The continuing madness of dating and my life.

I thought I had patched things up with Ji-ho, but now I'm convinced that she was just trying to get rid of me using elaborate lies that women often resort to. There were two things that struck me as odd during our phone convo. The first was that she said that I should know that she doesn't normally accept Unknown numbers. I told her I was using Skype to call her, that it was my business line (which is true) and that I would apply a telephone ID to the number (which I had been wanting to do anyway.) It seemed odd though that she said that. She had accepted my phone calls at that number before. Now I recognize that she was trying to identify me so that she could ignore any future calls. Also, when I said I would get back to her on trying to obtain the meeting place, why did she assume that I would get back to her tomorrow? Why not that day? Let me tell you why. Because a whole elaborate scheme had been concocted in her mind to ignore my phone call the next day, when I usually call, and this detail hadn't entered into it. It's hard to effectively lie. There's always little details that betray you. That's why I don't lie. Not because it's immoral but because my brain simply doesn't work fast enough to process all the details.

I was relieved that I didn't have to see Ji-ho again, but I went through a lot of trouble scouting the location to meet her, actually driving out there, and I just wished that she'd have made her real intentions more obvious, though I didn't mind if she needed to make up a bullshit story, so long as it's obvious, such as I'm busy with school now. Who knows? She might even return my voice mail, and this is the writings of a paranoid, but I put 5 to 1 odds that I'm right. I think that I was put off by the fact that she never thanked me after all the food and tea I bought her. I know I pushed her too hard. But she judged me too by saying that I bought the Stallone stereotype. I don't even know what the Stallone stereotype is. I just think he's a bad actor.

Elisabeth wrote me back. She was the beautiful 33 year old that canceled yesterday's date because she needed more time to pack for her trip to Ireland. I said yesterday that I was glad that Elisabeth canceled, but it was only because of the trauma of my date with Ji-ho. Elisabeth doesn't even enter the realm of my fantasies. In order for a fantasy to be a fantasy, there has to be some sliver of potential that it could be a reality, but there is just too big an age difference between us. It's just not going to happen. But I would still like to meet her. She was very quirky, making me provide a thesis for an obscure 19th century poem, though not to bust my balls. It was an easy poem. She was just feeling me out and also sharing something about herself. I thought it was very sweet and cool. She said crazy shit in her letters to me like when I was going to meet her, she said, "I will be there with bells on." What the fuck does that mean? Who cares? I love women like that who aren't afraid to be crazy. I believed her story about her needing to devote time to pack. I suspect I'll be hearing from her later at some point. Maybe I could adopt her as my daughter. We could do father daughter stuff that I've always wanted to do. I could teach her how to throw a curve ball, take her to Red Sox games, give her fatherly advice such as stay the fuck away from men.

Felicia, the 37 year old who grew up on a hippie commune didn't get back to me. I'm glad. She never seemed terribly enthusiastic. She listed herself as a bisexual. On the very first post she's telling me about how she "was blown out of the water at all the curvy goddesses" in New Orleans. I suspected this woman was very heavily into women and men were just perhaps an afterthought.

So that's it. I'm out of women to go out with. And I haven't been really working on trying to obtain more. I think that I need to go on a serious alcohol and eating binge tomorrow in order to forget the horror of most of these women, and also my work, which I cannot get done because I spend so much time and mental energy working on women. I'm also completely broke. Nobody's buying in this economy. I need to take a break from women for at least a week. I have decided that I am probably going to sign up to play softball this Spring/Summer. This in itself takes up a lot of time, energy, and resources, that I worried would take away from dating. But now I really don't think I give a shit anymore. Hitting home runs isn't nearly as good as fucking, but it's fun. And you get way more love.

I think when I get back to dating there is going to be some new rules imposed. Here's what I'm thinking:

-No more women with children. These women tend to be more difficult to deal with. They are a large sap on time and resources. And why shouldn't I have someone who is completely devoted to me? I deserve this.

-No more women with either "Dharma", or "Bodhi" in their names or phrases like "eternal optimist", "see the cup as half full", in their profile. These women are walking cliche's and a huge waste of time. They're not right for me. I was already honoring these rules but I tended to stray. I think that I will also exclude vegetarians, vegans, environmentalists, and anyone else who is single-handedly saving the world but not lifting a finger to help the homeless.

-No more women from Brookline or Newton. I was already honoring this rule but strayed and paid. I am strongly considering adding Cambridge to this list. The so-called "People's Republic of Cambridge" is just a bunch of neo-yuppie assholes now.

-No more writing Yahoo personals women as they never ever write back. For now on, I will use the Yahoo women only as a device to screen out women on other dating sites who I recognize from Yahoo. I will also familiarize myself very well with the Yahoo population as all of these woman are snobby assholes that need to be stayed away from.

-No more strong opinions voiced on dates. If a woman has very bad taste or bad ideas, I will no longer call her on it. I will just smile, nod my head in understanding, and move on.

-No more buying women anything more than coffee, tea or drinks on first dates. This is the rule that I just haven't been able to follow and I have paid dearly for. I simply cannot afford to blow over fifty bucks on first dates anymore.

-For now on, unless the woman is very young, or exceptionally interesting, I will only ask out the best looking women. This may seem counterintuitive, but beautiful women are not significantly harder to obtain dates with than average looking women. I suspect this is because men are simply afraid to ask them out. And also, average looking women give you the same amount of shit and bad attitude as good looking women, and are equally as boring. So why bother? If I'm going to have my time wasted and be humiliated, better it be with a good looking woman. Good looking women are simply nicer to look at, and it's not as humiliating to be rejected or treated like shit by them.

-For now on I am going to start writing to women who don't understand grammar or spelling at all, and who don't even try to use a spell checker for some odd reason. I have always told myself that bourgeois women are wrong for me. I cannot have my cake and eat it too. I probably have a lot more in common with uneducated women because they're poorer. This will also increase the size of my dating pool.

-I am extending my mileage radius from 20 to 35 miles. This will be more expensive and take more time and energy, but fuck it. I need to increase my dating pool.

-I will probably change my religious designation from Jewish back to atheist. While being designated as Jewish has succeeded in getting me more dates, I have very little in common with Jewish women.

I'm sure there is more stuff I can think of. When I'm binging on soup and beer at the Watch City Brewery, I'll brew up some more ideas on how I can more effectively deal with the madness of dating.

Letter to Comrad L

Dear Comrad L,

You have caught me in one my moments of depression, slight drunkenness, and existential dread.

It's hard being me sometimes. Sometimes I need to look at my fantasy woman's profile on OkayCupid just to stay straight. She is of course you. I marveled today how you seem to keep your shit together so well.

I don't know exactly what limeware or frostwire is, though they sound like things that are trying to subvert my ability to put a roof over my head.

I wish I could talk to other women as easily and freely as I talked to you. But it's always so strained and so forced and so hard with them. A beautiful 33 year old canceled a date with me today. I was grateful. I beautiful 36 year old rejected me today, telling me she was involved. I was grateful. A 37 year old who says she grew up on a hippie commune, and who expressed interest in having coffee with me didn't get back to me yet. I hope she never will. The only woman that upset me was the 45 year old, hot looking artist who gave me all this shit, coming off like I had something to hide because I told her that I preferred not to chat with her over the phone prior to meeting her, though I did give her my home and cell number. Only women over 40 have this compelling need for "chats." I refuse to do them. They make me very anxious and I disagree with the concept of screening interviews on philosophical grounds. These women are still stuck in an age before the Internet, where personal ads were 3 or 4 lines long and came out of print newspapers. You exchanged snail-mail, exchanged phone numbers, "screened" and negotiated meeting times over the phone. It was a very backwards age. I actually wanted to meet this woman. But only sort of. She didn't offer me a family. She already had her own. I guess you could say that she represented companionship, but she also represented middle age, old age, and death.

I hope you're well. I know you're working hard. Do what you need to do to take care of your own ass. You're in my thoughts. I appreciate all the sweetness you've shown me.

I will put this letter in my blog. Don't worry, I will never reveal any personal information about you. Your alias will be Comrad L.

-Ed

I blew it

I had Ji-ho. I had her laughing so loud it hurt my ears. It was easy to make Ji-ho laugh, not because she was stupid but because she was smart. Stupid people don't get my humor. I didn't question Ji-ho's intelligence. I questioned her judgment. And I challenged her, and judged her. She was Harvard educated as an English major. She had gone to film school after that. She wanted to make movies but gave up when she came to the realization that the money just wasn't there and opted instead for the safety of a straight life. What kind of a naive idiot goes to film school? At least at film school you would think that they would study Werner Herzog, but she did not even know who he was. What kind of a person who wants to make movies does not even know about Herzog?

