My Dear Friend Camus Girl,
It tortures me that you cannot be my mate. That is all that I will say on this subject. I am drunk and very depressed and it's in my best interests to shut the fuck about my longing for you.
I am seriously considering stopping dating. A beautiful 36 year old wrote me yesterday. I don't think I will write her back. What would be the point? I'm just an unemployed fuck-up on [UNDISCLOSED]. How do I skirt around this issue? I think I had a panic attack before a date last week. I don't want to have another. Physically it takes too much out of me.
I had my first softball game today in at least five years. I hate playing softball. It makes me horribly anxious. I worry now that it will give me a panic attack. I severely wigged trying to find the field, was an hour late, missed batting practice and didn't play too well. I play the game to symbolically demonstrate to the world how inferior it is to me. I am a better athlete than these people. It is a form of payback. It is me saying fuck you to the universe, you're not better than me. The world has succeeded in giving me inferior social status but I cannot resist any opportunity to show the world that I can kick its fucking ass if the playing field is leveled. All of this payback comes at a tremendous cost of anxiety and stress. But I feel compelled to torture myself in order to pay this fucking bastard universe back for beating me down.
I didn't go to sleep until five a.m. because I looked at some of the blog party photos and got angry and thought about my life and became frustrated:
Look at this photo:
[UNDISCLOSED PHOTO OF BLOG PARTY WOMEN]
[UNDISCLOSED] is the second woman on the right. This is the larger-than-life [UNDISCLOSED] who looks like a movie star with her professionally shot photos in her FC profile. In real life she's just an ordinary middle-aged woman with a sagging right breast hanging out of her dress. Don't get me wrong about [UNDISCLOSED] -- I can see in her writing that she possess enormous wit, writing talent, and I'm quite sure that she is brilliant. This is the only person in the entire blog community that I really had any desire to meet, because of her rare intelligence and beauty -- though now it would only be for her intelligence. She is not ugly. She is a perfectly good-looking middle-aged woman, yet not larger than life in terms of physical beauty. Physically she is an ordinary mortal, just like me. Intellectually I suspect she is larger than life. There is something very special about her that I can see in her writing. It reeks of intelligence. She is the exception. Nobody else in the blog community possesses anything special that I can gather from the way they write.
I thought I would be hurt by looking at these photos of all the bloggers having fun, while I remained uninvited. But I could quite honestly tell you that I am not hurt, only angered that they think they are too good for me. Looking at these photos I see a bunch of middle-aged losers, who have lives so small that they must fill the void by traveling the country to petty, exclusive blog parties. These people will have no significant impact on the world. They will live and die and be forgotten. In the grand scheme of things they have won in life no more and no less than I have, it is only self-deception and group-think that they are the winners and I am the loser. The blog community is comprised of the same cool kids in school that didn't invite me into their little clique. But now I see that the cool kids really aren't nearly as cool as I thought they were. In fact they are rather pathetic. They are not 1/10 as cool as I am. I am not being defensive. I really believe this.
I think I will stop posting on Bad Sumo. That place will shrivel up and die without me, and if not it will certainly become the most boring place in the universe. I may even publish this letter to you on my blog. I don't see how I owe anyone in the blog community any allegiance. You're either with me or you're against me. I tried to be nice. I bent over backward to make peace, but what I got in return is more exclusion. I have disdain for their petty collective. Let them fuck themselves with that knowledge. I will not de-friend them, but, with very few exceptions, I want nothing more to do with them.
I am so sorry that you must endure seeing those poor young women with their self-mutilated bodies. This would really disturb me. I don't believe I would be able to look at this on a daily basis and maintain my sanity.
I may have lost my $300 Ray Bans today. I'm too drunk and it's too dark to find them. Fuck me!
-Ed
Monday, May 18, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
Plan B to Albania
Rebecca was a 36 year old. I was pushing the envelope. I had come out of dating semi-retirement for about a week, and had suffered a string of bailouts and humiliating rejections in order to get this date. Even a 47 year old had flaked out on me -- thank God!
Rebecca had suggested a coffee shop in Central Square, Cambridge at seven o'clock p.m., a nightmarish parking scenario. I would need to leave at 5:30, get there at 6:00, and hope that I find a parking space within an hour without having a complete nervous breakdown. I kept looking at my cell-phone for text messages expecting her to bail like most women who are at least 7 years younger usually do. I'm always grateful when they do bail because I don't really want to date them, but I always get angry at them for jerking me around, yet never say anything. I took 2.5 mg of Valium before the drive. This was just to take the edge off. It's not the date that really freaked me out but the rush-hour drive and the nightmare parking. I normally don't need to take Valium.
I looked myself in the mirror before I left. I was about 15 pounds heavier than last year, had a little of the beer belly back, but had lost that sickly, gaunt look in my face. My skin was a little more leathery, I had a little less hair, but my face had filled out and the skin was taut. This was the old Ed I was seeing. The old Ed was back and he looked good for 43. Fuck all this dieting bullshit. I'd rather have the beer belly than look gaunt.
I had not allotted myself enough time to avoid taking the Mass Pike. I saw it looked trafficy before getting on it. It was a mistake to get on it. Had I avoided it, I only would have lost 10 minutes at best. There was a tremendous traffic jam on the Pike. It was crawling. I felt trapped and claustrophobic. My heart started racing. I had so much trouble trying to retrieve 5 mg. of Valium from my pillbox (attached to my key chain) while negotiating traffic. By the time I got the Valium in my mouth I was horribly panicked. My heart was racing.
At 6:15 I reached Mt. Auburn Hospital. This would leave me only about 35 minutes to find parking. This time I decided to make a smart move and act conservatively. I parked the car and set out on foot. Hopefully I used enough Right Guard to mask any sweat I produced on the long journey, but if I didn't, fuck it. People shouldn't expect people to park in some of the worst places in the Boston area at seven o'clock and expect them not to work up a sweat.
I got there ten minutes early. It was a good move to walk. There was not one empty parking space. As a walked in to the coffee shop to use the bathroom a woman in her 20's gave me the look. I have not seen the look for a long time, but that was definitely the look. And she was hot too. I know the fucking look when I see it. That was the look. Those fucking assholes on the PlentyOfFish dating site give my photo a 2.5 out of 10 rating in the 20-30 year old age range. If I'm so fucking homely to 20-something year olds, why is a hot-looking 20-something year old giving me the look. The fucking assholes! Even the 40+ year olds on PlentyOfFish give me only a 4 out of 10 looks rating. Cocksuckers! Apparently I'm not nearly as unfucking hot as they think I am.
Still no text message from Rebecca calling off the date. I didn't want to date Rebecca or anyone. I wanted to date Cheryl. What the fuck was I doing with 36 year old's? My heart was still racing. It was like I had taken a shot of epinephrine I was jacked out of my mind. It ocurred to me that I should take another Valium. The Valium I had taken thus far had been like taking vitamins. But I couldn't take the Valium. If she didn't bail, Rebecca would be there soon, and I didn't want her to see me popping pills. I don't think the Valium would have mattered anyhow. What I needed was Heroin not Valium.
Rebecca arrived on time. What could I tell you about Rebecca? She was a class act. She had bought her tea so fast while I was deciding what I wanted, that I had not realized it until it was too late. She didn't need to not thank me, because I never had the opportunity to buy her anything. She had vastly underrepresented herself in her photos as many women do. She was spectacularly cute. I couldn't stop smiling at her because it was so wonderful to be with someone that was both young, attractive, and polite. And she had the cutest little nose. Good Christ! Yet, it was clear from very early on that we had trouble finding topics to talk about. Once we started a thread we were fine, but once we lost the thread we had trouble. She tried very hard and thought up a lot more shit to talk about than me. I was a little too jacked up to think of things to talk about but could carry a conversation.
She was very polite. She said she had to go. We left together. We seemed to be walking in the same direction. We continued to have trouble with uncomfortable silence. I asked her where she was headed. She was walking towards Harvard Square as I was. There was no way I was going to have an awkward walk with this woman for the next 10 or 15 minutes. I hugged her goodbye, tied my shoes and waited for her to get well ahead of me. I was grateful to be able to have had an opportunity to date such a beautiful and vibrant and pleasant young woman, even if it didn't work out. There would not be many more Rebeccas.
On my way tot he car I stopped by an exceptionally nice looking and peaceful coffee shop that I've never seen before. I had a double espresso. Good thing to drink when you're heart is pounding away. I thought about Rebecca and how classy she was, but mostly about Cheryl.
I bought a 40 oz. bottle of Miller and drank it along with my usual beer drinking companions -- potato chips and pumpkin pie. I had hoped that the beer would sedate me, but I have never drank so much beer and felt so sober. My heart was still racing. It hadn't made a dent at all. I thought about Cheryl. I really missed Cheryl. I was obsessed with her. How could I be so obsessed with a woman I had only had one date with? Maybe I built her up in my mind. Maybe I loved her. It didn't matter. I'd botched it. And I still couldn't accept reality. Every day I wake up hoping that she will e-mail me. I'm in denial. I had fucked my life up so badly. How could I have done that? How could my heart still be racing? I knew that if I continued to date it was going to physically make me ill. It's too anxiety-provoking to date and not have a real job. I was probably having a mild panic attack. I should switch to Plan B: Stop dating. Try to make enough money to make a living in one the poorest, most backward countries in the former Soviet-block such as Moldova or Albania. Find the hotest, youngest, and most educated woman I can find, try to make her my wife and make a baby. I still looked good for 43. Albania is a hard-up country. It is not out of the question I could find a 30 year old in Albania, even if I'm 50. It is an outside shot. Plan B is crazy, but probably less crazy than Plan A, which is trying to find a domestic woman. Plan C, which is giving up trying to breed is probably the most sensible solution, but I don't like Plan C. If I had to live under Plan C, I'd start to get existential and suicidal. I can't let that happen.
I was too jacked up to sleep. I took 10 more mg. of Valium. That took the edge off and I could finally sleep. The next day I wrote this woman who had been stalking my okaycupid account who was looking for sex in her profile. Doing something like this would be unthinkable under Plan A. Sex was the last thing on my mind under Plan A. It was a waste of time. Under Plan B, it makes sense because it would keep me straight while trying to make enough money to make it in Albania.
Rebecca had suggested a coffee shop in Central Square, Cambridge at seven o'clock p.m., a nightmarish parking scenario. I would need to leave at 5:30, get there at 6:00, and hope that I find a parking space within an hour without having a complete nervous breakdown. I kept looking at my cell-phone for text messages expecting her to bail like most women who are at least 7 years younger usually do. I'm always grateful when they do bail because I don't really want to date them, but I always get angry at them for jerking me around, yet never say anything. I took 2.5 mg of Valium before the drive. This was just to take the edge off. It's not the date that really freaked me out but the rush-hour drive and the nightmare parking. I normally don't need to take Valium.
I looked myself in the mirror before I left. I was about 15 pounds heavier than last year, had a little of the beer belly back, but had lost that sickly, gaunt look in my face. My skin was a little more leathery, I had a little less hair, but my face had filled out and the skin was taut. This was the old Ed I was seeing. The old Ed was back and he looked good for 43. Fuck all this dieting bullshit. I'd rather have the beer belly than look gaunt.
I had not allotted myself enough time to avoid taking the Mass Pike. I saw it looked trafficy before getting on it. It was a mistake to get on it. Had I avoided it, I only would have lost 10 minutes at best. There was a tremendous traffic jam on the Pike. It was crawling. I felt trapped and claustrophobic. My heart started racing. I had so much trouble trying to retrieve 5 mg. of Valium from my pillbox (attached to my key chain) while negotiating traffic. By the time I got the Valium in my mouth I was horribly panicked. My heart was racing.
At 6:15 I reached Mt. Auburn Hospital. This would leave me only about 35 minutes to find parking. This time I decided to make a smart move and act conservatively. I parked the car and set out on foot. Hopefully I used enough Right Guard to mask any sweat I produced on the long journey, but if I didn't, fuck it. People shouldn't expect people to park in some of the worst places in the Boston area at seven o'clock and expect them not to work up a sweat.
I got there ten minutes early. It was a good move to walk. There was not one empty parking space. As a walked in to the coffee shop to use the bathroom a woman in her 20's gave me the look. I have not seen the look for a long time, but that was definitely the look. And she was hot too. I know the fucking look when I see it. That was the look. Those fucking assholes on the PlentyOfFish dating site give my photo a 2.5 out of 10 rating in the 20-30 year old age range. If I'm so fucking homely to 20-something year olds, why is a hot-looking 20-something year old giving me the look. The fucking assholes! Even the 40+ year olds on PlentyOfFish give me only a 4 out of 10 looks rating. Cocksuckers! Apparently I'm not nearly as unfucking hot as they think I am.
Still no text message from Rebecca calling off the date. I didn't want to date Rebecca or anyone. I wanted to date Cheryl. What the fuck was I doing with 36 year old's? My heart was still racing. It was like I had taken a shot of epinephrine I was jacked out of my mind. It ocurred to me that I should take another Valium. The Valium I had taken thus far had been like taking vitamins. But I couldn't take the Valium. If she didn't bail, Rebecca would be there soon, and I didn't want her to see me popping pills. I don't think the Valium would have mattered anyhow. What I needed was Heroin not Valium.
Rebecca arrived on time. What could I tell you about Rebecca? She was a class act. She had bought her tea so fast while I was deciding what I wanted, that I had not realized it until it was too late. She didn't need to not thank me, because I never had the opportunity to buy her anything. She had vastly underrepresented herself in her photos as many women do. She was spectacularly cute. I couldn't stop smiling at her because it was so wonderful to be with someone that was both young, attractive, and polite. And she had the cutest little nose. Good Christ! Yet, it was clear from very early on that we had trouble finding topics to talk about. Once we started a thread we were fine, but once we lost the thread we had trouble. She tried very hard and thought up a lot more shit to talk about than me. I was a little too jacked up to think of things to talk about but could carry a conversation.
She was very polite. She said she had to go. We left together. We seemed to be walking in the same direction. We continued to have trouble with uncomfortable silence. I asked her where she was headed. She was walking towards Harvard Square as I was. There was no way I was going to have an awkward walk with this woman for the next 10 or 15 minutes. I hugged her goodbye, tied my shoes and waited for her to get well ahead of me. I was grateful to be able to have had an opportunity to date such a beautiful and vibrant and pleasant young woman, even if it didn't work out. There would not be many more Rebeccas.
On my way tot he car I stopped by an exceptionally nice looking and peaceful coffee shop that I've never seen before. I had a double espresso. Good thing to drink when you're heart is pounding away. I thought about Rebecca and how classy she was, but mostly about Cheryl.
