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Dear Cleo Eligible Bachelors,

“!(imgcenter)!(One of the bachelors posing)”:

It’s that time of the year again where one of you gets crowned as Cleo Magazine’s Most Eligible Bachelor of 2007. The correct response following that statement ought to be some catcalling and wolf whistles but all the event could get out of me was…..yawn?

I’m sorry boys but you just ain’t making things better for all the single girls out there. If this is supposed to be the cream of the crop for the male species, all I can say is thanks but no thanks for I have seen better.

First of all, the majority of you seem to be terrific at mumbling. From my position at the bar (which really means “far from the stage”), all I can hear is: “Hi, my name is mmph mmph mmph and I mmph mmph mmph.” Some things don’t change, I can see that.

And then, when you spoke clearly and I rejoiced at hearing every syllable of your words, you had to spout lines like: “My friends call me Matt. But you can call me Tonight” and “I would make you swirl, if you would be my girl” and “I would like to be the meat between your sandwich”.

Another gem that made me throw back my head in fits of hysterical laughter was this: “I have three word for you girls tonight. Possibilities. (a very long pause) You. Me.” It made me wonder if you were merely suffering from stage fright or panicking silently and thinking if “possibilities” is actually three words in itself.

Many of you had longish hair dyed blonde, evidently inspired by the flowing tresses of the boys from F4. It’s not really that cool, by the way. The couple of dudes who had clean shaven heads were much more sexier than you are.

And when you sang, you were so out of tune that I was forced to shout at you to please get off the stage and let my boyfriend take over the microphone because his voice is infinitely better than yours.

You know something is wrong when we decided to walk out of the party just when the striptease was about to start. I was so perturbed by the standard of malehood out there that I had to leave.

I’m sorry. It’s not me, it’s you. Two years ago, there was actually some salvation. But this time, a grand total of perhaps two of you passed the test. It’s really quite tragic.


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