Sunday, June 14, 2015

Review: Tinder

It dawned on me that it has been awhile since I reviewed any new dating sites. As I reached this "revelation", I was busy swiping right on Tinder...so I am kind of slow on the uptake. Anyway...Tinder!

For those unaware, Tinder is an app for your phone that uses your Facebook profile and info to create a simple profile for you. The app which was originally used for hooking up is now a viable option for those in the dating world. And it's free (kinda, I'll explain later). My first reaction to Tinder: bizarre and superficial. Once you fire up the app it uses your location to find matches in your area. The only filter criteria you provide is the age range you're looking for and distance away from where you are located. As pictures appear, you swipe left to reject them or swipe right to accept them. If you both swipe right, boom! You are matched and can now communicate/text through the app.

I've struggled to write about Tinder because of my conflicted feelings on it. Sure, in one sense, it is easy, fun, and a quick way to check out potential matches. You can glance at a picture and in an instant, you can judge whether or not someone is worthy of our time. Yes, I think us single folk do a version of it constantly. (Scanning the crowd...attractive female...immediately glance at the ring finger...and fuck). But there is something much more shallow about Tinder to me. The swipes are a quiet acceptance or rejection without any real thought. I include myself in this and am guilty of it as well.

Here is a real time analysis of some of my Tinder matches right now (ages and names were changed):
- Amber, 25 - very pretty and has a profile consisting of four words. SWIPE RIGHT
- Lindsay, 29 - Two similar interests from Facebook/no written profile. SWIPE LEFT
- Renee, 30 - no written profile, attractive, kids in every picture...hers? SWIPE LEFT
- Jenna, 37 - not attractive, lots of pictures of cats and kids...hers? SWIPE LEFT
- Sammie, 28 - very cute, tons of tattoos, one similar interest, no written profile. SWIPE RIGHT

What did I learn from this little experiment? I'm a terrible, superficial asshole. But isn't that what Tinder is about? Make judgements in the blink of an eye and onto the next one. The advances of technology have been amazing and has certainly changed how we meet and date other people. But is it a good thing? We screen and judge a potential mate solely on profile pictures, Facebook interests and a few sentences. Swipe Left: out of my life, never to be seen again. Swipe Right: hang out in the "maybe" pile and we will see what happens.

I'm not saying it's all wrong but it does feel as though we have become our online "profiles" and are disposable/disposed of pretty easily.

As a person who just wrote down whether or not someone else is worthy of me and why...the Swipe Left of me is deserved.

Thursday, May 7, 2015

Smoking! (And other reasons women have broken up with me)

I started to think about the reasons why women have given me the boot. Listed in no particular order:

- Because their mom told them to do so (see ex-wife)
- Because they don't see a future with me
- Because usually date guys who are "more fit" (This proves that honesty/best policy thing is bullshit)
- Because they have an ex they want to get back together with
- Because they love eating pussy way too much

(I made up one of those...you decide which)

But during my time in the land of "da' ho" I ran into two new ones:

- Because your mom is technically my boss
- Because smoking cigarettes is more important to me than "this"

Breakdown:

1) Yes, her mom is technically my boss. And by "technically" I mean she is. In short, mom found out we were dating and told her to call it off...and she did. Does this sound familiar? (See Because #1)

2) Because smoking is more important...this one was simply fascinating.

I met D on Match.com. She was spunky, cute, fun, non-Mormon and smoked like a fucking chimney. Now, smoking is generally a deal breaker for me BUT...I honestly had no other fucking options. We lived an hour apart and would hang out once a week or so. We would drink, she would smoke, and I would pretend it didn't bother me. Yes, I told her that I didn't care for it and that it did indeed bother me. She would go smoke away from me and I never said shit. Perfect, right? Other than this, we got along really well. We could communicate well, laugh, and generally enjoyed each others company. This was until this past week when she had something important to tell me: she needs to smoke. And smoke regularly without feeling like I was judging her. I explained that I never said a word to her about it and she agreed. But D was clear, smoking was part of who she was as a person and she didn't feel I was supportive (I wasn't). So it was decided that I would drive my ass back home.

It's been a week since all this horseshit and I have no conclusions. I feel I was going to be wrong no matter what. Maybe the lesson is that I shouldn't make concessions when to comes to big things (apparently smoking counts). Maybe I should keep my mouth shut and accept people for who they are.

Maybe, I just need to fucking move.

Sunday, January 4, 2015

Land of (No) Opportunity

I have to admit that I never really struggled. Sure, we grew up dick poor but for the most part I was surrounded by other lower middle class white kids who were in the same boat as me. But being part of a small rural town, I was always part of the majority. A few months back, I moved to the state of Idaho for the following reasons:

1) It has been close to four years since I had graduated college and despite a few close calls, I had no teaching jobs to show for it. So when Idaho offered me a job, I went.

(End of reasons)

So I packed up my meager belongings, left everything I had ever known and moved to a state I knew nothing about. Chief among the things I didn't fully understand was that my new hometown was chalk full of Mormons (80% per capita). Being the good atheist that I am, I can honestly say that I didn't give a single fuck about that. People are people, beliefs are beliefs and let's all just move on with our shit.

How wrong I was.

See, no one is impolite. Ever. Friendly to a fault but at a distance. General help throughout the work day? Absolutely. Invite you over for dinner? Fuck to the no. From what I have gathered, once they decide you aren't in the tribe...you are over there. So for the first time in my life, I am the outsider...the guy who isn't the "norm". Again, I have my non-LDS friends but we are the outliers. I have my 10,000 hours of non-Mormon believing down cold (Thanks, Malcolm).

So...how does this apply to dating? (See above).

I feel like an ass for ever previously complaining about a lack of opportunities in the dating pool. They do not exist where I live. When I mentioned 80% of the population is Mormon above, this was not a plea for sympathy...that is a stat from the U.S. Census. Yes, this was my own doing and necessary for where I want to go in my career. But it did something else for me that I never truly appreciated: loneliness. I have been alone for the better part of a decade since my divorce, so I get being alone. And apart from a handful of relationships, I am comfortable being by myself. But being here has made me understand what it is to be without the opportunity to meet someone. It feels as if I am advancing a year of my professional life while placing a year of my personal life on hold.

The problem is that a decade of being alone is starting to feel like a habit and another year in an environment that only fosters that...scares the fuck out of me.

Friday, October 31, 2014

Stir by Match.com: In Memorandum

I'll open with this: the Mormons are much better people than I will ever be....much. Kind, polite, not not drunk, and generally nice to others. Sure, they carry the stigma of the "golden underwear" but the fact remains that if you had to be surrounded by a group different than your own, you could do considerably worse than the Mormon population.

With that said, they kinda suck. When I say "suck", I mean it in the nicest way possible. They don't drink, gamble, swear, or have sex before marriage...which are all things I enjoy. This isn't really a problem until you remember that you live in a city that has, per capita, more Mormon individuals than Salt Lake City, Utah. They aren't bad people but to someone who lacks a moral compass and a general sense of right/wrong...the fit isn't there.

How does this apply to dating? I took time (I have lots, see above) and decided to map the last few women I dated. I will use a scale of 1 to 10: 1 being completely and utterly marriage material but boring as shit and 10 being a crazy bitch BUT tons of fun (she will never meet mom).

Destiny: 1 out of 10. This is unfortunate ways, chief among them that I was married to her for three years. She wasn't mean, nor was she nice or affectionate. Sex was a chore, as was being married to me. She is married now with a kid, so he got her drunk enough to manage the job once.

Trey: 9 out of 10. Fuck, Trey was hot. I am not but she somehow decided to sleep with me. Trey was a victim of "being hot, not knowing how to fuck and hating her life", which was dangerous combination. She was kinda mean, demanding, and wasn't afraid to express how unhappy she was at any given moment. Did I mention that she was hot? So hot...

Barb: 4 out of 10. Barb also hated me but she also disclosed an STD early on which complicated matters. No, this doesn't make her a bad person. Honestly, it was soon after my divorce and I was all fucked up. Didn't handle this one well.

Heidi: 5 out of 10. I never really figured Heidi out. She had kids, liked to have sex with me...and her ex-husband. She was beautiful, fun, and continually it clear that is was a "thing".