I was a little put off when she started talking about wanting to see Julia Robert's latest work, but I didn't say anything. But once she started talking about Sylvester Stallone being a good actor and how it was hard to play a stupid person, I just had to put my foot down and seriously disagree with her evaluation of Stallone's acting ability. But then she said, in her defense, that "Rocky" was written by Stallone, as if I didn't know this, and as if this was support for her assertion that Stallone is a smart and talented person. And I just had to slip in that before Stallone did "Rocky" he was doing PORNOGRAPHY. It was said snidely. She did not have a proper come back for this and was somewhat dumbfounded. But did say later that I believed in the stereotype of Stallone being stupid. I didn't think that was a fair assessment of me. I don't know if Stallone is stupid. But there has been nothing that Stallone has done on or off camera that has ever impressed me.

The future of our relationship was over after our Stallone confrontation. In about 30 seconds, everything derailed for both of us.

I blew it. She was telling me about this great-sounding Korean food that I wanted to try, but now probably never will. She had a good, child-bearing body, 37 years old, still reproductively viable with Grade A Ivy League DNA, laughed liked hell at my jokes, smiled at me, seemed like a sweet person, but Christ how can I spend the rest of my life with someone who likes Julia Roberts and Sylvester Stallone and gives up on her artistic dreams of filmmaking because she's unwilling to put up with a little poverty? She was a woman of small dreams. I have always found that people who play it safe and don't follow their dreams to be a big turn-off.

Good Christ I could have had this woman. If only I could have played it cool I could have been fucking a nice hot woman with breasts, brains ... the whole nine yards. The only thing she lacked was taste. Why do I judge? I am some kind of an incredible asshole. Fuck me!

I'm paying for this hug.

Look, I said a lot of angry stuff in my Hug at gunpoint blog. Some was just angry talk and some was hyperbole. I know with me sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. I am only now just beginning to cool down after yesterday's date. There's more I could say about this ugly (on the inside) woman Elena, how she bitched and moaned that I wasn't eating properly, how she bitched and moaned about my not finishing my food because I have trouble swallowing, and how she bitched and moaned about how I should get this problem fixed by a doctor. (And remember, I am paying for my meal and hers, that she didn't even have the fucking courtesy to thank me for.) This is only a fraction of the shit I am not telling you about this asshole woman. I could tell you more, but I'm not because I'm tired of thinking about her. She is a scourge upon my existence.

I am going to keep it cool. I will not engage in any forms of contest or competition with any asshole women in the future, though I do regret not overtly offering Elena the chance to leave when, obviously she wasn't happy and chose to insult my intelligence by making up cockamamie subtle hints that she wanted to leave. Other than politely giving rude women the opportunity to leave or just plain leaving myself, there will be no major deviations in my game plan. If women want to be assholes, let them be assholes. I will remain polite and cool and buy them their food and probably still ask for a hug. And why shouldn't I ask for a hug? I'm paying for it!

I'm Mr. Fucking Cool. These assholes my have traveled around the world and may be pretty large in their own minds, but they are not a fraction as cool as I am.

Seeking anti-matter LA Woman

Dear LA Woman,

I think you're angry about what I said about [UNDISCLOSED RICH GUY]. You shouldn't be. Really. I was only kidding you, perhaps busting your gonads, but only slightly. I wasn't trying to hassle you. It was more of a statement about me than you. I don't know [UNDISCLOSED RICH GUY], but I hate him because I hate rich people in general, and my attitude is to exploit the bastards at all costs. It's not about you. It's about me.

And of course your boyfriend would have green eyes. I think that we are really the same person, living in parallel universes. It's like in the Star Trek episode where the crew beamed into the anti-matter universe where their evil counterparts lived, though I am really not sure if I am your good (matter) boyfriend or your evil (anti-matter) boyfriend. I like Pacifica. Your boyfriend likes NPR. Who is the evil one? That's unclear. But I prefer to think of myself as the evil one. I think that there is perhaps an evil LA Woman lurking around the East Coast somewhere. She probably looks a lot like you and shares your interests and has your temperament, though I doubt if she's as good as you -- for she is evil!

Personal ad response to Momus

This woman was 33. My rule is not to mess with women under 36, but she looked at my profile on Fast Cupid on two separate occasions and her age range was a surprising 28-43. So I thought, what the hell...

I see that you have viewed my profile. And I don't think it's the first time. So let me just make one thing clear: You're too young and too beautiful to be viewing my profile. I'm 43. I am the elderly. You look really hot, and it is not out of the realm of possibility that I could suffer a coronary, just from looking at your photos. Do you want that on your conscience? I think not! So kindly do not endanger the lives of the aged.

On second thought, for the love of God, please write be back!

BTW, I got your intro line (well, at least I found the reference), but I cheated with Google.


-Ed

Personal ad response to Dreamy

Yes you are dreamy and have nice plump womanly cheeks that I cannot resist, and I thought I was perhaps dreaming when I came across your profile and read on and on and then I see "I pick my nose in the car." And I say to myself, I know I didn't just read that. I must be seeing things. Perhaps if I re-read that I'll see that I misread it. But, unfortunately no matter how many times I re-read it, it came out the same.

I should not be telling people what they shouldn't do, especially since I don't even know you, but you really should not pick your nose. I may have gotten a horrible staph infection that way. It ruined my life for years.

I know, I know. I've said too much. Just nervous rambling from an admirer.

-Ed

A hug at gun point

Elena said in her profile she was 5'6. I doubted that because in one of her photos, with three other women, she was towering over them. They were either dwarfs or she was an Amazon. As I expected, she was definitely not 5'6. I estimated her height to be at least 5'8, perhaps 5'9. My 5'10 was just barely taller than her. Was she really 37 as she said she was in her profile? Questionable. One of the questions she asked me was whether I would like to have children. I said yes. And she said, "I'm not for you. I'm too old to have children." I told her it wasn't a requirement, which is the truth, but I felt like saying, "You're right. You're the oldest looking 37 year old I've ever seen. Probably passed menopause at least ten years ago." (To be fair to her, she was a very good looking women with an exquisite body, whatever her real age was. She could've been a slightly encrusted 37 year old. It wasn't clear.)

I drove out to Burlington in the middle of the day to see this women in a Thai restaurant. We could have had coffee, but that's really not acceptable at noon, so I opted to buy her lunch. She did not even offer a handshake when I met her. I wanted to shake her hand but the vibe just wasn't there so I didn't force it. Towards the end of our date, if she wanted to leave I wish she could of said she had to go, not given me this, "I think they want us to leave to free up tables" bullshit. I find this sort of thing very insulting. She never thanked me for lunch, and gave me that fuck-you business-like goodbye handshake. I despise that. I didn't even ask her for a hug as I usually do, and just extended my arms. I'm not a violent person, and I don't own a gun, but if I were and had she not given me the hug, I would have held her at gun point until she did. I would have let her go after that. I just expect a little common fucking courtesy. Maybe a little thank you for the meal after dragging my ass to her neck of the woods in the middle of the day. That is all I ask. I paid for that date in more than money. I have IBS. I had to ram Glycerin Suppositories up my ass since 8:30 a.m. in order to clear my bowels so I would not have a problem. Do you have any idea how much I hate having things rammed up my ass?

On dates, women have a mental tipping point where you are officially written off. Everything said beyond that point is mere formality. I can always detect this mental shift because their body language or tone, either consciously or unconsciously makes this evident.

I've determined that this mental tipping point almost always occurs with either one of three questions, which are:

1.) So what do you do for fun?

2.) Have you traveled? (Since I haven't traveled much. This question is invariable followed by...)

3.) Why haven't you traveled?


The real answer to question 1 is that "fun" -- or what they're really trying to get at, which is recreational activities, is a luxury for people who have time and have money and aren't too completely freaked out by anxiety to have fun. If I feel the woman might have a sense of humor, sometimes I say that I'm frequently asked this question, don't have an answer, but am investigating how I might fabricate an answer to a fun activity so obscure that no one would be able to probe me about. Most of the women I think might have a sense of humor actually don't.

Elena didn't ask me question 1, but she did ask me questions 2 and 3. I don't try to dodge these questions, though I felt so defeated by Elena's reaction that I didn't even elaborate on the extent of my travels within the US. I knew it didn't matter. She was one of those assholes who has the money and time and luxury to travel and cannot understand how a person doesn't do this. It doesn't register in their minds that some people might want to do this but are not privileged enough to do this. These people may have lived in exotic lands but I can assure you that they have not learned half as much as I know about life from living in mental institutions, homeless shelters and ghettos. These cocksuckers are going to go to the grave thinking how better they are to me, but the fact is that they're petty and narrow-minded, and why is it so surprising that they're so single and alone?

I violated my no feeding-women-on-the-first-date-rule that I recently instituted with Elena. Why should I dip into my saving to feed these assholes who judge me? And if I get any more of these three show-stopping questions, I'm going to throw it right back at them. I'm going to give them my deal-breaking question, which is "Do you like the Sopranos?" Maybe I'll even ask them if they like Dostoevsky or some other difficult-to-read literature. You want to play holier-than-thou games with me? I say Bring it On! I hate being judged. It makes me very angry. They're not better than me; they just think they are.

