God Bless the Little Websnakes

The Internet thinks I’m single.

Hey, baby.

 

I don’t know why it thinks this. I mean, who knows how the Internet works? (I realize there are actually a great many people who understand how the Internet works. On the other hand, shut up.)

Here's how I think it works. I think there are industrious little Websnakes that slither around in the cybersphere, gleaning information about me with their demographics-sniffing sensory organs. And they take that information back to the Internet central hive, depositing it in the waiting orifices of their queen, where it breeds pop-ups and banner ads that, when they are old enough, are sent out to pollinate my browser with “content” attuned precisely to my unique online frequency.  I see them when I surf the Web, and if I find them attractive enough, I let them mate with my credit card.

The whole thing is a bit tawdry.

Hey now, no tongue.

 

However, like many things that are shaped like penises, the little Websnakes are kind of dumb. I really don’t understand how they decide what kind of crap I might want to see online, but they get it wrong. A lot. This is how I know the Websnakes are men, and why I halfway suspect they’re my husband.

Which is ironic, because as I mentioned, the Internet has a firm and persistent belief that I don’t have a husband. Not only that, but I don’t have a husband yet I want one.

The crazy part is right on, sister.

 

Let me tell you something:  I have a large surgical scar on my right elbow, and it’s been around for a long time, and it’s not going anywhere. But if I woke up tomorrow and it was gone, I wouldn’t rush out and try to get another one. Knowhatimean?

My point is, every day I receive a number of solicitations from dating websites in my email. Every damn day. Mostly they go straight to my junk mail, because Yahoo! knows me better than the Websnakes, bless its heart. But that doesn’t stop them. I’m sure they think that one day, one of them will break through and reach my inbox. The fertility metaphors just don’t quit.

Ewww.

 

And it’s not just that these sites think this 44-year-old married woman is looking for love. Judging from the range of organizations trying to contact me, they think I’m a gay black Jewish Christian looking for love. Then again, I’m not sure what’s on the mind of the folks who want me to “Have an Affair with a Cheating Wife!”

I don’t ever open these messages. I’ve never been on a dating website – the last time I was single, men still hooked up with women by hitting them with a club and dragging them back to their cave. Which was a more personal and subtle method than bombarding them with invitations to hook up with faceless strangers. Call me old-fashioned, but if some guy is going to drag me to his cave, I want to check out the size of his club in person, OK?

Hmm, not impressed.

 

So if I’m not encouraging the Websnakes through any of my online browsing activities, why do they keep seeking me out?

Wait…I just spotted a message in amongst the spam. It’s an advertisement for…um…to put it delicately… Well, the subject line includes the word COCKZILLA, if that helps.

They think I’m a MAN, baby!

Not exactly.

 

A gay black Jewish Christian man.

With a small penis.

I think the Internet just insulted me.