Kristen: 6 out of 10. I liked Kristen but she was super dumb. Not in a "She needs to experience life" kinda way; more like "she ate paint clips as a kid". Kristen adored me but fell victim to being too similar to my ex-wife. Not an original thought in her head, did what mom and dad said into her late 20's and had no ambition. But she was fun and if I weren't me, it could have worked.

Jessica: 8 out of 10. It got intense fast of Jessica, which I mistook for the real thing. But she loved drama and cheating on her husband with me. In a different world and time, it would have worked out with Jessica...

Jill: 9 out of 10. Jill got me...which freaked my shit out. Jill was funny, beautiful, and a fuck-ton smarter than I was. This I attribute to bad timing and me being an emotional post-divorce disaster. I liked Jill a lot and my mom would've as well.

Shannon: 10 out of 10. Shannon was badass. Fun, sexy, smart and could read me like a book...which scared the fuck out of me. I loved Shannon and she loved me back...we were going to be together.

The problem with Shannon wasn't her...it was with the guy who has the pathetic audacity to write blog posts about his exes in memorandum and rank them.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Profoundness and other shit...

Three months later:

So I've arrived in Idaho and all seems to be going well. I've met a nice group of friends, I'm working hard but enjoying my time at the new position. I'm afforded the opportunity to coach, which has helped immensely. The Mormon thing is overblown and they as a people are friendly. Sure we won't be sharing a beer anytime soon but how can I bitch about nice, respectful folks? Give me time...

As this all has happened, there is one big issue I cannot shake. It pains me constantly and weighs heavy on me most days. I lay awake at night wrestling with something and I can't really explain but here it goes: I haven't missed home. I miss people, I miss my great local bars, familiar places, hanging out with a select few but by for the most part...I haven't missed "home". This likely because the concept of home died a few years ago. Sure, I miss my mom, my youngest brother, my friends...but home? I guess that is gone. The physical place still stands but the feeling that I'm welcome there is no more. The king of that castle is a 36 year old unemployed alcoholic, whose self-medicated, abusive view points dominate our family. We avoid the topic, because that's what we do best. We are all sorry but not enough that anything changes. So we ignore, we coddle, and we apologize silently without having to do anything at all.

So I'll likely fly back for the holidays, mostly because I'm easily guilted into almost anything. But home? Shit man, I'm as close to home in this shitty apartment as I am to where "home" is. I should probably stop using that word...

Home. 

Monday, June 23, 2014

Taking Stock

I'll admit that I have struggled with this blog at times. At one point, it was funny stories from horrible dating experiences. Other times, it was the ultra-bizarre world of Match.com and their Stir Events. Then I felt the need to delve into past relationships, if for no other reason that I needed to try and empty them from my psyche. I took long breaks and dared to show this blog to a girl I was dating (Holy fucking hell, that went poorly. I thought I was opening up to her about my past but instead it was a personal attack....how dare I? Some free advice: share carefully.)

Maybe it is because of the major changes pending in my life or the overall lack of family interaction for close to two years; but I decided to take some stock. So I took a day and really thought about the past decade: where I started, what I learned, things I have accomplished and I was left one overwhelming sentiment: meh. There was a time after my marriage that being divorced was my scarlet letter and I over-analyzed what it meant. There was a time when I was convinced I would be alone forever with this curse hanging over my head. As I slowly got into serious relationships again, I was often crippled by the fear of really being with someone again. Just ask Jill. Or Shannon. Or Kristen. Or Jessica. Or...

In many ways, I don't think I have ever really been able to shake the insecurities left over from my failed marriage. I spent time doing way to much self-analyzing and considerably less time moving forward. I looked for flaws in women that I dated when I knew deep down that it came from my own hangups. I grew too comfortable being alone. In short, I haven't been a very happy guy. This isn't a blog post about how tomorrow and everyday after will be dramatically different: I have no idea if that it true or not.

But I'll take a shot at writing this all down, hopefully clearing it from my mind. 

Mostly, I just want to go to sleep.

Thursday, May 29, 2014

Ain't Dead Anymore

Turning 30 didn't really bother me. Sure, many other aspects of my life did bother me but becoming a year older didn't really register. Turning 31 involved a fun night in Vegas and a German girl who I still remain in contact with via Skype. Number 32 was spent with friends wildly inebriated at the Indianapolis 500. But number 33 (my Larry Bird birthday) and the days that preceded have kinda fucked my shit up...allow me to explain.

I have spent the last four years in dogged pursuit of a full-time teaching position. There were close calls, trips across the country only to be denied hours later and vast disappointment. So when the moment finally arrived on May 21, 2014 and I was offered a full-time teaching position in Eastern Idaho, I lost it. Deep, hard sobbing that I cannot fully explain...it had finally happened. As I sent out texts, calls and emails I was relieved. That was until the next day, when it dawned on me "Motherfuck, I am leaving everything...to move to Idaho." I began reading message board posts about the lifestyle and combing Craigslist for apartments. As I was doing it all, certain events tugged hard at me: An ex that had previously stopped talking to me now wants to get together, and friends who expressed true regret wishing I wouldn't leave. As I questioned the decision to sell most of my belongings and leave everything, two things happened: I turned 33 and I went to a wedding.

I have no interesting stories about either other than to say; I took stock in my life and decided that shit needs to change. My buddy, Nate, married someone who made him completely happy. After spending two years alienated from family (not my choice) and separated from friends (partially my fault)...I decided that something needs to be different. What that is, I have no fucking. But as I write this, my all-time favorite artist, Langhorne Slim, is playing in the background:

When they said I was dead, it wasn't true
I was just dead to you
And I ain't dead anymore

If nothing else,  I ain't dead anymore.

Sunday, May 4, 2014

Six Months Later...

I haven't written for a few reasons:

- I had nothing to say.
- I read Charles Bukowski and felt wildly under qualified to write anything short of an address on an envelope.
- I had no answers.

Now, I understand that any views I get are solely associated with my tags of Match.com and Stir events, which is fine. The rest appear to be from Russian and Chinese sites looking to plug their spam websites. So, it seems that I need to write for myself.

On the dating front:

I got an email from T (see the previous post) and we had what amounted to a four month relationship. I won't trash her here because there is no purpose served. For whatever reason, it always felt forced and never really panned out. I am past blaming myself and realize that sometimes, the parts don't fit.

Also, when the parts do fit sometimes the timing doesn't match up. In the case of T and I, the timing and the parts never really fit. She was incredibly attractive and batshit crazy. We would be eating dinner and she would announce, apropo of nothing, "You make me feel terrible about myself." And then give no explanation. Good chat. I could regale you with stories of her having two glasses of wine, sobbing uncontrollably and leaving me at a goddamn hockey game but...well, that is pretty much the story. So that ended. Plus, I showed her his blog...did not go well...

Next, I got together with my previously married friend who is now single....almost. Her and the husband are separated but they have no plans to file for divorce. And he is buying her fake tits BUT he has no ulterior motives. You know, because guys love to shell out FIVE FUCKING THOUSAND DOLLARS for tits they'll never get to interact with. Plus, when you first hook up with someone when they are married, is it risky, shitty and exciting. Then, when that person is single you remember every lie she told her spouse to be with you. "I'm having dinner with co-workers" is said to him on the phone while laying next to me in bed. So when she says the same to me, or when I have a night unaccounted for she accuses, "Are you sleeping with someone else?" So yeah, a nice fucked up foundation to build a relationship upon. It was great initially and fell to shit. Plus, she had three kids. So if you are scoring from home: three kids, zero trust and fake tits from a non-yet ex-husband.

Yeah, I'm single these days...

