Falling off the Wagon

Doggedly attempting to convince myself I reached this conclusion before settling into old habits. Zoosk is penultimate to POF and that speaks tomes aplenty. Allowing I might not be as clever as I think, my profile still has some charm and the poignancy of a literate individual. I do appreciate, LadyTruckDriver, that you find me attractive but what could we honestly have in common beyond me stating I know plenty about Peterbilt and you responding “I drive a Kenworth”? Simply must not be the appropriate time for me to find love.

Allow me to sum all but one in a thousand of the profiles. She lives life to the fullest, not interested in drama, her children are her entire world, not seeking sex, doesn’t play games, and likes to dress up and go out or just stay in. She seeks someone who can be silly but knows when to be serious and will be all of the things she is incapable and unwilling to offer her suitor. There should be no spoiler in admitting I fell off the wagon. A self-imposed wagon of no more sex partners without some intimacy.

In my defense, as I have explained before, I am handsome but not photogenic. All women tell me I am charming, have nice eyes, and ALL of them have given me some variation of inexplicable attraction to my hands.  ??? #WTF  There was a brief moment of comprehension when a monogamous partner explained she had no interest in handcuffing me because my hands were too amazing. Exhilarating comment until my brain yelled louder than my ego. At that moment I talked to my penis for the second time ever and shortly after purchased gloves. The first conversation with my penis was more of a truly phallus-aware moment and I asked “what are you doing?” The second conversation was “sorry penis” when I realized my hands may be shadowing the performance of my penis. Ego refrained to comment. The gloves a result of jealousy twixt fingers and phallus and the disallowed use of pockets from that moment forward. Yes, that pocket rule extended to solo flight as well.

So off the wagon and into the wheelbarrow. Despite being shite in the 2D realm of online dating, I find success in person. Breaking my own rule I drifted into another inappropriately aged young female for a single evening. Needed a distraction from dreading my trip to Portland next week and needed to feel something other than angst. I also have no motivation to engage in dead-end sycophancy with these women online and heal the wounds other men created. Despite my weekend actions, I am not a consolation prize or stitches and certainly not seeking intimacy which lacks salaciousness. My impression is these masked females wish me to pursue them as I would someone I met face-to-face with no gain for myself. Their competition for attention are young, spontaneous, unencumbered, confident, liberated and quite simply – fun. I fail to imagine any of those online persona giving up sleep for an adventure or jumping on the back of my motorcycle because all of their latter twenties friends are riding and I am the only one who isn’t doubled up. The hope of starting with a little connection of joy and building more is fading I suppose.

Must not be the right time for me to do more than philander. Perhaps in doing so the relationship between hands and penis will mend.

Twelve comments of nuisance to the single manchild

Quite inspired and amused by a young lady’s blog, I thought I would respond to her latest delightful post. Although I feel the title should have been 12 Most Irritating Things to Say to a Single Woman, I thoroughly enjoyed reading and thought I should answer from the vantage of the chromosomically mismatched. I will reserve my sexist joke regarding the selected title for those best able to appreciate the humor.

  1.  You are the smartest one of us all.
    Bachelor party, reception, before the first anniversary of your Nth marriage, after 8:00 p.m. on a weeknight are all equally inappropriate moments as the comment is irritation compounded by event. Adding inflection at the end allows this viruoso of rethoric to say there clearly is no question.
  2.  You should come by and see the kids.
    But you just displayed their photos – endlessly. There are currently two young ones in my life I adore and dote upon. I am Pappy to these little smile factories but maintain no illusions about their looks, intellect, or future. Children are diminishingly Zen, the human condition, unrestrained by their past. Until made to feel shame or a need for approval they would continue to soil themselves indefinitely and their world would suffer no blemish and that deserves more recognition than most Noble laureates. My friend Dr. M.B.A (PhD and MBA in different disciplines and blog contributor emeritus) phrased the reality of children best when displaying his firstborn. “Yep, that’s it. That’s pretty much all he does.” Sorry parents, but if you have seen one, you have seen them all except my smile factories who are of course eternally perfect.
  3.  You would make such a great father!
    Indeed, but I choose not to begin the practice with an unsuitable partner. “Sweep me off my feet..” – read Daddy, pick me up and carry me. “Make me feel protected” – read Daddy I am scared. “Always there for me” – read Daddy I didn’t do it/start it/ at fault.
  4.  You should date online.
    This blog’s version of an Oscar nod to Sophie She Wrote. Explanation covered extensively within this blog’s archives.
  5.  What did you do for Valentine’s Day? (and winner of best blog is… SophieSheWrote) 
    When was that?
  6.  Because the tribulations of #4 deserve repeating.
    When you claim you do not mind dirtying your hands it clearly expresses you mind as you notice them soiled. A number of times in my life I have been chastised for the weekend mechanic’s oil stains under my nails. I was rather pleased not to have left any stains on the rare towels manufactured by the most exquisite company I believe knows as “good.” Despite my many filthy, menial activities my hands are more often clean than not as evidenced by my not wearing colored nail polish to mask what is seemingly acute germaphobia. Should it help, imagine the oil stain as exotic under nail polish.
  7.  You should call her.
    Why, because you want to shag her or because your spouse is tired of the time we spend together?
  8.  Introduction of other singles.
    The second oldest form of racism known to homo sapiens. Pathetic is suitable a word for the zoologists with doctorates who attempt to coerce breeding in captivity. As you are more ignorant, please understand when intellect is a piece of the puzzle the game changes from checkers to 3-D chess. Your social efforts to force coupling are no more effective than having us sniff backsides.
  9.  You have never been married, ever?
    In two parts: a) you have completed your share of forms and know the options are standard; single, married, divorced, widowed, or even significant other so figure it out for yourself. Is there some tax advantage to lying about having been married of which I am unaware? Head of two households perhaps? b) I do not fear commitment. The only number more staggering than my current debt is the amount of debt creditors are willing to offer. I WILL slap you and when I tire of being chastised by witnesses, I will return to my peaceful home without a spouse to remind me of my shame ’til death do us part.
  10.  My spouse is my best friend.
    Better be because you just terminated a friendship clearly only understood as your oldest and I so hope your spouse is simpatico to the bestie concept because he/she just became eligible in my mind as of your declaration.
  11.  You can do what/whomever you want.
    I am single, not a graduate with distinction of Hogwarts. I must adhere to the laws of physics and social mores as much as anyone if not more so because I lack a P I C.
  12.  I just want you to be happy
    Let’s play a word game.
  • Open bar
  • 3 a.m.
  • Shots
  • Mysterious
  • Exotic
  • Spontaneous
  • Happy

