If you’re not familiar with the worst “it was nice meeting you” email ever, read this. Seriously. Click through and read it, because if you don’t, the rest of this probably won’t make sense.
<Edit: the original post was removed, because people began to attack the individual who sent the email. My intention wasn’t to attack. It was to point out – using humor – many of the absurdities of the email. For now, the original text is still up here.>
Back? Finished? Good. Because there’s a lot of subtext in there, so I thought I’d go ahead and translate it for you. Enjoy!
dear fellow networking event attendees (like i can be bothered to insert your first name, like i even know your first name),
i could barely drag myself to last night’s event because i’m an incredibly important person, unlike the few of you i managed to meet during the thirty seconds i spent collecting contact information after speed drinking at the bar for ten of the final fifteen minutes of the program. i don’t mean to brag – that’s a lie, actually, i definitely mean to brag but i’m trying to throw you off in a pretense of humility – but i’m a surgeon. more about that in a bit.
i was going to apologize for the mass email, but let’s be honest: it’s easier for me. kind of like the whole no caps thing. i own a shift key – hell, i own a million of them, many of them made out of precious metals, myrrh and gold – but what a hassle having to use it for every. freaking. sentence. i mean, c’mon, do i have that kind of time? go ahead, google “do i have that kind of time?” and my name will come up, attached to an animated gif shaking its tiny head. the gif was made by one of my 70 million linkedin contacts. i would’ve made it myself, but they didn’t teach that in my mba course from nyu.
so this is kind of crazy and you probably won’t believe this, but i’m rich. i’m the top surgeon in this sector of our galaxy by volume, and have performed roughly a gazillion procedures, most of which you can’t even pronounce. so basically i’m ridiculously successful, except for some reason when it comes to finding the right woman.
that’s crazy, right?
that’s where you come in. i’m willing to pay you to introduce me to your friends, but here’s the catch: they have to meet an absurd list of parameters – most of which i can’t even personally touch with a ten foot pole – AND be willing to go out with me more than once if i am interested in them. i will even throw in free plastic surgery procedures once certain criteria are met to sweeten the deal because, let’s be honest here, if you didn’t need the work done you would be throwing yourself at me and not referring me to your friends.
Non-negotiable Parameters (hey, will you look at that? I found my shift key!):
1. Between the ages of 28 years, 6 months and 17 days and 29 years, 3 months and 4 days
2. No current children, pets or needy plants but willing to have MY children within the first 30 seconds of marriage, in case she suddenly realizes that she’s made a horrible mistake and tries to flee
3. College graduate from a school I don’t have to look up on the internet to confirm it exists
4. Skinny to the point of emaciated (dress size negative 4 to 0)
5. Caucasian. Period. And don’t try to be all cute and sneak in someone that is anything but Caucasian, because I’ll totally know.
6. Healthy lifestyle but not too healthy, none of that annoying vegetarian crap and spending hours and hours on work-outs.
1. Christian. I don’t care if she believes in it or not, but she has to at least pretend. Because not believing in anything is way too creepy. But she can’t believe in it too much, because I won’t be able to stand someone who thinks everyone else is damned. I mean, that’s just weird.
2. Graduate degree or a really great undergraduate school, like Harvard. But not Yale, because those bastards wouldn’t let me in. Not to brag, but I went to 16 ivy league schools for reasons I’d prefer not to go into right now (also, the records are sealed) and every single one of them enriched my life enormously.
3. Born in another country AS LONG AS SHE IS CAUCASIAN or lived outside of the US for over six months. Rich people taking extended vacations don’t count, so don’t try to pull that, okay?
4. Spent more than one year and one month and one day in a city of 1,250,217 or more people, because I don’t want her freaking out when I make her move to New York City because I couldn’t dream of living anyplace else and really, it’s about me, not her.
5. Likes animals but especially feral hedgehogs, because I plan to raise them when I retire from my lucrative interplanetary surgery business.
I’d like her to be attractive (but not too attractive, because those people are cray-cray), nice, normal, sweet, kind, altruistic, selfless, able to divide by zero and spin wheat into gold.
She should be stylish and polished but not overly concerned about her 8 out of 10 looks.
She needs to be hard working with a real career (NOT a fake career, like brain surgeon or rocket scientist) and willing to go along with whatever I say without complaint but be totally fine with getting stuff done. But she can’t be too serious, because that’s boring.
She should have a great sense of humor (but no knock-knock jokes – those aren’t funny) and be a good person who never does ANYTHING bad, like setting completely unreasonable parameters for perfection in a mate and holding them accountable to maintaining a size 0 dress size even while pregnant.
Also, I’d prefer if she were the result of a virgin birth.
So, if you know a great woman who you secretly loathe for being amazing, send her my way? Sure she’ll never speak to you again, but she’ll be rich, and really, isn’t that all that matters?
Also, you never know when you’ll need longer, thicker eyelashes to capture the NEXT me that comes looking. See? I’m only looking out for you. You’ll thank me later.
With special thanks to the hilarious, supportive, smart and articulate Amy Vernon for writing the post that inspired this.