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
delicioustacos 