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Match.com Date Review: T

For reasons I don't fully understand, I decided to re-up my Match.com membership. (Quick tip: Sign up for a month, then go to cancel membership. When it asks why, click the box that says "I cannot afford it" and it'll then ask you "Could you afford it at a lower price?" Click yes, and it'll offer you 3 months for the price of 1. You're welcome) I have been a little down on Match lately because I haven't had much success of late. Which means I am holding something against them that is not their fault, I get it. Anyway, I decided to cast my line out there and try again. Within the first few days I began exchanging emails with T. She was my age, no kids, same education/sense of humor/religious beliefs....yada, yada, yada. After a week we begin exchanging texts and make plans to meet for drinks. We met last Thursday night and much to my surprise, she looked exactly like her pictures and conversation came easily! (Us veteran Match.comers know that these two attributes on a first date are kind of a rarity). The night progresses and all is going well, we laugh and talk about what we will do on our next date. We both had drinks but neither of us sloppy drunk, just slightly buzzed. As the night ends, I walk her to her car and she leans in for a kiss...which promptly turns into a full-blown make-out session. Finally, we pry ourselves apart and call it a night. We text Friday and Saturday and all is going well. Sunday (today), I received a text that says "I hope this isn't awkward but I went out on a date with someone else and it is going to progress. You are a nice guy. Take care." Yes, I know people date others and sometimes it doesn't work out when it feels like it should. But I can't explain why this one bothered me as much as it did. Maybe my sense of the entire situation was off or maybe she regretted kissing me after the date...who knows. All I know is this: I understand less about the dating world at 32 than any other time in my life. And really, I don't need to understand everything...I just want to know how to make it work. More than anything, I'm just tired of the dating carousel. I'd like to get off now, please.

Friday, August 16, 2013

I can't give it away these days...

In the past, I have written about being outgoing and shedding older versions of myself in order to meet people (read: women). The past four months have been among the oddest of my life, in summary:

-Added certifications to make me more employable (Which seems to have had the opposite effect)
-Pursed a job where I stay sober and serve drinks to drunk chicks (Married, fat, old drunk chicks)
-Lost approximately 25lbs (No need for congrats here. When people congratulate you for losing weight, all they're saying is, "Look at you, being less disgusting and shit." Thanks Grandma.

In spite of all these developments, I have been on a dating/meeting women cold streak that I cannot fully explain. Over the past few years I have broken many old self-defeating habits: avoiding eye contact, avoiding public places and being too afraid to initiate conversation. I now believe I am a decent looking guy, with most of my teeth, no (domestic) felonies and who may have something to offer to someone.

And I'm getting NOTHING in response. Polite smiles, thanks but no thanks, and the crowd favorite of being totally ignored. Even in the world of online dating my batting average is worse than a gay Puerto Rican waiter (Shit...they play alot of baseball in Puerto Rico...bad example). I send out my usually emails where I try and be funny and while I know that you won't hear back from all of them...a response from one out of 22 goddamn emails sent would be nice.

Fuckin' lesbians...

Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Match.com: The Log-in Game

As a savvy veteran of the Match.com world, I've learned many a difficult lesson about women who over-share, those who post old photos and etiquette about how to treat a one-night stand (always offer to buy her breakfast....I'm old-fashioned like that.)

But lately there is one I just started paying attention to: The Log-in Game. Let me explain:

Let's say you're seeing someone but you're in that weird/in-between zone (dates four through six) where you're cool and have no interest in dating anyone else but neither is saying if you're only dating one another.  You think you are but...well, no one has brought it up, likely out of fear of being weird about it. So with this paranoia firmly in place, you occasionally log onto Match.com and click their profile...and see that they've been on within the hour. Hmm...

From here, there are a few moves:

1) Douche Move: "I saw you're getting on Match, what's up? Are you talking to other guys?"
-This seems to work really well for the insecure ass-clowns. Not my speed.

2) Cool Guy Move: "So, umm, we're cool and all, but are we cool?"
-This isn't an awful move but eye contact and the tone of your voice are key. She'll either know that you're asking about your mutual status...or assume you're trying to buy weed from her.

3) No Move: No insertion of hilarious, cleaver, witty fake quote here. Nope. Just don't say shit.


No answers to this one for me yet...Unless...

What if she's getting on Match to see if I'm getting on Match?

Wow, man...that shit was deep. Maybe I should see if she will sell me some of that weed after all...

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Fake numbers, no responses, and other shit these lesbians are pulling...

I wrote a blog post once called "The Stink of Failure" which looking back, had very little to do with that. It was more about trying new things, having some balls, and making changes. It was awe-inspiring stuff...no really, go read it....

And I have been taking my own advice since becoming single again and most things have worked out pretty well. I'm training for a 5k race in May (I totally recognize that the fact that when one needs to train in order to run 3.1 miles is extraordinarily sad) and re-activated my Match.com account. But...

The results have sucked thus far. First, there was a girl we will call Katie because that's her name. We emailed, sent texts and finally agreed to meet for coffee. Amazingly, things seemed to go really well; we talked, laughed, and seemed to have plenty to say for over two hours. At the end of the date, we hugged and she said, "Let's do something again, I had fun. Text me that you got home safe." And like a dumbshit...I did just that. I got home and texted her back saying that I did make it home, that it was fun meeting her and that I looked forward to hanging out again. Her response: We're still waiting. That was FIVE FUCKING days ago. And thanks to iMessage and the "read message notification" I know she saw it.

A few days later, I met friends for a few beers and one of the girls in a neighboring booth struck up a conversation with me. Since we were all drinking I was funnier than usual and definitely more attractive. As we all prepared to leave, I asked to call her...she smiled, wrote down her number and said, "That sounds like fun." Two days later I called...and got the voicemail for a guy who works for Consumers Energy. Double checked the handwriting and my dialing...

So here's the question: What in the blue fuck is going on?

To the first girl: It's cool if you aren't interested but don't fucking give signals like "We should hang out again" and "Let me know you got home okay" because that shit is confusing. I get not wanting to reject someone to their face but you know an even better option? Don't say anything other than "Thank you" and I will get the hint.

To the second girl: I had three beers but was by no means hammered (Oh, I'll show you drunk...) Is a fake number better than lying to me and saying that you have a boyfriend/girlfriend/transgendered partner? Or even easier, don't initiate the goddamn conversation. 

The obvious issue here: all these fucking lesbians leading on the straight men. Go play some softball and knock that shit off.

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Epic(ly bad) First Date

So I re-joined Match.com and have been chatting with Sabrina; who is attractive, has a great job and claims to have an amazing sense of humor. So plans were made for us to have drinks today. I walk in the door at 5:54pm (this will be important later)...

We meet and she actually looks like her pictures, which is a nice change of pace for me. But then something odd happens when I ask her a question about her Easter dinner, she answers it...with three fucking words, "It was fine." Hmm, okay, so I ask if she did anything fun while home with her family this weekend, her response "Not really."

And so it went for the next half hour, I ask an open ended question and receive an answer that was anywhere from one to five words in length....followed by silence. I didn't even get the unimaginative follow-up question of, "What about you?" and even "You?" was too much to ask.

After 20 minutes of this, she finally offers "I don't have much to say sometimes." No shit Socrates, I did that math. I asked her if she wanted another drink, to which she literally shrugged her fucking shoulders, couldn't even utter a syllable. I took this as my cue, called for the check, paid it like an asshole and mercifully, the date ended.

I got back into my car and the clock read 6:32pm.

The lesson here: If you're on an awful date, you know you'll NEVER see this person again and she offers to split the check...don't be an asshole...split the check.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Dating Advice: How to talk to Women

A few years ago, if you had told me I would ever write about talking to women, I would've assumed you meant comatose ladies or my grandmother. So why the sudden change? Did I learn a magical secret or a magic pick-up line that has them waiting around the block? Nope. What changed? The answer is two-fold:

1) I got older.
2) I stopped giving a fuck.

Here is a breakdown of my thought process whenever there was a woman I found attractive and wanted to talk to:

"Wow, she is hot." -> "I bet she has a boyfriend." -> "What would I say?" -> "You know, she probably wouldn't be interested." -> "Not only am I not going to talk to her, I'm relived that I saved myself the rejection."

And you know what? I was right, I didn't get rejected hardly ever. I also spent a lot of time alone, bitching about not meeting anyone. I was SO afraid of being rejected that I didn't try unless I had a belly full of booze (In fairness to me, I'm a charming drunk).

In my case, I had already played out the self-defeating end that I often didn't try at all. I was so afraid of being told no to my face, that I didn't want to risk having my worst fears validated.

Anyway, this is a long lead-up to the point of this post: Here is how you talk to women:

1) Practice. Spent a day and talk to FIVE women you find attractive. This isn't to say you'll ask them all out on a date because you won't. The point is initiating a conversation about ANYTHING. Let's say you are shopping for groceries and you see an attractive girl staring at a product...make a comment, "I had those, they suck/were great." Did you actually try them? Fuck no. And while a small white lie, you opened the door. How likely is it you're told to fuck off and die? Not very. How likely is it that she smiles, says thanks and moves on? 98th percentile. Damn good odds. The more you do it, the better you'll get...WHICH IS JUST LIKE EVERY OTHER GODDAMNED THING IN LIFE!