And when I start to sense that these assholes are squirming in their seats and want to leave, I will say something like, "I am a slow eater. If you want to leave I understand." There will be no more hugs for them. And I will draw my hand out so fast to give them the have-a-nice-life handshake that they're not even going to know what hit them. I'm going to beat them to the draw. I'm going to cheat! I'm going to extend my hand to them prior to even getting up. Fuck those assholes. I don't care if I'm rude to them. They show rudeness to me by not properly reading my annual income on my profile before meeting me. Most of these women do not read my profile as evidenced by the fact that they ask me questions that are already answered in the profile. Often they ask me things I've already answered during the meeting. They are not listening to me. They're probing me. I'm tired of this shit. These bloodsuckers are making me very upset and depressed.

Non dependent on psych meds

Below is part of an interesting personal ad I just found. She would not be interested in me. I am not really dependent on psychiatric medication, but take them. I would not really be comfortable with someone who was anti-psychiatric medication also. A lot of people who think they're normal could use psychiatric medication.

I actually like the fact that she likes to stay home and have mac & cheese. I'm lactose intolerant and cannot eat this stuff, but I appreciate its trailer trash quality. It would be something I would want to do with a woman if I could.

Im a normal every day girl looking for a respectable guy, who's non dependent on psych meds. confident, and social. I enjoy going out for dinner or staying home having mac & cheese! I'm easy going, funny and fun to be around. If your interested let me know.

What I despise is the pretense. For example, women saying that they like to go to the theater. I know right away that these women are fakers because the theater in Boston sucks, and anyone with any class and taste would say, "I like to take trips to New York or L.A or London to see the theater."

You don't bring me flowers

You don't sing me love songs anymore... (Well, actually you've never even come close to singing me love songs ... unfortunately...)

I don't advise that you blog at Fast Cupid anymore. FC is no longer supporting blogs at Fastcupid.com. It's highly questionable to me whether they're going to continue to support them at their third-party sites like Nerve.com. I've stopped blogging at FC. Now I will never go back. I've proven all that I need to prove. I'm still blogging at TalkWarrior.com

I drank Wood Alcohol by accident last night -- and right before a date that I had to cancel. Very embarrassing. It truly was an accident. I would never for any reason whatsoever drink this stuff knowingly. I thought it was a cup of water, because I stupidly drink water out of the same plastic cups as I do to sterilize my nose hair clippers with wood alcohol. This would not have happened had I been so tired. But I knew the folks at the emergency room thought my explanation was insane. They looked at me like I was crazy and asked me if I had drank it on purpose.

I love how in the discharge sheet it says in the Final Diagnosis: Isopropyl Alcohol Ingestion. No duh! I could have told them that. It gives me no information about what I should eat, why I'm still nauseous, how I should treat this condition. Just pages and pages of endless, useless, canned bullshit. I have dates with women this week, so I need to know whether I'm going to survive these dates without upchucking. Furthermore, I don't want to upchuck while the urologist exams my prostate tomorrow. That would be very embarrassing and I will make a mess of the poor guy's examining room. I try very hard to avoid embarrassment. I think I've had enough for one week, though my upcoming dates will probably top any embarrassment that I've already suffered this week.

BTW, I don't see any good reason to write original content anymore for my blog. I might put some of my letters to you on my blog, like this one. Don't worry, I will mask your identity as LA WOMAN, and not say any identifiable information about you.

Did you hear my Bastard Brood of Che on Itunes?

Personal ad response to Kate

You're holding back a little in the smile in the profile pic. You don't need to. You have nice curvy cheekbones and big eyes. It's these features that make you beautiful. When you smile you accentuate these features. If I were you I would smile like hell and just let it all hang out.

I think in my next life I will be a gay photographer for super models. In this life, for better or worse, I am just a heterosexual giving armchair modeling advice to dream women on Yahoo personals.

-Ed

Retired OkayCupid ad

I exude optimism, happiness, and positivity out of every orifice of my body. If a hydrogen bomb were to drop on Boston today, I'd say, "When life gives you nukes, make nuclear families." I have made love to many celebrities, including the entire cast of the "Golden Girls." I have traveled to every country on the planet and the International Space Station. I know countless languages, and am fluent in click. I am motivated, self-confident, know what I want in life, and am fully prepared to derail anyone who gets in my way.

Actually, I am just a poor shlep with a learning disability, who scratches by. Obviously I'm jaded by the personal ad process, but not down. I am a dreamer and my dreams have always been lofty, but I continue to follow them because that is my nature. One of my dreams was to be a fiction writer, and I spent a considerable amount of my youth following this dream. I've never really given up on this, though now I exhaust my creative energies on the exceedingly boring work of the real world, which seems pretty unreal to me.

My biggest dream has always been to find a life partner. My second biggest dream has been to have a child, though I am willing to forgo the second dream for the first. I am a Socialist. An atheist. An armchair philosopher. I am too appalled by homelessness, poverty, and our violent actions against the third world to care about animal rights or global warming.

I am open to meeting any woman provided that she is not a racist, believes in evolution, and doesn't hate gays. I have a preference for people grounded in science and reality.

I actually live in Newton on the Waltham border. I chose Waltham because I don't fit into the Newton demographic group. I am poor, but not down and out. I don't expect any woman to carry me. I have never expected a woman to pay on a date with me, and I don't intend to, though I might be open to exploiting a rich woman, Republican or Democrat.

Fine print: Please be within 20 miles of where I live.

No problem, I hear AA women are easy.

After a drinking binge about a week and a half ago, where, in an angry rage, I deleted about half my face book friends (about 10), I swore off drinking the next day, after I polished off my last 3 beers until tomorrow. I realized I could not drink tomorrow, easily, because this is Massachusetts and we have some pretty wacky liquor laws due to the good ol' Catholic Church -- WHICH THINKS IT CAN AND DOES DICTATE TO EVERYONE, and, of course the good ol' Liquor Store Lobby, so I am drinking now. Yay!

I didn't swear off drinking because I thought it was a problem, because drinking helps me to deal with the misery of my life, but because my weight is beginning to spiral out of control, and drinking always makes me hungry. Alcohol alone contains awesome amounts of calories. So it is dating -- or this farce that I'm involved with that might, if you're generous, be called dating, that is keeping me straight. I go back on the wagon tomorrow for about a week. I used to have this asshole friend, and he was this big reformed alcky, and he was always like, "Ed, you should go to an AA meeting. I think you have a problem. And you could meet women at these meetings. Lots. And they're real basket cases like you. You could have them easy."

Personal ad response to jóízû

"Disappointed that people tend to isolate themselves once they find a significant relationship?" But that's the whole point. I don't think you're seeing the big picture on this.

And how did you get those squiggly things in your username? I want fancy squiggles likes that in my user name. Damn! It is just so exotic and cosmopolitan. I wouldn't even have a clue as to how even to pronounce that. I need to have that! Or at least be associated with that.

You "respect polyamour". I don't. I spit on it. I damn them! Why can't they leave us poor monogamists alone.

I think you're cute.

-Ed

Personal ad response to Reeni

I frequently suffer from an existential crisis, which is sort of a spiritual crisis. I think we can count this as a spiritual experience. I think we can look beyond these cosmetic differences in our world views.

You're cute. Why can't we all just get along?

-Ed

Personal ad response to chestnut

Hi,

Look, I'm Jewish. And we're afraid of nature. So I think I get a free pass for not being outdoorsy. And I would appreciate it if I am not discriminated against because my religion precludes me from being anywhere near a mosquito. Also, I don't think you fully appreciate the benefits of couch potatoism, and I hope that you might check into this.

I will be candid: x-country skiing is just so blah. Why x-country ski past a tree and actually see the thing when you could downhill ski by it at 50 m.p.h. You don't even see the tree at this speed. It's just a big blur. It gives a far more heightened sense of reality. It's just more fun.

And, while I'm being candid. You have some damn cute cheeks.

-Ed

My dating Seinfeld moment

Consistent with the online dating law that I live by, I had asked this woman for coffee on the 2nd e-mail I sent her. She said I moved "so fast". I politely wrote her back saying that you can't really get to know someone through e-mail. I probably also threw in my signature cuteness and flattery as well, but I knew she was most probably a lost cause. I'd give her 24 hours. If she didn't write back she never would. About three days later I deleted not only her e-mail but hid her profile. This is a psychological, symbolic thing for me which says, "I don't acknowledge your existence. I am moving on." Maybe the next day I get an e-mail from her apologizing, saying her friend's mother died, but she might be free over the weekend. I had seen this a million times before. This was sort of an up-yours way of rejecting people. I almost didn't even write her back. I didn't tell her that I was going to be busy on Sunday, because that would betray the fact that I was on to her. I opted to give her a polite e-mail saying that I understand and she could take as much time as she likes.