I bought a 40 oz. bottle of Miller and drank it along with my usual beer drinking companions -- potato chips and pumpkin pie. I had hoped that the beer would sedate me, but I have never drank so much beer and felt so sober. My heart was still racing. It hadn't made a dent at all. I thought about Cheryl. I really missed Cheryl. I was obsessed with her. How could I be so obsessed with a woman I had only had one date with? Maybe I built her up in my mind. Maybe I loved her. It didn't matter. I'd botched it. And I still couldn't accept reality. Every day I wake up hoping that she will e-mail me. I'm in denial. I had fucked my life up so badly. How could I have done that? How could my heart still be racing? I knew that if I continued to date it was going to physically make me ill. It's too anxiety-provoking to date and not have a real job. I was probably having a mild panic attack. I should switch to Plan B: Stop dating. Try to make enough money to make a living in one the poorest, most backward countries in the former Soviet-block such as Moldova or Albania. Find the hotest, youngest, and most educated woman I can find, try to make her my wife and make a baby. I still looked good for 43. Albania is a hard-up country. It is not out of the question I could find a 30 year old in Albania, even if I'm 50. It is an outside shot. Plan B is crazy, but probably less crazy than Plan A, which is trying to find a domestic woman. Plan C, which is giving up trying to breed is probably the most sensible solution, but I don't like Plan C. If I had to live under Plan C, I'd start to get existential and suicidal. I can't let that happen.
I was too jacked up to sleep. I took 10 more mg. of Valium. That took the edge off and I could finally sleep. The next day I wrote this woman who had been stalking my okaycupid account who was looking for sex in her profile. Doing something like this would be unthinkable under Plan A. Sex was the last thing on my mind under Plan A. It was a waste of time. Under Plan B, it makes sense because it would keep me straight while trying to make enough money to make it in Albania.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Unhappy Mother's Day to you
It's not International Workers' Day. It's not a real holiday. It's Mother's Day, a bullshit holiday, probably invented by Hallmark. I had to get my mother a card. Once I didn't buy Mommie a card and she went ballistic. Maybe that was a good time to tell her that I didn't buy her a card because she failed me as a mother. I've never actually told her that, but she's told me I've failed her as a son.
Some of my earliest memories was the fucking bitch stepping on me. It hurts to be stepped on when you're three or four years old. It knocks the wind out of you. And it's terrifying because some fucking maniac who you depend on is giving you pain and horror.
Mommie can't watch violence in movies. "Oy" she says, and turns her head. How horrible it is for her to see fictitious characters in movies committing violence. Mommie's only comfortable with violence when she's the one committing it.
I never put much effort into selecting Mommie's card. Just give the card display a cursory look and buy which ever card has the least amount of sentiment. But whatever is written on the card never applies to my Mommie.
This year's card had a very cute cat on it. On the cover it said, "Know what's nice about a Mother like you?" On the inside it said, "Everything! Happy Mother's Day." I always write on the card, "Love Dickie."
I wish Hallmark came out with a card for shit, abusive mothers, unworthy of the title Mother. And I could sign them, "Hate Dickie."
Some of my earliest memories was the fucking bitch stepping on me. It hurts to be stepped on when you're three or four years old. It knocks the wind out of you. And it's terrifying because some fucking maniac who you depend on is giving you pain and horror.
Mommie can't watch violence in movies. "Oy" she says, and turns her head. How horrible it is for her to see fictitious characters in movies committing violence. Mommie's only comfortable with violence when she's the one committing it.
I never put much effort into selecting Mommie's card. Just give the card display a cursory look and buy which ever card has the least amount of sentiment. But whatever is written on the card never applies to my Mommie.
This year's card had a very cute cat on it. On the cover it said, "Know what's nice about a Mother like you?" On the inside it said, "Everything! Happy Mother's Day." I always write on the card, "Love Dickie."
I wish Hallmark came out with a card for shit, abusive mothers, unworthy of the title Mother. And I could sign them, "Hate Dickie."
Saturday, May 09, 2009
Goodbye Talkwarrior
People following this blog will see that this blog is no longer hosted on TalkWarrior. That website was designed to promote my defunct radio show and it will be removed. It's not that I no longer want to do radio, I just don't have the time and energy for it. All the time and energy that I have must go into either attempting to breed or dealing with the ensuing insanity that this breeds. Theoretically this blog is supposed to mitigate my madness, but sometimes rash actions are committed after blog posts, so I'm not sure...
Now that I'm no longer hosting on my own server I now have more freedom to really go after people in a way that I didn't have before, because I no longer have to worry about people trying to subvert my web server. So if anyone wants to fuck with me, now would be the time to bring it on. (Well, actually, wait until I clear off my old server.)
Now that I'm no longer hosting on my own server I now have more freedom to really go after people in a way that I didn't have before, because I no longer have to worry about people trying to subvert my web server. So if anyone wants to fuck with me, now would be the time to bring it on. (Well, actually, wait until I clear off my old server.)
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Low art
I realize now that not only do I hate dating but despise the women I ask out on dates. I don't want them. I often don't even desire them sexually. They disgust and bore me. I am often confounded by how I even go about writing these boring bourgeois assholes. They all sound and by-and-large look fairly unimpressive. And the self-proclaimed artists will never ever have anything to do with me. Are they really artists? If they were wouldn't they be moved by or at least show some curiosity in the contradictions of my personality and existence? They must be high-artists, for I am low-art.
How do I write people who seem so uninteresting and/or unbeatiful? I resent the bullshit they put me through. I resent how I am supposed to feign interest in their boring little profiles and their boring little lives that sound like everyone else's. I resent how I am supposed to know them through an e-mail dialog. The e-mail dialog as well as the profile tells me nothing about them other than they are shitty writers. Occasionally they'll show enthusiasm after the first e-mail I send them. But in the second e-mail I always pounce -- I ask if they would like to have coffee. I think it freaks women out because they often never write back after this. What do they expect me to do, engage a person I have never met and only know through a profile? Are they fucking kidding me? Why should I get excited over someone I've never met before? Why do they expect me to? Many of these women I have little to no desire to fuck. Are they thinking in their tiny little fucking brains that my unwillingness to engage them in an interminable dialog of e-mail bullshit is some sort of sign that I'm out to exploit them sexually? They have no idea how little desire I have to recreationally fuck women. If I'm going to be fucking a women, there better be a pretty damn good reason behind it. Otherwise it is a waste of my valuable time.
I'm not cut out for this dating business. I'm getting too old and I have lost too much patience.
How do I write people who seem so uninteresting and/or unbeatiful? I resent the bullshit they put me through. I resent how I am supposed to feign interest in their boring little profiles and their boring little lives that sound like everyone else's. I resent how I am supposed to know them through an e-mail dialog. The e-mail dialog as well as the profile tells me nothing about them other than they are shitty writers. Occasionally they'll show enthusiasm after the first e-mail I send them. But in the second e-mail I always pounce -- I ask if they would like to have coffee. I think it freaks women out because they often never write back after this. What do they expect me to do, engage a person I have never met and only know through a profile? Are they fucking kidding me? Why should I get excited over someone I've never met before? Why do they expect me to? Many of these women I have little to no desire to fuck. Are they thinking in their tiny little fucking brains that my unwillingness to engage them in an interminable dialog of e-mail bullshit is some sort of sign that I'm out to exploit them sexually? They have no idea how little desire I have to recreationally fuck women. If I'm going to be fucking a women, there better be a pretty damn good reason behind it. Otherwise it is a waste of my valuable time.
I'm not cut out for this dating business. I'm getting too old and I have lost too much patience.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Thoughts on death, sex, and baseball
I've been feeling so angry lately. Some of these things I cannot talk about here, some I will be but not now. I think being called constantly on two separate phone lines by motherfucker asshole scam artists who just will not quit is not enough to cause someone to murder someone alone, but that, in combination with other shit is probably why people murder people. It is the small, constant, never ending annoyances from random motherfucker cocksuckers that lead to murder. I said the "C" word. Big deal. I think last week I used the "B" word. Get used to it. I don't have to be politically correct anymore. If you don't like the "C" word, I suggest you either familiarize yourself with Lenny Bruce or go to a nice blog where people are too enlightened to call people cocksuckers. I don't have to be nice anymore. I'm not permitted to go to blog parties. I have nothing to gain by censoring my own speech.
- Shouldn't we be calling Big Pappi, No Poppy?
- I don't mind being alone, I just don't like the idea of dying alone.
- The thought of dying doesn't horrify me. The thought of dying without ever licking a woman again does. The last time I had coitus was 2001. I only know this because the woman said she had seen that shitty "Planet of the Apes" remake which IMDB says was released that year. I don't remember the last time my mouth touched a woman's vulva. I have no clue. I just want one last lick for Christsakes! Is that too fucking much to ask of the universe? I hate this fucking bastard universe and I'm going to fight the fucker till the end.
Monday, May 04, 2009
My best personal ad response ever
It is bullshit that they don't give Nobel Prizes for personal ad responses, for this personal ad response I gave this woman is pure, unadulterated genius. It is genius because she gave me absolutely nothing to go on. She was a medical doctor. I almost always write doctors. It is a matter of principal. They never write back. It doesn't deter me. It is a symbolic statement to the world: I am just as smart as you are. Doctors don't intimidate me. Bring it on!
Doctors usually have profiles reflecting the fact that they lack culture and have no life. I don't hold it against them because of how demanding their lives are. I think I would be perfect for a doctor because I am fun, can expand their horizons, give them lots of love, and challenge them intellectually, though not as a contest. Doctors tend to be fucking health nuts and this doctor was no exception as she talked about doing this Pan-Mass Challenge race This is a stupid yuppie bike race/charity event. I went out with an English prof who did this and the prof was boring as shit. I bet my pulse and blood pressure and cholesterol level is vastly lower than anyone in this race, and I don't exercise and eat like shit. And despite all this I look good for my age. I hate people who waste their lives trying to live forever. Your destiny is largely already written in your DNA.
This doctor's profile, like many doctors was downright inane. Beyond the Pan-Mass Challenge, she listed all the specific types of pork products she didn't like and all the specific vegetables she liked and didn't like. (You really get the sense that this woman has no clue about what it feels like to get laid.) Unless you're a fellow exercise maniac, how do you respond to an excruciatingly boring person like this? How do you win? This is where my genius comes in. The genius of my response is not so much the response but in how little I had to work with to come up with the response. This was the most boring woman on the planet. She only seemed adept at listing foods she didn't like. It was simply pathetic.
Hi,
I represent the Pork Product Industry of America. It has come to my attention that you have expressed your dislike of pork products. I ask that you cease and desist from defaming these fine foods immediately. Failure to comply will result in my informing my friends at the Brussel Sprout Commission. And I assure you, they are very proud of their very cutely named vegetable and they don't take too kindly to libel.
On a more serious note, I think you're cute.
-Dickie.
Doctors usually have profiles reflecting the fact that they lack culture and have no life. I don't hold it against them because of how demanding their lives are. I think I would be perfect for a doctor because I am fun, can expand their horizons, give them lots of love, and challenge them intellectually, though not as a contest. Doctors tend to be fucking health nuts and this doctor was no exception as she talked about doing this Pan-Mass Challenge race This is a stupid yuppie bike race/charity event. I went out with an English prof who did this and the prof was boring as shit. I bet my pulse and blood pressure and cholesterol level is vastly lower than anyone in this race, and I don't exercise and eat like shit. And despite all this I look good for my age. I hate people who waste their lives trying to live forever. Your destiny is largely already written in your DNA.
This doctor's profile, like many doctors was downright inane. Beyond the Pan-Mass Challenge, she listed all the specific types of pork products she didn't like and all the specific vegetables she liked and didn't like. (You really get the sense that this woman has no clue about what it feels like to get laid.) Unless you're a fellow exercise maniac, how do you respond to an excruciatingly boring person like this? How do you win? This is where my genius comes in. The genius of my response is not so much the response but in how little I had to work with to come up with the response. This was the most boring woman on the planet. She only seemed adept at listing foods she didn't like. It was simply pathetic.
Hi,
I represent the Pork Product Industry of America. It has come to my attention that you have expressed your dislike of pork products. I ask that you cease and desist from defaming these fine foods immediately. Failure to comply will result in my informing my friends at the Brussel Sprout Commission. And I assure you, they are very proud of their very cutely named vegetable and they don't take too kindly to libel.
On a more serious note, I think you're cute.
-Dickie.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Personal ad response to Salem
I didn't drink last night but perhaps I should have been sober when I wrote this last night. She had these three crazy requirements. One was that I have a knowledge and understanding of both important Schumanns. O knew one, the German composer. The other I had to ask someone with a PhD for help. Apparently Schumanns' wife was a pianist.
By the way, this woman really was the cutest woman on Okay Cupid, though will not be showing her photo unless she agrees to a date and then stands me up. And if she's having a blog party (which she isn't), I will only crash it if she doesn't invite me.
Hi,
I needed to outsource finding who the "other" important Schumann was to a company in India. I didn't trust the answer they gave me, so outsourced the research to a little company in Moldova, and I think, if I have translated the Romanian to English correctly, that I now know both important Schumanns. It was expensive, took a long time, but worth it for the cutest woman on Okay Cupid.
What kind of comedy writing do you do?
-Ed
By the way, this woman really was the cutest woman on Okay Cupid, though will not be showing her photo unless she agrees to a date and then stands me up. And if she's having a blog party (which she isn't), I will only crash it if she doesn't invite me.
Hi,
I needed to outsource finding who the "other" important Schumann was to a company in India. I didn't trust the answer they gave me, so outsourced the research to a little company in Moldova, and I think, if I have translated the Romanian to English correctly, that I now know both important Schumanns. It was expensive, took a long time, but worth it for the cutest woman on Okay Cupid.
What kind of comedy writing do you do?
-Ed
Friday, May 01, 2009
The face of evil
FastCupid user name: kzimerman
Real name: Johana
Where is it written that I can't expose scum-sucking evil FastCupid women? The only possible law that I could think of that I might be breaking is violating FastCupid's copyright. If FastCupid wants to sue me for linking to their public image I'll expose FastCupid for the fucking slimy pornographers that they are. Bring it on FastCupid! The only thing I'm really guilty of is bad etiquette. I spoke about Johana in my The woman who sucked the life out of me: Part 2 and The woman who sucked the life out of me: Part 3 blog posts. I'm tired of looking at this scumbag every time I log into a FastCupid affiliate website. She is on 24/7. Why is she on 24/7? She ain't blogging. Hum, maybe she's date stacking... Stay the fuck away from this woman. Believe me folks, I could have been out with a real woman [Cheryl] that day she canceled, but I'm not an asshole. I don't stand people up. Fuck her! This is what you get for fucking with The Ed. You get your face paraded around on this ugly website. And fuck anyone in this world who crosses me. Every single asshole out there is lucky I'm not doing my radio show anymore. I would make you pay. She's lucky I don't publish her e-mail correspondence. Fucking bitch. Fuck her. I'm angry. I am really angry. I will be going after some more people in the near future. I will be showing faces, naming names, and chewing bubble gum.