Single as the respondent’s associated word reads like a recipe for infinite happiness. When you respond married, the tone is one of bowing out conventionally.

+1 and I don’t mean a Google like

How dare Google steal the plus one designation as traditionally used anyway?

Everyone knows the +1 means you have a date to the wedding, the second wedding. A wedding where you thankfully have no duties but to attend and keep silent. I mean what forty+ man will begrudge a dear friend, of the same age, marrying a delightful twenty-something year old woman? A woman with exquisite taste in bridal gown. I place it as number two on the all time greatest gowns of weddings I have attended and the number one is unchallenged for sentimental reasons ( no, not my wedding ).

I dreaded this event despite being very happy for the bride and groom who graciously had an open bar. An open bar comically catered to a very small group of guests who downed 1.5 gallons of Jack Daniel’s whiskey in four hours. We have a proud tradition in that regard.

The quick highlights:
1) the ceremony was a twenty-five minute drive one-way to attend and lasted 11 minutes.
2) everyone arrived precisely in time for the ceremony, no pre-gathering
3) I rode my motorcycle to the event
4) the reception followed immediately and was saved by said open bar.

5) I have learned to always spend an extra $20 on the gift and claim a +1

Doing this saves me from being seated at the blue hair table, or the children’s table, or some variation of the old maids table. In the event I am not seated with people I know, I might entertain myself explaining my date fell off on the way to the reception. There is none of the approaching thirty, unwed woe or angst, merely the shifting of wedding fever conversation to stories of the kids. No anticipation of meeting someone and having an out-of-state magical night of don’t ask don’t tell, just the joy of drinking away the awareness you are the only single person there without braces. I mean, I didn’t provide them the weed and admittedly did not deter its use by joining them in smoking. I did test the character of the iron faced though and made them all say ‘penis’. As none of them could do so without giggling, I was assured their parents were raising them well and the answer to; “where did you disappear to?” could wait for another time. I was eighty percent certain the smoke had been stolen from a parental stash and the most harm would be no leftover cupcakes at the buffet line.

As to cupcakes, I was forced into self-realization after having a marvelous, frivolous disagreement with a friend’s wife. She was in the student band in college, I was a cheerleader, she hated cheerleaders. We enjoyed antagonizing one another as the entire mood was subdued for this event. Our cupcake conversation went as follows:

“I realize that I am at that age where I would just like to take one of those cupcakes, get into my pajamas, and crawl into bed.”
‘Oh yeah? Shit yeah girl, then what?’
“That is it, just crawl into bed with the cupcake and go to sleep after I finish.”
‘Well you really had my attention there for a moment, but since you left out giving a good cuddle, make it two cupcakes and a bottle of water.’

The evening ended with a flashback. The menfolk knocked persistently on our friend’s door and he came out to slap me in the face with my tie while choking the other drunk fool and yelling at us that he hasn’t had any in a week and not to ruin this. Some things never change, except his manly, colored underroos which were once tighty whities back in the day.

I protested greatly that I should not be discouraged in wearing a tie and explained that if his wife had a cupcake, he should dress and join us for more drinking as it would be at least one more day before he revisited that particular marital bliss.

