My blah morning

I woke up obscenely early at ten o’clock a.m. with a horrendous headache. At first I thought it was a hangover headache, but I rarely ever get hangovers and when I do they are very mild. I made coffee even though I didn’t feel like it. I thought the coffee might make me straight. I had not drunk any coffee yesterday because my stomach was horribly acidic. I made some coffee and after one coffee my headache was magically cured and I was straight again.

I looked at OkayCupid and looked at all the women I would (sort of) like to write but don’t because I’m pretty sure I don’t make enough money for them.

I’m listening to Democracy Now. I do it every morning. They are going on interminably as usual. Amy Goodman is so whiney. I can’t stand her. Why don’t they make the show a half hour? There’s no need to do a full hour.

There was some kind of nasty rash on my ass that had kept swelling and hurt when I sat down. The swelling went down today. Thank God. I was afraid I was developing a staph infection.

I’ll try to get some work done. Another day, another no dollar.

I needed closure

When I was online at okaycupid not too long ago I saw that Cheryl was also online. I had originally met her through Fast Cupid.

I would be very surprised if Cheryl writes back. That’s not really why I wrote her. I wrote her because I needed closure. Everything that I said to her in my message to her below is genuine. I do worry about the poor woman’s back. She had cancer and had a tumor surgically removed very shortly before I saw her.

What I find so weird is that OkayCupid reports that Cheryl hasn’t been written to in a week. I know her profile is very ambiguous but I would think that  a woman as beautiful as her would have her inbox overflowing with solicitations. You normally only see unattractive women getting few responses. Am I the only one who sees her beauty? Had I not met her in person first, would I have not considered her beautiful? She certainly does not look beautiful in her Fast Cupid photos. When I first gazed upon Cheryl I was shocked by how beautiful she was. It took me a good few seconds before I was able to utter “hi.”

Maybe I will wake up tomorrow, horribly regretting what I did. We shall see. For now I feel a great deal of emotional relief. She will at least know how I felt. I will absolutely not contact her again unless she writes me.

Dear Cheryl,

You look very beautiful in these photos. This is the real you. The Fast Cupid photos don't begin to do you justice. I'm so sorry for botching things.

I still worry about your back. I still want to offer to buy you a bottle of goat's milk (knowing full well that you hate that.) I had a lot of trouble letting you go as you really impressed me. I won't bother you anymore. I needed to get this out of my system.

-Dickie

Remembering Rice

I think Jim Rice might have been inducted into the hall of fame today. He was the big star of the Red Sox when I was a kid. You would see him constantly in between innings in cheesy ads, I think for Fenway Franks.

When I was about 14 I was sitting in the bleachers before the game during batting practice. No one was there except for me and these girls who were perhaps a little older than me. Jim Rice came up to the bleachers. He had been in the field taking balls. I think he tossed in a ball for the girls. He told one girl who was wearing this funky hat that he would give her a ball if she would take the hat off. She became really upset at Rice, refusing to take the hat off. Rice threw up a ball anyways and ran off.

It took me many years to realize that Rice was just kidding around with the girl with the funky hat. I thought he was a real asshole at the time but if he was he would not have thrown her the ball, even though she refused to take her hat off.

Excluding the opposing team, Rice used to be the only black guy not only on the field but in Fenway Park. I think that blacks were probably scared shitless to be in Fenway, and I don’t blame them. Boston is not as bad as it used to be. But Boston was one mean city for blacks.

I think Rice would have been vastly more popular and celebrated had he not been black. Looking back at Rice I see him as a very professional athlete and of course a very dangerous slugger. I’m glad he got into the hall of fame, finally.

The not-so-black-and-white-world of me against them

After all my ranting and raving against the Fast Cupid blog community and all the venom I spewed against them, IQ invited me to the blog party in Lowell. I called her on the phone and told her that after all the bashing I did, I could not possibly show my face. The party organizer called me later on and personally requested that I be there. She was very cordial. I had criticized her grammar on this very blog.