On the blog party front, I sent feelers and nobody solicited even a date and time of the blog party. Pissy motherfuckers. Fuck these bloggers and their pissant little club. I don't care if people are not going to like reading this. Fuck them. Fuck everyone. I'm angry. I considered spreading a rumor that I heard a rumor that someone attending the blog party had Swine Flu. This would have scared people vastly more than my threatening to crash their party. I decided not to because I felt that I had wronged Shakti (the party organizer) in a way that was below the belt by defriending her on Facebook. There will be another blog party in Lowell in the Summer. I will definitely crash this one, as it is close, and since I'm starting to cough and feel nausea I think I'm coming down with a bad case of Swine Flu, I will make sure to give everyone at this blog party a big wet kiss. Did I tell you I once contracted ebola?
There will be a very good chance that I will be moving this blog off of TalkWarrior onto blogpot. Why? The original purpose of this blog was to promote my radio show which I no longer do. I am no longer Moshe Moscovitiz, the talk warrior, or even Dickie Richards, just Ed, the crazy, angry blog guy. I will probably be removing the contents of this blog site and redirect from TalkWarrior to my blogspot blog.
Real name: Johana
Where is it written that I can't expose scum-sucking evil FastCupid women? The only possible law that I could think of that I might be breaking is violating FastCupid's copyright. If FastCupid wants to sue me for linking to their public image I'll expose FastCupid for the fucking slimy pornographers that they are. Bring it on FastCupid! The only thing I'm really guilty of is bad etiquette. I spoke about Johana in my The woman who sucked the life out of me: Part 2 and The woman who sucked the life out of me: Part 3 blog posts. I'm tired of looking at this scumbag every time I log into a FastCupid affiliate website. She is on 24/7. Why is she on 24/7? She ain't blogging. Hum, maybe she's date stacking... Stay the fuck away from this woman. Believe me folks, I could have been out with a real woman [Cheryl] that day she canceled, but I'm not an asshole. I don't stand people up. Fuck her! This is what you get for fucking with The Ed. You get your face paraded around on this ugly website. And fuck anyone in this world who crosses me. Every single asshole out there is lucky I'm not doing my radio show anymore. I would make you pay. She's lucky I don't publish her e-mail correspondence. Fucking bitch. Fuck her. I'm angry. I am really angry. I will be going after some more people in the near future. I will be showing faces, naming names, and chewing bubble gum.
On the blog party front, I sent feelers and nobody solicited even a date and time of the blog party. Pissy motherfuckers. Fuck these bloggers and their pissant little club. I don't care if people are not going to like reading this. Fuck them. Fuck everyone. I'm angry. I considered spreading a rumor that I heard a rumor that someone attending the blog party had Swine Flu. This would have scared people vastly more than my threatening to crash their party. I decided not to because I felt that I had wronged Shakti (the party organizer) in a way that was below the belt by defriending her on Facebook. There will be another blog party in Lowell in the Summer. I will definitely crash this one, as it is close, and since I'm starting to cough and feel nausea I think I'm coming down with a bad case of Swine Flu, I will make sure to give everyone at this blog party a big wet kiss. Did I tell you I once contracted ebola?
There will be a very good chance that I will be moving this blog off of TalkWarrior onto blogpot. Why? The original purpose of this blog was to promote my radio show which I no longer do. I am no longer Moshe Moscovitiz, the talk warrior, or even Dickie Richards, just Ed, the crazy, angry blog guy. I will probably be removing the contents of this blog site and redirect from TalkWarrior to my blogspot blog.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Reflecting on the Cheryl fiasco of 09
This is part of an e-mail from friend Camus Girl:
Hi Ed,
I read your posts last night and for whatever reason, I feel that this woman, Cheryl has a genuine interest in you. I think you are just too intense at times, and it might be more than a woman can handle at the time. I know your urgency to reproduce, but sometimes you have to slow things down a bit. Remember the old saying about quality vs. quantity. Now who's lecturing who?
Here's my response:
Hi Camus Girl,
I just want to clarify that Cheryl was not a promising breeding prospect for me. She was 40 and still working on her Master's. I wanted Cheryl for Cheryl, not her baby making ability.
I don't think my problem was intensity. I would have given her all the time in the world had it been clear that she liked me. But it really wasn't. My gut was giving me a strong sense that I was being jerked around by another fickle women. And I got pissed-off and irritated, not at Cheryl but at the entire institution of jerking me around. After Ji-Ho I just became fucking fed up.
Understanding my pathology does not help me to alter my behavior. All I can do is avoid women like Cheryl, even if they do actually like me. I have ran through the entire incident a million times. I really don't think at any point I could have behaved differently as I was unable to subjugate my feeling of being jerked around and humiliated. I underestimated the difficulty of the phone conversation, but I was tactically aware before I made the phone call that this was a dangerous move. I rely on body language to read people, and it actually serves me very well. Without body language my paranoia gets the better of me and I think I'm being fucked. I considered the possibility of bypassing her request to call her, and attempting to make the second date via e-mail. But this is a woman who answers her e-mails once a week. Doing this might also breed bad feelings because it might of been seen as a reluctance on my part to play ball. Now I think that, tactically, this was the better option, but there was no good option. I was a victim to the events that unfolded due to my defensiveness. But whatever. She's gone. I will chalk this one up to an evil universe, but whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger. We weren't a good match because of our different dating styles. I need a woman that's going to be in my face, letting me know that she likes me and wants to be with me. I'm not looking for a slave, just an abundantly clear message. Otherwise my paranoia will get the better of me.
Camus Girl was right. I had blown it. And it make me feel even more horrible, despite the fact that I knew there was nothing I could do to stop myself from derailing things. There's not going to be a lot of Cheryl's left. I'm running out of them.
Perhaps I should add to my profile that I am an intense guy. And if you can't handle the intensity, get out of Intensive Care! Or stay in Intensive Care. Gotta work on that...
Hi Ed,
I read your posts last night and for whatever reason, I feel that this woman, Cheryl has a genuine interest in you. I think you are just too intense at times, and it might be more than a woman can handle at the time. I know your urgency to reproduce, but sometimes you have to slow things down a bit. Remember the old saying about quality vs. quantity. Now who's lecturing who?
Here's my response:
Hi Camus Girl,
I just want to clarify that Cheryl was not a promising breeding prospect for me. She was 40 and still working on her Master's. I wanted Cheryl for Cheryl, not her baby making ability.
I don't think my problem was intensity. I would have given her all the time in the world had it been clear that she liked me. But it really wasn't. My gut was giving me a strong sense that I was being jerked around by another fickle women. And I got pissed-off and irritated, not at Cheryl but at the entire institution of jerking me around. After Ji-Ho I just became fucking fed up.
Understanding my pathology does not help me to alter my behavior. All I can do is avoid women like Cheryl, even if they do actually like me. I have ran through the entire incident a million times. I really don't think at any point I could have behaved differently as I was unable to subjugate my feeling of being jerked around and humiliated. I underestimated the difficulty of the phone conversation, but I was tactically aware before I made the phone call that this was a dangerous move. I rely on body language to read people, and it actually serves me very well. Without body language my paranoia gets the better of me and I think I'm being fucked. I considered the possibility of bypassing her request to call her, and attempting to make the second date via e-mail. But this is a woman who answers her e-mails once a week. Doing this might also breed bad feelings because it might of been seen as a reluctance on my part to play ball. Now I think that, tactically, this was the better option, but there was no good option. I was a victim to the events that unfolded due to my defensiveness. But whatever. She's gone. I will chalk this one up to an evil universe, but whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger. We weren't a good match because of our different dating styles. I need a woman that's going to be in my face, letting me know that she likes me and wants to be with me. I'm not looking for a slave, just an abundantly clear message. Otherwise my paranoia will get the better of me.
Camus Girl was right. I had blown it. And it make me feel even more horrible, despite the fact that I knew there was nothing I could do to stop myself from derailing things. There's not going to be a lot of Cheryl's left. I'm running out of them.
Perhaps I should add to my profile that I am an intense guy. And if you can't handle the intensity, get out of Intensive Care! Or stay in Intensive Care. Gotta work on that...
Monday, April 27, 2009
The woman who sucked the life out of me: Part 3
It was no surprise to me that I felt myself stumbling through my phone convo with Cheryl, despite how well I believe I was able to communicate with her in person. It had been a month. It was like talking to someone completely different. Phone convos for me with people I don't know too well are sort of like floating around in the middle of the ocean without a life preserver. It is unnerving.
I gave her some gratuitous small-talk then asked if she would like to go bird-watching with me. (Canadian Geese were a thread that had run through our brief relationship from our very first written contact.) She said she couldn't make it that day. (I would never ask a woman that I hardly knew to go run out on me the same day.)
I sat there hoping that she would suggest another time. But all I got was chatter about how proud she was to do her laundry (She was proud because she was still recovering from major surgery.) I kept hanging and hanging on that phone hoping that she'd volunteer another time. I was not going to suggest a time. Suggesting appointment times is a good way of having women who I suspect of being not fully interested in you, cancel on you later. If she wanted to see me, she would have to volunteer a time. When she asked me if I was aware of some obscure song about birds by some band I've never heard of, I officially became pissed off. My ego was out there on a limb and she was making this bullshit smalltalk. I didn't want to speak to her anymore. I told her that if she was interested that she could e-mail me some times that she might be available. I could have suggested we do something simpler like have dinner or coffee or whatever, but I was irritated and needed to get off the phone before I my irritation become noticeable, if it wasn't already. She then said, "So you went me to e-mail you about what times I am available?" She was slightly incredulous. I think she suspected that it might have been a covert rejection. I answered affirmatively. She said she could possibly do it tomorrow. I told her I couldn't do it tomorrow. I couldn't because of that fucking asshole 34 year old Johanna who I had scheduled a date with. I said I couldn't do it tomorrow. There was probably irritation in my voice by that time. I had felt really offended by Cheryl when she asked me that stupid question about that song when I was in a vulnerable position. If I was cooler I would of calmly asked her if she would like to do it next week or do something else, but I felt that she was too capricious and was through with dealing with her. I needed to get the fuck off the phone. Our phone convo ended shortly afterward.
An hour later I started to become very tired. Beverly and I had planned to see a movie later. I become more and more exhausted. I realized that I wasn't tired. I realized this was depression. I called Beverly to cancel. I wrote The woman who sucked the life out of me: Part 1 in an attempt to get this poison out of my system. Writing this made me remember why I was so fond of Cheryl. And I felt even worse. In an act of madness I sent the following text message to Cheryl:
It's Dickie. Sorry for bad phone vibe. Phones make me panic. I really would like to see you again. We can have coffee or dinner. Whatever: [UNIDISLOSED]
I realized immediately afterward that trying to damage control after botching the phone convo would never ever work and only serve to humiliate me. This text message would go down as one of my worst humiliations.
The next day, as I strongly suspected, Johanna the 34 year old cancelled on the day of our date. Here are her words:
Hi Dickie,
I'm going to have to cancel our meeting tonight. I'm very sorry for the late notice. I've thought about this and I just don't think we're a match. I don't want to waste your time or mine.
Best of luck to you here,
Johana
I will say one thing: She was absolutely right in saying that we are not a match because she is a snake! I dreaded my date with her and sacrificed seeing my dream woman Cheryl on that day because I consider it rude and distasteful to stand people up. Johana calls herself an artist in her profile. I can tell you that there is not a single ounce of artist in her because she lacks a soul. She is on Fast Cupid 24/7. She probably had men stacked at least three deep for her Sunday afternoon slot. I was one of her fallback dates. Goddamn fucking slime.
As slimy as Johana is, it would be a cop-out for me to blame Johana for the failure of any potential relationship I could of had with Cheryl. I actually believe I did the right thing to get off the phone with Cheryl when I did. I did not want to let my irritation with her show, and I wanted her to volunteer an appointment time for the date, because I didn't want to force her into something she didn't really want to do. Cheryl could be just terribly naive about dating. This is evidenced by the excessively loud place she brought me to on our first meeting. Maybe Cheryl liked me. Maybe she didn't. I strongly suspect she had mixed feelings and I know mixed feelings always lead to disaster. I should never have pursued her after she did not get back to me. I'm too emotionally vulnerable to handle a woman like her, who do not give clear signals. Maybe I will later, but I have no animosity at all towards Cheryl. Maybe she didn't really like me, but I really liked her.
The story does not end here. Despite the fact that I am an atheist I believe that I was saved by God from total humiliation. I texted Cheryl through Skype because texting with a cell phone is gruelling torture for me. The next day, Skype sent me a message that the text message I sent Cheryl never got through. God had sent down an angel to block that text message from being sent to Cheryl, thus saving me from a lifetime of humiliation. Only you and I know how desperate and pathetic I am. I'm pretty sure I have learned my lesson. Or have I? Today I solicited another 34 year old. I believe I am unable to resist them. But who really amongst us can resist the temptation of 34 year old?
I gave her some gratuitous small-talk then asked if she would like to go bird-watching with me. (Canadian Geese were a thread that had run through our brief relationship from our very first written contact.) She said she couldn't make it that day. (I would never ask a woman that I hardly knew to go run out on me the same day.)
I sat there hoping that she would suggest another time. But all I got was chatter about how proud she was to do her laundry (She was proud because she was still recovering from major surgery.) I kept hanging and hanging on that phone hoping that she'd volunteer another time. I was not going to suggest a time. Suggesting appointment times is a good way of having women who I suspect of being not fully interested in you, cancel on you later. If she wanted to see me, she would have to volunteer a time. When she asked me if I was aware of some obscure song about birds by some band I've never heard of, I officially became pissed off. My ego was out there on a limb and she was making this bullshit smalltalk. I didn't want to speak to her anymore. I told her that if she was interested that she could e-mail me some times that she might be available. I could have suggested we do something simpler like have dinner or coffee or whatever, but I was irritated and needed to get off the phone before I my irritation become noticeable, if it wasn't already. She then said, "So you went me to e-mail you about what times I am available?" She was slightly incredulous. I think she suspected that it might have been a covert rejection. I answered affirmatively. She said she could possibly do it tomorrow. I told her I couldn't do it tomorrow. I couldn't because of that fucking asshole 34 year old Johanna who I had scheduled a date with. I said I couldn't do it tomorrow. There was probably irritation in my voice by that time. I had felt really offended by Cheryl when she asked me that stupid question about that song when I was in a vulnerable position. If I was cooler I would of calmly asked her if she would like to do it next week or do something else, but I felt that she was too capricious and was through with dealing with her. I needed to get the fuck off the phone. Our phone convo ended shortly afterward.
An hour later I started to become very tired. Beverly and I had planned to see a movie later. I become more and more exhausted. I realized that I wasn't tired. I realized this was depression. I called Beverly to cancel. I wrote The woman who sucked the life out of me: Part 1 in an attempt to get this poison out of my system. Writing this made me remember why I was so fond of Cheryl. And I felt even worse. In an act of madness I sent the following text message to Cheryl:
It's Dickie. Sorry for bad phone vibe. Phones make me panic. I really would like to see you again. We can have coffee or dinner. Whatever: [UNIDISLOSED]
I realized immediately afterward that trying to damage control after botching the phone convo would never ever work and only serve to humiliate me. This text message would go down as one of my worst humiliations.