To my shock I get an e-mail from her saying she is free over the weekend. This broke what I thought was a universal law of the dating universe. It was a little disillusioning, because I thought I had understood the dating universe. I arranged a Saturday date with this woman. The problem was that in deleting her e-mail I had deleted her name, and had forgotten her name.

On Saturday I arrive at our meeting place, a coffee shop, a bit early. I look around. A woman is looking at me. I don't see too well without my glasses. She doesn't look like the woman in the photo. Sometimes women look a lot different than in their photos, but she is looking at me, is thirty something, so it has to be her. So I walk over to this women. I cannot say "Are you so and so?" So I say, "Hi, I'm, Ed." And she says to me. "Oh I'm not the person you're looking for." I was terribly embarrassed, apologized and made a hasty exit for the door. And she says to me as I am walking away, "I was looking at you because you looked interesting." I think that she had read my body language and knew what had happened, and she was just trying to save me some embarrassment.

Half-way into the actual date it started to really bother me that I didn't know her name, so I confided in her what had happened, and I told her the story about the woman I had mistook for her. And my date thought this was all very funny. She said, "It sounded like that woman liked you. Wouldn't it have been interesting if you had sat down with her and started talking to her." And I had not even thought about this. This was a very disconcerting thought. And I said, "I bet I would have really pissed you off." And she said "No, I'm a writer. These sort of situations are interesting for me." It was at this point that I knew that I wanted to see this woman again.

Up Yours Universe

The closest I've ever come to committing suicide was 23 years ago. I bought a bottle of sleeping pills and two over-the-counter medications. I didn't think the sleeping pills would kill me, at least not in any reasonable time-frame. I was using them as a sedative. But I had reasonable intelligence that the cocktail of the other medications would kill me. What I lacked was a good time frame of how quickly I would die. And this was a real problem, because I didn't want to take the chance of being found alive with these drugs causing permanent damage to my internal organs. And I'd be committed, which would make my life far worse. Suicide was very risky and it also wasn't a viable solution to my problems, because while death alleviates your pain, it doesn't give you what you want. I kept the pills around for about six months. It's probably difficult for people who've never suffered with depression to understand that those drugs I bought to kill myself were not really so much to kill myself, but a failsafe in case things got so hairy that I had no choice. This is going to be very difficult to understand, but the instruments of my destruction gave me comfort. They gave me what I needed to keep going.

The Casual Encounters Craig's List ad I wrote in the previous blog, which was set to be published on CL, pending the outcome of Sunday's date will not be published. It's publication has been suspended indefinitely, though I have safely filed it away. It is my failsafe. It is what I need to "romantically" keep going. Note that I have no plans to kill myself. If I did I assure you I would not tell anyone.

I am not a prude. In fact I consider myself to be hypersexual. But I will be blunt when I say that promiscuity disgusts me. I will no longer be exploited by women. If I'm only good enough to be fucked by them, well, fuck them! Being with women like this is undignified and goes against my survival instinct. CL is not a viable solution to my problem. I know this in my heart. It is a waste of resources. Time and energy devoted to obtaining a very cheap and shallow lay could be better put towards finding a healthy and normal relationship with a normal woman.

I had a bad run of luck recently and I got depressed and frustrated. But I am not going to concede defeat to this asshole universe. I am better than this universe. It should be grateful that I'm around. Maybe tomorrow I will be weak, but today I am a man and I say fuck you, universe!

The seedy streets of the romantic underworld

I had originally planned to touch your hearts so deeply with my sad story of poverty and broken heart that you will cry for me for hours. I had planned to sell this heart-wrenching story and make thousands with it, perhaps as a Lifetime Original Movie, but I decided in the end to just take it like a man and tell you like a man. (Lifetime wasn't interested in the story.)

I'm tired of living up to economic expectations of the educated women I find on these online personals. I'm tired of not-very-attractive, needy women who don't have any economic expectations. They don't want me. They want what I represent, which is an end to their loneliness. Maybe there is a middle ground out there somewhere. I don't know. But I'm tired of looking for it. I'm just sick with exhaustion. I keep putting this off, hoping that a miracle will happen so that I won't have to make this plunge into the seedy streets of the romantic underworld, but I've decided to sell out provided that my Sunday date goes poorly.

My Craig's List listing below, which has yet to be posted, is self-explanatory. This will be posted in the Casual Encounters section of CL. Everything about it is true with exception to the fact that I am looking for a casual encounter. In truth this is not what I want at all. I want a life partner. It will probably be the least obscene Casual Encounters ad on CL in the history of mankind. Most male Casual Encounter ads start with something like, "Need blowjob bad." And if there are photos, they are usually photos of garish looking penises. I will include my real photos, and a head shot. And no naked photos! Believe it or not, my primary motive for doing this is not sex but a deep longing for intimacy, even if it is a mere morsel. I have very low expectations for this. Nobody on CL -- whether it be Casual Encounters or the Romantic Relationships section appears to be fully sane.

I'm a 43 year old, intelligent, educated, progressive, and easy-going straight man. I am seeking a female FWB (Friend With Benefits.). My photos are taken within the last six months. Am 5'10. Weigh 180 pounds. A little bit of a beer belly, but other than that, look pretty good for my age.

I enjoy independent and foreign films, Asian food, deep discussions as well as very shallow ones. I watch the Red Sox but wish I was enjoying time with a woman instead, or at least watching the Red Sox with them. I am single. You don't have to be single, but you must be in an "open" relationship. I do not approve of cheating and will absolutely not be a party to this! I can host, but again, you should not have to be sneaking around in order to see me. While I am very sensual, I am not into anything remotely kinky or weird. I am disease free and practice safe sex. The same should be true of you! I don't do drugs, but don't care if you're a recreational user. I don't want needy women.

I am a very tolerant person, except when it comes to bigots. If you harbor hatred towards people because of race, religion, or sexual preference, then please do not respond.

I will need clear photos of you, taken at least within the last year. Preferably a head shot and a full body shot. Aesthetics matter more to me than age. Race or religion is irrelevant.

Women on CL tend to express a strong desire to be licked. This is something I have not been fortunate enough to do in this century. But one thing I left out of my CL ad is, "If any woman who solicits me on CL thinks I'm going to lick them, they're out of their goddamn mind!"

I think not!

I've never gotten a reply like this before. The funny thing is, this woman is not the type of woman that I'm usually attracted to. And I love how she says, I read "some of" my profile. It is not that long. This woman is out of her mind and will so not get a reply from me!

Hi Ed,

I read your profile (some of it). And it's nice and honest.
You didn't answer too many OKC questions, though...

Looking at your pictures, it's hard to say you're the type I'm usually attracted to. But then, at the end, the attraction is about the personality.

I think we can meet and see from there. After all, we live close, and even if we end up being "just friends", it can be nice.

Let me know what you think,
(NAME).

My contempt for your clique

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Simulcasting my blog

I've decided at least for now to simulcast this blog on TW as well as Fast Cupid. I'll post the blog at TW first. This way I continue to stoke the TW furnish for that eventual day when I get my damn book done and do more radio to promote it. I also might get fickle again and delete the FC blog as I did before. I still feel extremely overexposed at FC, since I haven't officially quit dating yet. I might even post my milder blogs on OKC as well.

Dating is driving me mad. This apartment is. This work is. This life is. Must escape. Tomorrow I'm going to get real lost. I know the Canadian Geese are back. This is an extremely bad attitude bird but they sort of fascinate me. I know their hangouts. Want to check those guys out. Probably too early for chicks (the bird kind.) They will be dating probably, just like me -- and you. Then maybe I'll see a movie. I think the last movie I saw was that crappy "Slumdog Millionaire." (You sold out Danny Boyle!). I'll go to the Waltham Embassy probably and see whatever ... doesn't matter, just need to ESCAPE. Maybe I'll see two movies. Maybe I'll go to that brewery/bar place next door and get slightly plastered before I see the movie. Have never been there. I've got to have popcorn. Embassy popcorn is edible. And you know what, fuck my lactose intolerance. I'm having an ice cream bar. Maybe two. I'm going to enjoy now and pay later. You know, maybe I plunk down money for a six pack of the good stuff (Grolsch) and get more than slightly plastered when I get home, but I don't want to come home for a long, long time. I am not coming home until it's Wednesday morning! That is a rule! And I need nice greasy Chinese food. To hell with my diet! I need a 24/7 Dunkin' Donuts to hang in also, which reminds me, need to bring the MP3 player and put new battery in. Maybe I'll hit a 24 hour McDonald's or IHOP -- ooh now we're so talking! It is going to be so great tomorrow. If I even think about the misery of my life just once tomorrow, I'm going to kick my ass!

