Actual reply: “Aw, look, you rhymed. Such talent wasted on a private message when you could be sharing your gift with the world.”
This, folks, was his cold approach, sent because the recipient is unavailable, clearly marked as unavailable, and the gnomes that sort OK Cupid profiles popped hers into his Quiver anyway, so he saw her profile marked with, to paraphrase, “No, really, not available, and people who ignore that can fuck right off.”
Clearly, this interfered with his presumed right to a steady stream of available women, and she should be punished for it with casual misogyny — badly spelled, and of limping meter.
Now, since the recipient is a lackadaisical Taoist with parents who worked hard to instil compassion and reason in their children, she understands that this man’s reaction comes from a potent mixture of frustration, social conditioning, resentment, foiled expectations, indignation and being awake at 3 a.m. when nobody is at their best, with an outside chance of trying to hitch a poorly executed “come on, I dare you” form of flirting to his broadside. She empathizes with this anger and frustration. She recognizes it, honors it and releases it.
Incidentally, she does the same with her own strong impulse to track the dude down and saw his dick off with a butter knife.