The next day, as I strongly suspected, Johanna the 34 year old cancelled on the day of our date. Here are her words:
Hi Dickie,
I'm going to have to cancel our meeting tonight. I'm very sorry for the late notice. I've thought about this and I just don't think we're a match. I don't want to waste your time or mine.
Best of luck to you here,
Johana
I will say one thing: She was absolutely right in saying that we are not a match because she is a snake! I dreaded my date with her and sacrificed seeing my dream woman Cheryl on that day because I consider it rude and distasteful to stand people up. Johana calls herself an artist in her profile. I can tell you that there is not a single ounce of artist in her because she lacks a soul. She is on Fast Cupid 24/7. She probably had men stacked at least three deep for her Sunday afternoon slot. I was one of her fallback dates. Goddamn fucking slime.
As slimy as Johana is, it would be a cop-out for me to blame Johana for the failure of any potential relationship I could of had with Cheryl. I actually believe I did the right thing to get off the phone with Cheryl when I did. I did not want to let my irritation with her show, and I wanted her to volunteer an appointment time for the date, because I didn't want to force her into something she didn't really want to do. Cheryl could be just terribly naive about dating. This is evidenced by the excessively loud place she brought me to on our first meeting. Maybe Cheryl liked me. Maybe she didn't. I strongly suspect she had mixed feelings and I know mixed feelings always lead to disaster. I should never have pursued her after she did not get back to me. I'm too emotionally vulnerable to handle a woman like her, who do not give clear signals. Maybe I will later, but I have no animosity at all towards Cheryl. Maybe she didn't really like me, but I really liked her.
The story does not end here. Despite the fact that I am an atheist I believe that I was saved by God from total humiliation. I texted Cheryl through Skype because texting with a cell phone is gruelling torture for me. The next day, Skype sent me a message that the text message I sent Cheryl never got through. God had sent down an angel to block that text message from being sent to Cheryl, thus saving me from a lifetime of humiliation. Only you and I know how desperate and pathetic I am. I'm pretty sure I have learned my lesson. Or have I? Today I solicited another 34 year old. I believe I am unable to resist them. But who really amongst us can resist the temptation of 34 year old?
Sunday, April 26, 2009
The woman who sucked the life out of me: Part 2
My date with the 34 year old Johana on Sunday loomed over me like a dark cloud. Though she seemed vaguely interesting, was sort of a neo-hippie that had a goat named Timmie, there was nothing especially compelling about her profile. I don't like younger women because they don't know shit about life. A woman over 40 has reached a level of maturity where she is jaded and sees lifes more as it really is. What I was really after was Johana's eggs cells. They were still in fairly good shape. Statistically her chromosomes had a full year before they took a nose dive. She was still a safe breeding prospect. I had no business dating a woman that age without having a decent job, and I knew she was going to be trouble because of the fact that she took so long getting back to me and was on Fast Cupid 24/7. She was probably getting a lot of "dating" action or was extremely fickle.
Johana is going to fit into the story, but let's go back to Cheryl. I wrote Cheryl back the next day. I cannot, for some reason find this message. She did not get back to me. Certainly a woman that expresses a want to see me again not once but twice would get back to me. Was it all bullshit? Was she fickle? Did she expect me to cell phone her? I didn't have her number. I had accidentally deleted it. Fast Cupid sometimes doesn't deliver messages. I've seen it happen before. I found Cheryl on myspace. I wrote her the following a week later:
Dear Cheryl,
Sorry for contacting you this way, but it was the only thing I could think of. I inadvertently deleted your voice message and no longer have your number. I sent a message to you at Fast Cupid/Salon on Monday, but they list you as not having logged on for a week. Occasionally Fast Cupid does not forward messages, erases them, or puts them in your Bulk Mail folder.
I just wanted to tell you that I really enjoyed meeting you and would love to meet you again.
Dickie [UNDISCLOSED]
[UNDISCLOSED]
Cheryl writes me this a week later on Fast Cupid:
Hi Dickie,
Yes, I am sure we can meet again. It can't be till after tax time, tho, as I have a couple of book club sessions scheduled before that, and it will take a while to get my papers in order! Especially since my first week back to work was really grueling, so I don't see myself working thru the slog very expeditiously.
You can call [UNDISCLOSED] sometime in the midst of early April, tho, if you wish.
Book club sessions? If I had a choice between losing my pinky toe and seeing Cheryl I would have sacrificed the pinky toe. And it would have been a no-brainer. Book club?
I write her the following:
Hi Cheryl,
I can't call you till Mid April? Okay, you force me to mark off each day on the calendar like that desperate guy in the movie "Swingers."
Another day, another X on the calender ... the suffering I must endure...
-Dickie
And then she writes me on Myspace a week later:
Hi Dickie,
Hope all's well with you. My phone's been out of order for the last couple of weeks anyway--verizon had it on for a few days, but messed it up again. When it works, I can be reached at [UNDISCLOSED]. At least I still have DSL (hoping that i've not just jinxed myself)!
So I did see and respond to your FC email, when I finally made time to check back in to the site. It's a long road to getting back to normal, fills up my plate right good, it does. Still have to get around to doing the taxes, too, ugh--only 3 days left... Was going to try to get all the papers in order today, but after cleaning up some of the major detritus accumulated from a month of limited arm ability, had no spirit left for going thru papers; the other labors wore me out and ached me up, so I ended up sleeping half the day away on pain meds (and, in the end, I really don't have a lot to show for my efforts--the place is still somewhat of a wreck).
Sometime after this week will be better for meeting up, as I've got several medical appointments plus truly full time working going again (and the taxes!), so I won't be very lively, and likely to be somewhat whiny, in the little free time I'll have in the next several days. Hopefully my phone will be back to working order by the time I feel more free, and we can try another date.
Cheers,
Cheryl
This was beginning to sound like a whole lot of bullshit. I write her the following:
Hey Cheryl,
I see you're going through a difficult period. I understand. I'll call you in two weeks to see how you're doing.
Please take care of yourself.
-Dickie
Yesterday when I called Cheryl, I had almost as little desire to see her as the 34 year old Johana. I think Cheryl was giving me a lot of bullshit. I know this because I know that when women like you there is never a big load of excuses. Yes, I know the poor woman had major surgery but if she was so bad off, why was she dating? If she really desired me she would not have asked me to call her two weeks later. She would have called me to say hello and made it very clear that she was busy, if in fact she was. She would not have told me about her book club and given me a plethora of other excuses. Okay, I understand how book club would take precedence over me. I'm totally cool with that. But you shouldn't tell me that after impressing upon me on the date how much you want to see me again. All I read from her messages was excuses and bullshit and I resented her. Maybe she was interested in me then but had a change of heart. Maybe it was all bullshit. Who knows. Whatever. But if you're not interested, just fucking don't write back or say you're not interested. Women go through unimaginable lengths to fabricate tangled webs of bullshit. It is such a waste of my time and an unbelievable emotional drain.
The full disaster of my love live will be revealed in the third and final blog installment of The woman who sucked the life out of me.
Johana is going to fit into the story, but let's go back to Cheryl. I wrote Cheryl back the next day. I cannot, for some reason find this message. She did not get back to me. Certainly a woman that expresses a want to see me again not once but twice would get back to me. Was it all bullshit? Was she fickle? Did she expect me to cell phone her? I didn't have her number. I had accidentally deleted it. Fast Cupid sometimes doesn't deliver messages. I've seen it happen before. I found Cheryl on myspace. I wrote her the following a week later:
Dear Cheryl,
Sorry for contacting you this way, but it was the only thing I could think of. I inadvertently deleted your voice message and no longer have your number. I sent a message to you at Fast Cupid/Salon on Monday, but they list you as not having logged on for a week. Occasionally Fast Cupid does not forward messages, erases them, or puts them in your Bulk Mail folder.
I just wanted to tell you that I really enjoyed meeting you and would love to meet you again.
Dickie [UNDISCLOSED]
[UNDISCLOSED]
Cheryl writes me this a week later on Fast Cupid:
Hi Dickie,
Yes, I am sure we can meet again. It can't be till after tax time, tho, as I have a couple of book club sessions scheduled before that, and it will take a while to get my papers in order! Especially since my first week back to work was really grueling, so I don't see myself working thru the slog very expeditiously.
You can call [UNDISCLOSED] sometime in the midst of early April, tho, if you wish.
Book club sessions? If I had a choice between losing my pinky toe and seeing Cheryl I would have sacrificed the pinky toe. And it would have been a no-brainer. Book club?
I write her the following:
Hi Cheryl,
I can't call you till Mid April? Okay, you force me to mark off each day on the calendar like that desperate guy in the movie "Swingers."
Another day, another X on the calender ... the suffering I must endure...
-Dickie
And then she writes me on Myspace a week later:
Hi Dickie,
Hope all's well with you. My phone's been out of order for the last couple of weeks anyway--verizon had it on for a few days, but messed it up again. When it works, I can be reached at [UNDISCLOSED]. At least I still have DSL (hoping that i've not just jinxed myself)!
So I did see and respond to your FC email, when I finally made time to check back in to the site. It's a long road to getting back to normal, fills up my plate right good, it does. Still have to get around to doing the taxes, too, ugh--only 3 days left... Was going to try to get all the papers in order today, but after cleaning up some of the major detritus accumulated from a month of limited arm ability, had no spirit left for going thru papers; the other labors wore me out and ached me up, so I ended up sleeping half the day away on pain meds (and, in the end, I really don't have a lot to show for my efforts--the place is still somewhat of a wreck).
Sometime after this week will be better for meeting up, as I've got several medical appointments plus truly full time working going again (and the taxes!), so I won't be very lively, and likely to be somewhat whiny, in the little free time I'll have in the next several days. Hopefully my phone will be back to working order by the time I feel more free, and we can try another date.
Cheers,
Cheryl
This was beginning to sound like a whole lot of bullshit. I write her the following:
Hey Cheryl,
I see you're going through a difficult period. I understand. I'll call you in two weeks to see how you're doing.
Please take care of yourself.
-Dickie
Yesterday when I called Cheryl, I had almost as little desire to see her as the 34 year old Johana. I think Cheryl was giving me a lot of bullshit. I know this because I know that when women like you there is never a big load of excuses. Yes, I know the poor woman had major surgery but if she was so bad off, why was she dating? If she really desired me she would not have asked me to call her two weeks later. She would have called me to say hello and made it very clear that she was busy, if in fact she was. She would not have told me about her book club and given me a plethora of other excuses. Okay, I understand how book club would take precedence over me. I'm totally cool with that. But you shouldn't tell me that after impressing upon me on the date how much you want to see me again. All I read from her messages was excuses and bullshit and I resented her. Maybe she was interested in me then but had a change of heart. Maybe it was all bullshit. Who knows. Whatever. But if you're not interested, just fucking don't write back or say you're not interested. Women go through unimaginable lengths to fabricate tangled webs of bullshit. It is such a waste of my time and an unbelievable emotional drain.
The full disaster of my love live will be revealed in the third and final blog installment of The woman who sucked the life out of me.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
The woman who sucked the life out of me: Part 1
I was stressed as hell that day about things having nothing to do with my date with Cheryl, a 40 year old with a biology background. It was about a month ago. I left for the date early anticipating getting lost in Somerville, did get lost, completely freaked out, and still was plenty early, yet really rattled. For a first date, Cheryl selected a crowded restaurant/bar with a live band. I have damaged vocal cords, and my voice was in very bad shape that day. There was no way I could talk over that volume. Now I had to suggest the crappy looking little pizza store across the street. If she had balked I would have to have walked. But where was she? 20 minutes after our appointed time I get a voice message on my cell phone. She had not given me her cell number, so I could not call. It was Cheryl. She said she would be late. I wanted to call her back to tell her that I acknowledged and would wait but I was so frazzled that I accidentally deleted the voice message.
When she arrived she was polite and I kept it cool and politely told her the situation with my voice and requested that we go across the street. She was cool. She was vastly better looking than her photo. I thought she was beautiful. My deep affection, and yes -- I think I can say love for this woman started with this first look.
I was anxious and out of it, but all and all the date went pretty well. I liked Cheryl a lot. She looked so much like an actress called Amy Acker ("Angel", "Dollhouse."). It freaked me out. I had to keep telling myself that I was not talking to someone I've seen on TV who has played a nice demon. It disoriented me. I doubt if this would have happened if I wasn't under so much stress. I could make a lot of women laugh a lot better than Cheryl but I think we were able to communicate pretty well, and she never busted my balls once. The poor women had just had major surgery to remove a tumor from her spinal cord. I thought I might have found someone special.
We had coffee later at a Dunkin' Donuts down the street. She didn't thank me for the lunch or coffee/donut but she did question the Dunkin' Donuts cashier about a funny looking charge which turned out to be a credit rather than a debit, because there was a sale. It is out of the question that women thank me for what I buy for them, but I think, relatively speaking, Cheryl went above and beyond the call of duty.
At a certain point Cheryl started looking over at some young girl. This was either squirm or she really liked children. I have a squirm rule: If there is squirm or suspected squirm, I like to end the date if it's gone over 20 minutes. I knew I had to wrap up the date, but I kept talking, hoping that she just liked kids. Some coffee went down the wrong way and I excused myself to go to the bathroom to have a major coughing attacking. I decided when I came out to wrap up the date. The poor women didn't even have a car. She was taking a bus. I waited for her to get on the bus. She asked me where my car was? Why was that? Was she trying to determine if I was going to follow her? The bus came fast. She offered a handshake. I was afraid to offer her my usual hug because of her surgery. I gave her a handshake. And then she said really enjoyed meeting me and wanted to meet me again. I was out of it. I was experiencing a lot of anxiety, and I had detected possible squirm, and I wondered whether she though I was a stalker and this was just bullshit, and looking at her that closely at that angle I saw nose hair. It freaked me out even more. I gave her a very half-hearted, "Yes, I would like to see you again too." But then she emphasized again how much she would like to see me again. I have never seen a women do that before. I was shocked. Again, I gave her a half-hearted, "I would really like to see you again too." I was too drained from anxiety and off-balance to act enthusiastic. I still didn't entirely believe her and I was too overwhelmed to be enthusiastic about anything.
I saw her pay her fare. She waved to me. I waved back. I averted my eyes as she walked into the bus.
I didn't have her number. She didn't know that I deleted her phone message by accident. I didn't feel comfortable putting her on the spot, asking her for her number. I should have told her that I didn't have her number, and requested that she call me. I was too frazzled to think straight.
When she arrived she was polite and I kept it cool and politely told her the situation with my voice and requested that we go across the street. She was cool. She was vastly better looking than her photo. I thought she was beautiful. My deep affection, and yes -- I think I can say love for this woman started with this first look.