Going back to blogging at FastCupid

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Fuck all none of you...

What's the point of this blog? I sit here taking the time to spill my guts for, I don't know, 1 or 2 people maybe. If the world really thinks what I have to say is that insignificant than it can go fuck itself. Waste of my goddamn time.

No thrill for me, only dread

Read this woman's profile on okaycupid. Says the following:


You should message me if

.. you know the thrill of waking up in the morning with the excitement of knowing you HAVE to do something, just have to, from the bottom of your heart. I'd love to talk if you do know this feeling.


And I thought, shit, this woman would not want to know me. I wake up each morning to nothing but dread. Do people really feel like this woman? Is it bullshit or do they make themselves believes their lives are exhilarating?

Hopefully no more dating this week...

I panicked before the date because I could not locate on the Internet this place Julia wanted to go to called "Athens". It was a coffee shop. I called, left a message, e-mailed. She did e-mail me a better physical description right before I left, but wasn't sure where it was.

It turns out it was "Athans" not "Athens". I said what threw me was it was spelled with an "a" not an "e', and she said, "Oh, I spelled right." (But not really.)

Julia was a Russian. Said she was 45 on her profile, but I learned later on the date that she LIED and was really 47. but who knows, maybe she is even older. How could I tell if she had already established that she was a liar.

Her prospect as a mate was officially over about 2 minutes into the date when she told me she had removed her profile on okaycupid, the site where we met on, because all these "20 year old's and African Americans" were writing her. I stated very clearly on my profile that I am looking for a "non-bigoted" person. On this website my profile is relatively short. I've noticed that some women really don't read my profile at all. Maybe they just look at my photo, my race, and my town and say "Yah" or "Nay."

Though she was a racist, I had already paid for over $15 for a lemonade (for me), tea for her, and two awful custard like deserts with a French name that tasted like a food experiment gone tragically wrong. She had only half eaten have if hers. I thought to myself, that's $2.50 down the tubes.

She was from the former Soviet Union so I took this opportunity to pick her brains. I was surprised to learn that her life in St. Petersburg which was then Leningrad, as she explained it, far more closely resembled Soviet propaganda then the typical Western view of Russia, the backward nation. Was she a Communist? I suspect not. Was she privileged. Yes, absolutely. I don't think most people in the Soviet Union were afforded the privilege of traveling like she did within the Soviet Union. She had been to all the Soviet Republics, which span a large part of Asia.

I wonder what she thought of Jews. I wonder if she even saw in my profile that I was Jewish. Maybe if she had said something anti-Semitic I would have taken her up on her subtle suggestion to take her to a Sushi restaurant, then exploited her. But it's just a fantasy. Who wants to fuck a 47 year old Commie bigot?

Same old blah...

Yesterday morning I looked at my work and freaked. Got about an hour done before the anxiety and despair became intolerable. My perineum was irritating the hell out of me. I wanted to masturbate to get some relief but I couldn't because that could make it worse. Decided to do my lease with my public housing authority, which takes hours because they want all this financial info and copies, blah, blah. Thought once I get my lease out of the way I could do my work. Did the lease. Solicited some 36 year old on fastcupid. She liked Fante (that was my intro line), wasn't bad looking but had eyebrows like Leonard Brezhnev. I knew this would bother me if I ever met her, but I solicited her anyways because she was 36, and a 36 year old can reproduce. Decided that tomorrow if I can get 5 hours of work done I could drink afterward. My perineum was killing me. I decided to masturbate. Big ordeal. Requires 20 minutes of icing down afterward to mitigate the swelling. I tried to work again. It was fucking useless. I decided that I would need to drink today in order to face my work tomorrow. The 36 year old had written me back. Wanted to engage me in some kinda fucking ridiculous e-mail dialog. You got to be kidding me. There are million boring women out there, some of whom will go out with me without giving me a pain in the ass. Why waste my time. I avoided the e-mail dialog and asked her for coffee. Put odds against her saying yes, but who knows and who cares. The masturbation had not made me worse, it had made me better, so I got greedy and masturbated again. This was risky but it didn't screw me up. I took a shower and got something to drink so I can face today.

Yes, I'm angry and bitter, what are you going to do about it?

I don't mind buying women food on dates. But there is no money coming in and I'm actually reaching into my savings to fund my dating activities.

This Friday I felt so angry at myself for inviting this woman to Chinese food across the street from the Dunkin Donut's we were to meet at. It cost me $30.00. She was what I would term as a longshot. (I mean what do I have in common with an Israeli woman who is into "spirituality" and does free-style dancing? NOTHING.) But I it was 6:30, I knew she was coming from work and hadn't eaten. So I asked her if she was hungry.

I should have not bought her any food on general principal. How come her gray hairs were not in the photograph? How come she looked ten years older than in her photograph? I could've handled the gray hair. I just don't like the deception. All this woman was entitled to was a coffee. I have to stop being so goddamn nice or I'm going to go broke a lot faster.

Just another hack Urologist...

I bet you that my finger marks are still etched into the padding of the Urologist's examining table. I had been gripping it for dear life as he checked my prostate. I thought to myself, perhaps this is what torture feels like. If I did not grit my teeth, my growling would probably have been screaming. And it was interminable. How long could it take to check someone's prostate? Jesus. I think he was at it for at least a minute. And after all that prodding and poking and effort, he finds nothing! How can that hurt so much and there not be something wrong? My GP told me it was enlarged. This is my new GP. She was much smarter than my old GP. She seemed so on the ball! But why does she send me to this hack Urologist? I told the Urologist my symptoms. He literally said he was stumped. He said he wanted to see the report of the CT Scan, but I knew he wasn't going to find anything on it. Two General Surgeons had looked at it and found nothing.

I came home depressed, demoralized, and really worn out from the exam. Called my old man. Bitched and moaned. He suggested I research the problem on the Internet. I put up a huge amount of resistance, but reluctantly agreed. Within a half an hour of research I could describe what I had in doctor language: Post-Ejaculatory Perineal Pain. And I am not the only person in the universe who has this either. Other Urologists know about this. This Urologist should not have been stumped. There is a good chance I have something called (CP/CPPS) Chronic Prostatitis/Chronic Pelvic Pain Syndrome. I didn't look too deeply into this, but it seems to be one of those fuzzy things like IBS (that I also have), that doctors really don't understand and don't really know how to treat, but is thought to be nervous system related and associated with stress. I thought about calling some local hospitals and asking if they had any doctors familiar with CP/CPPS, but I know from experience that that's like being on the Price is Right. All you get is "Come on Down!" I looked for Boston area doctors that have done research on CP/CPPS and found a guy at Brigham and Women's. The great thing about this hospital is that they list the doctor's e-mail address right on their web page. So I e-mailed the guy and told him my problem and he wrote back telling me to make an appointment. So I will. This will be the third Urologist I've seen about this. At least now I could actually identify the anatomical part that is causing me pain. So instead of saying "Duhh, the area below the scrotum," I could say "perineal membrane" and "ischiocavernosus muscle" like I'm some kinda smartass.

My weekend of dating disaster

On Friday I risked my neck walking on the ice to the train to meet this woman near a university in the Boston area. She was an English prof. It was at 4:30. I'm sure she worked at the nearby university. (It was very convenient for her.) I don't mind, I really don't. I always ask the woman to set the time and location of the date so that they feel safe.

When I met her she tells me she's off because her grandmother died. She said she almost called off the date because of her grandmother's death. Okay, I completely relate and understand. But what I cannot understand is why she tells me later, in the course of the convo that she is going ice skating later on. This just doesn't jive. If she didn't want to be on the date, why didn't she fucking call it off so I did not have to risk breaking my neck and piss away my whole evening? What little date there was, was typical what-do-you-do-for-work, do-you-have-any-siblings, do-you-rent-or-own, blah, blah nauseating bullshit. And it was in Starbucks. I fucking hate Starbucks! While her specialty was not American Literature, I was very unimpressed by her grasp of Melville.

After that date I needed to drink. It was the only way to get through the dread and loathing of the dates on Saturday and Sunday. This is the first time I've been driven to drink in years. I decided I will need to cut down to no more than one date a week or I will need to either drink on a regular basis or seek psychiatric treatment.

Saturday's date was wonderful. I'll call her J. For the first time in so long I felt like I was having a normal conversation with a normal human being. There was not one ounce of bullshit in our conversation. She asked me almost right away what I was looking for -- and I told her, "A life partner." She was so much like me. For starters, she also hated Starbucks. She said she missed the 70s. She truly understood the 70's and how mad the world has become since. I rarely date women my own age, but I felt a miracle had happened and I had found my hippie-youth soul-mate. And she had nice, prominent, femme cheekbones. I told her I liked her cheekbones. Big breasts are all well and good, but I'll take big cheekbones over big breasts any day of the week. I kept thinking about kissing her cheek, real, real slow, and then kissing her lips for approximately forever. J even broke the cardinal unwritten rule of dating by expressing an interest in seeing me again. She didn't have to do this. I was so going to contact her and did so the next day. Left a message on her cell, and what the fuhh ... never called me back. This drove me to drink again, but I'm over it now. I've regrouped, grit my teeth and prepared once again to face the horror of existential crisis. I'll send her an e-mail just to confirm that she got my voice-mail, but well, this doesn't look good...

