Sunday, May 27, 2012

cue the clown music. vol. one.

These few 'clown' posts are to show why i am still single, as this is the bulk of online attention i am getting.  I have not altered or changed anything except to blank out names and phone numbers...

Can I seduce ur panties off and make u smile???

Well, I'm're single. I think we may be looking for different things on here...maybe not.
I hope you find that you're looking for. And if that would happen to look something like me, I'd be honored getting to know you better.

i c u like books...2 bad i never read 1. I like your boobs...err I mean book collection....I mean uhh what do you do with a salad fork? (this one is from a really cool guy who was actually being funny...)

Ur hott ;) whats up ?

u like real niggaz from philly
why we never gt to chat

What's up sexy I'm ******
How are you doing beautiful? You look like someone I would love to wake up next to in the morning

Yummmmmm! Lol (this would not be bad at all if he actually knew he was referencing still life with woodpecker.)

Let me re introduce myself hello my name is Steve. Your extraordinary beautiful looking women.. is that proper enough for uou hahahaha yea right Im not gonna waste my time on another female like that again. byzzz!!! N btw ur not that hott to be puttin your pussy on a silver platter

ewww so gaangstsa internet shit talker nm dsb

Whos left headed

Damn u sexy as shiii
I love you
your so sexy wanna kiss u always mz pretty

Hey sexy

Get to know me..... i'll show you the way =)

Wow lefty and smokin hot! What are the hang ups!

fuck ur hot

u r sexy
you sure ur not a hipster =)

You're kinda cute muffinbutt :)

could i ask u somethin?? would u record me sucking my own d*ck? it's 10 inches long .... if that holds any weight.. ur really pretty.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

so again, it begins

we all end up in online dating land for the exact same reason. if that reason is not that we are rebounding or cheating. because those are not good reasons, thems just sad.

so, we all end up here because we walk the world without ever making eye contact. we gaze across the grocery store at a cute guy or girl, having a brief day dream about how cool it would be to just walk on over and strike up a conversation, but real life hits us and we are left holding the bag, or bags depending on whether you spent 40 dollars or 80 at kowalskis that day.

real life has nothing to do with being good looking or even confident. i get quite a bit of praise for the way i look and my personality, intelligence, etc, and i still cannot bring myself to approach a stranger unless i am so positive that he is into me that his phone number is floating in the air above his head.

we act and react this way to one another because, sober anyway, we all are protecting ourselves from rejection.  if for any reason you have ever seen me at work and have thought i was cute or pretty or whatever, but totally stuck up, well, i am not. i can be a bit shy when people seem to be checking me out and so i avert my eyes as i pass. it is involuntary and i do not mean to be cold but whoever is looking at me then thinks i am not interested and never talks to me. same goes for when i am out in public. i become just a little too shy to make eye contact, so i shut down any chance to talk to me by not even leaving that opening. stupid me.

so, we end up dating those who are introduced to us or those we have enough liquid courage to speak to at the bar, or those we work with because we have enough time to make sure that they are interested. it is safe, but it really limits the pool of applicants.  most of my friends are friends with the same guys as me, and i do not see myself with any of them, so that is out.  i do not allow myself to be picked up at bars by drunk guys and will not hit on the service staff, so liquid courage is out, as well. and then there is work. yuck. i work in a huge, busy restaurant. four floors of under the sea inspired chaos. the only thing that keeps things smooth is that i do not mix drama with it. i have heard plenty of stories and though harmless, they sound like a huge waste of time.

online dating seems like the perfect solution, right? well it can be, sort of. you see a bunch of people who you know are single (unless they are lying d-bags) and that is a great start. and then you can wink at them or whatever. i guess that is the equivalent of meaningful eye contact. if they return your 'gaze' with a 'gaze' of their own, you now have permission to talk to them. kind of. so you message. and message. and. yawn. message.

this is the problem.

