Friday, April 24, 2009

Money equals reproduction

Arrived home at eleven p.m. after spending frustrating hours overwhelmed by the shopping Mecca of Framingham. Spent until dawn drinking malt liquor, eating potato chips dipped in straight mayonnaise and watching "In Treatment." Thank God the shrink didn't end up fucking his patient. I wouldn't be able to watch the show anymore if he had. Woke up at 10:30 a.m. too tired to work though I tried. Managed to get an hour nap in (thank God) before my date at 7:30. The woman was 41. She looked a lot older than me. Should a 41 year old have lines like that around her eyes? She was an accountant and photographer-want-to-be. She was friendly, yet not desperate. She really tried to make this date work. And she had breasts. I could really, really have sucked on her breasts. Shouldn't I be liking this woman more? Maybe it wasn't the lines around her eyes. Maybe it was because she was well-traveled and when I asked if she had been to Scandinavia she said she had been to Switzerland. Perhaps she meant Sweden. I didn't try to clarify if she meant Sweden because I didn't want to make her sound stupid. She was geographically retarded about Southeast Asia as well. Nobody knows geography. Why do I expect people to when they don't? I think what makes me so angry is that women judge me for not having been places, yet I know far more about the world than they do, despite the fact that I haven't seen it. (This woman did not judge me. She was very sweet and polite throughout the entire encounter.)

My stomach was queasy probably from my diet of potato chips and malt liquor, so I held off on buying that shitty awful Starbucks coffee for the first half hour and just drank their shitty awful organic apple juice. Just the smell of Starbucks causes nausea, even when my stomach is good. About 45 minutes into the date I bought a small coffee. I was almost finished drinking it when I was too overcome by nausea and acid to continue the date. But that was okay because it gave me a convenient excuse to get out of the date. She was a nice person. I knew she liked me. I could tell by the way she hugged me. I felt horribly guilty as I always do. I don't think I exit dates without feeling either guilt or anger.

I have another date on Sunday. She is nine years younger than me. She is even beautiful and most probably an educated professional woman. It is my writing skill that landed me this date. She told me I was the only one who understood her subject line. She congratulated me. So it might have been that. But I don't feel impressed by myself. I feel like a fucking cradle-rocking scumbag. I have low expectations for this date. Even if she likes me, what would a young woman like that want with a loser like me? I really don't want to do dating anymore. It's a waste of my time. I need to work on generating money. Money equals reproduction. That is my new slogan.

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