Sunday's date was just, well, really weird. I'm pretty sure she double-booked me. It was originally tentatively set for what she said "afternoonish." But then was upgraded to my choice of four or four-thirty. I chose four. She didn't confirm until Saturday evening. Sort of hate that, but have seen way worse. She never volunteered a cell number. I fucking hate that because it gives you a sense that you're going to be stood up. She was 20 minutes late. She apologized several times, but never gave me an excuse. I guess I should respect her for not giving me a load of bullshit. She never took her coat off or even her scarf off. Her movements were jerky like a bird. She seemed horribly uncomfortable, almost as though she were shaking -- perhaps she was. She was terribly secretive, got the sense that she was involved in something illicit. All that I got out of her was that she was a "consultant." I was smart enough not to push it beyond that. We actually talked for hours, and went an hour into her super bowl, which I knew she wanted to watch as she was a sports nut. I think I had finally penetrated her defenses. She was actually a very good-looking woman, late 30's but looked much younger. If she didn't seem so damn skiddish and defensive I would have told her this. She was smart too and obviously very mysterious. I had the feeling that there was something substantial about her. She might have liked me. Who knows... I thought about contacting her again, but was awoken the next day with the horrible nightmare of contacting her again. (I am not making this up.) I think it really put me off that she gave me a slight pain in the ass to meet her and never gave me a cell phone number. I cannot deal with people who need absolute control.

No longer eating like a king

I used to get around $30.00 a month in food stamps. And then for some odd reason about six months ago they say they're raising it to around $70.00. And I thought to myself, O holy crap, they must have made a mistake (I've seen them do this before), but who cares, I will get to eat like a king, at least for a month. I ate like a king for 6 months. Food stamps covered my entire dietary staple of eggs, bacon, chicken liver, potatos and heavy cream. It might have even covered at least some of my lowfat yogurt intake as well. But a man can survive without lowfat yogurt. A man could probably live on just eggs, chicken liver and potatos alone for years before dying from a heart attack or terminal disease.

Recently I got this letter form Welfare (though they don't call it that anymore)

Dear RICHARD RICHARDS

Your Bay State CAP food assistance benefits will go to $55.00 on 02/02/2009 beacause your household countable income has changed.

What's funny is that my household countable income has not gone up or changed, and they failed to say that there's a decrease. Do you know what happens when you try to call welfare and try to ascertain what is going on? They hang up on you.

Someday the welfare state will cease to exist. It's only a reminant of what it used to be. People think Obama's going to save the world. But they're living in a dreamland.

I will rejoice the day when the welfare state is dead, for that will mean that all the pissy motherfuckers who work for welfare will be FIRED. In additional, all the right-wing assholes will no longer be able to complain about it. I will gladly give up my pittence of welfare state hand-out to see this day.

Remembering M

I will call her M because I'm pretty sure her last name started with M. I do not remember her first name and this is really bothering me. I was 18. I met M at Mclean Hospital in their behavioral disorder unit, Upham 1. Mclean is a famous mental hospital. Sylvia Plath wrote about it in The Bell Jar. Susanna Kaysen wrote about it in Girl, Interrupted. I never knew why they put me in this unit. I suffered from depression, not a behavioral disorder. Most of the people in the unit were young women with eating disorders. Most had bulimia. M had anorexia. She was around my age, weighed around 50 or 60 pounds. She was very short. She was emaciated and a horrible sight, but one of the nicest persons I remember knowing.

I saw very little of M. I think she spent a lot of time off the unit, I don't know where. When she was on the unit she seemed to spend most of the time in the Quiet Room. It is a lot scarier than it sounds, at least for the behavioral disorder unit. There were no doors to the Quiet Room. No staff were posted to watch her. The behavioral unit itself was unlocked. Any patient could have walked out the door at any time. Nobody was forced to do anything in this unit, but there was sort of a subtle form of coercion that went on. I remember that she was supposed to eat ice cream. I'm sure that the arrangement was that if she didn't eat what they wanted her to eat, they didn't give her any privileges and made her hang out in Quiet Rooms all day. She took hours eating the ice cream. It just became a drippy mess. I don't know if she ever finished it. And whatever calories she consumed from the ice cream were probably burnt off from the exercising she did, which I'm sure she was not supposed to be doing. M had a tube surgically implanted in her stomach. I'm not sure exactly how it worked. Maybe when she left the unit they fed her through the tube. I never asked any details and I had no real interest in knowing.

M had contempt for the eating disorder specialist because she was unusually thin. She viewed this as hypocrisy. M didn't see why she should follow the advice of this woman when she looked anorexic herself. M did have a point. The eating disorders specialist (who I actually personally liked) was very thin -- and I agree with M that she was too thin. The eating disorders specialist probably suffered from eating disorders herself. Personally, I think that it's good to have a person who suffers from the same problem that you have helping you, but I completely understand how M didn't see things this way, and I admired M's "bad attitude." I also have a bad attitude. I don't feel comfortable with people with good attitudes.

When I left the unit after my stay of about two months, M hugged me. It was horrible. It was like hugging a skeleton. I bumped into M's parent's about six months later. They were actually very nice people but extremely deluded. I asked about M. They told me she was still battling anorexia. And I thought to myself, that battle was lost a long time ago, if it was ever even started.

A few years later I received word from someone who knew M that she had died. I had already written M off as dead. I didn't feel grief, only anger at M for being weak and not trying hard enough.

Recently I have been thinking about M, and now I realized that I passed judgment on her. I blame others all the time for passing judgment on me. Nadia asserted that there was nothing wrong with me, and only laziness was preventing me from getting a real job. It is only an illusion that there is me the "human being," and I am separate from the others -- the "proto-humans" who judge. We're all passing judgment. We're all assholes.

Now I understand that M's disease was too powerful for M to overcome or even acknowledge. M's death was not caused by her weakness or her lack of motivation. M was just a victim of a Godless, imperfect universe. That's all, and nothing more.

M was an adult woman. If I had been M's father now, I would have asked her what she wanted. If she didn't want treatment, I would have had the fucking tube taken out of her stomach and tried to spend as much time as possible with her for the rest of her days. I'm probably passing judgment on M's parents right now. It's so easy to do this.

Driven to drink by dating

Okay, had my date with the English prof. Couldn't get any work done. Spent the time before the date at 4:30 trying to move my bowels on account of my IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome).

It was treacherous walking to the train. I thought I was going to break my neck twice. At one one point I was so terrified of slipping on the ice that I squatted down and walked with my ass about a foot off the ground. But I survived. I made it to the date.

She was a very nice person, very attractive, yet utterly alien to me. I am not a member of the bourgeoisie. Even if I was, I have nothing in common with these people beyond growing up in the same places. The whole experience of trying to pass myself off as one of them is disconserting and unnerving.

I somehow survived walking home from the train without breaking any bones or getting hit by any cars, as I try to walk in the street to avoid slipping on the ice of the sidewalk. I could have tried to get a few hours of work done, yet I had two more dates to do over the weekend. There was no way I could concieve of going on these dates while sober. So when I got back I took a drive to the liquor store. I could have bought the the 40 ounce bottle of Budweiser for $3.50, but in true alcoholic fashion I opted to buy the 40 ounce Miller for $1.75 instead. Had they had some cheaper malt liquor I probably would have bought that. Thank God they didn't have 64 ounce bottles. At least I filled my belly with my standard supper of 4 eggs and 4 strips of bacon before drinking.

I won't get any work at all done this weekend with all the fucking dating smack in the middle of the day. This is nothing less than torture and it's just not working.

Very few things in life drive me to drink. It's time for me to rethink the way I'm going about dating. I've decided on a temporary measure of minimizing my dating to only once a week. More than this is going to jeopardize my sanity.

I hate it

I keep forgetting that I'm no longer a Fast Cupid blogger. I'm my own man now and I can say whatever I please. I no longer have an image to maintain.

The truth is I only have dread and loathing about today's date, 3 hours and 14 minutes away. I cannot honestly say that for one second I thought this woman could provide me with a family. I'm out of my mind to think this, and she is completely naive to think that available men at my age, who aren't ugly, who aren't stupid aren't broken.

I dread tomorrow's date too. I didn't realize this until later, but she put down in her selection of races: Caucasian, Hispanic, Native American. Why not Asians and blacks? What the fuck is with her? If Denzel Washington was willing to have sex with her, what would she say to him, I don't have sex with blacks? I don't understand this racial preference stuff. It makes me nervous.

