remember as much as you can when you meet a woman. Drill it into your memory. Make room by casting away the useless ditties you’re storing, such as:

  • Childhood friends’ phone numbers.
  • A grade school teacher’s name.
  • The details surrounding your first orgasm.
  • Important dates, which can easily be transferred onto an electronic calendar.
  • How to make a margarita. (Leave it to the experts.)
  • The lyrics to “Da Butt.”
  • Quotes from Seinfeld.
  • High school locker number or combination.
  • Pi.
  • The capital of Norway.
  • Who was president before Reagan.
  • Where you hid the porn.

Turns out the woman I impressed was married (*sigh*) but her friend was delicious and ringless (*grin*), so I began my mating dance. Turns out my target had a boyfriend I could tell she was none too pleased with.

“Why do you stay?”

“Because I can’t see myself hanging out in places like this.”

“Oh, it isn’t so bad.”

“It’s such a scene. Ugh.”

“And you’d rather stay in an unfulfilling relationship?”

“Beats being alone or desperate.”

“Leave him immediately.”


“Go home right now and start packing. This is nonsense. You’re wasting your time forcing something to work that has probably been over for months or years. Move on!”

“No. I’m not going to go through dating hell again. I can’t imagine hanging out in bars or online dating sites. That would be depressing.”

“It is what you make it, darling. If you seek desperately, you make yourself unattractive. If you’re amused by the process and see it as a way to meet new people, you’ll thrive.”

“So, are you telling me you’re here in this club tonight to network?”

“That’s not the ultimate goal, but it’s one I can live with. I met you and you’re not going to sleep with me … are you?”


“See? I still like you and am enjoying our conversation even though it probably won’t end in a sex puddle.”

“Fair enough.”

God, I hate to see women hanging onto to the frayed threads of remnant relationships. Please lose the man who isn’t treating you right as well as your fear of being judged for doing so.

Meet Me

PlentyOfFish has this “Meet Me” capability where the site cycles through a list of matches with their headlines and a few pictures. There are three choices: Yes, Maybe, and No. I’d love to be the atypical male who reads every headline and views every photo before deciding. I’m not. I am a shallow monkey.

I had my assistant, Symon, collect my reactions as I went through over one hundred of these “matches” today.

  • Argh! That close up is way too close.
  • Really? Sparklers and fishnets. Interesting … dangerous … and nope.
  • I get it: you’re outdoor-sy. Nobody looks good with a canteen strapped to her.
  • Head tilting isn’t helping. What’s wrong with your neck(s)?
  • Ah, the hand under chin pose. Cute … when you’re in grade school.
  • A picture of you (cute), Santa (odd), and your dog (stupid).
  • I see. Your legs extended at the beach from your head’s perspective. Unoriginal.
  • Are you surprised or is that the Botox looking?
  • You’re firing a gun? Oh, that’s attractive.
  • You’re in a picture with two German Sheppards and zero boyfriends for two reasons.
  • When you resemble a female impersonator it’s time for a makeover unless you are one and, in that case, this is hilarious.
  • Horses, bulldogs, children, and a selfish prick who sees them all as stressful as he clicks “No.”
  • Motorcycles give me the impression that you have hairy legs and a penis.
  • I love the sexy pose in a sundress on the beach. The Zima next to you tells me I’ll need a Delorean to avoid disappointment.
  • Woah, what’s she doing here? She’s “Looking for Mr. Amazing” and right now I’m Mr. Amazed.
  • … and right back down to earth I land with “Fun Girl” pictures featuring a duck face and tongue sticking out. Shoot me.
  • Here’s a tip: If you post a photo of you and three girlfriends, make sure you’re not the ugliest one.
  • I’m allergic to poodles but your exposed breasts may heal me.
  • 37? Really? Twenty years ago, maybe.
  • Ah, a cute woman holding two alcoholic beverages. She’s a keeper.
  • When I look at your picture, all I can hear you saying is, “Why you go out so much?”
  • Please stop with the self-portraits taken in a mirror with your own cell phone. It shows that you have no friends. For that matter, so do pictures from the camera on top of your computer monitor.
  • If you’re spooning your Rottweiler, I’m not touching it or you.
  • Show me one person who looks good in a bike helmet.
  • Hey, you look familiar. Oh, shit! DELETE.
  • Fortunately, for you, dark-skinned males gravitate to these free dating sites. I’m only dark on the inside.
  • Hey, a yoga chick. That could be fun.
  • Aw, what a cute little dog (and no dates) you have.
  • Ack! I accidentally clicked “Yes.” Shit!
  • What the hell is that thing on your cheek? You’d better invest in Photoshop.
  • I get it, already. You’re popular. You met Kid Rock. Well, I met Captain Morgan last night and he reminded me that Kid Rock is a talentless boob.

Symon agrees: It’s hopeless. Dating sites are not designed for bitter old me.