The Private Man

Attraction and dating information for all men

Fisking An Online Dating Profile

For those not in the know, The term fisking is blogosphere slang that describes a point-by-point criticism that highlights perceived errors, or disputes the analysis in a statement, article, or essay.

My readers have been nicely generous with finding  awful female online dating profiles and posting (via comments) on the appropriate page on my humble blog. Thanks guys! I’ve not been paying too much attention to those profiles and the subsequent comments that have been generated. I happened to glance at the comment count and it’s now over 180 total comments. Jeepers, how did that happen?

I urge everyone to check out that page (yes, it may be slow to load because of all the comments) and especially the profile and analysis by commenter Ian Ironwood. He’s got some amazingly funny commentary on the profiles he’s posted there. In fact, he’s so good, I present one of his female online dating profile fisks (her profile is italics, his comments are in bold):

Oh, this one was choice. 41 yo, 7 (age-adjusted)

This dating thing hasn’t gone so well for me.


Yes, I’ve had long term relationships; I’ve been engaged a couple times, but never married – Just too many what ifs about more than which way the toilet paper should roll (for both of us).

READ: I wanted a four-bedroom McMansion in the suburbs, and he wanted anal.

I’d like to believe that being single isn’t terminal, so here I am still trying.

READ: Oh, dear god, I’m desperate to prove I’m still fuckable!

Here’s what you need to know about me: I am not Jessica Alba, Charlize Theron or whoever is the latest flavor of the week. If you’re looking for a Barbie doll, please move on. I’m not her physically, emotionally or intellectually, but best of luck if that’s what you want.

READ: I have tragically low self-esteem and I’m bitchy about my weight because my ex had the temerity to actually suggest I work out and sent me into a downward spiral of ice cream and soap operas. But I still have a vagina, so . . .

If you’re still reading, here’s some more information: I’m animal person and try to learn about wildlife and nature, but am partial to dogs. I am by no means a PETA member, but believe they need someone to give them a voice. I’m “Mom” to a 7 year old terrier and a 1 1/2 year old lab mix who are the center of my world.

READ: I’d like to be a PETA person, but I’m just too lazy and uncommitted for that. Besides, German Shepherds can’t give you babies. I looked into it.

I love to read. Give me a good story and temporarily there is no work that needs done, apartment that needs cleaned or dogs to walk.

READ: I am addicted to romance novels to fill my empty life, and that has given me vastly unrealistic expectations about how men are supposed to be. If you don’t fit within that range . . . well, I do have a vagina.

I choose to keep only a few people close to me that I consider “friends”. They are relationships of mutual respect and acceptance. They are my friends because they know me and accept my quirks.

READ: I’m such a moody train-wreck that there are only a few hyper-flaky girlfriends who still call me, because compared to me their lives look great.

My family is my family – just like everyone else’s I don’t always like or agree with them, but they are part of the package.

READ: I have a genetic history of mental disorders and a toxic childhood. Mom is now on like six different anti-depressants, and dad drinks a lot and doesn’t say anything. See what you have to look forward to

I seem to have gathered some spots on my body that are a bit more cushy than others. Fortunately, they don’t appear to be growing…

READ: I don’t work out, but this is probably as fat as I will get for a few more years. Probably.

I have no children, and I can honestly say I don’t feel like I’m missing anything. At this stage of the game I cannot see myself changing diapers, chasing a toddler or paying for college at 60.

READ: I realize that I have squandered my precious few years of being sexually attractive by selfishly indulging myself and driving away any decent alpha-type man because he didn’t “respect” me, and now that all I have on my plate are losers, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m essentially a failure as a woman. But I’m not bitter. Really. I’M. NOT. BITTER.

I am a very upfront person, what you see is what you get. I am a confident and realistic person.

READ: I’m a bitch. There, it’s out.

I’m not an adrenaline junkie – you won’t catch me sky diving and I don’t like roller coasters.

READ: Get used to cable TV and watching my ass expand to fill the available room on the sofa. Good times.

I don’t care for over priced clubs with loud music and watered down drinks. Give me a hole in the wall where I can shoot pool and actually have a conversation without shouting or a backyard with my friends and I’m a happy girl.

READ: I suck in real bars because I’m competing with younger, prettier women who will blow you in the parking lot, so I hang out at poorly-lit dives where the dudes are usually beergoggling enough for me to show off my boobs and get some tiny modicum of validation of my womanhood. Occasionally I get drunk and fuck one in the bathroom, but I’d never admit it.

I’m a jeans and t-shirt kinda girl, but occasionally I like to get dressed up and go out to dinner or to the theater. But sitting at home, cuddling on the couch, watching a bad movie with a beer and pizza works just as well.

READ: Cheap date, but worth . . . oh, who am I kidding? Please, just someone . . . tell me I’m fuckable!

The older I get, the more I find that going places on the weekends where I have no cell reception are usually the best.

READ: I see a lot of “antiquing” in our future.

I am spiritual/religious, but not a Christian.

READ: I took a yoga class ten years ago but I like masturbation too much to be religious. Besides, going to church on Sunday really eats into my “me” time. And all the ladies there keep asking about my prospects, and it’s just too humiliating now.

Here’s what I need from you: You’re someone I can have fun with.

READ: Someone who will take me out and pick up the check.

Someone to share new experiences with as well as the same boring ones.

READ: 3rd date handjob, 6th date screw, and anything after that is purely twice-a-month missionary. Blowjob? What is this thing you call ‘blowjob’?

You should be just as comfortable at home with a six-pack, pizza and movie as you are at a Broadway show.

READ: I’ve given up on a wealthy Prince Charming. If you have a job with benefits, and don’t mind that I don’t cook, we might get along.