And I dread Sunday's date. Her photos are blurred. She is trying to go incognito. She wears big glasses like Yoko Ono. She looks like she could be Japenese. Hell, maybe she is Yoko Ono.

Oh fuck me. I hate dating. I am seriously thinking about posting a personal ad on one of those "poly" websites. I will have to "share" my woman without about ten other goddmaned freaks but at least I might get sex and wouldn't have to put up with all this goddamned bullshit and the fucking questions that I really have no good answers for. I feel like an imposter. I am just a poor shmuck on disability.

The English Prof

I have three dates lined up starting with Friday. Women would have nothing to do with me in my youth, but now I am in demand and like a kid in a candy store. Almost all of these women are professionals, some, like Jenn, my Friday date have PhDs. Jen is an English professor. She probably works for the prestigious college in the Boston area that I'm meeting her at in Starbucks. Jen is a FastCupid date. She seems very interested in me, but I get the sense that she is expecting me to be a well-to-do person because I live in a well-to-do town and even went on vacation recently in one of the richest places in the country. Jen is 37. I would not say that she is beautiful, but you can see dimples when she smiles, and I cannot resist the dimple. I have no doubt that she is vastly intelligent. PhDs are very difficult to obtain. I like smart women.

I think in the final analysis she is a long-shot. But let me let you in on my fantasy, and it's really not sexual or even terribly romantic, but bourgeois. I fantasize that perhaps she will see something about me emotionally or intellectually that she cannot resist, and she will accept my economic failings, or at least believe in me, as I do. (I have never given up on myself.) I fantasize about her being my wife and her baring me a baby girl, hopefully with cute dimples like her.

No more courtesy for you!

On some dating sites like OkayCupid you have little to no ability to block people soliciting you who are outside of your mileage range. I don't like to date people more than 20 miles away. Why?

1.) I get so anxious driving on the highway that after about 20 miles you must pry my cold dead hands from the steering wheel with crow bar in order to get me out of the car.

2.) I make too little money to afford four dollar gas again and can't afford another car. I can't afford my own car. My mother gave me hers.

Women who I would ordinarily date but are too far away I try to honestly tell them that I would date them, but they are too far. They never believe me. They always think I am bullshitting them. There was this totally beautiful hot blonde in New Hampshire that thought I was trying to bullshit her. I honestly told her that I wasn't trying to bullshit her, that if she lived nearer to me I would be out of my mind not to be interested in meeting her. I even told her that driving made me anxious, though I didn't tell her about my poverty.

After this recent exchange on JDate (the armpit of the dating universe), I decided to stop responding to women as a courtesy, when they lived too far away. Let them fuck themselves.

To Rhode Island Woman:

Hi,

I think you're the first woman on Jdate who has written me who actually interests me. You look really hot too!

I do not date women who are more than 20 miles from me home. It's just too hard for me, and there are a number of reasons.

I've just set the mileage in the my Jdate preferences to 20 miles. It should have been set properly when I obtained a membership. This is my error. I apologize.


-Ed

From Rhode Island Woman:


I guess I misunderstood what you meant by "low mileage". I do appreciate your reply, although I find it hard to understand since I had a Berlin-SF relationship for a number of years and you don't even need a visa/passport to enter RI!

That reference to 'low-mileage" was from my profile which was intended as an obvious metaphore. It was very snippy. I don't understand why anyone would get so snippy. Even if I was rejecting her (and I wasn't), you just come across as such a loser if you react like a pissy asshole when you are rejected. I didn't respond to her any further. She wasn't worthy of a response.

I am a loser but at least I try not to act like one. Losers disgust me.

Last Poem

This is the last love poem I wrote for Nancy. Never got to read it to her. I don't think she would've given a shit anyway. She was only concerned with the material world. Never even said good bye. I really need to delete her contact info. The only thing that keeps me from doing it is that I know women like her, and I know that sometimes they come back before leaving you again. They come back because they can't find what they're looking for, because it does not exist.

Dream

You came into my life like a fever dream.
If the fever comes back I hope it will make the world go away.
And put you in my arms
And let me taste your lips.

Please God Let Me Have the Good Witch

I have been trying to arrange a date with Michelle for about a month. Another OkayCupid woman. She was very courteous in her messages, seemed interested in me, and did not bust my balls by making me do a screening phone call (which I refuse to do anymore).

Our first attempt at a date I canceled because I felt sick. Then she went on a cruise for a few weeks. And then we set another date but she canceled because she was sick. Yesterday we arranged another date. And there was a fucking minor blizzard. I laid a fallback plan on her. I would not drive -- I would run to a train and meet her in an alternate location in Cambridge near where she was. She would take a taxi. It worked. I made the train -- we finally met. And thank God, because I am going away too.

I liked Michelle right away. She knew I was uncomfortable in the Starbucks just by looking at me. (I sort of fucking hate Starbucks -- and I was a little nauseous, and the rancid odor of their coffee was getting to me). We walked in the mall in search of another location. The first thing she said as we were walking was "I'm from New Jersey, so if you need to make any jokes about New Jersey you should get them out of your system now." And I knew I liked this woman. I told her that "after watching 'The Sopranos,' I no longer make jokes about New Jersey."

Her eyes were almost black, black hair -- she wore black -- a real witch -- my kinda woman! Short. Nice chubby cheeks. Big breasts. Chubby body. (That doesn't bother me at all.) She designated in her profile that she didn't want children, yet she's young enough. It continues to baffle me why people don't want children.

Oh, did I mention that we went to the same school and had the same major too!

I made a few errors on the date, but I don't think any of them were show-stoppers. I put 3 to 1 odds on getting a second date with her. But today when I called her on the phone, too late -- 8:45 p.m., she said it wasn't a good time to talk, had to go to sleep. Said she'd call me tomorrow. There was something about the tone of her voice that seemed not right -- I decided to change the odds of my getting a second date with her to 2 to 1 against. I hope that if she's not interested she'll save me a little humiliation and not call.

Michelle is one of those rare women who interests me. I hope Michelle is interested in me, but I will try not to beat myself up if she isn't.

I was right

I was right to remove my blog on Fast Cupid. I was overexposed. A 37 year old English prof with a Ph.D recently winked me -- and she has cute dimples -- (How could you resist a woman with dimples? It's just not possible.)

When I was telling the gory details of my screwed up prostate on the Fast Cupid blog I couldn't find a woman with a GED, let alone a Ph.D. I got no winks at all!

I so made the right decision to delete that blog from existence.

The preemptive post date e-mail rejection

I went out on a date on Thursday evening. Met her on OkayCupid. I had low expectations going into the date. She seemed ... well ... a little too waspy and too straight for me. Also, she was 7 years younger than me, beautiful, and had no children. This is the type of woman that had a huge pool of men available to her who make a lot more money than I do. I was probably just a curiosity to her.

I knew within about the first two minutes of meeting her that it probably wasn't going to work out between us, but I always play the hand, hoping to find some connection. In this case she chose a noisy bar to meet and communication was somewhat of a challenge. At the end of the date she extended her hand. I asked her for a hug even though I knew I wasn't ever going to meet her again. I always do this. It is the politician inside me. Also, I think it is sort of a nicer way of ending things.

As soon as I get home I find this letter in my inbox from her:

Hi Ed,

Hope you got home ok.
It was nice to meet you this evening ... always cool to meet new people.

All the best to you in your pursuits.
Katha

All the best to you in your pursuits? This is the first preemptive rejection e-mail I've ever gotten. Is she out of her goddamn mind? I wasn't interested in her. I have had younger women than her, who were vastly more intelligent and beautiful than her interested in me. And the reason is, I am a smart guy and a rebel and women find this sexy. I don't know what the fuck she take me for? It's really insulting. Was it the hug? What the fuck was with this woman?

I wrote her back saying I was "very happy to have met you." This would have been true had she not turned out to be such an asshole.

Apology to Pacdaddy

I haven't been blogging here for some time, and the reason why is because I have been at Fast Cupid blogging. Recently I decided to stop blogging at Fast Cupid. Many people at Fast Cupid have sent me communications asking why, and they always start with "did you stop blogging because of Pacdaddy?" Pacdaddy is another blogger at Fast Cupid who became very upset with me when I questioned his belief that Cultural Anthropology used experimental research. In response, Pacdaddy started a counter blog to my blog, accusing me of Nazism, sexism, bestiality, all sorts of ugly things.

I have always denied that I stopped blogging at Fast Cupid because of Pacdaddy. But that's not the complete truth. A very large man who looked a lot like Salvatore 'Big Pussy' Bonpensiero from "The Sopranos," barged into my apartment one day, attempted to flush my head down my toilet, and told me that very bad things could happen to me if I continue to disrespect The Pacdaddy. I later learned that Pacdaddy is a member of one of the largest organized crime families in New Jersey.

