I used to be a crap lay. But then I discovered the magical powers of lying and the Internet.
Two years ago, I was suddenly single, I’d just moved back to Vancouver, and found that Vancouverites were so painfully shy, hardly anyone was getting laid. It seems Vancouver men don’t have the balls to look women in the eye and ask them out on dates. I’d call Vancouver guys ‘pussies’ but that’s an insult to the beauty and power of vaginas.
Women were giving up on men, at least in person. My female buddies told me that if I wanted any action, I had to get on Plenty of Fish.
I’d never dated online before. So I researched how the competition (other guys) described themselves. And I was thrilled because they were fuggen terrible. Most Vancouver guys write misspelled clichés that describe their elaborate exercise routines, their Jeeps, their walks on sunset beaches, and how and where they like to par-tayyy. Lame.
So I went the other way. Women say the most attractive quality in a man is ‘Sense of humour’, so I scribbled this for my POF profile:
WANTED: GETAWAY DRIVER
I'm a TV writer/director + journalist (Rolling Stone, GQ, everything). I'm also a zillionaire playboy who solves baffling crimes in my spare time. I have opposable thumbs and walk erect. I can juggle up to three items at once, as long as they're not jagged or breathing. I can stand on my hands for up to 5 seconds but this skill rarely becomes useful unless I'm avoiding security lasers or gunfire. I hope you speak English. Of the 22 languages I speak fluently, it's probably my strongest one.
In no particular order, I like single malt scotch, double scoop butterscotch ice cream, and people who describe themselves as "triple-threats" especially if their skills are indeed threatening. My favourite music includes Phoenix, Spoon, and Iggy Pop's “Lust for Life.”
I want to take over the world and I need a getaway driver. Maybe that's you? I'd have to see you drive first. Bring a stolen car.
Then POF asks “Describe what you’d do on a first date.” So I wrote:
1) Hug hello.
2) Notice the bat signal. Politely excuse myself.
3) Swing from rope into burning house. Save baby.
4) Accept key to city -- then give it to you.
5) Cruise harbour together on my yacht (possibly stolen yacht).
6) Drink champagne with you.
7) We'll throw our heads back and laugh at the magic of it all.
So how successful was this posting? Let me put it this way. A hot female friend signed up for POF -- and within minutes, she was deluged with hundreds of guys sniffing her tail and asking her out. Meanwhile, seven days after posting my profile, I’d received zero (0) invitations to meet, one (1) email from a platonic female buddy who laughed about her latest sexual conquest, plus one (1) mass invite to a singles party hosted by two salty seadogs in their early ‘60s who kinda look like they park in white vans near playgrounds.
So I thought about it. And I thought about it some more. And I realized that POF was a scattergun approach to dating … when the situation actually required laser-precision targeting. This occurred to me as I came across a blonde beauty via my buddy’s Facebook wall. She’d posted a series of funny, whip-smart comments. I had to meet her. So I did what any smart person would do.
Now, before you call me a troll or a douchebag, there’s a history book called The Concise Book of Lying, which will back me up on why humans lie to get what they want. Written by a Stanford writing professor Evelin Sullivan, The Concise Book of Lying is a “comprehensive study of deception” that shows how lying is both “an intrinsic mechanism of self-preservation” as well as a “creative force.”
I liked the sound of ‘creative force’ so I used that as my guide when I wrote a private Facebook message to the blonde:
“Hi [her name here],
I hope this finds you well and grinning.
We haven’t met yet but we share a mutual friend [his name here] who’s a damn good human. And now Facebook is suggesting that you and I should be friends.
Should we trust it? Facebook’s been wrong about people before.
Here’s my background: I’m a world-famous writer/billionaire playboy. My grade two teacher said it was a pleasure to have me in her class, and I have the strength of ten men.
Here’s an idea: why don’t we be FB friends? Could be big fun and I bet there will be prizes.
Either way, I shall accept your decision as final.
A fun letter. I know I would’ve been happy to get one like it. But it was all built on a lie … because Facebook had never suggested we be friends. Usually you need to have multiple friends in common, not just a guy I hadn’t spoken to in five years.
But I figured Facebook would eventually try to set us up, so I just sped up the inevitable truth.
And I’m pleased to report that it worked like a charm. She replied with a funny message. Said she was surprised to get a correctly spelled note from a male stranger who wasn’t a Persian asking for her hand in marriage or sending her photos of his penis.
We started bantering, then dating, then travelling the world together, fell madly in love, then moved in together (in separate rooms), and all because I pointed at what I wanted and lied through my teeth to get it.