image stolen from davidwygant.com
This chick, this OKCupid chick, this smarmy feminist comedian chick, is she going to confirm our non-alcoholic day date and why do I give fuck except I’m curious. Why is it always like this. Days before the date I’m secretly hoping they’ll flake, secretly thinking I’ll just go out to some swimming pool and take my shirt off and get younger, better looking pussy. And then once I send a text to confirm I’m biting my nails thinking omigod she’ll never actually go out with me she’s way too cool for me she hangs out with a bunch of professional comedians and famous people and needs a guy with a job the same or better as hers omigod I’ll die alone; the cat will eat my tender eyeballs first.
This is where misogyny is helpful. Antifeminism, “game,” whateverthefuck you call it. The kind of shit that snarling unlaid men spend hour upon hour pouring into woman hating internet forums. Many of which I am a proud member of, by the way– I’m not trying to say I’m above this shit. You can think: well who gives a fuck what her job is, what her accomplishments are, how many orders of magnitude more internet famous she is than five dorks thinking you’re Charles Bukowski and how interesting that might be to talk about. Fuck it, she’s of “average” build and close to your own age, which is to say expired. You were fucking a 21 year old Brazilian on a boulder under the moon two nights ago; you ejaculated on a cactus. You think she’s gonna give you a date like that? She’s gonna be name dropping over herbal tea, talking about her failed pilot. Who cares. You are not interested in her for sex and what, what on fucking Earth, is the point of going on a date with someone from the internet if you’re not interested in her for sex. If I want to hear a ”quirky” thirtysomething woman talk about a failed pilot I can go hang out with Nikol. At least she drinks and fucks.
Men hate women because women’s rejection makes men hate themselves. No matter how jaded you are. No matter how much pussy you run through the shredder… even sending a girl an OKCupid message and not hearing back hurts if you see her looking at you. Even if your entire profile and online persona at large is designed to hedge this kind of shit and drive people away. It hurts. It hurts so you gotta think fuck this cunt, on to the next one. No matter how many times you go through this, as tragedy, then farce, then… oh shit, she texted me back.
Now it’s: fuck, I don’t want to go through the god damn drudgery of this date I know will go nowhere. Ha. What are we gonna do, she asks. Uh… not drink? She made up some lie that she’s on medication where she can’t have alcohol. Because she is the sort of person who views her suitors as potential rapists. The sort of person who uses the phrase “casually misogynist” in OKCupid messages, the sort of person who is a self-proclaimed comedian and yet will say nothing funny and overemploy the word “privilege“ on our date, the sort of person who studies Lindy West articles about Patton Oswalt and feels that they relate to her life… God almighty. What the fuck was I thinking.
New experiences, is what I was thinking. Also: maybe this is a person I can actually relate to. Also: I wanted to see if I could make a rape joke in an opening message to a quirky feminist blogger and get a date. They would have to give me the Nobel Prize of OKCupid.
I don’t do well with cautious people. Meaning, college educated Jewish women. This is gonna fucking suck. I should have just gone to the god damn Roosevelt. Whatever though. Maybe she’s my future wife.
delicioustacos 
that’s why I learned Russian. I want nothing to do whatsoever with American females.
My (few) experiences with Russian women has only been negative. My experience with American women has been mostly positive. I wouldn’t learn a whole new language just because you had a few bad experiences with American women. Can’t generalize. Also, you know what they say about common denominators in this situation. You’re the common denominator here.
Take her to the zoo, DT. Feminists love the zoo.
Fact: all internet dates must involve frozen yogurt.
Evidence: Thursday afternoon, walking to the bar, see three dudes with fake tans and expensive looking sunglasses waiting for dates at a fro-yo place and trying their best nonchalant look. Friday and Saturday: nothing but dates at every fro-yo place. Sunday: seeing yet another date at a fro-yo place (at least she was laughing/enjoying herself).
Conclusion: fro-yo is a safe choice.
Godspeed Mr. Tacos.
I was just kidding with the zoo comment. It was a reference. I figured DT being the film connoisseur he is would get it. I don’t even think they have a zoo in LA. Not that the zoo is a bad idea, at least you’re not lacking for shit to talk about at the zoo the same way you are if you’re just sitting across the table from someone you don’t know at a restaurant. He could relate his story about seals raping penguins to death or whatever while they walk past the penguin tank.
Fuck frozen yogurt. If you’re gonna eat frozen yogurt you might as well just get some ice cream. There’s this hipster-run authentic ice cream parlor near me where they pretend that it’s 1930: they dress up like old fashioned soda jerks in the paper hats and bow ties and shit; the manager walks around in a fucking waistcoat with a pocket watch chain hanging out of it. They look fucking ridiculous but they’re ice cream is delicious. They got the soda fountain with the flavored syrups where they make floats and malted shakes and egg creams; they got big glass candy jars with licorice whips and gumdrops and all that shit in them. They serve the sundaes and banana splits in those thick ice cream glasses. It’s pretty cool, and chicks love ice cream. You don’t even have to take em to a fancy ice cream place like that, just meet them on a corner somewhere, flag down the ice cream truck, and throw a fucking choco taco down their throat; you’ll have em back at your place sucking your cock in no time.
Hey, DT, remember what I told ya. TAKE HER TO THE ZOOOOOOO
“You were fucking a 21 year old Brazilian on a boulder under the moon two nights ago; you ejaculated on a cactus. ”
Wholy shit, I go to Brasil for 2 weeks, haven’t been here for a month, and the first thing I read after coming back to god forsaken ‘merica is this. You should’ve ejaculated inside her instead though… just saying.
How was the trip?
Not too shabby man, thanks for asking. Stories to be told over intoxication hopefully sometime soon. I will start by saying that the blow down there was fucking excellent, and cheap. Almost too good to do lines. It would straight up stiffen and lock up your brain and muscles instantly. Bumps were more manageable. Don’t get me started with the girls…
im not a dork