After masturbating for well over a half hour this morning -- or rather this afternoon, because this is when I get up these days, I was too spent to drive up to the blog party in Lowell. I was also worried about not getting work done and anxious about my work. I decided to devote my remaining energy into my work. I am taking a break now. I will go back to it. I will try to meet up with the bloggers tomorrow but my work is like a dark cloud hovering over me, so I don’t know...

I continue to berate myself for botching things with Cheryl. I felt like she was my last chance and I blew it. I wasn’t cool with her just as I wasn’t cool with the Fast Cupid blog community.

The world dealt me a bad hand. But I bare full responsibility for these fuck ups. The world is much safer when it is evil and I, living outside of it, is not. Now it is becoming increasingly clear to me that the lines between good and evil have blurred. My paranoia, while it protects me, also fucks me.

I will become increasingly angry at myself. I know myself too well not to know this. And I will become increasingly more depressed and miserable.

The new mellow me

I do not know whether Citalopram will help me with driving anxiety as I haven’t yet been on the highway. Yet I’m fairly confident that it will as I am much more mellow now. My new attitude towards life is, “fuck it.” When I think about the prospect of homelessness now I just shrug it off and say fuck it. The other day my sinus temporarily reverted to the state before my surgery last year. It was so awful. I thought about suicide for the first time since before the surgery. And I just said to myself, fuck it. Fuck it I say to the massive train wreck of my life. Why wig? There’s little I can do.

There’s a price to be paid for everything and I pay for the new mellow me in the currency of sexual dysfunction. I have a lot of trouble coming. It is so much work to masturbate now. I was out of breath after delivering myself one single orgasm yesterday morning. I got up out of bed and I was woozy. This would make sex difficult for me, though not for the woman as I still have good erections. Sex would not be pleasurable for me as my penis is desensitized. I know this because I have had sex under similar conditions when taking Nardil. Sex becomes work, like masturbation is to me now. I am trying to avoid it. I will do it every so often to stay straight or when I’m extremely bored. If I wasn’t taking Citalopram this sexual dysfunction would really bother me, but now I don’t really give a shit. It’s not like I’m having sex, so fuck it.

Another thing that I’ve noticed is that my pupils are unusually dilated. I look at my those big black round circles in the morning and I wonder if I am really from outer space. Or perhaps an android. It’s rather beautiful actually. All that black against the army green of my eyes. I’ve never really seen the ascetic beauty of my eyes until now.

Personal ad of the week

ok hi!!!to be honest i dont like these sites but i guess ill give it another try,,a good man is harddddddd 2 find!! am i so niave 2 think i could find a decent honest cool guy,, proabably but what the hell right??ok a bit about me, im a complex type of girl,, lol,,

This woman is very complex. She seems to have invented a new grammatical rule that I have dubbed the double comma. I am not sure what the double comma does but I have a linguistics experts working on it…

Should I really be mocking these poor people? No. But I am feeling very nihilistic right now.

Nicole Revisited

My cyberfriend City Kitty (a.k.a Black Mamba) wrote an entire blog post about my last blog post. I was impressed! I thought she had some good insights. I have decided to write a blog post about her blog post about my blog post. I hope she doesn’t mind that I am reproducing her blog post in full below:

Interesting to see what is on a man's mind when dating. This is a comment on my cyberfriend Dickie's post, who would not let me comment on his blog so I post it here.

I thought Nicole's original email was really funny with the comment about the kayaking and changing into a tux in no time. I see profiles of men who love the "outdoors" all the time. I am an indoors type of woman and when I get to the "outdoors" part in men's profile I just lose interest almost instantaneously.

Sorry to hear she was carrying a 'big gulp' (and that it was so unattractive) and that she refused to accept a drink from Starbucks. Why did the big gulp bother you?

I disagree with your conclusion that she was a woman who wants her cake and eat it, too. What she wanted was reciprocity. If you want her to support her as of now, then, hypothetically speaking, could you do the same for her when the table turns? You clearly would not have any of that (but you can't yourself get to admit this). You probably would have been thinking "if I had money I'd want to date a babe with breeding potential, not you, you poor mediocre, unattractive woman with Big Gulp - you are supposed to be an answer to my current woes, not a source of headache-inducing puzzles and cross questions". Maybe the woman was smart enough to figure this out with her questions?