2) Say hi and smile. That my friends, is the magic pick-up line. Not "You're as fine as..." or "You're so hot..." nope. Say hi. Then have something else to say, ideally not an ethnic slur and something relevant to something. Will they all go well? Not a fucking chance. You'll get blank stares, short answers and sometimes generally bitch-like behavior. What do you do then? Smile, take a deep breath and move on...bullet dodged. Regardless of how "hot" a girl is, would you really want to be with someone who treated a stranger like that?

3) Worst case scenario: I went up to a girl once and she told me that she didn't date "bigger" guys (Read: lose some weight, fat ass). Honestly, this fucked me up for a while. It wasn't until I recounted this tale to a professional therapist who said, "Wow, what a bitch." She was totally right. What a bitch. Was the problem that I was fat? Sure, I could stand to lose a few lbs...but to respond like that? Wow, what a cunt. Is that a reflection on me or her? You know the answer.

4) Be polite and nice but give them a little shit. This isn't an invitation to comment on her fat ass or anything but I mean more like this: after she quietly disagrees with you about something "Thanks for screaming at me..." You know what she'll likely do? Go on the defensive and continue the conversation. If she flips out and causes a scene, you just saved yourself months of her being an uptight bitch in the event she DID like you back. Whew...bullet dodged.

5) If the answer is no, or blowing you off...fuck it, move on. Will you see this person everyday? Nope. (Unless this is a boss or co-worker, then tread lightly...)

This a super cliche way to end this but here it goes: If you never try, you've already lost. Sure, it won't always work out, those are the odds of life. But if you never do, you'll never know.

Second worst case scenario: You flattered a pretty girl with a boyfriend, gained some experience talking to women and maybe made a friend.

We aren't on this planet very fucking long. Don't regret not walking up to someone, smiling and saying, "Hi, my name is..."

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Dating Advice: When it should be but isn't...

I write this as my buddy is in my apartment sleeping on my couch. He is a successful guy who has provided for his wife and children through hard work. And on paper, he married the ideal woman: attractive and from wealth. On paper, it all made perfect sense.

I met a woman a few months back who on paper, made sense for me. Low drama, attractive, kind considerate....really many of the things that most would look for in a partner. But for some (or many) reasons it just didn't work. I spent lots of time trying to convince myself that it should work and that at 31 I needed to buy-in, but I couldn't.

In the past, I fell victim to the idea of "good enough". There were times I wasn't happy but because an attractive woman wanted to be with me, I ignored many red flags. As a friend once said, "You start ignoring red flags and one day you look down and see a huge pile of red flags..."

So why doesn't it work? More importantly, when it doesn't with someone it should, why do we blame ourselves? In my case, I felt bad that I didn't like my ex as much as she liked me. I've been ruined by the few "sparks" I have felt with someone in the past. You meet someone and know in an instant that there is something there. Your heart races, you smile and blush a lot and start thinking crazy thoughts about what your life would be like with this new person. In short, it can be amazing.

But...there are the other times. We get lonely. We questions our self-worth and in turn think "Why would anyone else love me?" So we go back to bad relationships, forgetting the awful past and romanticizing the good times. We seek out the bad people who we know will accept us. We take the easiest road and open ourselves to more pain.We go back to the people who have hurt us, essentially asking, "Thank you sir, may I have another?!!?"

The point: If you're with someone and you know it isn't there, don't hang on hoping for change. Hell, none of us should expect change. We need to believe in ourselves and look for those who ignite that spark and bring out the best in us. It may be time consuming and lonely at times but we owe it to ourselves to no longer take less when we deserve in a partner. Let's be decent to ourselves.


Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Review: OkCupid.com (I'm going to hell...)

So I passed this AMAZING blog idea onto my good friend Katie of http://gingermaryann.wordpress.com/ and she totally passed, so I am taking this ball and running with it. Ok, more likely that I'll run really fast for 20 yards, then slow down, then take a break, and finally jog slowly after remembering that I am wildly out of shape.

Anyway, based on the page views I get it appears that people only give a shit when I write about other dating sites and porn. (Side note: Apparently, I'm HUGE in Turkey. So to Turkey I say, "How do doin', Turkey? Look at you being Muslim but not being dicks about holding women back. Plus, democracy, not too bad, right?)

Anyway, my review of OkCupid:

This isn't the first time I have been on this site. A few years ago I was on and met a lady. And by "met" I mean she said hi and started sending me naked pictures. I'll be honest, up until this point I wasn't entirely sure women like this actually existed. We finally agreed to meet for coffee on a Sunday morning. Within an hour we were headed back to my place and had some sexual relations. And within an hour of that, she was headed back home...we never spoke again. Weird? Fo sho. Random? Yup. Cool? Kinda, but it was in my "Top Five Weirdest Moments Ever."(Also included: the time I accidentally touched Sponge Bob Square Pants inappropriately and a night in Vegas that involved three different continents). 

Since Match.com costs money and I'm without a job (thanks for fuck-all, college degree), I decided to explore the free options. I'll say this for OkCupid: it's not PlentyOfFish.com (later post). OkCupid makes you setup the standard profile with a picture and asks you questions about yourself. After you answer 25 of these questions, the website generates a compatibility percentage for you and gives you three matches (aka: The Quiver). As you answer more questions, the site revels how compatible you are with each person, which is kind of cool.

What the site also tells you are the chances are that your "Match" will reply to your message.
In short, welcome back to Middle School, motherfucker. You can read a profile, like someone but see that they are "VERY selective about who they respond to". Well hell, I was feeling good until I read that bullshit. So like it or not, I factor that in before messaging anyone.

And here is where shit gets weird: I see a girl I went to high school with, which unto itself, isn't very interesting. That is until I remember that she is the girl who my buddy, Mike, lost his virginity to. Suddenly, my mind, which has been battered by poor decisions and alcohol over the years, remembers every goddamn detail of them having sex. She liked sex in public. She liked sex often. In summation: she liked to hump. Alot. At 31 years old, I should be able to think about something other than that, right? Nope. I eventually decide not to message her because word is that Mike has warts on his ding dong. Is it true? Were they from her? Does Mike like Asian whores? I could not produce answers, so I decide to move on.

Anyway, the site is okay but I have no idea if it produces results other than random coffee shop sex.

You're probably thinking, "Wow, pretty shitty review...seems like nothing more than an excuse to tell a story about some random sex you had and to talk about a girl from high school..."

Hi, have we met?

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Stir events by Match.com - Part Three: This is starting to get sad

For reasons I am still trying to understand, I decided to make a third trip into the wilderness that is a Stir event by Match.com. If you are new to my exploits in this arena...well, if I knew how to link shit, I would do so now, but I don't. Either way, they are there under previous posts. But to summarize:

1st time: Met up with my friends girlfriend, who wasn't exactly acting like she had a boy friend.

2nd time: Came with friend whose now ex-girlfriend was there last time. Met someone but after 3 months, that relationship came to an end. Why you ask? She didn't read so good, or at all really. She shared intimate details of our sex life with her ENTIRE family (mom, dad, three sisters). And finally, when we had a disagreement once (not a fight, no voices were raised, no names were called, no accusations were made) she responded by curling up into a ball and sobbing uncontrollably for an hour.

And well, the other night was the 3rd trip to Stir.

I decided to fly solo this time, since my buddy has found himself a girlfriend and I couldn't beg anyone to come with me...you know, I had options n' shit.

Now a veteran of these events, I left with many observations and what-not:

- I saw drunk girl dancing alone, again. She has made appearances at the other events, always shit-house drunk by the time things began and hitting on every guy there. The weird thing? She's very attractive. I couldn't tell you if she was smart or not because she slurred like a stroke victim. Either way, glad she was there.

- 40 year-old dude wearing a baseball cap was there. Listen Billy Jack, every knows you are bald, it's cool. You are fooling no one with the hat. Either shave your head or take the goddamn hat off.

- The husky Indian chick (convenience stores, not casinos) who I made every attempt to escape the last time I there and actually asked "Why did we never hang out?" The reason why not doesn't matter, you being a glutton for punishment is what fascinates me. Do you remember being dismissive of what I did for a living? Or telling me dumb people watch TV, after I told you I loved TV? You fall into one of two categories: liar or stupid, which is it?