no matter how much i message someone, i am going to get bored and lose interest, but, on the other hand, i do not really want to give my number out to someone i have not gotten a feel for in person. i want to feel like i am being courted, so i do not just want to meet at a random bar, but i also do not want to be sucked into a lengthy dinner date with someone i might not like. what to do, what to do?

well, i guess that is up to you, guys. women like confidence and just because i am a bit puzzled about how to proceed does not mean that you can't take the reigns and ask a girl out. it might be just that easy.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Reason Number Two To Hate Me, Your Server:

i want your date. sorry, sorry, sorry. this only happened one time and i still feel like a wanker about it. in my defense, well this whole post is in my defense, so, here goes.

i was 23 and working in a steakhouse. i liked the job, except the middle-aged business men who tried to guess the size of my chest. they were always wrong, as if low balling it would be flattering.


a couple got sat at one of my tables. they were mid to late twenties.  she looked stuck up and overdressed and he looked, well, hot. casually dressed, visible tattoos, glasses he kept pushing up his nose, messy hair; the whole nine for my modest and youthful taste.

so he orders a big beer, declaring 'why not, it's my birthday!' while his date sneered at our wine list, quizzing me on wine i had never tried and knew nothing about. i am sure that she knew this and wanted to make me look foolish. some women, i can just tell, hate other women on site. birthday boy smoothed things over for me, declaring that he should just get three different kinds and mix them together. she gave him a withering look for his troubles.

after clearing that hurdle, he quickly glanced at the menu and then placed it down, already totally sure of what he wanted, while she. took. for. ever.  after about fifteen minutes of her frowning over the same three pages, i went over to the table and asked if i could make any suggestions or answer any questions.

"well, i am a vegan. i do NOT eat this kind of stuff and am having a hard time finding ANYTHING that will be palatable. what would you recommend in my unique situation? having to come to a STEAKHOUSE when i am a VEGAN?"

"how nice that you were willing to accommodate your boyfriend on your birthday. all of our salads and pastas can be made vegan. see the little 'v' next to some of the dishes? that means that those can be prepared to your specifications, just let me know which one you would like to try."

ten minutes later, she of course attempts to order something that we can not prepare vegan and i have to piss her off yet again. she finally points vaguely to one of the aforementioned  entrees and he orders a huge slab of prime rib, medium rare, a baked potato loaded with sour cream, butter, and bacon, and a salad laden with creamy ranch dressing and cheese, making a joke about letting me have whatever was left over after i expressed so much pleasure over the prime rib. at this point i would have killed the cow with my bare hands for him, or just the cow of a woman he was with so i could be the one sitting across from him on his birthday.

after they ordered, i overheard her ridiculing his meal choice, wondering out loud how she was ever going to be able to watch him eat so much animal product. and an idea for a harmless joke formed in my head.

about twenty minutes later, their food came out. in this time he had drank his entire beer and eaten much of the mini loaf of (delicious) honey oat bread with cinnamon butter. she had touched not her glass of wine, nor the bread. of course.

i set down their entrees, and as he took the final gulp of his beer, i stood a menu between them, explaining that this way, she would not have to watch him eat a dead animal and he would not be blinded by all of her healthy food.

he laughed so hard he spit out his beer.

in the direction of his date.

he continued to laugh as his date glared at me and ran to the bathroom. i get it, no one likes to be spit at, but we are talking about three or four drops here.

while she was gone, i apologized for what i had done. he thanked me for making his birthday fun. i told him that i did not understand celebrating something unless it is fun, that dates should be a good time, never stressful.

and then we shared a look. ffffffffuuuuuuuucccccckkk.

the rest of the meal was kind of a blur. i got a little busy and was not able to give them a lot more extra attention. he got another beer, she pushed her food around. they did not talk much.  when it came time to box up his food (she did not want hers. surprise.) i wrote my number down and slipped it in the box before bagging it up.

not until i had already run the card and said goodbye did i see the matching wedding bands.

he never called, and i never did such a thing again.

even though the story did not end up a fairytale, i am grateful to that guy for two reasons:

one, he paid the tab. for his own birthday dinner and tipped very well.

and two, he never told his wife that i gave him my number. i am sure of this only because i did not have some crazy vegan bitch coming back to rip my hair out.