I was anxious and out of it, but all and all the date went pretty well. I liked Cheryl a lot. She looked so much like an actress called Amy Acker ("Angel", "Dollhouse."). It freaked me out. I had to keep telling myself that I was not talking to someone I've seen on TV who has played a nice demon. It disoriented me. I doubt if this would have happened if I wasn't under so much stress. I could make a lot of women laugh a lot better than Cheryl but I think we were able to communicate pretty well, and she never busted my balls once. The poor women had just had major surgery to remove a tumor from her spinal cord. I thought I might have found someone special.
We had coffee later at a Dunkin' Donuts down the street. She didn't thank me for the lunch or coffee/donut but she did question the Dunkin' Donuts cashier about a funny looking charge which turned out to be a credit rather than a debit, because there was a sale. It is out of the question that women thank me for what I buy for them, but I think, relatively speaking, Cheryl went above and beyond the call of duty.
At a certain point Cheryl started looking over at some young girl. This was either squirm or she really liked children. I have a squirm rule: If there is squirm or suspected squirm, I like to end the date if it's gone over 20 minutes. I knew I had to wrap up the date, but I kept talking, hoping that she just liked kids. Some coffee went down the wrong way and I excused myself to go to the bathroom to have a major coughing attacking. I decided when I came out to wrap up the date. The poor women didn't even have a car. She was taking a bus. I waited for her to get on the bus. She asked me where my car was? Why was that? Was she trying to determine if I was going to follow her? The bus came fast. She offered a handshake. I was afraid to offer her my usual hug because of her surgery. I gave her a handshake. And then she said really enjoyed meeting me and wanted to meet me again. I was out of it. I was experiencing a lot of anxiety, and I had detected possible squirm, and I wondered whether she though I was a stalker and this was just bullshit, and looking at her that closely at that angle I saw nose hair. It freaked me out even more. I gave her a very half-hearted, "Yes, I would like to see you again too." But then she emphasized again how much she would like to see me again. I have never seen a women do that before. I was shocked. Again, I gave her a half-hearted, "I would really like to see you again too." I was too drained from anxiety and off-balance to act enthusiastic. I still didn't entirely believe her and I was too overwhelmed to be enthusiastic about anything.
I saw her pay her fare. She waved to me. I waved back. I averted my eyes as she walked into the bus.
I didn't have her number. She didn't know that I deleted her phone message by accident. I didn't feel comfortable putting her on the spot, asking her for her number. I should have told her that I didn't have her number, and requested that she call me. I was too frazzled to think straight.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Dear blog community...
This is a Fast Cupid post:
I would like to put an end to this cold war between us. I no longer want to discuss who wronged who. There is no pragmatic value to this. I will say that I regret having defriended everyone that I did defriend. This was not however an act of malice but madness stemming from being alienated by other children when I was a child. I am not an evil person, just slightly mad. If someone here wants to discuss or argue about some incident that happened last year, the only thing I can now offer is hugs -- virtual or real -- and this includes Pac Daddy.
I would like to put an end to this cold war between us. I no longer want to discuss who wronged who. There is no pragmatic value to this. I will say that I regret having defriended everyone that I did defriend. This was not however an act of malice but madness stemming from being alienated by other children when I was a child. I am not an evil person, just slightly mad. If someone here wants to discuss or argue about some incident that happened last year, the only thing I can now offer is hugs -- virtual or real -- and this includes Pac Daddy.
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.
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.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
I'm crashing your blog party
As a direct result of some person from the Fast Cupid community anonymously leaving a message on my private blog that I felt was made in the spirit of meanness, I have decided to seek retribution by crashing your party. Blogo-terrorism is not nice. It caused me to lose sleep and I was unable to work for many hours. I have decided that this person must pay by being forced to deal with my presence. I don't expect to be let in to the blog party, but the mere suggestion of my presence at this party should be enough to cause prolonged stress and possibly lead to physical disease. This is why terrorism is so effective and popular today. The stress alone causes enormous damage to the population. Just look at me. Stress has made me a wreck. If I don't make it to this blog party, I'll be sure to be at one in the future. Maybe I will crash more than one blog parties. I am the dark cloud on the horizon of any future blog event. Changing times/locations or trying to conceal this information from me will not work because I have eyes and ears on the inside. Even if I didn't, you don't need to be Jim Rockford to figure out where this one is going to be.
Rest assured. I have a lot more to fear from you than you have of me. I am just a weak, lonely and pathetic Jewish guy who takes Valium. Well before I get into the door, the great defender of feminism, Pac Daddy will probably bludgeon me with a copy of Margaret Mead's book while his minions stab me in the back. Maybe Shakti will level her rifle or shotgun or whatever that thing is at me. I don't think she would deliberately pull the trigger, but, being that the gun is actually bigger than her, she might lose control of it and accidentally blow my head off.
I don't believe in God. But it's only because there is no evidence of him. Maybe the great irony will be that there is a God. Maybe he will be Jesus Christ -- that guy that I as well as most Jews can't stand because we've been repeatedly accused of killing him. (We're also kind of tired of having him jammed down our throats everywhere.) Perhaps when I'm killed by you, in the afterlife, I will watch Nancy Grace have a week-long wig-out about "the heinous blog cult that savagely killed this poor, defenseless, weak, middle-aged Jewish guy that suffers from extreme mental illness." I will be sure to bring love poetry with me, so to make myself appear even more of a victim. And Manishevitz. I will wear a yamaca too. I want to make sure to gain the sympathies of the Jewish community. I want them to know what these gentiles did to me. And of course I will have my medication on me so that Nancy Grace can more dramatically report to the idiot masses of America, the patheticness of the victim that you brutally murdered.
Rest assured. I have a lot more to fear from you than you have of me. I am just a weak, lonely and pathetic Jewish guy who takes Valium. Well before I get into the door, the great defender of feminism, Pac Daddy will probably bludgeon me with a copy of Margaret Mead's book while his minions stab me in the back. Maybe Shakti will level her rifle or shotgun or whatever that thing is at me. I don't think she would deliberately pull the trigger, but, being that the gun is actually bigger than her, she might lose control of it and accidentally blow my head off.
I don't believe in God. But it's only because there is no evidence of him. Maybe the great irony will be that there is a God. Maybe he will be Jesus Christ -- that guy that I as well as most Jews can't stand because we've been repeatedly accused of killing him. (We're also kind of tired of having him jammed down our throats everywhere.) Perhaps when I'm killed by you, in the afterlife, I will watch Nancy Grace have a week-long wig-out about "the heinous blog cult that savagely killed this poor, defenseless, weak, middle-aged Jewish guy that suffers from extreme mental illness." I will be sure to bring love poetry with me, so to make myself appear even more of a victim. And Manishevitz. I will wear a yamaca too. I want to make sure to gain the sympathies of the Jewish community. I want them to know what these gentiles did to me. And of course I will have my medication on me so that Nancy Grace can more dramatically report to the idiot masses of America, the patheticness of the victim that you brutally murdered.
Blocking my way
In the Natick Mall in a panic trying to find my way out of that nightmarish maze, while rounding a corner, a little girl, 4 or 5, with middle-aged woman walks directly in my path. The little girl didn't even try to veer to one side or the other. The thought that she didn't have the right of way never occurred to her. I had to make a very wide arc just to get around her. She looked at me. Not with any emotion, just observing. She was cute as fucking hell. I smiled. She brought me the only happiness of the entire day.
A letter to one of my Fast Cupid inside contacts
Hi [UNDISCLOSED],
My full name is Edward [UNDISCLOSED]. Pretty English sounding, eh? Though I am only 1/4 English.
You need to know where to go to go to the Blorgy. So it's really a private party.
Right now I'm dating some fast cupid women so am afraid to post blogs here, though I am going to try to make a post threatening to crash the Blorgy as payback for a nasty comment left anonymously on my private blog by someone here. If and when I get a window in dating, and I have the time, I assure you that whatever little love there is for me around here will be gone, as I am going to really let the blog community have it. I am not an idiot like [UNDISCLOSED]. It will be done with a lot more finesse. I have bottled up a lot of anger towards this community and I think it is not healthy for me to keep it inside.
You look good. I hope you're meeting some nice men.
-Ed
My full name is Edward [UNDISCLOSED]. Pretty English sounding, eh? Though I am only 1/4 English.
You need to know where to go to go to the Blorgy. So it's really a private party.
Right now I'm dating some fast cupid women so am afraid to post blogs here, though I am going to try to make a post threatening to crash the Blorgy as payback for a nasty comment left anonymously on my private blog by someone here. If and when I get a window in dating, and I have the time, I assure you that whatever little love there is for me around here will be gone, as I am going to really let the blog community have it. I am not an idiot like [UNDISCLOSED]. It will be done with a lot more finesse. I have bottled up a lot of anger towards this community and I think it is not healthy for me to keep it inside.
You look good. I hope you're meeting some nice men.
-Ed
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Personal ad written for LA WOMAN
Dear LA WOMAN,
I've taken the liberty of writing you a personal ad profile for FastCupid. I have designed it to draw family oriented men like me and scare off the players. I'm fairly confident that expressing love for babies will scare the hell out of players. Yeah, it might even scare off some non-players, but if they're so fucking uptight about babies they really shouldn't be meeting someone who likes them. Try it. See what happens.
WHY SHOULD YOU GET TO KNOW ME
I am very modest. I don't feel the need to brag about my 147 IQ or about how incredibly cute I used to be before I discovered the deliciousness of deep-fried foods. (I am going to be hitting the gym more regularly so you should expect to see my cuteness make a serious come back!) I'm also very shy. I'm so shy that I didn't even write this personal ad. A lifer at Quentin wrote it for me. He is my friend. And he was wrongly accused! And he knows people on the outside who can make you have a very bad day if you don't pay for my latte on our first date. (If we get to a second date I think we can negotiate a more egalitarian arrangement about who picks up the latte tab.)
I love babies. I love their teeny-tiny toes and their great big eyes. There. I've said it. What is so wrong about loving children and wanting to create them? I know how difficult it is for women my age to have children, but I still want to try -- with a loving husband of course! If I can't have children then that's okay too. I am a terribly sweet person, a progressive, well-read, and obsessed with Pinkberry. (It's a Korean thing.) At the risk of sounding too 70's, I have a lot of love to give.
MORE ABOUT WHAT I AM LOOKING FOR
I'm looking for what I think most women are looking for. Regular stuff such as romance, adventure, fun, and feeling loved. In addition I'm looking for someone who is childless, who desires to have children, but like me, would be okay if that didn't happen. Oh, one more thing: Please be a liberal.
I've taken the liberty of writing you a personal ad profile for FastCupid. I have designed it to draw family oriented men like me and scare off the players. I'm fairly confident that expressing love for babies will scare the hell out of players. Yeah, it might even scare off some non-players, but if they're so fucking uptight about babies they really shouldn't be meeting someone who likes them. Try it. See what happens.
WHY SHOULD YOU GET TO KNOW ME
I am very modest. I don't feel the need to brag about my 147 IQ or about how incredibly cute I used to be before I discovered the deliciousness of deep-fried foods. (I am going to be hitting the gym more regularly so you should expect to see my cuteness make a serious come back!) I'm also very shy. I'm so shy that I didn't even write this personal ad. A lifer at Quentin wrote it for me. He is my friend. And he was wrongly accused! And he knows people on the outside who can make you have a very bad day if you don't pay for my latte on our first date. (If we get to a second date I think we can negotiate a more egalitarian arrangement about who picks up the latte tab.)
I love babies. I love their teeny-tiny toes and their great big eyes. There. I've said it. What is so wrong about loving children and wanting to create them? I know how difficult it is for women my age to have children, but I still want to try -- with a loving husband of course! If I can't have children then that's okay too. I am a terribly sweet person, a progressive, well-read, and obsessed with Pinkberry. (It's a Korean thing.) At the risk of sounding too 70's, I have a lot of love to give.
MORE ABOUT WHAT I AM LOOKING FOR
I'm looking for what I think most women are looking for. Regular stuff such as romance, adventure, fun, and feeling loved. In addition I'm looking for someone who is childless, who desires to have children, but like me, would be okay if that didn't happen. Oh, one more thing: Please be a liberal.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
My fall as blog super-star and rise as a misogynist pig
When I started blogging at Fast Cupid around October of last year I took the place by storm. I was the darling of the Fast Cupid blog scene. Why? Because I knew that if Jack Kerouac were alive today he would be a blogger. I understand that blogging is an art form -- a spontaneous art form. Instead of taking hundreds and thousands of hours to formulate your words as in traditional prose, in blogging you slap your words together in a cathartic emotional outburst. The result, if done correctly, is something, imperfect, sometimes ugly, yet really real. I don't think the Fast Cupid people had ever seen anything like me. I've never seen anyone blog like me, though there was one person there who was a better blogger. Her genius went largely unrecognized for some reason which I cannot understand.
My heady days of blog super stardom came to an abrupt ending when I posted Dr Hebe's Photo Advice For Women. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that telling women to not lick things in their dating profile photos would make me a horrible and evil misogynist overnight. Just two weeks earlier, women cheered me when I wrote Dr. Hebe's Sex Advice for Men. I was their hero. (But, ironically, this post actually was an attack on men, and the photo advice for women was not an attack on women -- they really were just photo tips.) But now I was a shit. And it was okay to libel me, because I was an evil doer.
Around the beginning of the year the Fast Cupid people had a blog party. I wasn't invited, though I saw photos of these people congregating on Face Book. One night when I was drunk and mad, I deleted half of my Face Book friends in a paranoid rage. All were Fast Cupid friends. There was some logic to the people I deleted but not a lot. Only one person I regretted deleting, but then again I don't because her boyfriend led the defamation charge against me and although she never did anything to hurt me, she slept with the enemy.
I knew there was a second blog meeting planned in the near future, and that I wasn't invited. I had successfully managed to suppress the feelings of anger, injustice and neglect. But when LA Woman asked me in a letter whether I was invited, it sent me off the deep end. I wasn't even that angry. Just very hurt.
I am considering de-friending all of my remaining Facebook friends from Fast Cupid. Some of them I'm fond of but I do not consider any of them good friends. It will hurt me to see photos of them attending this event. Even the ones who are not in proximity of New York and cannot attend, it will hurt me knowing that they are friends of the people who did not invite me. I am concerned about being perceived as rude and hurtful, but I have to worry about my own ass and protect myself. Much of my problems in life stem from the fact that I have been too nice. I still need to consider this, but my thinking is that I don't think I owe the collective Fast Cupid blog community anything. Of course I will never de-friend LA Woman. Technically I did not meet her through the Fast Cupid blog community. We had contacted each other at Fast Cupid, before I started blogging there.
I can only remember one occasion in my life when I was invited to an in-group activity. I have decided to never accept an invitation to an in-group activity, because I object to them on philosophical and ethical grounds. I'm fairly certain that no good can ever come out of an in-group.