- Many people cannot take a hint. Lucky for me, I learned early on when women weren't interested in me (Ok, it was 7th and 8th grade dances and the fact that any girl, let alone a mildly attractive one caused me to sport a boner hard enough to cut glass. So looking back...yeah, that was probably a factor.) But I watched men and women continue to bombard the opposite sex with questions when that person was making it painfully obvious they were not interested. I commend persistence, this isn't to say I understand it, but it is respectable. Either way, raise the self-awareness a touch and move on.

Anyway, my night ended with no real prospects on the horizon but I did get a blog post out of it.

More importantly, I'm curious to hear about the experiences that others have had at these events. Leave a comment and go wild, spare no embarrassing details. Note: it will show that I have to approve all comments now because some ass-clown posts spam ads for boner pills on everything I put up.

To this person, who speaks English as well as a Vietnamese hooker: I hope your grandmother is attacked by an AIDS infested wolverine, you pathetic shit.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

I'm me...and other reasons I'm an ass

If you ever want to know what someone REALLY thinks about you, just break up with them. Within a matter of minutes that person is more than willing to share every flaw you've ever had, or they thought you had. Few too many pounds? Listen up, fat ass. Too sarcastic? You're dead inside.

(Not saying these aren't accurate...hell, she is likely smarter than I thought...)

So what did I really learn: knowing when it's all wrong is just as important as when it is going right. Sure. given that I am 31 going on 14, my opinion on life skills is questionable at best...but...I feel confident on this one.

I couldn't say one thing wrong with my ex...oh sure, if you want to bring out the bleaching, or the fact that she didn't read so good...you could have a point. But the fact remained that she is and was a very nice, sweet, caring individual. So in the name of journalistic integrity, I asked the most unbiased person I know...my mom.

(Full disclosure: If I decided to murder 13 retarded kids with a soup ladle next Thursday, my mom would be first in line for visiting hours the following week.)

Mom's take: "Well...you're a person who needs...space. And you need a person who doesn't need your input. Well, you're going to give your input but that person shouldn't care what you have to say."

That folks, is from the woman who gave birth to me. 

The point: After several months in a serious relationship, I can't say that I know what a great relationship is but I know what it isn't.

Most importantly, mom said I'm very handsome.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Baggage v. Knowledge

I was initially going to title this one "Beast of Burden", then I remembered that I hated that Rolling Stones song. And it didn't mean what I thought it meant. Thanks for nothing, books.

I have a friend that I work with professionally but we never talk about work. This isn't to say work isn't important, god knows it is, but we avoid that shit. No, we talk about relationships, our involvement and how we've played a role in fucking them up. Oh sure, we take time to spread around the blame but usually it circles back around to the real problem: us.

The problem, in both of our cases, is the past. This is often referred to as baggage and as cliche as it has become to say we all avoid it, we cannot. Yes, we all have a past but I've learned that my life experiences, which for good or bad have shaped me; are officially the problem of the next person I date. I have an ex-wife, a strange childhood, and other fucked up shit that I eventually place upon someone else. It's not really a question of when it happens (Week 11 if you're scoring at home) but when. 

On the other hand, an optimist would say that yes, I have made my mistakes but they've made me the man I am today and I am better for them. I was able to take lemons, squeeze the shit out of them and bitter lemon juice, with seeds and shit. Anyway, these are my past and apart of my story.

The point: another relationship is about to come to a close, and depending on which paragraph above you subscribe to, the fact remains that yes, I am the problem. This is a perfectly nice, sweet, considerate, attractive individual and really, I don't have one great reason. We all have some foibles that society has deemed undesirable (looking at you, anal warts), but this three month long relationship is about to end because more than anything, being with her reminds of my being married to my ex-wife. I wish I could run her down, make disparaging remarks about the cleanliness of her vag...but no, being with her brings back bad memories from the past.

Shallow? Maybe.
Immature? Likely.
Oblivious? Not the first time.

So I'll move on, with questionable reasoning, onto whatever is next.

Funny...as I wrote this, there is a Todd Snider lyric that continued to bounce around in my head:
"But I feel like I oughta be praying or something; And I have no idea what to say"

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

When it goes...right?

My friend, Kate (http://disappointedlove.wordpress.com/) and I had a funny exchange on Facebook chat last night. The crux of the conversation was this: why is that when those of us who have written extensively about relationships, dating and everything else get into a relationship...well, we run out of things to say. One of my finer qualities (other than my unnaturally huge dong) is my ability to bitch and complain. Hell, if I ran a country bitching and complaining would be our national pastime.

But now I am in a relationship and things are good. As much as we all enjoy the newness of meeting someone, I am enjoying being comfortable and myself with someone. And that person, for whatever reason, digs me.

You know that you've been in bad relationships before when you're overwhelmed by the basic kindness shown to us by others. Small gifts, considerate gestures and many other little things I missed along the way when I was younger.

I don't know where this is headed but I know I am enjoying the ride. A younger version of my (still well hung) spent time seeking perfection in someone else because of my own insecurities. But now? I seek comfort, kindness and quiet.

(But seriously...it's like a Pringles can down there...)

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Review: Stir by Match.com - Part Deux

After the last Match.com Stir event, I had reservations about going back. Nothing about it was terrible, except for the fact that I saw my friend's girlfriend there and confronted her. On the bright side, I now had a newly single friend to bring along.

(Side note: These events are SO much more fun and easier when you bring a wingman along with you.)

My buddy and I made our way to another bar in the Grand Rapids area and entered the event and surveyed the landscape. Much like the last gathering, there was pretty much a 50/50 male/female split and it really covered all age ranges.

(A quick note about my buddy: he is in his early 40's and tall. Like 6'5" tall. As I would soon find out, his size brings out the aggressive nature in ladies.)

As we stood there with our beers and checked out the scene, we were approached by two ladies: Amanda, 34, blond hair, built like a butt plug (that's not a compliment) and Marie, 51, rail-thin, pathetic and REALLY likes tall guys. After 10 minutes of polite conversation, Marie turns to my buddy and offers "I bet I could climb you, mind if I try?" No one laughed. My buddy looks at me with confusion and then we all look at Marie, who is smiling. This chick was serious.

(Stir lesson: Know when to leave. If you aren't interested be polite and pull that goddamn ripcord.)

After a less than gracious departure from Buttplug & Marie (Worst morning radio show ever), we were soon corralled by a collection of five insurance agents. They were a pretty forgettable group (three of them were married, so that was....confusing) except for Sandy, who was short, stout, and aggressive. She fired questions at me like I was in a job interview: "Where do you work? What do you read? Do you travel?" Instead of allowing me to answer, she answered and then offered her take on her question. Example: "Do you watch TV? I think TV is for dumb people. Successful people looking to climb the C-Ladder do not watch TV." When I told her that I love TV she actually responded, "So you don't want to be successful?"

I will deal with a lot but I will not let anyone besmirch the good name of television.

(Stir lesson: Don't insult people. Just shut up and move on.)

At this point, I made the decision to literally turn my back on this chick, without knowing who or what was standing behind me. The who, as it turns out, was Kristen: cute, funny, friendly and knowledgeable about Detroit Tigers baseball. We started to talk and it just flowed; she asked me questions and seemed to care about the answers. What "it" is, she and I had it.

Meanwhile, Buddy was caught up in the circle of insurance agents, fighting for his life.

(Stir lesson: Again, don't be afraid to politely cut bait. Buddy learned this the hard way.)

My night drew to a close, I asked to see Kristen again and she said yes.
That was two weeks ago and we have hung out as much as possible. We find the same things funny, are both laid back, have drastically different tastes in music BUT...it is going really well.

So, for those considering a Match event, there are all kinds of people out there: tall, short, nice, aggressive, young, old, fat, skinny, and buttplugs. Ideally, there is one who will click.

But for the love of Baby Jesus, watch out for the climbers...

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Review: Stir by Match.com

I'm a member of Match.com and lately these motherfuckers have been bombarding me with emails for their "events" to meet others known as "Stir". I decided that I needed something to do, meet some people and frankly, I needed something to write about...so I signed up to go.