Regarding Big Gulps, you just don’t bring them on dates. It looks tacky and cheap and I’m pretty sure it violates the international rules of dating and decorum as decreed by the UN Charter. You just don’t bring big gulps into Starbucks. It’s just totally weird. This was not however the showstopper. It just bothered me a little.

I offer Nicole and plenty of women like her reciprocity. I can give women like this love that they would never dream possible. Entertainment. Stimulating conversation. Excitement. Adventure. I can show them what it truly means to be alive. I am fairly convinced that most of the Nicole’s of this world will never find a Dickie. Some, and I mean (some) will find second-rate men who happen to live well above the poverty line. Doesn’t make them better. In the grand scheme of the universe they’re really not. But most people don’t consider all the features of a potential mate. Paper wealth is treated sort like the way colleges treat SAT scores. It’s a method of easy screening. But it doesn’t give the complete picture. My loving capacity alone is worth a good $100,000 a year. I’m very low maintenance too. Having me around the house would cost little more than your average goldfish and yet I give so much back. I would even clean their houses and cook their meals. And I am a good cook. Do you have any idea how much maids cost these days? Do you think these women are going to find anyone sweeter than me? I can assure you that that’s not going to happen. Almost all the women I date live very comfortable lives. I date the cream of the crop. Why? Because only the most well-educated can begin to understand my genius and extraordinary modesty. I am a PhD magnet. These women can afford me.

Moving on to breeder and looks issue. I think even good looking, fertile women should make me their man whore and be grateful because my real worth vastly exceeds my paper worth. I have Grade A DNA. My children would kick ass. I am convinced of this. Women should be grateful to get the good stuff. Would I have dated Nicole if I made money? No. I would be going for fertile women who wanted children, and I would certainly have a preference for good looking women. Does this make me evil to want children? If so, then you would have to say that the majority of the human race is evil. Does it make me evil to want beautiful women? No more evil than most other men as well as women. People like beautiful people. It’s not evil. It’s an evolutionary force. It’s the randomness of change and adaptation.

I don’t think Nicole figured out what you think she might’ve figured out by me as evidenced by the fact that she wrote me this a week later:

Hey,
I meant to tell you that I enjoyed meeting you. I hope it wasn't too weird for you. Meeting a new person can be awkward. Thanks for making it easy.
Nicole

Maybe I’ve been too defensive with you, Kitty. Nicole scared the shit out of me. I ran away in terror. Her interrogation tactics wore me out. She seemed controlling and potentially manipulative. I felt like potential prey. I don’t want to be on guard all the time wondering if I am being manipulated. I don’t want to be controlled. She wanted to get to know me too quickly. She should have slowed it down. I cannot deal with all of that intensity when I first meet people. I really don’t think I made enough money for her anyways. She made it very clear to me that she was looking for someone who was economically independent. It would not have been wise for me to go for her, even if she didn’t scare the shit out of me. It would only be trouble because I would never be able to give her what she wanted.

Nicole

The reality is that I do not have enough money to appease women who want to breed. I have very grudgingly accepted this reality. My date with Nicole was a product of my new dating agenda. I would no longer seek women who wanted children, and in fact I now lie in my profile and no longer designate that I want children. Now I only seek women who have no desire for children I don’t know why they don’t want children. Maybe they are selfish, do not see the beauty of children, are too old to conceive .. who knows? … but this is what I’m stuck with.

Nicole is one of the rare women who solicited me. This is what she wrote:

I thought your profile and posts were very entertaining. It is refreshing to see someone state he is sloppy and lazy. Sometimes I wonder, who are these strange people constantly kayaking and hiking and switching between jeans and a tux. There seems to be a lot of tux-wearing going on when nobody is looking. I rarely meet these people in real life. I must admit that I finally succumbed to the pressure myself (nobody seemed interested in me when I admitted I watch reality tv) and changed my original profile today into the one I've posted now, but I could not bring myself to write "little black dress" or "partner in crime" or "..all that Boston has to offer." Just couldn't do it.

So are you having any luck on this website? I have not done this in awhile and am finding it harder than I remember.

