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OKCupid: Girls with Kids

27 May

My best friend, whom I met off OKCupid, has a kid.  And I have discovered that I enjoy the fuck out of going over to her house, cooking a 1950’s housewife dinner for her and her kid, and then we all sit around the table talking quietly and politely about how his day was at school and making sure he eats his vegetables.  He’s like fourteen, so, he is close to being a fully formed human being and is at the cusp of a cool time in his life when he will drink his first beer, make out with his first girl, get his heart broken, and etc.  I enjoy spending time with this young man and his mother. It has awakened some deep yearning for domestic life that I never would have suspected.  Now I want to come home every day to a family, have a woman hand me a martini and talk to my son about baseball practice or some other Leave it to Beaver shit.

So I would gladly date a girl with a kid, because at forty grand a year for eleven hours per motherfucking day someone else’s kid is the closest I am ever going to get to this.  But here’s the problem with kids: who is the father.  A girl of dating age who has a child who is fully formed enough to enjoy had them young, which means they were impregnated by someone whose last words will be “hold my beer, watch this.”  Someone with tons of tattoos who had to quit his band because he broke his fingers on some guy’s face and now has to send three hundred dollars per month of his landscaping income to some actress/ waitress. Or a Nicaraguan barback who drives Denzel’s car from Training Day and carries a switchblade and wants to kick your ass. Continue reading →

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Stop Telling Me “Just Go Talk to Her”

26 May

Stop telling me that, you women and gays.  You have no concept of what it’s like to “just go talk to her.”  Just listen to me complain about how I can’t get laid and shut the fuck up.  Don’t tell me about how you would like to be approached and etc.  Don’t even tell me that I’m hot and that if you were single you would be delighted to be approached by me. You are either lying, or you feel that way because you know me, you feel comfortable with me. It is inconceivable to you, the experience of being approached by me for the first time out of the blue. I don’t come off well.  If I even have to consider “just going and talking to her” I’ve already lost.  How can you not know this?  Oh, you’re a woman, you understand nothing. Continue reading →

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Protected: High Heels

25 May

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Yoga Pants

24 May

No woman in the entire Los Angeles area, outside of those compelled to wear a work uniform, now wears pants. Or a skirt.  The entire cohort of Los Angeles women is now to a one wearing black or dark gray “yoga pants,” which is to say, sheer insubstantial tights.  Of course, they cannot wear underwear with these things.  So you are seeing fully defined, flatteringly compressed ass and pudenda at all times, everywhere you go.  I feel, sometimes, like I must have willed this into existence.

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Protected: Now I Call It an A-Line Sleeveless Undershirt

23 May

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They’re Gonna Hang My Cock from the Rafters

22 May

I can’t be bothered to go on a fucking date anymore.  The whole thing has just become so joyless.  And  it’s not them; it’s me.  There are plenty of nice attractive girls.  I get unsolicited OKCupid messages from them.  It would be so easy.  But… fuck it.

There was an old episode of STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION.  Or maybe DEEP SPACE NINE.  What happens is, the Klingon messiah from thousands of years ago comes back to life.  Kahless.  And there is debate among the Klingon community as to whether it’s the real guy, or merely a clone.  As one would expect with Klingons, words are not enough to settle the dispute and there has to be a ritualistic duel of champions with crazy crescent shaped two handed knives.

So the pro-Kahless and anti-Kahless guy are having this grim battle with the knives; sour, determined faces, cunning and strategy; and Kahless steps in and is like- “what the fuck is the matter with you guys? You are taking no JOY in this! We’re Klingons! We fucking LOVE fighting– you guys look miserable!”

That’s what internet dating feels like to me now.  And dating at large. I love dating; I love women, but it’s become just this rote, mercenary thing, you know.  It’s become an assembly line.  Find girl.  Message girl two to three sentences exactly– longer messages and shorter messages get far fewer responses. Fifty per cent of the time they respond, almost always continuing whatever joke I made.  I “cut the thread,” say some other funny thing that is unrelated, and ask for the number. Fifty per cent of the time I get it. Ten minute phone call on the drive home a day later.  Propose a specific plan. A specific bar on a specific night, and the bar is a place close to my house that serves artisanal beers with undetectably but shockingly high alcohol content; three of them will get any girl into the fuck zone.  Go for the makeout on the second cigarette break.  Walk her to her car and ask her to drive me home.  Ask her to come inside.  Get her inside, more making out, more booze, get her into bed, eat her pussy till she gets horny enough to let me put it in unprotected.  She’ll ask if I have condoms; of course I don’t. Continue reading →

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More Molly

20 May

You have the body of a fetal pig soaked in formaldehyde and your teeth are like corn kernels stuck in Play Doh. But I am still completely in love with you.

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Diary 3/13/12: Nikol Has MRSA

19 May

So, Nikol now has MRSA.  This means “(Something) Resistant Staphylococcus (Something).” Which is the “superbug.”  The strain of ordinary bacteria that a TV news piece comes out on once every few months, that you can get in the gym, that eats away your flesh until you die and normal antibiotics can’t do anything about it.  This is the sort of thing that organic farming types are warning us will happen with all sorts of bacteria because we pump our livestock full of antibiotics constantly.  The germs, for whom a generation is about three minutes long, are going to out-evolve drugs so fast that we will have created virulent megagerms that we can’t kill.  Now we will again be vulnerable to bacterial infection, as we were through most of history and as we still are to viral infection.  If you have a virus, they can’t do shit for you.

Well, this feels like a wash to me.  1,000,000 BC-1920whateverthefuck, whenever penicillin was invented: no cure for germs.  1920’s-2012: cure for some germs.  2012- on: no cure for germs.  I mean, it was nice having that little vacation I guess but really, humanity survived eons without any protection from bacteria except our immune system; if it goes back to being that way it doesn’t seem like such a big deal.

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OKCupid: No Men No Men No Men

17 May

I keep looking at this one polyamorous chick’s profile.  There are a lot of them on here.  Most of them are noise, as far as a guy is concerned, because most of them are “F/bi/available” but have the NO MEN NO MEN NO MEN disclaimer that every bi girl has, or the friendlier “I do like guys, but sorry fellas, I have a harder time meeting women in real life so I’m on here looking for girls only.” Looking for girls to bring back to their strong jawed bartender boyfriend who sings about communism in a band.

And almost all “bi” women are like this, poly or otherwise. NO MEN NO MEN NO MEN. The bitch of it is that because it’s a woman looking for women, and thus having to do some actual work, these profiles are the best ones. You get to see a side of them that’s actually trying to present their lives as something you’d actually want to be a part of.  Of course these parts are walled in by giant blocks of NO MEN NO MEN NO MEN type ward-you-off stuff in all caps.

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Protected: Diary 2/17/10: One Drop

16 May

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