Getting personal: Floyd Mayweather looks for love in all the wrong places

Once upon a time, I was a toxic bachelor.

I had to get eye surgery, after some wild and wanton years. I asked my opthamologist what caused my condition. In other words, I wanted to know what condition my condition was in.

"It's simple," the doctor said, "you've been looking for love in all the wrong places."

Rim shot, please. Reminds me of titles of my other favorite country western tunes, "I've Got High Friends In Low Places" and the awesome ditty, "I Don't Know Whether To Kill Myself Or Go Bowling."

But I disgress.

Love is in the air today, Valentine's Day, and Cupid has shot flaming arrows capable of inducing passion everywhere. Look out because the romantic cherub is a worse marksman than William Tell.

I stumbled across this "Single Father Seeks Soulmate" ad buried inside the Las Vegas Review Journal and thought I should share it with you:

Male, 32, is so rich it is ridiculous. Superstar athlete whose greatness is acknowledged across the globe, even on an interplanetary basis. Some call me the "Cash Cow" of my particular sport although I make money, money doesn't make me.

Likes: Random blood and urine testing, surprise me; Going to roller skating rink to bully punks who send me text messages saying they want to see me get my butt kicked, dream on, fool; Dancing and prancing on national TV; acting with a wrestling troupe; duck soup and chicken in all forms, I Jones for the chicken and waffles at Roscoe's; Needling opponents about wearing frilly, feminine attire; reading Internet fight scribe Scoop Malinowski; My Dad's awful poetry which turns rhymes into crimes; My Uncle's being able to absorb direct smashes to his forehead with big lamps, leading to my joke that he "is not the brightest bulb in the Mayweather family"; Pretending to despise that Brian Kenny kid at ESPN; Accusing competitors of drug use without any evidence; Segways; Rick Ross; my Maybachs; Mexico and every single Mexican; Sushi rolls good but shoulder rolls better!

Dislikes: Immodest people; Rappers who don't sing up with my Philthy Rich outfit; Paul Spadafora, who once whipped my butt in sparring; Manny Pacquiao; Manny Pacquiao fans, they irritate me like big mosquitoes; Mexican boxers who have urine (their own) on their breath; Antonio Margarito; Paul Williams; Did I mention Manny Pacquiao; Coach Freddie Roach; Bob Arum and all his henchmen; Busboy, the chubby guy in Pacman's corner; Michael Koncz, Pacquiao's errand boy; Idiots who rate Muhammad Ali and Ray Robinson as being of my stature in ring accomplishments.

Dream Date: I am a high dopamine type man, risk-taking, creative, spontaneous and highly sexual. My woman must be all that and a bag of chips. She must also carry a hand mirror so I can admire my reflection at any given time. She must always walk three steps behind me and, if anyone touches my attire she must say: "Who dared touch the hem of his garment?"

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