My heady days of blog super stardom came to an abrupt ending when I posted Dr Hebe's Photo Advice For Women. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that telling women to not lick things in their dating profile photos would make me a horrible and evil misogynist overnight. Just two weeks earlier, women cheered me when I wrote Dr. Hebe's Sex Advice for Men. I was their hero. (But, ironically, this post actually was an attack on men, and the photo advice for women was not an attack on women -- they really were just photo tips.) But now I was a shit. And it was okay to libel me, because I was an evil doer.
Around the beginning of the year the Fast Cupid people had a blog party. I wasn't invited, though I saw photos of these people congregating on Face Book. One night when I was drunk and mad, I deleted half of my Face Book friends in a paranoid rage. All were Fast Cupid friends. There was some logic to the people I deleted but not a lot. Only one person I regretted deleting, but then again I don't because her boyfriend led the defamation charge against me and although she never did anything to hurt me, she slept with the enemy.
I knew there was a second blog meeting planned in the near future, and that I wasn't invited. I had successfully managed to suppress the feelings of anger, injustice and neglect. But when LA Woman asked me in a letter whether I was invited, it sent me off the deep end. I wasn't even that angry. Just very hurt.
I am considering de-friending all of my remaining Facebook friends from Fast Cupid. Some of them I'm fond of but I do not consider any of them good friends. It will hurt me to see photos of them attending this event. Even the ones who are not in proximity of New York and cannot attend, it will hurt me knowing that they are friends of the people who did not invite me. I am concerned about being perceived as rude and hurtful, but I have to worry about my own ass and protect myself. Much of my problems in life stem from the fact that I have been too nice. I still need to consider this, but my thinking is that I don't think I owe the collective Fast Cupid blog community anything. Of course I will never de-friend LA Woman. Technically I did not meet her through the Fast Cupid blog community. We had contacted each other at Fast Cupid, before I started blogging there.
I can only remember one occasion in my life when I was invited to an in-group activity. I have decided to never accept an invitation to an in-group activity, because I object to them on philosophical and ethical grounds. I'm fairly certain that no good can ever come out of an in-group.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Dr Hebe's Photo Advice For Women
This is reprinted from the Fast Cupid blog that I deleted.
Original Post Date: 12/26/2008
I tend not to judge a book by its cover and because of this I often date online women who have online photos which make it difficult for me to imagine sexing it up with them. When I meet them in real life I often find that these women are perfectly attractive and I would have no objections at all to sexing it up with them. Here are some online photo tips for women:
1. If possible, get a professional or semi-professional photographer to take your pics. A professional, very choreographed shot will make you look larger than life.
2. If you cannot get a professional to take your photos, don't do shots where the camera is positioned directly at your face. Unless you have perfectly proportioned features or bulging cheekbones, always hit the face at some angle. This will give the viewer depth and allow them to see curvature of your face. Female beauty is 90% in the cheekbone. Don't worry about any imperfections that you have. Emphasize the cheek, even if you don't have a large cheekbones or chubby cheeks.
3. If possible, don't choose which are your photos yourself. Have a bisexual or heterosexual man tell you which photos make you seem most attractive.
4. Never ever lick things or suck on straws or your finger (unless it is an obvious parody of Dr. Evil.)
5. Do not flaunt your breasts or any other part of your body which is good. By all means, if you have nice breasts or hips or legs or ass or whatever, show me, but do it tastefully. If you flaunt yourself you're doing two things: 1.) You're blinding me with lust and imparing my judgment. 2.) You're making me feel as though you're not very modest which makes me feel that you're not very cool.
6. Always have at least four photos. Why? Because the man will ignore the photos you don't look good in and concentrate on the good ones.
7. Always date the photos. If I see a woman that looks too young for her age, I will dismiss her immediately!
8. Holding animals are great and this sends out a great message, but make sure that you don't overdo it. Have some animal photos and some non-animal photos.
9. If you have children, do not include your children in your photos. There is no need for this and it will only scare men off. Just say in your profile that you have children, that you love your children, but you are not looking for a father for them. You are looking for a partner for you.
10. Don't have all your photos be famous tourist attractions around the world. People with bad attitudes like me will think that you're trying to show off.
11. You don't have to look happy in all your photos. Forcing smiles is very unappealing. If you don't feel like smiling, just be yourself, whatever that is. It will say much more about you. Have one smile photo so that you don't look too depressing.
Original Post Date: 12/26/2008
I tend not to judge a book by its cover and because of this I often date online women who have online photos which make it difficult for me to imagine sexing it up with them. When I meet them in real life I often find that these women are perfectly attractive and I would have no objections at all to sexing it up with them. Here are some online photo tips for women:
1. If possible, get a professional or semi-professional photographer to take your pics. A professional, very choreographed shot will make you look larger than life.
2. If you cannot get a professional to take your photos, don't do shots where the camera is positioned directly at your face. Unless you have perfectly proportioned features or bulging cheekbones, always hit the face at some angle. This will give the viewer depth and allow them to see curvature of your face. Female beauty is 90% in the cheekbone. Don't worry about any imperfections that you have. Emphasize the cheek, even if you don't have a large cheekbones or chubby cheeks.
3. If possible, don't choose which are your photos yourself. Have a bisexual or heterosexual man tell you which photos make you seem most attractive.
4. Never ever lick things or suck on straws or your finger (unless it is an obvious parody of Dr. Evil.)
5. Do not flaunt your breasts or any other part of your body which is good. By all means, if you have nice breasts or hips or legs or ass or whatever, show me, but do it tastefully. If you flaunt yourself you're doing two things: 1.) You're blinding me with lust and imparing my judgment. 2.) You're making me feel as though you're not very modest which makes me feel that you're not very cool.
6. Always have at least four photos. Why? Because the man will ignore the photos you don't look good in and concentrate on the good ones.
7. Always date the photos. If I see a woman that looks too young for her age, I will dismiss her immediately!
8. Holding animals are great and this sends out a great message, but make sure that you don't overdo it. Have some animal photos and some non-animal photos.
9. If you have children, do not include your children in your photos. There is no need for this and it will only scare men off. Just say in your profile that you have children, that you love your children, but you are not looking for a father for them. You are looking for a partner for you.
10. Don't have all your photos be famous tourist attractions around the world. People with bad attitudes like me will think that you're trying to show off.
11. You don't have to look happy in all your photos. Forcing smiles is very unappealing. If you don't feel like smiling, just be yourself, whatever that is. It will say much more about you. Have one smile photo so that you don't look too depressing.
Reprint: Dr. Hebe's Sex Advice for Men
This is reprinted from the Fast Cupid blog that I deleted.
Original Post Date: Dec 11, 2008
Dear Men,
Please stop bitching and moaning about your wife not giving you fellatio. I do not want to hear about the physical neglect your penis endures.
If I were to tell my whiny male friends the reasons why they don't get their penises sucked, they would probably get offended and wig on me. So I don't. But here are the reasons:
1.) You have an ugly penis, and you shouldn't blame your wife for not felating it as no person in their right mind would want to.
2.) You ask your woman to felate you. YOU NEVER EVER ASK A WOMAN TO DO THIS! You shouldn't have to. You are just the epitome of uncool.
If you had a nice penis and truly knew how to make love to a woman, you wouldn't have to ruin my day with your talk of your nasty penis.
Original Post Date: Dec 11, 2008
Dear Men,
Please stop bitching and moaning about your wife not giving you fellatio. I do not want to hear about the physical neglect your penis endures.
If I were to tell my whiny male friends the reasons why they don't get their penises sucked, they would probably get offended and wig on me. So I don't. But here are the reasons:
1.) You have an ugly penis, and you shouldn't blame your wife for not felating it as no person in their right mind would want to.
2.) You ask your woman to felate you. YOU NEVER EVER ASK A WOMAN TO DO THIS! You shouldn't have to. You are just the epitome of uncool.
If you had a nice penis and truly knew how to make love to a woman, you wouldn't have to ruin my day with your talk of your nasty penis.
The IRS
I remember when I was about 18 and completely broke and living in some state of homelessness. My mother had an accountant do my taxes. It was one of her many hair-brained schemes to help me. Had I thought for myself and not trusted the authority of others in my youth I would not have been the traumatized adult that I am now. The accountant made an error and really fucked me over. I owed a lot to the IRS. The IRS kept sending me these letters threatening to take my wages and put leans on my property. I became so infuriated one day that I sent them a long angry letter starting with "Is it a crime in America to be poor?" And then I ended the letter challenging and inviting them to take non-existent wages and put leans on non-existent property. I was basically saying that that they had no power over me because I had nothing. And they should go ahead and make my day. This letter was written out of madness. It would not be written like that if I was in a right state of mind. What is interesting is that the IRS wrote back telling me that at this time they were not going to pursue further action.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Facebook is destroying my life
Dear LA Woman,
Facebook is destroying my life. I am going to try to stay off of it. I need to get work done. There is a small chance that I can make money doing what I'm doing -- real money to impress a woman that I can support children. Even if I make the money it probably won't be until after the recession, if there ever is an end. It's a lot of pressure and it's depressing and anxiety provoking because I'm running out of time. Things like Facebook and blogging are escapes from this shit reality. Dating is also an escape from reality. I think I'm probably better off spending all my time working. I am being much more selective now. I won't even go out with women with children anymore. Why should I? They live in a different world from me. They've had their lives. They have their lasting legacies. I want mine, or at least a women in my situation. I signed up for softball. I'm angry at myself for doing this. I should be working or at least dating. Softball doesn't get me anywhere in life. I was going to say that it gives me immediate pleasure but it gives me so much performance anxiety that it's hardly worth it.
I have to keep getting the work done, or at least try to. It is my only course of action. I feel a little badly about bitching and moaning so much to you, but I think you understand me in a way that other people don't.
I hope you're okay. You're in my thoughts.
-Ed
Facebook is destroying my life. I am going to try to stay off of it. I need to get work done. There is a small chance that I can make money doing what I'm doing -- real money to impress a woman that I can support children. Even if I make the money it probably won't be until after the recession, if there ever is an end. It's a lot of pressure and it's depressing and anxiety provoking because I'm running out of time. Things like Facebook and blogging are escapes from this shit reality. Dating is also an escape from reality. I think I'm probably better off spending all my time working. I am being much more selective now. I won't even go out with women with children anymore. Why should I? They live in a different world from me. They've had their lives. They have their lasting legacies. I want mine, or at least a women in my situation. I signed up for softball. I'm angry at myself for doing this. I should be working or at least dating. Softball doesn't get me anywhere in life. I was going to say that it gives me immediate pleasure but it gives me so much performance anxiety that it's hardly worth it.
I have to keep getting the work done, or at least try to. It is my only course of action. I feel a little badly about bitching and moaning so much to you, but I think you understand me in a way that other people don't.
I hope you're okay. You're in my thoughts.
-Ed
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Personal ad response to Kz
Max age 41? Oh, you cradle rocker you! It is discrimination against the elderly! I will be reporting you to the dating police.
You're cute.
-Ed
You're cute.
-Ed
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Is your google broken?
(I list my occupation on some dating sites as Comintern Agent.)
Dear Comrad L,
I told the woman who asked me what a Comintern Agent was that I was not at liberty to tell her. She hasn't written back. She never will. This is why I have no business dating. I have a bad attitude.
Hope you're riding the Darjeeling in your dreams. I often get drunk on Fridays when I am alone. It's too much to bare not being drunk, alone on a Friday. Sometimes I watch movies while drunk on a Friday. I remember very clearly "The Darjeeling Limited" being a drunken Friday movie night. I have no patience for movies when I'm drunk. I have no business watching movies or dating. I should at least be sober for the movies and drunk for the dates. That might work.
-Ed
Dear Comrad L,
I told the woman who asked me what a Comintern Agent was that I was not at liberty to tell her. She hasn't written back. She never will. This is why I have no business dating. I have a bad attitude.
Hope you're riding the Darjeeling in your dreams. I often get drunk on Fridays when I am alone. It's too much to bare not being drunk, alone on a Friday. Sometimes I watch movies while drunk on a Friday. I remember very clearly "The Darjeeling Limited" being a drunken Friday movie night. I have no patience for movies when I'm drunk. I have no business watching movies or dating. I should at least be sober for the movies and drunk for the dates. That might work.
-Ed
Monday, April 13, 2009
Would you settle for a non-dominator?
A 41 year old says in her personal ad:
"I am interested in dating a short, stocky, blue-eyed Scorpio boy with an IQ over 140 who is dominant."
I thought perhaps she was kidding about the dominance and everything else, but she says later down in her ad that she is submissive.
I know I swore off beautiful women in my last post but the fact is that I adore beautiful women and cannot resist them. But how do I answer her? The only thing she's looking for that I am is a Scorpio. I will not write her. She sounds insane. But if I did, how would I? Like this?
Would you settle for a Scorpio, average height, not too stocky -- more athletic, green eyes, IQ of 95, who does not dominate or submit?
Does this woman have any idea how many people in the population have IQs over 140? That is more than two and two thirds standard deviations above the mean IQ. Perhaps one person in a thousand has an IQ above 140. She is out of her mind.
"I am interested in dating a short, stocky, blue-eyed Scorpio boy with an IQ over 140 who is dominant."
I thought perhaps she was kidding about the dominance and everything else, but she says later down in her ad that she is submissive.
I know I swore off beautiful women in my last post but the fact is that I adore beautiful women and cannot resist them. But how do I answer her? The only thing she's looking for that I am is a Scorpio. I will not write her. She sounds insane. But if I did, how would I? Like this?
Would you settle for a Scorpio, average height, not too stocky -- more athletic, green eyes, IQ of 95, who does not dominate or submit?
Does this woman have any idea how many people in the population have IQs over 140? That is more than two and two thirds standard deviations above the mean IQ. Perhaps one person in a thousand has an IQ above 140. She is out of her mind.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
New tales of obsession with Romanian women: Part 2
I probably should have called the most beautiful woman in Boston Internet dating that evening, but I was tired and I had other plans for the evening beyond a fucking phone screening interview.
I have had horrible experiences with pre-date phone screenings. I am literally phobic about doing them. Women bust balls on phone screenings like they never would if you met them in person. When the woman gives you her number, like the beautiful woman did, 60% of the time when you call, you're patched through to voice mail. I have a shitty voice. Due to this, no woman has ever called me back after I've left a phone message. If I get through to the woman, I stand about a 15% chance of surviving the phone screening interview. It is fucking bullshit. All that women hear is my awful voice and how retarded I sound. If they saw my smile it would be a different story. If I could actually hear 100% of what they say versus 80% what they say on their shitty cell phones, I might have a fighting chance. If I could read their body language -- if they could read mine, I might have a fighting chance, but I don't have any fucking chance at all when they give me a fucking job interview over the phone. I will usually write to the the woman that I am not good over the phone and request that they meet me in person. This works about 85% of the time. But I read the beautiful woman's blog and she is convinced that she could sense people through phone screenings and was pretty adamant about doing them. What amazed me was that she reported that some men don't even call her. Were they insane? This is the most beautiful woman in Boston Internet dating! My rules about doing phone screenings are pretty clear: I DON'T FUCKING DOING THEM! But this is the most beautiful woman in Internet dating. Certainly if there is some small fraction of a chance of landing a date with this woman, I can break my rule.