Top Five Reasons I Hate My Server:

1. my drink is empty.  For awhile and it's not busy.  I do not care if my food takes an hour-you do not control the kitchen-but what is your excuse for not checking on my table for the past 20 minutes?

2. you want to fuck my date. good luck. get your skanky ass away from as i am super paranoid that your herpes is some ultra-violent strain that can actually jump off your mouth and onto his dick. also, he might be paying, uber slut, but i always pick up the tip.

3. you are that super macho fake-o flirty guy. yeah, buddy, because i really need to pay someone to hit on me. come on, have you seen me? i'm kind of a big deal.

4. you are surly. you grunt instead of responding. you roll your eyes when i ask for a set of silverware. you hate your job? fuck you. i have your job.

5. you fucked up. forgot to put in my order, dropped my order, spilled on me, whatever. you send a manager over even though i tell you i am fine, that i am a server, that i have been there and done that a dozen times. manager comps my meal and you decide to hide from me for the rest of the meal, having wrote me off as a bad tip. man up, make a joke, move forward.

i decided to write this piece because i have been catching some flak about being too hard on the general dining public. servers are humans, too, and therefore have the capacity to be really, really annoying. just like human customers.  in future posts i will even detail how i have been 'that guy' in each and every one of the above scenarios.

imaginary sex.

come right here and be you.
suck it up. what you want is not at the bottom of your glass.
though it gives you courage, it will give you no pleasure when later you are exhausted and i am moving on.

be so great and mighty. deep breathe and daydream about what it would be like to see my face in the morning.

and all the things you will have seen to get to that morning.

have strong hands. hold me as i rock and moan. rock and moan.
force me to look you in the eyes. watch me blush. lips slightly parted, drunk with desire.
no one sees you that way. not in this moment. you are incredible. you that is reflected in my eyes.

take over from there, not being able to contain yourself any longer. bring me to my back. thrust and grip. thrust and grip. overwhelm yourself with the moment. give way to the tide. i won't mind. my time came and went. came and went.

choke back tears as prayers in dead languages cloud your judgement. cry out involuntarily as i grasp your shoulders. collapse into deep kisses. share my pillow. hold my hand. close your eyes.

your heart beats and aches. beats and aches. the pain subsides. you know i will be here in the morning. games over. you win.

and all it took was a single step toward.

*i wanted to make a comment about this post, as people have been asking who the mystery man is. um. this is complete fiction. as in, it never happened. all wishful thinking on my part. now that that is cleared up, let us move on, shall we?

wizard, my ass.

my brain in a box. my gift to you.
a hole in the box.
my brain bled through.

sorry about that.

 all i had to offer up to those oz freaks and i could not get even that right. might have been subconscious as i have always been afraid of scarecrows.

i have neither heart not courage in spades enough to save the others, but would trade the lot not for those hideous crimson shoes, only for that thick curtain. or the tornado.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Free Advice, Online Daters

this advice is for men only, as i have never read the train wrecks i am sure make up the female half of this site.  this advice may not pertain to everyone, but is geared toward the things i have noticed over. and over. and over. again.

photos. 4 biggest pet peeves include the snap of you very, very far away. those thumbnails are the size of well, thumbs. many a girl will pass you by simply because she cannot immediately tell what you look like. there are about 70000 of you to every 500 of us. stand out.

second is the fact that you only have photos of yourself with other people. you may think it is easy to tell which one you are of your backwards cap wearing frat brothers, but we have never met you. one head shot will clear up the confusion.

 three, you are wearing a hat in all of your pictures. i do not care if you are bald or have a mohawk or a bad haircut or whatever. girls get nervous when you hide things.

