Truth in Advertising

Let's think about this for a minute.

Let's think about it from a "truth in advertising" point of view.

When you sign up for one of those dating sites you create a profile for yourself. Women try to make themselves sound attractive and fun loving and tread the fine line between being the type a man wants to be around his children and vixen. Like they will tolerate entire Sundays of football without complaint (and may even fetch the beer and nachos for the gang assembled in the Man Cave) or will happily go camping.

Men will fill their profile will the same sort of bullshit about candlelit dinners for two and romantic sunset walks on the beach and that they'll love and adore your kittens as if they were their own. Like they will happily hold your purse while you try on the 40th dress for some distant relative's wedding and gamely sit through countless Sunday brunches with your aging parents or your gaggle of shrill girlfriends with the wimpy husbands.

But what if the dating sites asked you to provide a resume instead, listing in chronological order all the marriages and relationships you've had (omitting all the brief encounters like one would omit the 3 month prison sentences that some jobs inevitably become)?

Names, addresses, length of relationship, accomplishments, reason for leaving.

It might look something like this:

Joe Jones
Kalamazoo, MI
9 years, 3 months
In our time together, I learned all the rules and terminology associated with football, golf and ice hockey. Consistently prepared breakfast and elaborate 4 course dinners on a daily basis and became an expert at laundering and ironing dress shirts with the precise amount of starch. Routinely cleaned urine from around the base of the toilet, removed fossilized blobs of toothpaste from sink basins, and collected random piles of laundry from various and sundry spots about the dwelling.  Provided coaching on closing drawers and closets, appropriate storage of mail, car keys and personal belongings, and acceptable disposal of toenail clippings.
Reason for leaving: Relocation. I relocated to the guest bedroom when I discovered that he was having an affair with his chiropodist.

Or

Ann Jones
Kalamazoo, MI
9 years, more or less
During our relationship I mowed, trimmed, edged, weeded and disposed of countless tons of grass, leaves, branches, sticks and other unsightly yard waste. Prepared for and executed all manner of vehicle maintenance, inclusive of removing squirrel detritus from the where it had become affixed to the grill of her car.  I was given in depth instruction on such things as managing ones spouse's premenstrual bouts with bi-polar disorder, the subtle nuances between listening and pretending to listen to dissertations on shoes, weight loss endeavors, issues with ones mother/sister/co-worker/fellow member of the Fall Gala decorating committee, and how to tell "satin finish" from "eggshell finish" especially when choosing between such wildly different paint colors as are "toasted almond" and "buttered caramel."
Reason for leaving: Better opportunity. Chiropodist is an only child with deceased parents and has a 72 inch plasma screen TV with the NFL channel.

I think this idea has legs!