Not all women want to be…fucked…on the first date.
And lo, it came to pass elmwood was wroth, for the dates unto which he had gone satisfied him not. Turning his face towards the sky he cried out, "This sucketh! Is there not a maiden in all the land in whose heart a fire will be kindled unto me?" His countenance was downcast, he put on sackcloth, ashes, other stuff from the Navy of Old, and the beer he drank was warm, and without hops.
When suddenly a voice from above did cry forth, “Elmwood, Dude! Be ye not in a stanky mood. Lift up thine heart, for soon it shall come to pass, a woman shall cross thy path, a babe, even, for whom thine heart shall go pit-a-pat, and even hers unto thine in an equal measure, and it will be good. Chilleth thy soul, as well as thy beer, for you are not forgotten.”
And the people saw it, and said it was cool, and did high five elmwood and there was rejoicing in the land.
hope this made you smile, brother-i read your OP and feel your pain-be well 
It made me smile for a bit. Then last night hit.
Yesterday, I went to a speed dating party here in Kansas City. If you don’t know what speed dating is, Google it; essentially, an equal number of men and women meet up at a restaurant. Women stay put at tables, while men rotate every five minutes or so. You have a scorecard with you, where you note comments and mark “hit” or “miss.” If there’s a mutual “hit,” you get contact details for the other person.
Anyhow, yesterday night. A bar in downtown Kansas City. Speed dating. There were probably about 80 people there, evenly split between men and women, in their 20s and 30s. Most of 'em could be called my peers - young, well groomed, attractive and interesting professionals. The dating began … and three hours and some 37 women later, it ended. I considered about half the women I met prospective dates … maybe 18 of them were “hits.” Not perfect hits, but still, I saw potential.
Anyhow, today I got the results. NOBODY picked me. We’re talking no mutual “hits,” no “near misses” where someone picked me but I didn’t pick them. Out of 37 women, NONE OF THEM WOULD CONSIDER ME DATABLE.
I’m NOT short, balding, scarred, ugly, disabled, socially inept, smelly, or unkempt. I supposedly have a “radio voice,” according to some friends. I’ve got a friendly smile. I wasn’t overly nervous. I didn’t drone on about myself over and over and over again.
What do I look like? See http://www.cyburbia.org/tmp/dan4.jpg and http://www.cyburbia.org/tmp/dan_and_bailey.jpg. I’m 5’ 10", weigh 165 pounds, have a graduate degree, and I’m a financially secure working professional.
Despite all this, in a crowd of 37 peer women, NONE OF THEM FIND ME ATTRACTIVE ENOUGH TO DATE. If you’re normal on the surface, what the hell do you have to do to be considered “datable?” Is love now reserved only for those with six digit incomes, six pack abs, with perfectly chiseled features and flawless skin? Do women disqualify you as dating material for the most minor or imperfections, because perfect men are everywhere? Is a 37 year old urban planner considered the equivalent of a drywaller with a mullet in the dating world?
No. No. No.
I know your experience is horribly disheartening, but really, truly, there are women that want, are attracted to, look for men like you.
I’m thinking maybe this speed dating thing isn’t what you need to be looking into. I’m not really sure what else you do to meet women, but I don’t see speed dating as being a cure for your drought.