The Love Profile of J. David Broofrocks

Louise Brooks (no relation), in (probably) G.W. Pabst, Pandoras Büchse, 1929. Via à l'allure garçonnière. 

My self-summary

When man seeks to evaluate,
at the behest of OK Cupid,
the hotness of a hopeful date,
he tries to play it straight and stupid,

and on a simple five-point scale
he generally gives her three.
But when a lady rates a male
she does it less judiciously:

none of us meet her stern criterion,
none of us make it out alive,
you could be handsome as Hyperion,
she thinks you're just a one-point-five.

My head's a brittle, clever Gentile,
my heart's a sweetly throbbing Jew,
my looks are ninety-sixth percentile—
why am I zero, dear, to you?

Driftglass really couldn't stand it this time.