A game I like to play is “Serial killer or secret soulmate?” Basically it’s when the game a dude is spitting at you is so perfectly creepy, you can’t tell if he’s the one you should marry or the one who will Texas chainsaw massacre you.

Guys, I know, I know. It’s becoming very clear that the serial killer or secret soulmate tag is somehow married to OkCupid. And you know what, I’m sorry. You think I like that spending all my time wearing old sweats and keeping my hair in a top right side bun for three days? Ok, yes, I do like it, but I hate that I like it and I know that I should feel more ashamed about my life and where it’s heading.

GPOY. (I’m the horse mask person, I should have made that more clear. (Hello Kitty Girl is how my common sense would behave if it were more developed. (I’m trying to say it’s not more developed. (I’m done.)))))

Anyway, so last night I had the most perfect exchange. Seriously, I actually laughed out loud. (Again, like yesterday I’m employing a young Joseph Stalin as the suitor.) To give this context, one of the things I say in my “about me” is that my jokes are rather unfunny. It’s an inside joke with myself. (See? Not funny.)


So, at first glance, this is already a very good exchange. But, what makes it even greater is that I misread and thought he was asking me if he could tell an unfunny joke. When he responded, I thought it was some sort of anti-joke and laughed while thinking “what a clever asshole.” While copying/pasting this to a few friends, I reread it and then realized I was the asshole, which honestly only made it even more better. (That “more” is there intentionally as a way to stress the better-ness. (Ditto “better-ness.”))


Too perfect. Done. No regrets.



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