The idea is this: Match rents out the room of a nice bar, fills it with single people, gets them hammered and calls it a success. Tonight I made my way into the nice bar to find a partially crowded section of people and surprisingly, it was not all dudes. (Fear #1: Sausage Fest! Sure there will be single people but it will be all weird dudes). Actually, as the night went on there were many single women. Or should I say, packs of single women (Yes, I get the irony of using "packs" and "single" in the same sentence).

I made my way to the bar and surveyed the scene: everyone had broken off into small groups and was chatting, so the "7th Grade Dance" theory I told Kat about was immediately out the window. But the first thing I noticed was the two people in wheelchairs. Ok, I'm seriously not a shitty person but it was funny because it was a man and a women, opposite sides of the bar and I distinctly heard some lady ask the guy "Are you guys here together?" I don't care, that is comedy at its finest. Outside of the two showboats, there was the normal collection of characters: drunk college chicks, drunk college dudes, the aforementioned pack of women who grilled every guy who dared talk to one of the pack, and everyone else who was drunk.

I made my way around the room and found it was easier just to go up and talk to women because I knew they were single. This sounds simple but it does something for your confidence knowing that person is available. And when it doesn't work out, you are oddly okay because you just start talking to someone else. The one anomaly of this event is that there is always someone else to talk to. Yeah, you are having a great time as is the person you're chatting with but you are both kind of looking around and wondering if there is someone else better suited for you. From what I could tell from the people I spoke with; there is a lot of talking and moving one but few connections. And if there are connections, the question becomes, "what do I do now?" because that person you've been talking to is watching you talk to another person.

This was all fine and fun until I run into someone I knew. Sure, we would all fear seeing a co-worker or relative but it ended up worse for me: I saw my friends girlfriend. I ended up meeting and talking to their group of friends and she made it clear that: a) she did not remember meeting me and b) that she felt she was single. It's worth noting that this event was 45 minutes away from where I live and where my friend lives. As we all chatted, she told me she was excited to be there and meet so many "new guys".

Fuck.

I stepped into the bathroom and texted my friend,
"How are things with your lady?" 
Him: "Good. Why?"
Me: "Fuck. I'm at a single event, she is here."
Him: "Tell her I said hi."

I emptied my bladder and contemplated my next move. I left the bathroom and found her again.

"Hey, I remembered where I know you from...I'm Joe. We've met..." And before I could finish my sentence, she remembered me.

She uttered a few expletives and then stammered "You aren't going to tell him, are you?"
I said nothing.
She said "I'm just here for moral support for my friends."
I said nothing.
She said "I told him I was in Grand Rapids, I just didn't say why..."
For once in my life, I got to have my movie moment when I said, "You're fucked."

I paid my tab and left.

Did I meet the love of my life? Nope.

And while I had to deliver difficult news to a friend, it was nice to remember that I was a good friend and maybe a decent person. All in all...a solid outing.

I hope the wheelchair people ended up fucking tonight...

Thursday, August 9, 2012

The Art of the Setup

Sometimes you write things because you have something important to say. Other times, you write something because you feel it is informative or entertaining.

I have written before about some of the failed attempts that friends have made in setting me up with others. From the male perspective, these setups fall into one of three categories:

1) The Buddy Setup: 99.8% of the time this is about one of your friends wanting to hook you up with a chick that: either shot his weak game down or is the friend of a girl he is trying to fuck, and knows that you can be an ass(et) to him getting some. These are great for most dudes because your brain works in a similar fashion to your buddies: you like to fuck and you really like women who like to drink and take their shirts off. Everyone wins. And in the event the Buddy Setup fails, you still win because your buddy understands why the setup happened in the first place...to get some sex for his friend.

2)The Couple Setup: Damn, this one happens a lot and actually happened to me tonight. I have this friend who I'll call DJ (because that's his real name, I'll sell you his address and Social Securoty number for $23). He sent me a text tonight asking if I was single and if I was interested in meeting his wife's sister. Listen, I have known DJ since middle school and love him dearly. We played high school football together, we hooked up with drunk sophomore chicks together when we were seniors, and I have seen him naked more times than I can count. With that said, we don't talk a lot. We offer each other trades in fantasy football but we don't text out of the blue to say hi, and we are both fine with this arrangement.

So did DJ suddenly start caring about my dating life? Shit no. But you know what he does care about? His wife fucking him this week. So when she asked him if he had single friends to date her sister, motherfucker started caring a whole lot. And I don't blame him, I would do the same. Sure, it could get sticky when it doesn't work out and it means any exit will have to be graceful, but DJ is my boy and I'll take one for his cock so he can get laid this week. This setup is appreciated but we all know what the real driving force is here.

3) The Crazy Setup: This happens with people who think they know you, but really don't. Or people who know you, but have extraordinarily shitty judgement. John's wife wanted to set me up with her co-worker, Amy. Other than the fact Amy had zero personality, was morbidly obese and never made eye contact... it would have been perfect. Her rationale was, "Amy is single, Joe is single...it might work!" I love John's wife, Connee, she is a dear friend but this setup proves women are delusional. At no point did she consider my personality, likes or dislikes, or the fact we had nothing in common.

(Side story: Part of her thinking was that I'm athletic and so is Amy and she specifically cited the fact that Amy loved to skydive. Standing at the edge of a plane at 10,000 feet, leaning forward and letting gravity do the work doesn't make you athletic. Actually, it means you're lazy as shit. But I digress...)

Here is the thing: Connee meant well. She saw two single people and wanted to get them together. Her heart was in the right place, sadly it was no where near logic. These setups are always well intentioned but poorly executed.

The lesson? Start including a line item for "escorts" into your monthly budget.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Scenes from a shitty Italian Restaurant

This one took the majority of my work day but I managed to remember a few memorable things said to me during a first date and/or one night stand. Believe me, you'll be able to tell which is which. 

"We can go back to my place but we need to be really quiet because my kids are sleeping."
-Boner Killer 101. I have no issues with you having children but the fact that you're letting some drunk asshole (me) into your home to fuck while they are asleep is revolting. Pass.

"You'll need to pick me up for the date because I can't drive...umm, because of the seizures."
-That was three years ago. I'm still not sure how to respond. I did pick her up and we had an awful time. On the bright side, she didn't shake uncontrollably on the ground and shit her pants...which was nice.

"You and I can go see my church counselor and talk about how we can grow together."
-This was the FIRST FUCKING DATE. Creeped out doesn't even begin to describe what I was feeling.

"I would let you come in, and we would have fun, but I haven't shaved in a while."
-And here was my cogent, rational response, "Hgdajgfgaf, jdhfhf, yiiuhfd!"

"Could you finish soon? I have an exam to take in 45 minutes."
-It was community college. She failed the exam, blamed me and we never spoke or humped again.

"The last time I had sex? Two days ago, it was with a guy I met on Craigslist."
-Honestly, how the fuck do you respond to this? She had asked me that question first so I decided to be polite and return the favor. Big fucking mistake.

AND FINALLY

"We aren't divorced yet, but I'm sure we will file soon, so this isn't really cheating."
-I didn't. I really wanted to...I mean, really wanted to...but I did not.

In closing...what the fuck?

Friday, July 20, 2012

Online dating tips: For the guys

Since I offered unsolicited advice to the ladies, I figured the fellas could use some equally useless dating advice:

-Don't plan a bunch of shit for the first date. When I first started dating after the divorce I would plan nice dinners and multiple activities, only to realize I was spending ass loads of cash on women I had little in common with. Stop it. For a first date plan for drinks or coffee, nothing more. If at the end of either of those, you want to continue the evening, go ahead. But in the event she is a royal rag, you can cut your losses after a few drinks.

-Be yourself. There is no point in spending the first few dates pretending to be something other than who you are. At some point, you are going to be the real you and it'll be in stark contrast to who you've pretended to be. Knock that shit off. When you meet that right person, be it for the night or forever, it will be because of who you really are...not who you pretend to be.

-Be polite. Hold open doors, buy drinks, be polite. Maybe this will never get you laid but it will mean you aren't a dick, which means something as far as karma is concerned.

-Shut the fuck up. Smile a lot, ask questions and let her talk about her. Throw in funny comments when you can and talk when it means something but by in large...realize that she doesn't actually give a fuck about most of what you have to say. Don't be rude, smile, ask her about her, listen, and don't one-up any of her stories (in fact, don't do that to anyone, lest you be an asshole).

