It’s a scientific fact that 94 percent of men are gross. Like really gross. It’s also a fact that 100 percent of single men in their 30s are outright disgusting and beyond repair. Remember those immature creeps in high school who would pin other guys to the floor so they could sit on their face and fart? Those guys are like a hunky dream date compared to single guys in their 30s.
Expect “creative” mustaches. Expect unfortunate jewelry choices. Expect at least 40 hours per week of video game time. If they make it far enough to get into your bedroom, have a taser ready, because if they’ve gone over a decade as an adult without being married, it’s almost guaranteed they’ve got some weird sexual quirks that will scare the bejeezus out of you. Until there’s a Carfax for single men, punch first and ask questions later.
Go for one of those guys on dating sites who take shirtless photos of themselves in the mirror. Sure, they’re creepy and your future kids will be everything you hate in this world, but at least you know you’re seeing the very worst of them from the start. There will be a closet full of weird lotions you definitely don’t want to try when you visit their home, but at least there won’t be a wall of weird bootleg Japanese Mickey Mouse toys that look like transexual Barbie dolls. I should know, because that’s my apartment.
Also be wary of other single women your age. Single women in their 30s are terrible human beings, because the competition for even a mediocre man is fierce. Once you hit 30, the chances of finding a man who 1) is not a drunk, 2) is not a drug addict, 3) still has hair on his head, and 4) is not some weird pedophile who likes to wear clown masks while he bangs you is like one in ten million.
“Oh my God, I met the nicest guy this weekend! He’s really handsome. He works as a school teacher, and volunteers as a youth pastor on the weekends!”
Run away. Run faster than you’ve ever run before. Stop doing that yoga and pilates crap and start practicing wind sprints. You’ll need the endurance. Men over 30 may be lumpy and look like Paul Scheer, but they’re hungry for love, and they probably have some pretty non-traditional interpretations of what that word means.
Or you could just buy a vibrator and three cats. It’s cheaper, both literally and figuratively.
FOR SAD MEN
You’re ugly. No, no, no. Don’t argue. Accept it, and also accept any offer you receive from a grown woman. That’s not a joke. If you’re over 30 and single, you’re either ugly and don’t know it, or you have severe emotional problems that only make it possible for you to get an erection if someone reads a Beverly Cleary novel out loud in Portuguese. I should know. I invented that fetish. Regardless, you need to say yes to everyone and everything. Time, and your hairline, is not on your side.
There may be more women in this world than men, but every single one of them has better options than some balding, fatass emotional cripple like yourself, especially if they’re willing to look for more than four minutes. Sure, keep contradicting me. As you sit there arguing with an inanimate page in the newspaper, some vaguely ethnic guy is messaging all the suitable ladies on Tinder. He looks like Bruno Mars’ fat dad, and he is a sexy force with which you can’t possibly compete. You’d better hit them up first and pretend you’re not weird before it’s too late. If a woman, any woman, so much as lets you speak to her on the phone, you should propose on the spot.
Is she ugly? Propose. Is she fat? Propose. Does her voice sound like a dead child’s skull being scraped against a chalkboard shaped like a swastika? Propose. You can’t afford to be choosy. Once a man hits 30, he is a turd on a sidewalk that buys ladies drinks. Embrace it. Move to the next stage in life. Is she a heroin addict? Propose. Does she live with another man? Propose. Did she used to be a man? If she looks relatively convincing, propose.
Is she pretty and successful? Whoa, hold on a minute. This sort of thing doesn’t happen. She’s either married or there’s something wrong with her. Ask how many people she’s murdered. Ask her to take a herpes test. Stalk her online for any aliases. She probably eats the heads of her boyfriends like a praying mantis.
If you must have a pretty woman, I’d highly recommend a lady with kids. It scares off half the competition, makes you instantly look like a standup guy, and since the kids are half-grown, half the work is done. No changing diapers, no sleepless nights, no post mortem depression. Congrats, champ! You just achieved every man’s dream and skipped right to the good stuff: That period where children despise you and leave you alone.
Or you could just sit around every weekend not wearing pants. It’s a viable option. Half of men who get married wish they could convert back to that. It all depends how much you like eating cereal for dinner, and how much faith you have in the innovative nature of the sex robot industry.