and four. my personal favorite: you look different in every picture. a girl does not need to know what you looked like five years ago, fat, thin, bald, with long hair, rocking a 'stache, whatever. she needs to know what you look like now. like today, or the day that you will meet. if you are self aware enough to know that you looked way better 40 pounds ago, it might be time for a gym visit, as in order for you to be embraced by someone, you have to be cool with yourself. cheesy, i know.

moving on to your profile. no one reads it unless they find you attractive, so that first part on photos is very important. still, who you are on paper is the only thing we have to go on aside from your good looks, so make it count.

first, do not, anywhere ask yourself why you are online dating. everyone says that and as soon as i read it, i skip it. screw you, we are all here and it will not make you the cool kid because you say you are above it all.

also, do not go on and on about how hard it is to describe yourself. why? you know who you are right? or at least how you want to be perceived...opening with,"describe myself? geez, well, here goes..." makes you seem wishy-washy.

llllllooooooonnnnnnngggggg profiles. cut it down. be funny and cut to the chase. women get messaged dozens of times a day, we do not have time to read a book with every profile.

short profiles. fine as long as you are creating the right flavor. be funny and sarcastic and you will usually do okay. repeat the same word in every box and a girl will probably just think that you are stupid.

talking about getting out of a recent relationship. when i get a whiff, i run. she should not be in any way a part of your dialogue. unless you are not over her, in which case, again, screw you. you are not emotionally ready to connect and will end up being another one of those jackasses who gets drunk and slobbers all over me.

spelling, grammar, proofreading. i am not a stickler, but come on. a fifth grade education should translate into better profiles from the ones i am reading sometimes.

what it comes down to is sincerity. be exactly yourself and not what you think will be clever, because chances are, a few dozen guys are out there making the same joke about needing food and water and oxygen as part of their list of things they can't live without.

well, this is getting a bit long, so let us talk about my favorite thing. messaging.

step one, read the profile.
step two. send a message that is less than 3 paragraphs long commenting on what you believe will create mutual attraction. do not reiterate what is in your profile. if we want to read about you, we will. that is why you wrote the thing in the first place.

again. proper grammar and spelling makes a difference.

wuzzup girl. how r u? is not a good message. it actually offends me that someone would think that i was so desperate that i would respond to that.

hi, how are you? is not a great message, either. it does not have to be long, just long enough so we know you are not copying and pasting the same thing to ten other people.

my last piece of advice is the most important. if you do not get a response, do not sweat it. take it personal if you must, because hey, it is you that we are not into, but do not freak. it just was not made to be.

if you do get a response, do not draw out the online conversation forever. make plans to establish chemistry. you pick the place and the time. do not meet at a bar, try something different. we all want to feel special and seem to be avoiding meeting people in bars. our first face to face should be, at the risk of sounding cheesy. again. special.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

why is it so hard? to herd cats.

i was thinking last night while tooling around downtown that life really ain't so bad.

and then we walked into the marvel? marble? martyr? bar. whatever the hell it was called. oh gross.

i do not usually find myself in that neckathe on a friday night, as work wins the nightlife fight pretty often, but last night was different. i cannot quite put my finger on it. oh yeah, it rained and i was on the patio four stories up.

while i held my sweating cocktail and surveyed the well dressed and very hungry looking crowd, i wondered why i was feeling like such a bitch towards the place, and actually had an epiphany.

i am a bar snob. i cannot say i am a reverse bar snob because then i sound like those idiots who say that when people of other races hate caucasians it is reverse racism. no, its not. its still just racism.

yup. total snob. i grimaced at the emaciated waifs smoking on our way in. i sneered at the cocktail list full of legal absinthe and a boat load of crap i had never heard of. i gazed disdainfully at all of the people looking over each other's shoulders to make sure that they are talking to the hottest person that they can. i physically recoiled at being presented with a bill for 22 dollars after ordering 2 cocktails i was not even sure had booze in them.

