Tag Archives: Dating

The Edge of Seventeen

There’s a lake just off the freeway

That I went to with a girl

And we sat beside the water,

Feeding nature to a squirrel.

We made noises with our mouths

And made each other laugh,

Then we got someone to feed us

And we only paid for half.

We saw folks in real pain

Pretend to hurt in different ways

While on a screen and in the guise

Of whatever film’s the craze.

Then I drove backwards up a hill

To drop her off at almost nowhere.

I think about her every time

I see that lake, but never go there.

Such is love and such is life

For one who sees the sun at night,

Who, knowing how they hunger so,

Gladly lets the bedbugs bite.

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How My Dates End

Thanks for dinner!

I had lots of fun.

Here’s my number:

911

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Butt Weight… There’s More

I like girls who are polite

And women who are modest.

I like girls with joie de vivre

Although they’re not the hottest.

I like girls who demonstrate

A sense of generosity

Yet girls I meet prefer to flaunt

Their callipygiosity.

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My Dating Algorithm (1-10)

To find a man’s value

Divide his income by 10,000

Then subtract two to compensate.

To find a woman’s value

Call her a ten

(If she has a penis, call her an eight).

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This Problem Doesn’t Happen For Board Game Dates

I asked her out to eat with me

At Chez Insertnamehere.

It was a place with candlelight

And very expensive beer.

After our romantic dinner

Conversation hit a lull.

She said “Let’s have dinner again,”

But, alas, I was already full.

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When She Says “Don’t Kill The Spider… Just Take It Outside”

After the date, I told her

“I want to see you

“As often as I see

“Google search, page 2”

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A Six-Figure Sense Of Humor

She offered me a sandwich

And I said “Thank you dear.”

She sighed and asked “What would you do

“If I were to disappear?”

I said “I’d eat steak every day

“And be left with much more money.”

She scowled, so I bought her jewelry

And now she thinks I’m funny.

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A Male Perspective

Your presence is like ice cream

Eaten with a wooden spoon

While a puppy sits upon my lap

Some Sunday afternoon.

Your voice is like a raindrop

After seven years of drought.

I’m acting like a macho dude

For fear that you’ll find out.

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Not Based On A True Story At All…

Here I am and in my prime,

No need for fear, no lack of time,

My IQ’s high, my flaws are few,

But there’s one foe I’ve yet to slew.

Somehow I feel my knees go weak

If, to a stranger, I must speak.

I can solve equations in my head

But not control the sense of dread

That spreads from pate to waist to toes

When I must speak to Jane or Rose.

I know Shakespeare, Austen, Keats,

But not wherefore my heart so beats.

Perhaps I’ve read too many tomes

To mix with non-y-chromosomes?

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False-Rape Culture

The marriage rate is going down

And many tears are falling.

The good men left and left behind

Some eyes bloodshot from bawling.

Men no longer mentor

Any women that they pay

Because they fear the power

Of what said women might say

And smart men will no longer talk

To strangers in a skirt

‘Cause they’re one false “j’accuse” away

From sleeping in the dirt.

Cats think that this circumstance

Is surely heavensent:

They live with 30-something women

Whose exes pay the rent.

Meanwhile the men rebuild themselves

From fighters into monks

And leave the chasing women

To the inner-city punks.

The West now walks on eggshells.

There is no doubt about it:

The feminists have made their beds

And now they lie about it.

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