-Be honest. but not too honest. Say things like "You look great" and "It was a lot of fun to hang out with you". Avoid statements like "Your pussy stinks" and "I think you're a bitch". These sound funny and obvious but asshole dudes get a few drinks in them and decide to be cute. See rule #4: Shut the fuck up.

-Be confident. This is hard for many of us because it may not be in our nature. If you aren't confident, follow this rule: act as if...Meaning, act as if you were confident. Believe that someone, sometime is going to find you attractive. Maybe it isn't the girl you are on a date with, but someone will be into you for being who you actually are. It's the law of averages, man. Dude I went to high school with was a total stroke, moved to Korea and has a hot Asian wife...I mean, I'm just sayin...it happens. Be you.

-Finally, don't be pushy. There is a fine line between taking a chance when you think she is interested and being a pushy douche. If you think she is into you, and you're feeling the moment...take your shot. Maybe you missed (aka get shut the fuck down) but take solace in the fact you took your shot. Now, if you get shot down and keep pushing...you're probably a creepy dude. Maybe it works with some women but it probably means you're a shitty person.

So that's what I got fellas. In short, don't be a cock.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Online Dating Tips: For the ladies...

Since there is a 5:1 male to female ratio for online dating, the ladies obviously don't need my assistance in crafting a dating profile. I have read profiles that mention vindictive ex-spouses, veiled references to sexual abuse, and in one case, a woman who said, "I don't trust men and won't trust you." What do they all have in common? Plenty of emails, winks, and attention from the male folk (Yes, we are completely and utterly shameless). 

With this in mind, here are some random tips, hints and things to avoid if you want to attract a decent human being from online dating:

-I like boobs. As does 99.887% of the straight male population. But if you put up a bunch of pictures of you in a bra or using only your hands to cover your ta-tas, we are going to assume you like to show them on a regular basis (Not saying it's fair, but it's true). So if you aren't interested in putting all the goods out there from day one, go ahead and rein in the boobage from your profile. 

-For the love of fuck, use spell check. If I am reading your profile and it's littered with misspellings and no punctuation, we assume you suffered a traumatic brain injury. Or you're dumb as shit. Either way, I'm probably moving on. 

-If your username includes any of the following: Princess, Baby, Hottie, Gorgeous, Bitch, Sexy or any variation of those spellings...I am assuming you're a massive pain in the ass who carries around a hefty sense of entitlement. There is nothing wrong with self-confidence but those all reek of someone trying to compensate for the fact that they probably developed early and never had to have a personality.

-In the event that a guy emails you and asks questions, that means he is interested. If you are interested, then you email back, answer those questions, and then ask some of your own. This is called a conversation. But emailing back to simply answer the questions you were asked is an interview; it gives the impression you aren't interested or that you're a dolt. If you aren't interested, don't respond at all. 

-Don't mention your ex or how he ruined your life. It comes across as sad and kind of pathetic. 

-If you aren't interested in dating, or you are "just looking for friends" then online dating is the wrong place. It's not fair to the guy thinking there is a chance of a relationship when in reality you're looking for someone to go to the movies with. Yes, yes...something could become serious but it means this poor bastard is playing against a stacked deck. 

-Finally, when you do get to the point of actually having a date and regardless of whether this is someone you want to see again or not, say "Thank you." I'm old-fashioned in that I always pay for drinks or dinner, even if she offers to split the bill. I believe that since I asked you out, the obligation is mine to pay. In the event that happens, just say thanks. I don't need oral pleasures in the parking lot because I bought your dinner but at least acknowledge the gesture. I can't tell you how many times a night has ended and nothing has been said other than "bye". And this has happened with women I have dated more than once. Maybe it isn't a dealbreaker but it is common courtesy. 

Ok, so that's it. If you follow these rules...umm, back to that last one...if you do blow the dude after dinner I think you can skate on saying thank you. Like I said, I'm old-fashioned like that.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

My Adult Dating Life: Barb

I spent a few months after Jill collecting my thoughts and trying to figure out why I was being an ass. That's when a friend introduced me to his co-worker, Barb. She was 29, a working professional with a serious demeanor and a bitcin' old school Mustang convertible (I'm not even a "car guy" and I had to admit that it was a sweet ride). So after the initial meet and greet we decided to hangout for drinks. And this where Barb wins the honesty award...

So we are two beers into the second time we have ever met and all is going well. I'm sober and I think she is too. Apropos of nothing, Barb blurts out "Umm, it's not like I have HIV or anything, but I do have herpes."

Hmm...

Listen, there is nothing funny about having an STD. Nothing. But...it was an interesting time to tell me, you know...over drinks when the only physical contact we ever had to that point was a handshake. And make no mistake, I am glad she told me...good on her. And I give her credit for the opening of "It's not like I have HIV..." because when you compare herpes to that, it doesn't seem as bad. Either way, no one ever really trains you how to respond to statements like this, especially when they come OUT OF THE FUCKING BLUE. So as I racked my brain of all the info I retained from health class in high school, I sputtered out the only response that came to mind, "That's cool, dude." Which I am sure was ultra reassuring to her...

Anyway, Barb and I dated for a few months but it got weird when things got physical. I wasn't 100% clear on the rules of having sex, given the circumstances, and neither was she  (I feel like I would be CRYSTAL FUCKING CLEAR on the rules and limitations of herpes sex, but that's just me). Anyway, our physical contact was limited to hand jobs...which I gathered she hadn't done much. I came to this conclusion (and believe me, it was the only time I came with Barb) because it was so fucking painful. She violently tugged and pulled on my dick like she was playing foosball. I would gently suggest "That feels good but...could you try doing it like this?" And this apparently makes you a world class asshole, or so I was told. She later yelled at me, "You should be grateful I'm touching you at all!"

Ah, now I know why Barb was single.

She later apologized but this rocketship was plummeting toward Earth in a hurry. Since neither of us knew the physical boundaries, and anything with our hands was off the table, we just dry humped a lot and were both left unsatisfied. The breaking point came when she suggested that we have sex and that life with herpes wasn't that bad...if I just got used to it. This was too much information for me to process, so I decided to put this one out of its misery...you know, since deciding to catch a STD seemed like a bigger commitment than I was ready for.

Maybe I handled this one incorrectly, but I learned one important lesson: those health classes from high school were fucking useless.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

My Adult Dating Life: Jill


I began dealing with my divorce like any reasonable, mature adult would: by drinking excessive amounts of alcohol and locking myself in the bedroom. Ok, so it probably wasn't the healthiest way of handling the pain. A good six months went by where I would wake up, shower, go to work, stop by the liquor store near my apartment and buy some Mickey’s malt liquor and go home to get bombed. At no point did I even consider dating anyone else, even though I had heard through the grapevine that my ex had already moved in with someone.

(Side note: If you’re one of those assholes who feel the need to share painful, but essentially useless information like this with a “friend”, let me ask you…what are you gaining here? Maybe instead of being the first to break the news, you shut the fuck up…or kill yourself. And spare me the “good friend” argument. A real friend will avoid the topic at all costs and buy you a hooker.)

I was working for a Fortune 500 company, which sounds glorious until I reveal that it was a call center job and I was hauling in $11.00/hour. So each morning I would make the death march past security, hang my soul on the coat rack and suck on the corporate dong. One morning as I walked into for my daily shaming, I noticed a new security guard, Jill. She was tall, had curly brown hair and a great smile. For the first time since my ex left, I looked at a member of the opposite sex and felt something other than anger. As the days past I started to chat her up and found out that the security job is temporary and she had her degree in criminal justice. After a week of painfully shy conversation on my part, I asked her if she wanted to grab a beer sometime…with me. She smiled and said yes.

It’s amazing how after a split of any relationship the smallest things make you feel better. I liked Jill a lot but the one thing I liked best about her that was she liked me. I recognize how silly that sounds but after spending the last 5 years of my life with someone who didn’t really seem to give a shit about me; it was amazing to spend time with someone who seemed to dig me. One date became two and we started to hangout several times a week. There was instant chemistry…and it scared the shit out of me. Everything I ever thought I knew about being with someone was now called into question. I had serious reservations about my ability to be with someone and make them happy…and ultimately, that fucked me up. Jill was happy being with me and would come over and stay the night a few times a week. I would order Chinese food and we would watch episodes of the Daily Show…it should've worked.