I opted to offer the possibility of skype. This would level the playing field for me. I e-mailed her the following:
03/26/2009
Today is turning out be very hectic. Unfortunately I will not be able to call you tonight. Let me give you my home phone and skype address. We could video conference if you're interested. I hope that we could communicate over the weekend or perhaps on Monday.
Phone: [UNDISCLOSED]
Skype: [UNDISCLOSED]
I could not call her on Friday. That would be inappropriate. I thought about calling her on Saturday afternoon, but I all I did was freak out about calling her and not call her. I had two dates on Sunday and could not call her. A dark cloud of terror and loathing loomed over that entire weekend. And I could not sleep. It was not only that she was so beautiful. Even if she was ugly, I have had so many bad experiences with the phone screening that it is just aversive. They terrify me.
Finally when it was Monday I was completely exhausted from lack of sleep and anxious as hell but I had to call her. There was no escaping it. I knew there was a 60% chance that I would get patched through to voice mail. For the first time in my life I wrote out a script for this eventuality instead of stumbling through it. I knew that I had a 0% chance of women calling me back if I left a voice mail, so if I said something normal I would never be called back. I would need to defy the rules. This is the only way I can possibly win in life. I would need to say something to compel her to call me back, despite the fact that my voice is shit and I sound like a fucking retard. I had nothing to lose.
Sure enough when I called her, I got voice mail. I said the following:
Hi, this is Ed. I'm trying to reach the most beautiful woman on [UNDISCLOSED DATING SITE]. I'm not sure what her name is but I know that she's from Bucharest. You can call me at [UNDISCLOSED NUMBER]. Hope to chat with you later.
I gave myself a C- on the delivery. I was very tired. I was too tired to rehearse the script, but I knew from doing radio that when you rehearse things you run into the danger of things sounding rehearsed. What I said was over-the-top, but what I gave her was the real me. I had nothing to lose.
Every day afterward I prayed that she would not call me back. Rational or not, I really resented her for putting me through all this stress. What is this phone call magical chair bullshit all about? What is this bullshit about being able to psychicly sense whether people are cool through a phone convo. (This is essentially what she was saying in her blog, but not in these words.) If you might have some interest in a person, meet them for 20 minutes. What is the big whoop? You never even have to give away your cell number. What bothers me so much about Internet dating is all the screwing around and wasting of my time that people do. I despise fickle, indecisive people who believe in magic, are afraid to take risks, and do things half-assed. Why do you think these people are shopping on the Internet year after year after year for a mate? They will never find anyone. I am a low-wage earner. This makes me half a man. But at least I have a legitimate fucking excuse for not being able to find a mate. What is the excuse of the beautiful people who have good jobs that they "love" and "great" lives. Who is the real loser? I don't mean to single-out the beautiful woman. She actually sounded pretty cool and she never said she had a great life or loved her job or was an eternal optimist or any of that fucking crap. I really don't have any personal animosity towards the beautiful woman. She treated me okay.
My gambit with the voice mail, at least for the moment had seemed to have paid off. About a week later I got the following e-mail from the beautiful woman:
04/01/2009
I am out of town until tomorrow. I will try to call you when I get back.
My prayers have probably been answered by the dating Gods: The beautiful woman has not called me back. Who knows, maybe some dark rainy night I will get a call from a woman with a funny accent, and it will be the most beautiful woman in Boston Internet dating. I hope not. No woman is worth being put through all this stress and anxiety for, I don't care how beautiful she is.
I have had horrible experiences with pre-date phone screenings. I am literally phobic about doing them. Women bust balls on phone screenings like they never would if you met them in person. When the woman gives you her number, like the beautiful woman did, 60% of the time when you call, you're patched through to voice mail. I have a shitty voice. Due to this, no woman has ever called me back after I've left a phone message. If I get through to the woman, I stand about a 15% chance of surviving the phone screening interview. It is fucking bullshit. All that women hear is my awful voice and how retarded I sound. If they saw my smile it would be a different story. If I could actually hear 100% of what they say versus 80% what they say on their shitty cell phones, I might have a fighting chance. If I could read their body language -- if they could read mine, I might have a fighting chance, but I don't have any fucking chance at all when they give me a fucking job interview over the phone. I will usually write to the the woman that I am not good over the phone and request that they meet me in person. This works about 85% of the time. But I read the beautiful woman's blog and she is convinced that she could sense people through phone screenings and was pretty adamant about doing them. What amazed me was that she reported that some men don't even call her. Were they insane? This is the most beautiful woman in Boston Internet dating! My rules about doing phone screenings are pretty clear: I DON'T FUCKING DOING THEM! But this is the most beautiful woman in Internet dating. Certainly if there is some small fraction of a chance of landing a date with this woman, I can break my rule.
I opted to offer the possibility of skype. This would level the playing field for me. I e-mailed her the following:
03/26/2009
Today is turning out be very hectic. Unfortunately I will not be able to call you tonight. Let me give you my home phone and skype address. We could video conference if you're interested. I hope that we could communicate over the weekend or perhaps on Monday.
Phone: [UNDISCLOSED]
Skype: [UNDISCLOSED]
I could not call her on Friday. That would be inappropriate. I thought about calling her on Saturday afternoon, but I all I did was freak out about calling her and not call her. I had two dates on Sunday and could not call her. A dark cloud of terror and loathing loomed over that entire weekend. And I could not sleep. It was not only that she was so beautiful. Even if she was ugly, I have had so many bad experiences with the phone screening that it is just aversive. They terrify me.
Finally when it was Monday I was completely exhausted from lack of sleep and anxious as hell but I had to call her. There was no escaping it. I knew there was a 60% chance that I would get patched through to voice mail. For the first time in my life I wrote out a script for this eventuality instead of stumbling through it. I knew that I had a 0% chance of women calling me back if I left a voice mail, so if I said something normal I would never be called back. I would need to defy the rules. This is the only way I can possibly win in life. I would need to say something to compel her to call me back, despite the fact that my voice is shit and I sound like a fucking retard. I had nothing to lose.
Sure enough when I called her, I got voice mail. I said the following:
Hi, this is Ed. I'm trying to reach the most beautiful woman on [UNDISCLOSED DATING SITE]. I'm not sure what her name is but I know that she's from Bucharest. You can call me at [UNDISCLOSED NUMBER]. Hope to chat with you later.
I gave myself a C- on the delivery. I was very tired. I was too tired to rehearse the script, but I knew from doing radio that when you rehearse things you run into the danger of things sounding rehearsed. What I said was over-the-top, but what I gave her was the real me. I had nothing to lose.
Every day afterward I prayed that she would not call me back. Rational or not, I really resented her for putting me through all this stress. What is this phone call magical chair bullshit all about? What is this bullshit about being able to psychicly sense whether people are cool through a phone convo. (This is essentially what she was saying in her blog, but not in these words.) If you might have some interest in a person, meet them for 20 minutes. What is the big whoop? You never even have to give away your cell number. What bothers me so much about Internet dating is all the screwing around and wasting of my time that people do. I despise fickle, indecisive people who believe in magic, are afraid to take risks, and do things half-assed. Why do you think these people are shopping on the Internet year after year after year for a mate? They will never find anyone. I am a low-wage earner. This makes me half a man. But at least I have a legitimate fucking excuse for not being able to find a mate. What is the excuse of the beautiful people who have good jobs that they "love" and "great" lives. Who is the real loser? I don't mean to single-out the beautiful woman. She actually sounded pretty cool and she never said she had a great life or loved her job or was an eternal optimist or any of that fucking crap. I really don't have any personal animosity towards the beautiful woman. She treated me okay.
My gambit with the voice mail, at least for the moment had seemed to have paid off. About a week later I got the following e-mail from the beautiful woman:
04/01/2009
I am out of town until tomorrow. I will try to call you when I get back.
My prayers have probably been answered by the dating Gods: The beautiful woman has not called me back. Who knows, maybe some dark rainy night I will get a call from a woman with a funny accent, and it will be the most beautiful woman in Boston Internet dating. I hope not. No woman is worth being put through all this stress and anxiety for, I don't care how beautiful she is.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
New tales of obsession with Romanian women: Part 1
I am no longer intimidated by good-looking women. I've learned that they're not that scary. Average looking women bust my balls and reject me at about the same ratio as average looking women. But just a few months ago I never would have dreamed of writing to the most beautiful woman in Boston online dating with the expectation of getting a date with her. At the the time I was still completely freaking out about Nancy. I wrote to the most beautiful woman on the Internet because, like Nancy, she was also from Romania. She was a dark-haired version of Nancy, only 3 years older. Both her and Nancy were part of the mass exodus from Romania when the country went to hell after the revolution. The beautiful woman -- I don't know her name -- she never gave it to me, had fucking massive bulging cheekbones, a little round nose. Very round forehead. Such a perfect face. Reasonably sized and shapely breasts too. (I saw the cleavage.) There are perhaps a few women in their 20's who are physically more attractive than the beautiful woman, but only because of their youth. They were not born with the physical perfection of the beautiful woman.
The beautiful woman said in her profile that she was taking a break from dating. One thing interesting about her was that she listed in her musical interests B.A.D (Big Audio Dynamite.) I thought that was very cool because nobody does this. She also liked The Clash and The Kinks -- my favorites. I wrote the following to the beautiful woman. Again, I did not intend to date her. This was a cry for help from a madman. It was perhaps a way for me to reach out to Nancy or reconcile with her loss. What really hurt me about Nancy was the way she dumped me, which was to abruptly terminate contact. I think that had she said good-bye properly, I could have handled it.
12/15/2008
I knew a woman from Romania once. Like you, she had nice big bulging cheekbones, was well-traveled, and knew a whole bunch of languages. She was from [UNDISCLOSED], which is not too far away from [UNDISCLOSED]. Apparently her family had done very well under Ceausescu, but she despised Communism. If I dared mention that I was a Socialist, she would have a complete wig-out. I tried to tell her that I did not support the Soviets, but she wouldn't listen. She really hated gypsies, but she loved the Jews. I could never understand why she hated gypsies. I know that I could never visit Bucharest now because I would think of her and miss her.
Have you ever been to Bucharest?
I was very surprised to find that the beautiful woman wrote me back three months later:
03/12/2009
I am from Bucharest, so I guess the answer is YES, I have been there. All Romanians hate gypsies, for various reasons.
So I wrote her back. This time I was trying to date her, though I was sure I wouldn't get beyond a first date on account that she was a lawyer and I am a hack computer programmer on disability. All I wanted to do was to sit down and talk to her and look at her for about ten minutes. I wanted this desperately. I wanted nothing more beyond this. If I could have this I would have much of what I ever wanted in life.
03/12/2009
It's only been about 3 months, yet it seems so long ago that I wrote you. I think you are one of the first women I wrote to on here, if not the first.
I can visit Bucharest now. But actually I'm much more interested in visiting Budapest.
Would you like to have coffee with me? It's on me. All that I ask for in return is for you to give me the low-down on why Romanians hate gypsies.
-Ed
She writes back:
03/26/2009
sure, just give me a call [UNDISCLOSED PHONE NUMBER].
The beautiful woman said in her profile that she was taking a break from dating. One thing interesting about her was that she listed in her musical interests B.A.D (Big Audio Dynamite.) I thought that was very cool because nobody does this. She also liked The Clash and The Kinks -- my favorites. I wrote the following to the beautiful woman. Again, I did not intend to date her. This was a cry for help from a madman. It was perhaps a way for me to reach out to Nancy or reconcile with her loss. What really hurt me about Nancy was the way she dumped me, which was to abruptly terminate contact. I think that had she said good-bye properly, I could have handled it.
12/15/2008
I knew a woman from Romania once. Like you, she had nice big bulging cheekbones, was well-traveled, and knew a whole bunch of languages. She was from [UNDISCLOSED], which is not too far away from [UNDISCLOSED]. Apparently her family had done very well under Ceausescu, but she despised Communism. If I dared mention that I was a Socialist, she would have a complete wig-out. I tried to tell her that I did not support the Soviets, but she wouldn't listen. She really hated gypsies, but she loved the Jews. I could never understand why she hated gypsies. I know that I could never visit Bucharest now because I would think of her and miss her.
Have you ever been to Bucharest?
I was very surprised to find that the beautiful woman wrote me back three months later:
03/12/2009
I am from Bucharest, so I guess the answer is YES, I have been there. All Romanians hate gypsies, for various reasons.
So I wrote her back. This time I was trying to date her, though I was sure I wouldn't get beyond a first date on account that she was a lawyer and I am a hack computer programmer on disability. All I wanted to do was to sit down and talk to her and look at her for about ten minutes. I wanted this desperately. I wanted nothing more beyond this. If I could have this I would have much of what I ever wanted in life.
03/12/2009
It's only been about 3 months, yet it seems so long ago that I wrote you. I think you are one of the first women I wrote to on here, if not the first.
I can visit Bucharest now. But actually I'm much more interested in visiting Budapest.
Would you like to have coffee with me? It's on me. All that I ask for in return is for you to give me the low-down on why Romanians hate gypsies.
-Ed
She writes back:
03/26/2009
sure, just give me a call [UNDISCLOSED PHONE NUMBER].
The 6 Step Online Dating Formula
I had a big run over the past two months. Went out on more dates than ever in my whole life times ten. Most of these were OKC women. But some were FC women. Now everything's slowing down, partly because I'm running out of warm bodies, partly because I just don't give a shit and am losing my will to do this.
In the bad old days of online dating, when I still had most of my hair, nice girly skin, and didn't have Irritable Bowel System I would never write women, just waited for them to write me. Sometimes this took months. And we would exchange thousands of words before I even asked them out on a date. And very often they would say, "Oh, I wish you didn't bring that up." And then we would exchange enough e-mail to easily create a novella, and then I would get frustrated and just stop e-mailing. And only then would they agree to talk to me over the phone. And then after we have exchanged tens of thousands of words (some of it very good writing by the way), our entire relationship dies with one phone call. I was young and naive. I didn't realize that these women were insane and didn't really want to be in relationships.
Quite by accident I stumbled upon the concept that I didn't need to attempt to warm women up through e-mail, which is a huge waste of time, where no valuable information is really learned. Furthermore, I didn't even have to talk to them over the telephone. This is wonderful for me because the "phone interview" instills in me a stark terror. Also, when soliciting women, I did not need to really take the time to give them a reasonably adequate response to their profile. All I needed to do was look at their photo, say yay or nay, take a cursory look at their profile, and say a few sentences, often silly and stupid. You don't really respond to the their profile, you say something flirtatious. If you take the time to really address their profiles it does not work. Probably they take it as a sign of your being needy. And, why should I take a lot of time to really write a woman when I'm competing with a thousand men? These women are not going to take the time to personally reject me. And if they do, it's going to be boilerplate, which is even worse than not being written back to. So I reduced online dating to the following formula.