Upon further examination of the field of Cultural Anthropology, I learned that Pacdaddy was completely correct, that I was completely wrong, and that the disrespect he showed towards Maggie Meade was completely warranted. Furthermore, I am a Nazi, a sexist, and my girlfriend is a sheep.

This is the full story of what happened, and a formal apology to Pacdaddy.

The Fastcupid.com Porno Connection

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Suck mine, leaches

I've decided to remove all the images attached to my blog posts off my site. I don't see why I should support the thousands and thousands of people leaching my bandwidth. Fuck all of you.

If I could get away with it I would've replaced the images you were leaching with disgusting and garish pornographic images just to get back at you. Consider yourself lucky. Next time, make a copy of the image you want, and put it on your own fucking server. Leach scum.

X Files: Don't Believe Anymore

I consider myself a pretty big fan of the X files, and I just want to say that "The X Files: I Want to Believe" sucked pretty badly and that you should just save your money and get it on Netflix or whatever. Trust me, it sucked.

I think there was a good chance they were using doubles for Scully and Moulder during the kissing scene towards the end. That would explain why they used such awkwardly weird camera angles during the kiss, where you couldn't really make out their faces while they kissing. I DON'T BELIEVE it was them really kissing. Like the kiss, this whole movie felt fake and bullshit.

Tila Tequila Rejected, No Way!

Okay, I admit it, I'm a banal idiot and I enjoy "A Shot Of Love With Tila Tequila". Getting that out out of the way, What the fuck kind of shit is this show trying to pull? Are you really expecting me to believe that Kristy, after winning the key to Tila's heart is gonna just turn down her shot of love due to emotional shit or whatever...

I think it's time for us to use a little critical thinking here. This is what I think is going on. I think it was in the script for Kristy to reject Tila. The reason being, if Tila and Kristy live happily forever after then there wouldn't be a Shot of Love 3 now would there?

Watching the reunion show I was surprised to see that Chad was not serving time in prison for Assault and Battery against Bo. This is why I think Chad never went to prison: Because Chad's assault on Bo was not real. It was staged. Remember when some unknown person out of nowhere in the back row said to Bo something like, "Are you going to let Chad insult your mother like that?" This was a deliberate plant in order to stage a Jerry Springer movement. There was even a chair thrown: A Geraldo moment.

Let's assume the show is real form a moment. I always wondered why anyone would desire Tila. Such skinny chicken-legs on her and what does this woman actually possess in terms of charm or intelligence or humor or anything else that would make one fight like hell for this very ambiguous prize of obtaining the key to her heart. I always wonder if the cast is being paid for this. Probably the union mandates that they get the minimum. Perhaps there is more to Tila that I don't see on TV, but she seems like a very shallow person to me.

My favorite scene in this series was the shots they did of various things that you don't normally drink, like Tabasco sauce and lemon juice, and everyone started puking. It was like a surreal nightmare. I thought that was a riot. The producers of the show also seemed to have this grotesque fascination with pig-vagina eating contests. I thought it was a riot when Jay ("Jersey") had a wig-out when he got rejected.

Most likable of this year's cast? That's a no-brainer: George. I think George's Buddie, Scotty looked like a nice guy too. At first I thought that Glitter was a primadona, but then I started to think she was pretty cool, despite how the show tried to portray her as an emotional train wreck. The identical twins, Dominic and Greg seemed pretty cool too. Unfortunately they got axed early. Tila has a pattern of getting rid of the blacks fast.

Hottest looking woman? I think Lili is sexy as hell, but there were a number of beautiful women on the cast. Too bad Lili got the boot early.

Okay, Tila Tequila, you keep churning out the drek, and I will loyally keep eating it up, real or not.

Top Werner Herzog Picks

I have become a huge fan of director Werner Herzog since gaining access to most of his films through Netflix. Herzog movies are art that can be enjoyed by anyone. There is never any big esoteric shit that someone like me who was deprived of oxygen at birth can not understand or at least grasp to some degree. Herzog movies are art for people who don't enjoy art. Some of his movies are both action/adventure and art. See "Aguirre, Wrath of God" and "Rescue Dawn" below.

My Herzog top picks are below. Note that I have not yet seen all his documentaries. Some day I will be rich and be able to afford the Boxed Set.

"Aguirre, Wrath of God" 1972 Feature Film

"The Great Ecstasy of Woodcarver Steiner" 1976 Documentary

"Stroszek" 1977 Feature Film

"Little Dieter Needs to Fly" 1997 Documentary

"Grizzly Man" 2005 Documentary

"Rescue Dawn" 2006 Documentary

"Rescue Dawn" is a fictionalized account of Dieter Dengler's experience of being captured by the NVA during the American war with Vietnam. "Little Dieter Needs to Fly" is a documentary about Dengler's experience. Both are fucking great! There are scenes in both of these films which I will never forget. I read in a book about Herzog that Herzog complained that he was being labeled as some kind of pro-Vietnam war person because of the Dengler documentary. I think both Dengler films are anti-war war, even if they deal with a pilot who volunteered. Neither of these films are really about war, they are about pathos and loneliness. I consider myself very fortunate to have been able to see "Rescue Dawn" on the big screen. It was probably the best hour and a half of 2006 for me.

Some Herzog movies I really don't like. Sometimes I believe he really misses his mark. Some are not easy viewing and aren't in English and don't have English dubbing like "Even Dwarfs Started Small". I don't dislike foreign films, but it is sometimes so much work for me to read the subtitles fast enough and watch the movie that it becomes an annoyance. What I really need to do is learn German.

Vikas Kapoor, Vampire

Vikas Kapoor, President and CEO of the Allied Interstate collection agency, a.k.a IQOR, a.k.a Intellirisk Management Corp. is really a vampire. One of Vikas' fangs has been circled in red.

Allied Interstate

I have been traumatized lately by faulty data that Trans Union reported to one of my creditors. This has left me frazzled and has hurt me financially. Trans Union asserts that they are still conducting their "investigation."

This has left me on edge and frazzled. Recently this company who says they are Allied Interstate has been calling me. They ask if I am Dickie Richards. I ask what this is about. They insist on me stating that I am Dickie Richards in order for them to divulge any information about why they are calling. There is no way I'm going to do that. After a long struggle I managed to obtain a number that I can call them at:

1-866-207-8333

Call this number. I hope that you will call it often in fact. The first thing they do is ask for a Capital One credit card number. I called Capital One. They say they are not affiliated with Allied Interstate and know nothing about this number. I asked Allied Interstate to give me the number of a human being at Capital One that I can speak to to verify that they are who they are. They simply refuse to do that but they do not refuse to stop calling me.

Allied Interstate has a seriously bad attitude as well. The most recent person who called me claimed that I was being "evasive." Funny hearing that from people who won't even tell you why they're calling. They have left me so frazzled and crazy after these confrontational phone calls that I have had to take anti-anxiety medication. I have found myself screaming at them at the top of my lungs and yelling profanities at them. This is not me. I haven't wigged like this in a good decade.

There are numerous posts on the Internet about this company being a collection agency. I read in cardreport.com that collection agents can't talk to you about the debt unless you acknowledge that you are the person they're requesting. This would be consistent with Allied Interstate's behavior. However their snarkiness calls their legitimacy into serious question. I asked them for their address. After what felt like pulling teeth, they coughed this up:

Allied Interstate
3000 Corporate Exchange Dr
Columbus, Ohio 43231-7689

I cannot find this in the business directories that I looked. When I asked them who the president was they said that they don't give out that information, that I should obtain it from the Internet. When I asked what their website was, they said they had none. Why is the president of the company a secret? The president of a company should be public information. Why don't they have a website? And most importantly, why do they say they are affiliated with Capital One when Capital One categorically denies this?

I reported Allied Interstate to the FTC and will be reporting them to the Massachusetts Attorney General. I don't really think that Federal and State Government gives a flying fuck about consumers, so I don't expect much.

I have made the decision that I am not going to risk jeopardizing myself by volunteering any personal information at all to these motherfuckers. I'm just going to have to put up with them calling me and annoying me, and perhaps they will fuck me later down the road and report some faulty credit info. It's the price you pay for this lovely system of unregulated capitalism. You can't win, even if you're the kind of person like me who always pays his bills on time. I am not even going to pick up the phone. For now on I screen all calls.

If anyone has any experience with Allied Interstate please post a comment.

Dickie Richards: Go Hill

Dickie supports Hillary Clinton.

Listen

Dickie Richards: Goldwater Girl

Dickie supports The Goldwater Girl.

Listen

Dickie Richards on McDonald's put to video

The Dickie Richards McDonald's thing has been put to video by Shawn Lennon. I think he did a good job:

http://www.youtube.com/user/lennonvideo