Nicole

I wrote her back:

 

Hi Nicole,

I don't read men's profiles, but women also like to boast their versatility in being able to go from formal to casual clothing almost instantaneously. There is the "partner in crime" stand by, and my personal favorite, "I see the glass as half full." I love the women who are looking for men to fly off to Paris on a whim for the weekend. It's a severely recessed economy. Shouldn't these people be putting all that traveling money into an emergency fund?

I'm having a lot of luck on Okay Cupid as evidenced by the fact that you wrote me. Would you like to meet for coffee or a drink?

-Dickie

I saw Nicole in a Starbucks inside of a Barnes & Nobles coffee shop in Braintree. I took my 5 mg of Valium in order to survive the drive as per orders of my medicine man.

Nicole was 43 years old. She looked her age. While she was not ugly she was physically very unimpressive. She might have subtracted a little from her height also, but perhaps her clogs made her appear taller.

What I couldn’t get over was the big gulp she carried with her. She said it was diet Pepsi. She assured me it wasn’t spiked. This was a joke. She was a lame joker. I said I didn’t care if it was spiked, which was the truth. But I could not get over that big gulp. I couldn’t see what the big gulp cup was. She had napkins around the big gulp cup. I’m not sure why. To sop up the condensation? Who knows? I asked her if she wanted anything. She said no, she had her diet Pepsi. “Are you sure? I can buy you a cup of coffee? Something to eat?” “No.” she said. “I’m fine.” She wasn’t going to actually sit down in that place without ordering anything and suck on a big gulp? This isn’t a bus depot. It’s Starbucks inside of a Barnes & Nobles.

This was one of those dates where the topic of conversation is dating. And it wasn’t my idea. I never like to talk about dating on dates. Nicole had some astute observations about dating and people. She wasn’t as sophisticated as me, but I saw a real potential for creative thought, observation, and insight. She seemed to view the world from the unique perspective of an outsider just as me. I believe I was dealing with someone unique and interesting yet this woman was wearing me down with her progressive onslaught of questions. “How long have you dated?” “Do you like dating?” “How often do you date?” “What is the worst date you’ve ever had?” She even asked me if she was asking me too many questions. I of course denied this. She said at one point, one of her dates told her that she was too intense and that she should stop asking him questions. She claimed she was a socialist, but I doubt if she had ever even read Marx. She seemed to have a very trivial understanding of politics.

Maybe an hour, hour and a half into the date I took a bathroom break and ordered some gruesome tasting lemonade/strawberry concoction from Starbucks. So many dates have ended abruptly after I’ve drank something from Starbucks that made me ill. I asked her again if I could buy her something. No. She was fine. She held up her big gulp.

She started making her move. She started talking about how she didn’t like friends. She was “anti-social.” She wasn’t into that. She liked to be with one person. I had no problem with this. She said that she was looking for someone who was financially independent. (Socialist my ass!) She was officially axed as a potential mate right there. I didn’t meet her criteria of financial independence. Why had she not stated this on her profile and saved me a lot of trouble? And then she said, “I hate debt. How do you feel about debt?” I didn’t know how to answer this. She helped me. She said, “If I was with a woman who had acquired a lot of debt, how would you feel about paying her bills?” I told her “I don’t have any money.” She said, “Well, hypothetically.” I had no idea how to answer the question and my mind was too mushy to think. The Starbucks concoction was officially make my stomach queasy. She had mentally exhausted me. I said I had to go.

I hugged her. Our cars were parked side by side in the back of the lot. We walked to our cars together. Her car was not a car, it was the biggest SUV I have ever seen. What the fuck was she doing with that thing, using it to haul bodies?

Nicole wanted her cake and eat it to. She wanted someone cool like me who rejected sameness and cliché and triteness yet she wanted that person to be a part of the animal factory. Can you have both? I’m not sure. If I were part of the animal factory I’m sure I would be an ordinary boring asshole like everyone else, like all the boring men she complained about that she dates and sees on personals. It’s being apart from the factory that gives me the qualities that she was attracted to. And she was attracted to me. I had no doubt about that. Women want too much. She is 43 years old. She is not beautiful. What does she think she is going to find?

Density

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