You must be able to make me laugh, but not in a juvenile boogers and farts kind of way.

READ: 3 Stooges, Benny Hill and Monty Python? Keep it with your porn collection.

You should know what a newspaper is and occasionally read one.

READ: If I catch you on-line, I’m going to assume it’s porn.

You must not be married (that includes separated), attached or looking for your 4th or 5th wife At the very least you should be a dog person; someone who does more with their pet than just expect them to sit in the corner waiting for you to have time for them.

READ: I’ll treat my dogs better than you, every time.

We should compliment each other – teach me things, make me want to learn and grow. Challenge me to be a better person.

READ: OK, at this stage in the game, I might consider anal if you get me drunk. But only if you pay my car payment and only expect it twice a year.

As an aside, Ian and I have disagreed on some things. No matter, he’s a funny son of a bitch. He’s also got his own blog, The Sex Nerd.

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10 thoughts on “Fisking An Online Dating Profile

  1. ABSOLUTELY 100% BRILLIANT I MEAN OVER THE TOP BRILLIANT!(excuse me I nearly started jerking off, and at my age by the time i get back here I’ll have forgotten whatever the fuck it is we were talking about-wait, what were we talking about? OH YEAH!)

    1) Two references to anal sex; but who’s counting? Me, that’s who the fuck is. Hold on here comes Prof. Sherlock Holmes: “Indeed, Watson, one can tell unequivocally by the offhand yet still prominent insertions (pun!) of the ‘alimentary’ approach that this subject, the still-as-yet-unidentified ‘Private Man’, clearly has at minimum, and I must stress that this is a preliminary yet not unbuttressed (pun!) conclusion on my part, a decidedly marked affinity for, identification with if not in fact an out-and-out membership in the ‘Rear Entry Gentry’, a predilection that I must confess I too share. Indeed, once one has partaken of the olfactory, sensual, and compressive qualities of the ‘wrinkled grommit’ one is unlikely to entertain any particular fondness for the ‘front door’, unless of course prevailed upon by one’s SO to return one’s attention to what Norman Mailer described as the ‘angel’s horns’ to the detriment of the ‘devil’s trombones’ (ref “An American Dream”).”

    2) I’ve been married for 30 years. You used a term with which I am not familiar-“blow job”? Please explain what it is and its significance to your article. Bonus points if you can direct me to youtube depiction.

    3) ref your remark “I’m a bitch” and reffing hers “what you see is what you get”;SYNTHESIS:I’M A BITCH, AND AN UGLY ONE. You need to meet me like the Titanic needed to have its ice machine fixed.

    These are the only (minor) flourishes I would add, humbled as I am by the astonishing breadth and scope of your laser like phillipic. I assume by now we can conflate fat with ugly and forego “she has a pretty face” bullshit; fat equates to ugly unless our colloquium ( in libel law the colloquium refers to the group who receives the defamatory material; I am using it somewhat colloquially here to mean the “group addressed”) is a hideous gaggle of disgusting fat-ass fish-head (any Asiatics reading-good, go fuck your sideways-cunt bitches for me) Sumo wrestlers.

    A tour de force! The entire manosphere reals at the overpowering immanence, the colossal dimensions of your singular, God-like world-view. You have created here nothing less than the Cistine Chapel of the male rejoinder to the blog-copy mutterings of these bitches, whose pudendas reek so foul no self-respecting sewer rat would deign to stick its head in or to be within a 1/2 mile of.

    I had some more remarks, but in my excitement I’ve forgotten them. Should they occur to me I shall augment the previous. For now accept my extended bow as I remain

    most appreciatively your

    T.V. Munson, Esq.

    • Your the fun uncle I always wish I had. Instead, mine was an introverted homosexual.

      • Tom’s Your Uncle!

      • Once I get the hang of this, perhaps I’ll get my own blog (PM already encouraged this). “UNCLE TOM SAYS” has a nice ring to it. For now I’ll engage in what PM described as Munson drive-bys. I am something like Emily Dickinson; I write for my own-hmm., not sure what it is “but I know it’s mine” (ref Beatles “A Little Help from My Friends”) Unlike her I do not stow it away but cast my (half-baked) bread upon the waters (Bible (?)), content to see it soggily returned to me.

        Another conceit I had was “IMPRACTICUS THE CYNIC”, my nom de plume for my stoic philosopher, writing to his colloquium.

  2. Bravo, Ian. That was comedy gold. I kept picturing my 37 year old spinster coworker and her rapid descent into cat ladydom.

  3. NMH ref your uncle:
    In all seriousness, if he was about my age (59) or even appreciably younger, he grew up in a bitch of time to be gay. On the real. Couple that with an introverted personality, and being around you and your folks (I’m assuming they were straight, hence you) it would have been very very tough.I’m guessing but it would be very rare if he didn’t catch all manner of intra-family hell.

    • Good points. However, in one way he had it good…he lived near San Francisco in the late 1970’s early 1980’s before AIDS hit, which was an unbelievably promiscuous time in SF’s gay cultural life. He was an omega male, but because of his location, time, and sexual nature, had the sex life of an alpha male. In some ways I envy him.

      • Yeah, there was a tv series or something about that scene. I knew some gay dudes in the ’70s here in Boise and they described an unbelievable fuckfest. I used to think they had it easy; gender, not predilection, was the key. Guys want sex, and if you’re into it with other guys-bingo. I had to navigate chicks.

        Only one of those guys is alive today.

  4. just visiting on said:

    I have a feeling that when I write mine, I’m going to be thinking of Ian.

  5. Thanks guys! And be sure to check out my new Manosphere blog, The Red Pill Room. ( But I’ll keep doing these for TPM because, let’s face it, they’re just too damn fun not to.

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