Jill and I had lunch at work one day when she told me the big news: she had gotten a probation officer job in Wyoming. I did my best to act happy but I couldn’t hide my disappointment. I told her I was happy for her, and part of me was, but the other part of me saw this as someone I cared about bailing on me again. She suggested that we could make it work long distance and I shot down the idea immediately. Like any insolent child would do, I pouted and told her it wasn’t a big deal and that we were just friends anyway. She picked up her lunch, walked back inside and I never saw her again.

I tried calling and she didn’t answer. The next day I asked another security guard when Jill was working again and he said he was pretty sure he quit to move out West.

I obviously wasn’t ready for another relationship but I’ve thought about Jill a lot since then and wish that I had handled it differently. I could have really been happy for her and we could have tried to…I don’t know.

But I miss her. 

Monday, July 9, 2012

My Adult Dating Life: Destiny


I thought it would be interesting to chronicle my adult dating life...okay maybe more interesting for me than you. I'll exclude any and all relationships before I turned 18 because they were all short-lived, involved copious amounts of alcohol and were full of the drama that only high school can provide.
I was 19 when I met my ex-wife, Destiny. I didn't know then that this is the person I would later be divorcing (would've been awesome to have that information handy). I was going to college in Louisiana and we had the same group of friends. She was beautiful, very quiet, and painfully shy. She was also dating a mutual friend of ours; so while I was interested, I also understood that she wasn’t an option. As the semester passed, we hung out more and she actually began to open up to me but we remained friends.

At the end of the fall semester, my mom called and told me that she had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer and that she would start treatments the next day. She insisted that I stay in Louisiana and continue classes, but I ignored this and packed up my 1986 Ford Escort drove all night to get home. It wasn’t until I was back home did my relationship with Destiny really begin (Yes, this probably isn’t the best way to get to know someone). Through long distance phone calls and chats on AOL Messenger (those fucks used to charge by the hour, does anyone else remember that?) we had begun to fall hard for one another. She told me about her domineering mother, her distant father, and how she wished to get away from it all. Six months later, I took a Greyhound Bus from Michigan to New Orleans to see her and visit her family.

It’s important to mention now that her parents immediately did not like me. They were upper class, Southern Baptists that viewed me as a “yankee” who had come to defile their daughter (In fairness to them, all true statements). After her parents had gone to bed every night, we would furiously make-out and dry-hump on the living room couch, telling each other “I love you.” (Hey, I bet you’re thinking that it’s a little soon for that. To I say: Yeah, but still...). As I boarded the bus back home, she told me that she wanted to be with me forever…I was all in.

Over the next six months, as my mom responded well to treatments and got better; I would save every dime and drive down fourteen hours to visit her at school at least once a month. Over the course of time, things progressed sexually and we eventually became the “first” for each other (Her reasons for waiting were because her parents used Jesus to tell her sex was bad. My reasons for waiting were tied directly to the lack of females willing to touch my penis). Later that summer, I drove to Florida while she was on vacation with her family. As we walked on the beach one night I pulled out a $400 ring, which I paid for with the only credit card I owned, and asked her to marry me. I was barely 20 years old and she was 19. She said yes. Her parents, whose hatred for me grew as we fell deeply in love, were livid. I’ll never forget her mom saying, “This is all like a bad dream.” You’ll never know how right you were, Donna.

Over the next year we planned a wedding that no one was overly excited about. I was living paycheck to paycheck as a bank cashier and beginning to realize that I didn’t know how to support myself, let alone another person. On June 21st of that following year we were married in Florida. I remember smiling a lot, even though I was scared to death. I also remember looking at my left ring finger and thinking “Forever…fuck...that seems like a long time.” We headed off to a forgettable honeymoon in Palm Springs, CA, where we spent the week fighting about money and not having sex. We then came home to begin life as a married couple but there was one small problem…neither of us knew how. Further compounding that problem was the fact that neither of us were equipped to communicate face to face. I’ll set the scene: two young kids got married, lived in a trailer with a 110 pound Labrador. They had one small income, no insurance, and neither had any sense of who they really were.
Other than that, how was the play Mrs. Lincoln?

As the months passed, the shy girl I first met a few years ago came back in full force. I realized that her mother had made every decision for her in life (minus one big one) and that she really had no sense of self. Exacerbating that problem was me, who didn’t know how to be helpful or supportive in anyway. All I knew was my single friends were going out to the bars and having an amazing time. And there I was at home with a wife who didn’t speak to me, a dog neither of us wanted, in a trailer we could barely afford (you know it’s bad times when you can barely afford to live in a trailer). Little did I realize at the time that she had several very large limit credit cards in her name (Thanks mom and dad). I was blissfully unaware that my bride was racking up major credit card bills and not exactly disclosing it all to me.

More time passed and what were once small communication problems became massive issues which couldn't be ignored. It also became more apparent that Destiny and I had nothing in common (other than the aforementioned debt, trailer and dog). It would be fair to say that we seldom had sex and spoke only when it was necessary. I was miserable but didn’t know what to do about it. She was miserable but tired to convince herself she wasn’t. In February, her mom called to tell me that Destiny was worried about the credit card debt. Go ahead and re-read that last sentence, my wife had her mother call me and tell me what she wasn't able to. She also suggested that we file for Chapter 7 bankruptcy. She told me that we’ll have a fresh start and it won’t hurt us as much because we are young. I spoke with Destiny and she simply said, “My mom is right, that’s what we should do.” Later that week, after we had officially filed bankruptcy, I lay awake in bed and stared at the ceiling for a long time. I thought about everything: how unhappy we were, how I had just committed financial suicide, and I how I didn't really have a wife...I had a roommate. 

One thought ran through my head non-stop: This is the rest of your life.

That following May, Destiny had gone home to Louisiana to visit her mom for a week. At no point that week did she call. I picked her up at the airport on a Sunday and as we drove home she told me, “My mom and I decided that we need a divorce. She is going to be here Tuesday to move me home.” Her dad called me and said that if I agreed to sign an uncontested divorce agreement they would spare me the cost of having to hire an attorney. At that point, I didn’t care.

I stayed with friends for a few days and waited until I got word that they were gone and that I could go home. Later that evening I walked in and took inventory: minus a mattress and a couch, it was empty. Gone were the dog, all of the pictures, dishes, plates, chairs, most of my clothes, computer, towels, sheets, DVDs, books…it was all gone. For some reason, they even took the plastic shower liner (struck me as especially petty). I plopped myself down on the bare mattress and stared at the ceiling. I was divorced, bankrupt, and never more alone in my entire life.

It was May 24th.
It was also my 25th birthday.

Monday, July 2, 2012

The Stink of Failure

I now believe that timing is everything. I also believe that our "mentality" can be read by other people. Have you ever been able to tell that someone is sad, angry or joyful without a word being said? I am a firm believer that our vibe and self confidence (or lack thereof) is something that the opposite sex can sense. With that said, I have had times when it seemed that no woman would have anything to do with me. Why? They could sense that I was down, depressed or lacked all confidence.

So with this in mind, there are a few pointers I found especially helpful when I was in a slump with the ladies.

1) Get out of the goddamn house (mom's basement, studio apartment..whatever). I realized that you will never met anyone by hiding in your crappy domicile and feverishly masturbating (don't lie...sinner). Get your ass out there, meet people, even if it's only other dudes or people in relationships. Make friends, make contacts. You're miserable because you're choosing to shut yourself off and feel shitty.

2) Sorry but some women aren't going to like you. No matter how tall, short, fat, skinny, or anything else you are...some women, for whatever reason...aren't going to want ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU. This isn't because they are hot or better than you, they just won't. Accept this, it's nothing personal and move the fuck on.

3) Thousands...and I mean TENS of THOUSANDS of women (or men) will want you. Listen, I've never met you... but this is just simple math: statistically some people are going to like you...(I know, I don't get it either, but they will). Do you know how? By stopping being a beta loser and living life. Meet some friends and do some shit that doesn't involve a computer screen.

4) Not to ruin the ending, but this is it. How many minutes do you want to spend worrying about things that may NEVER happen? How much time do you want to spend worrying about things which have already happened? Breathe in, breathe out...move the fuck on. Can you fix what happened? Hell no. Do you know what will happen? Probably not, dummy. So take care of this day and enjoy it.

Have some balls, take a chance.