1.) Take a cursory look at their profile.
2.) Write them them saying something short and stupid but flirtatious. Always give them your first name at the end.
3.) They respond back saying something short and stupid but flirtatious, sometimes asking questions. (If they don't give you their name, they're long shots, so don't exert too much energy on them, but continue to pursue.)
4.) Candidly and courteously address their questions, but do so tersely. Do not engage them them. Ask them if they would you like to have coffee.
5.) If they reply back, they will sometimes agree to the coffee and sometimes have more questions. Again, answer their questions, but don't engage them. Often they will want to talk to you over the phone or e-mail you more. Never ever agree to this. If they say they want to e-mail you more, than you have no hope of ever meeting these women, especially if they still haven't given you their name. (You should abort these women, but for some odd reason, I still give it the old college try, though it never ever produces results.) If they say they want to phone you, very politely say that you are bad over the phone and impress upon them how fun it will be to meet in person. Here is the pivotal part of this step: Ask them to select a time and place to meet for coffee. This gives them the power and control. And gives you power and control because they now have no good excuse not to meet you.
6.) Assuming you've made it past step 5, give them your cell phone number. They will often give them yours at this point, but never directly ask for this. It's a done deal.
There you go. Six step formula to online dating. Probably works for selling used cars as well. My formula is however defective because more steps should be added. I should engage women in more bullshit e-mail dialog to show them how interested I am in them, and I'm sure I lose lot of woman because of my reluctance to do this. But I refuse to play this game. I refuse to feign interest.
It's not that I'm a cold-hearted person that has no interest in women. During my big run I have met many fascinating women on dates, and learned stuff about the world that I never knew. It has really expanded my horizons. I actually like meeting new people. I'm just opposed to the bullshit process of screening. I think it's really pure shit without any scientific basis whatsoever.
In the bad old days of online dating, when I still had most of my hair, nice girly skin, and didn't have Irritable Bowel System I would never write women, just waited for them to write me. Sometimes this took months. And we would exchange thousands of words before I even asked them out on a date. And very often they would say, "Oh, I wish you didn't bring that up." And then we would exchange enough e-mail to easily create a novella, and then I would get frustrated and just stop e-mailing. And only then would they agree to talk to me over the phone. And then after we have exchanged tens of thousands of words (some of it very good writing by the way), our entire relationship dies with one phone call. I was young and naive. I didn't realize that these women were insane and didn't really want to be in relationships.
Quite by accident I stumbled upon the concept that I didn't need to attempt to warm women up through e-mail, which is a huge waste of time, where no valuable information is really learned. Furthermore, I didn't even have to talk to them over the telephone. This is wonderful for me because the "phone interview" instills in me a stark terror. Also, when soliciting women, I did not need to really take the time to give them a reasonably adequate response to their profile. All I needed to do was look at their photo, say yay or nay, take a cursory look at their profile, and say a few sentences, often silly and stupid. You don't really respond to the their profile, you say something flirtatious. If you take the time to really address their profiles it does not work. Probably they take it as a sign of your being needy. And, why should I take a lot of time to really write a woman when I'm competing with a thousand men? These women are not going to take the time to personally reject me. And if they do, it's going to be boilerplate, which is even worse than not being written back to. So I reduced online dating to the following formula.
1.) Take a cursory look at their profile.
2.) Write them them saying something short and stupid but flirtatious. Always give them your first name at the end.
3.) They respond back saying something short and stupid but flirtatious, sometimes asking questions. (If they don't give you their name, they're long shots, so don't exert too much energy on them, but continue to pursue.)
4.) Candidly and courteously address their questions, but do so tersely. Do not engage them them. Ask them if they would you like to have coffee.
5.) If they reply back, they will sometimes agree to the coffee and sometimes have more questions. Again, answer their questions, but don't engage them. Often they will want to talk to you over the phone or e-mail you more. Never ever agree to this. If they say they want to e-mail you more, than you have no hope of ever meeting these women, especially if they still haven't given you their name. (You should abort these women, but for some odd reason, I still give it the old college try, though it never ever produces results.) If they say they want to phone you, very politely say that you are bad over the phone and impress upon them how fun it will be to meet in person. Here is the pivotal part of this step: Ask them to select a time and place to meet for coffee. This gives them the power and control. And gives you power and control because they now have no good excuse not to meet you.
6.) Assuming you've made it past step 5, give them your cell phone number. They will often give them yours at this point, but never directly ask for this. It's a done deal.
There you go. Six step formula to online dating. Probably works for selling used cars as well. My formula is however defective because more steps should be added. I should engage women in more bullshit e-mail dialog to show them how interested I am in them, and I'm sure I lose lot of woman because of my reluctance to do this. But I refuse to play this game. I refuse to feign interest.
It's not that I'm a cold-hearted person that has no interest in women. During my big run I have met many fascinating women on dates, and learned stuff about the world that I never knew. It has really expanded my horizons. I actually like meeting new people. I'm just opposed to the bullshit process of screening. I think it's really pure shit without any scientific basis whatsoever.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
This is bullshit I should be paid for this
Hi,
I saw your ad on Craigslist for freelance writers.
Two of my short stories have appeared in REAL: Regarding Arts & Letters. I also wrote a cover article for FoxPro Advisor.
My writing skills have landed me dates with some of the most beautiful and smartest women in the Boston online dating world. I have written some of the best dating profiles ever written. I know this because women around the world contact me and tell me this -- some want to meet me.
My favorite dating profile is at fastcupid.com My user name there is heebie_jeebie. Another profile is at okaycupid.com. My user name there is nowomannolove. Here is the full URL:
http://www.okcupid.com/profile/nowomannolove/
I also write a lot of stuff about getting dates online as well as my experiences with dating evil women. I do not consider myself a dating expert -- there are no dating experts, only survivors. And I am in the trenches surviving and experimenting and perfecting the art of dating without going mad. I do consider myself an expert personal ad analyst. I know what makes a good personal ad tick and I know what makes a bad personal ad bad.
Dickie Richards
I saw your ad on Craigslist for freelance writers.
Two of my short stories have appeared in REAL: Regarding Arts & Letters. I also wrote a cover article for FoxPro Advisor.
My writing skills have landed me dates with some of the most beautiful and smartest women in the Boston online dating world. I have written some of the best dating profiles ever written. I know this because women around the world contact me and tell me this -- some want to meet me.
My favorite dating profile is at fastcupid.com My user name there is heebie_jeebie. Another profile is at okaycupid.com. My user name there is nowomannolove. Here is the full URL:
http://www.okcupid.com/profile/nowomannolove/
I also write a lot of stuff about getting dates online as well as my experiences with dating evil women. I do not consider myself a dating expert -- there are no dating experts, only survivors. And I am in the trenches surviving and experimenting and perfecting the art of dating without going mad. I do consider myself an expert personal ad analyst. I know what makes a good personal ad tick and I know what makes a bad personal ad bad.
Dickie Richards
Monday, April 06, 2009
Personal ad response to PQ
Hi,
I was thinking about opening up with the line "I am a doctor too -- a doctor of love" -- but that would not be factually accurate because, as evidenced by the fact that I am 43 and never married, I flunked out of love medical school. But I keep trying. Maybe I could make it through love dental school.
I am a huge Herzog fan. He is my last living role model and hero. My favorite of his documentaries is "Little Dieter Needs to Fly." The ending of this when he is talking about the bear that is looking to eat him being his only friend exudes existential misery unlike anything I've ever seen on film. My favorite feature film by Herzog is "Rescue Dawn." But of course they are sort of the same film, just examining the subject of loneliness from different perspectives.
I am a huge Buffy fan. Own most of the DVDs. And I am trying very hard to like "Dollhouse," but not having to much success at this effort.
I don't think you look much like Jackie Kennedy but I think you have very cute cheeks and you look hot!
-Ed
I was thinking about opening up with the line "I am a doctor too -- a doctor of love" -- but that would not be factually accurate because, as evidenced by the fact that I am 43 and never married, I flunked out of love medical school. But I keep trying. Maybe I could make it through love dental school.
I am a huge Herzog fan. He is my last living role model and hero. My favorite of his documentaries is "Little Dieter Needs to Fly." The ending of this when he is talking about the bear that is looking to eat him being his only friend exudes existential misery unlike anything I've ever seen on film. My favorite feature film by Herzog is "Rescue Dawn." But of course they are sort of the same film, just examining the subject of loneliness from different perspectives.
I am a huge Buffy fan. Own most of the DVDs. And I am trying very hard to like "Dollhouse," but not having to much success at this effort.
I don't think you look much like Jackie Kennedy but I think you have very cute cheeks and you look hot!
-Ed
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Another of the many posts I've deleted from the OKC blog
Fast Cupid no longer has blogs, but nobody actually read them, so you could pretty much get away with saying the most outlandish shit. The bloggers there are mainly a New York crowd so they are not fucking uptight as hell like people in Boston. You can't faze New Yorkers. I can't say too much here. I have to be very careful. I have to tiptoe through the existential crisis of my life here. I feel like I'm writing for Disney.
I'm very depressed about a woman. I wasn't in the mood to take my usual medicine for heartbreak (Budweiser). If I continue to be depressed about her maybe I'll get drunk next week, though maybe not. I don't think any amount of drinking is going to help me with this one. I think I'll watch some schlock on the Netflix Roku thingee. I'm too depressed to sleep.
I'm very depressed about a woman. I wasn't in the mood to take my usual medicine for heartbreak (Budweiser). If I continue to be depressed about her maybe I'll get drunk next week, though maybe not. I don't think any amount of drinking is going to help me with this one. I think I'll watch some schlock on the Netflix Roku thingee. I'm too depressed to sleep.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Snarky responds
(See Snarky's response below.) Snarky and I actually have a lot in common. I think she just doesn't dig me, but whatever. I cannot turn all women on. This woman doesn't understand that only a small minority of women respond to men's solicitations. That is why men don't put much effort into writing women. Why piss away a lot of energy and time writing a personal ad? It only makes you look needy and is a complete waste of time and energy. You actually get better results when you write very short replies. I only gave this woman a proper response because she represented a challenge that I could not resist. She was a little too taken with herself. Sprinkled throughout her ad is "Keep reading" and "Are you still reading this?" And also she says, "you should know who The Fall, The Cramps, Iggy Pop, and Joy Division are (for starters). I MEAN IT - I will quiz you!" And I'm thinking, what are these bullshit prerequisites? Hey, at least she has good taste in film.
Ed
Given that Storszek is one of my all-time favorite films (not to mention My Best Fiend - Klaus Kinski, and Little Dieter Needs to Fly) I get the reference. In fact, I met Herzog a couple of times through a friend who did some underwater cinematography for Encounters at the End of the World. Herzog is a completely under-rated (not to mention prolific) writer/director.
People should read profiles and it's too bad they don't. Not reading them defeats the whole purpose of trying to put a little bit about yourself out there. The guys who don't read them and send me the stupid "Hi" message with nothing more are just wasting my time.
As a habit, I don't "do the knocking" here on PoF, but the couple of guys I have initiated contact with received full page emails from me. Why? Because I was interested in them and wanted to express that - regardless of my "chances" to establish a connection. By the way, neither of them responded with much interest in me. Your argument that 'guys don't think they have a chance so they don't invest much time in their emails' doesn't hold up for me. Instead, those one-line emails just indicate (to me, anyway) how utterly lazy they are and how little they want to invest in meeting someone. It is disturbing to thing how that "lazy" attitude manifests itself in the REAL relationships those guys might have.
I'm not sure you and I are well-matched, but I did want to get back to you because your email had content worth responding to...and to tell you I love Herzog as well.
Best,
[Undisclosed]
Given that Storszek is one of my all-time favorite films (not to mention My Best Fiend - Klaus Kinski, and Little Dieter Needs to Fly) I get the reference. In fact, I met Herzog a couple of times through a friend who did some underwater cinematography for Encounters at the End of the World. Herzog is a completely under-rated (not to mention prolific) writer/director.
People should read profiles and it's too bad they don't. Not reading them defeats the whole purpose of trying to put a little bit about yourself out there. The guys who don't read them and send me the stupid "Hi" message with nothing more are just wasting my time.
As a habit, I don't "do the knocking" here on PoF, but the couple of guys I have initiated contact with received full page emails from me. Why? Because I was interested in them and wanted to express that - regardless of my "chances" to establish a connection. By the way, neither of them responded with much interest in me. Your argument that 'guys don't think they have a chance so they don't invest much time in their emails' doesn't hold up for me. Instead, those one-line emails just indicate (to me, anyway) how utterly lazy they are and how little they want to invest in meeting someone. It is disturbing to thing how that "lazy" attitude manifests itself in the REAL relationships those guys might have.
I'm not sure you and I are well-matched, but I did want to get back to you because your email had content worth responding to...and to tell you I love Herzog as well.
Best,
[Undisclosed]
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Personal ad response to Snarky
Nobody reads profiles. Legislators don't read laws they vote on. Why do you expect people to read profiles? Men don't put in much effort to write you because you have a pretty face. They feel they have little chance so they Mickey Mouse a response. I don't blame them.
I've never heard of "The Fall" and "The Cramps." I barely know of "Joy Division." Joe Strummer is dead and I don't see the point in listening to or being interested in music anymore. For me music and my whole damn youth died with Strum. I can't listen to it anymore. And even if I wanted to, it's just so damn loud. I am too old for live music.
I could probably out film/documentary snob you. This is evidenced by the fact that my alias is the name of a documentary about Werner Herzog. (Nobody gets this. Nobody!) I eat bacon every day, and this is against my religion. This is how much I like bacon, or perhaps how much I have contempt for my religion, or both. Clint Eastwood circa 1975 is okay. But I'm into Spaghetti Western Eastwood.
Yes, I want children. I like children. I think they're beautiful. But it's not like I will commit suicide if I don't have them. I'll live.
-Ed
I've never heard of "The Fall" and "The Cramps." I barely know of "Joy Division." Joe Strummer is dead and I don't see the point in listening to or being interested in music anymore. For me music and my whole damn youth died with Strum. I can't listen to it anymore. And even if I wanted to, it's just so damn loud. I am too old for live music.
I could probably out film/documentary snob you. This is evidenced by the fact that my alias is the name of a documentary about Werner Herzog. (Nobody gets this. Nobody!) I eat bacon every day, and this is against my religion. This is how much I like bacon, or perhaps how much I have contempt for my religion, or both. Clint Eastwood circa 1975 is okay. But I'm into Spaghetti Western Eastwood.
Yes, I want children. I like children. I think they're beautiful. But it's not like I will commit suicide if I don't have them. I'll live.
-Ed
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