Ph.D. B.S.

Story Sent in by Madeline:

I met Malcolm at a speed dating event after which you could secretly list the people you met who you wanted to potentially see again. If someone on your list put your name down as well, then both parties were informed, and contact information could be exchanged. Out of the seven or so guys who were there, Malcolm struck me as the most intelligent and able to hold a conversation, and I was excited to learn that we had both put the other's name down for further interest.

On our date, he took me to dinner at a Cheesecake Factory. There was a 15-minute wait, so we sat down on a bench inside the restaurant and spoke for a bit.

He handed me a business card that just had his name on it. No phone number, no email address, just his italicized name: Malcolm Ryder, Ph.D.

I didn't realize that he held a doctorate, and I asked him, "You're a doctor? Of what?"

He replied, "Love."

I laughed, but he was serious. He said, "I'm serious. I'm a love doctor. I can fix any love problem you may be having."

"Oh yeah? Where did you get your doctorate?"

"Ohio State."

I laughed some more. "They would have a doctorate of love program, there. What was the title of your dissertation?"

He hesitated, then asked, "My... dissertation? Title? Uh, Love in the Twenty-First Century. I discovered that people need love."

I asked, "Did it take you more than five minutes to write?"

"More than five years," he sighed, then put a hand on my thigh. "I think that you need love. Tonight. All night."

I laughed him off, but mentally ratcheted up the creep factor to about 1,000 (out of 10). Not long after, we were seated, and I looked forward to hopefully having a good time despite his doctoral overtures. Maybe he was just awkward. Creepy, but awkward.

He talked to me about how he had just acquired pricey homeowner's insurance (thanks to so many people using his love doctor services), then he left to use the restroom. When he came back, he told me, "I'm serious. I can love doctor you tonight. I have an opening, and I'm ready to go. While I was in the bathroom, I checked on the great lord floppy."

I said, "That's very generous to offer, but it's our first date. Maybe next time?"

He sighed. "Yeah. I guess."

There was no next time for either the love doctor or the great lord floppy.


  1. I have a very sad feeling that the great lord floppy was his dissertation advisor.

  2. I bet he's a Joe Flaccid fan...

  3. Malcolm strikes me as the type of guy that tells women he's an amateur gynecologist or a lesbian trapped in a man's body as if that's a major turn on. That kind of corny ass, creepy talk needs to be outlawed - punishable by death. While we're at it, throw in "love doctor" and "female body inspector".

    On a personal note, I've never met one man who named his penis who actually had a penis worth naming. It's like naming a twig you find in your yard - totally pointless because no one wants that mess.

    1. I agree with you on penis-naming more intensely than I've ever agreed with anything in my life. And that includes that maybe Adolf wasn't such a nice guy.

  4. If his great lord is floppy, he might want to consult a physician. A schlong doctor, perhaps.

  5. The printed "business" card is what gets me. He had to get those MADE! What kind of ass clown jack hole does that? I bet he asked them to print "Love Doctor" on the card and they refused.

    1. Totally, Architect! For some reason, I keep wondering..."What font did he choose?" So much potential:Poor Richard? Windings? Arial Narrow? Impact? Goudy Stout?

      But you know that shit was Comic Sans.

    2. Could've been Papyrus. Because Papyrus makes EVERYTHING look fancy and exotic.

  6. Two key terms to get women to understand you will sex them right: "floppy" and "I have an opening". Maybe someone still has some 3.5's to insert into that opening -- if you can maneuver around his cranium.

  7. My fiance and I had dinner at Cheesecake for our first date. I did not offer her the great lord floppy, but eventually I wore her down and a Hard drive was shared.

  8. Y'all are funny. I'm just annoyed at the OP for taking a paragraph to explain how speed dating works. "We met at speed dating" works just fine. But anyway...Happy Mardi Gras everybody!

  9. He must have failed his How Sex Actually Works class back in Love College. Because a Great Lord Floppy would be as useful as lipstick on a $2 hooker.
    Great Lord Throbbing and Rigid would be much better.


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