what makes the depot different? people are still roaming around trying to buy themselves out of having a clue.  the drinks are priced by the pour. the smoking chicks still need a sandwich, their costumes are less couture and more hipster, but they are cold in the same skinny way.

and then a light bulb went off.

the three things that make me want to go to a bar have nothing to do with the booze or the people i can make fun of.

it's the music.
it's my friends.
it's whether or not there is a guy in the room i could want in any way.

so we went home. he was not at the depot.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Dating Number 2

what can i say about this that has not already been said? i feel like a marathon runner who got accidentally shot by the guy with the starting pistol.  like i have all the tools to participate, but some clumsy loser is trying to keep me off my feet.  i know that this sounds weird, or dramatic, or something, but really, without going in to specifics, you would have to have seen my luck the past few weeks. it has been just sad.  i feel more like a therapist or guidance counselor than anything. and a prude. hilarious.

what i am feeling is that i might not be reading deeply enough into the people i am going out with because i am trying to make split second decisions on chemistry the way i do in the real world. until just this moment i forgot to stop and realize that that never really worked for me either.  i have also been making excuses for why i should tolerate behaviors that i really can't stand.

guys who do drugs.
guys who show up for a date with no money. a first date. i get that i can and will pay my own way, but i have never gone into anything expecting someone else to pay for me.
guys who smoke pot. different from drugs, as it is mostly harmless but i am so underwhelmed by the personality that comes with daily smokers.
guys who want to talk about their exes. on the first date.  this tells me that you are not over her, because if you were, describing yourself would not have anything to do with your previous relationship. at least not at first.
guys who want sex. first date. you do not know me. you feeling all hot and heavy and probably drunk? well, i cannot help you, buddy. have enough respect for me to keep your hands to yourself.
guys who get wasted. i do not tend to be a big drinker but am all for social interactions and going with the flow.  i do not want to be the girl who had nine whiskeys with the guy who had nine whiskeys any more than you do. trust me. this will not translate into an invitation to my bedroom.

do i sound harsh? well, i am not perfect, either.  though i seem to know a lot about what i do not want, i do not really know what exactly i do want, which, i think is good. maybe now i can actually pay attention instead of just letting that guy with his waving pistol keep bringing me down.

which one are you?

he lurches in, disrupting quiet that exists high above the moody ballads of fallen axe welders. he is drunk, half asleep and hungry. he is hostile and paranoid because he can see in your eyes that you do not want to even approach the stink of beer wafting toward you, safe behind your wall of judgement.

he shuffles in, holding up his pants as they sag madly toward his knees. he scowls in every direction with bloodshot eyes. he finds your armor and knows he is going to get whatever he came for.from you. you with the apron. it is the last time he will look directly at you. from now on he will stare everywhere over your shoulder, slouching halfway out of the booth.

he bounces in, usually with friends. they all bounce. they are a stunning array of neon and chunky highlights. they are boisterous and fun. and fucking annoying. shrieking for attention. drunk and unprepared for human interaction, they suck time like oxygen. unless you are fabulous, you will be forgotten when it comes time to get paid.

he lingers at the door, finishing a smoke. you do not know how he moves because, though he moves slowly, to the beat, he is quiet and moves straight to the bar. ink and leather or ink and some obscure band logo stretch across his upper body, always thin, sometimes toned, depending on his instrument.  you deliberately catch his eye in the mirror.  he gives you a cool, appraising look that will become an all out, bloodshot gaze by the time he makes his way to the bottom of that bottle of jack.

he saunters in, suit jacket unbuttoned to reveal an undone tie, he rakes his hand through his hair and scans the crowd, while simultaneously grabbing a newspaper from the stack.  He takes a booth near the door and picks up the drink list. he smiles as you walk over, makes a polite joke about always being early and reads happily while sipping the beer you get to him at break-neck speed.  your heart drops a little as a woman so clearly not in an apron kisses him hello and murmurs about his interesting choice in bars.