Most recent date

There are times when I am incapable of communicating effectively – mostly waking times. The intention was to reduce the abrasive attitude I have regarding just watching sports; a subject matter where my friend and I differ to such an extreme you would struggle to understand that not only was I invited to hys wedding, but stood at the front amidst a sea of gorillas who did not know my name but knew me simply as “you’re that friend of -the groom- who ( insert random, drunk, college guy mythology here )” as I would just nod my head in agreement hoping the only story they would share involved a keg and a fire escape. So… coffee.

The coffee shop is favored because it offers two very quick solutions resulting in the end of the first interview – read “date”. You scorch yourself with your beverage or you scorch her. Nice to have met you, goodnight.

I state I am not much of a sports person in my profile.

When being seated in a restaurant who hires ‘models who serve,’ to allow for the uniform of their waitresses AND a liquor license, I think I best explained my position on watching sports to the hostess/extra in Nashville television series. She offered us a seating option based on preference of televised sports.

‘Miss may I ask you a question?’
“Ha, ha like – sure!”
‘If I were the kind of guy who enjoyed sitting with men, watching other men in tight uniforms engage one another physically, and do nothing more than discuss and celebrate their physical prowess; do you think I would dine here?’
“so close to the bar then?”
‘My kind of woman, thank you.’

So… before the date ended abruptly, I had countered watching Monday night football at the local sports bar with watching it at Cabaret where we could each celebrate our favorite athletes. I offered that my version was more politically correct as no one ‘owned’ the teams I observe, the athletes benefit proportionately ( c’mon NO other word works better here!!!) from their skill, and if I wear any of their names on my back, they would certainly know my name and I am their biggest fan. At the very least they would need my name for the restraining order and since the tattoo font chosen was Comic Sans, the judge will release me on time served acknowledging it was clearly ironic.

Now, as the fanatics add coal to my hell fire, consider your use of ‘my team’, ‘our team’, and ‘we’. Conversely, ‘she/he plays for the same team’.

Queer.

In My Head

as in that sounded better.

 
An orator’s tools for public speaking may be less effective in the online dating arena. No matter how many times you practice the ice-breaker line in front of the mirror, each rehearsal probably plays. The reality is seldom a standing ovation or even a response. Case in point, our newest contributor was kind enough to share a transcript of a back and forth with a potential, er… suitor. Ever the bastion of class, she removed images and monikers to protect the sleazy.

 
Polite yet assertive, she deflected the very vivid advances quite well. In answer to her queries, I suggested she reread his part of the chatversation in a Barry White voice; to which she agreed his part was sexier and more inviting when you reach the point ‘warm, wet tongue.’ Since that moment we have served one another as translator from our respective sides. Until I find an interpreter for her – rejected all my extremely charming advances and then gave me her phone number – I will gift our dear readers with a point/counterpoint between she and I.  A few lines I think play very well, and her responses:


My friends said I should try something new so I picked you.

Thanks but I’m not looking for something borrowed and blue!

After yelling sniper and tackling you to the ground, I ask you to buy me a drink since I saved your life.
Is that after you were kneed in the groin?

Wanna shag? I will tell everyone you did anyway.
No because i can still tell everyone you were teeny and climaxed before you made the plunge.

I’m not sure what size you wear, but I think you would look good on me.
Right now I’m making this chair look good, but there’s a girl over there with no chair. Try her!

You know that guy your father warned you about? I will protect you from him.
(Crying) How did you know my daddy died this week. He sent you to me didn’t he? You are my soulmate! (you should be running now.)

That guy over there called you a dyke and I am here to defend your honor and prove him wrong.
Really? Well isn’t that just chivalrous of you. (as I lean over and hug my best girlfriend and give her a kiss on the cheek.)

Listen, we won’t know if we regret it until AFTER.
(Smiling)That is a risk I am willing…. to NOT take.


I would offer to buy you a drink but you don’t want any of the details of tonight to be fuzzy.

I would talk to you without alcohol. and remind you if you offered to buy a drink I want tonight to be crystal clear. You would leave eventually. lol

How’s about tequila shots? You be the salt and I will be the lime!
I only drink top-shelf.  No lime needed.

What say you, me and that lovely dress go find some monkey bars to play on?
Aww a fellow gymnast. Meet my best friend Jim. Jim he’s a gymnast too!

 

Author’s note:  That last line was the daydream. (inside joke dear reader/s)

Woman: Whisper Sweet Nothings…. / Man: I’m Gonna Get me Some!

For me it took 12 years into my previous, and only, marriage to realize this little gold nugget of knowledge about males and females. For those of you who are still unaware, let me whip out the trusty Sherlock Holmes magnifying glass into relationships so you can see this beautiful piece of knowledge and have your much awaited for V-8 moment!

Men – Motivated by sight.

Women  – Motivated by sound and touch.

It’s so elementary, right? One would think. So how does this relate to online dating?

Women post an avalanche of pictures of EVERYTHING the men want to see to entice them to type those sweet little nothings. T & A, kissable lips, seductive looks. Men in return whisper those sweet nothings. Oh PLEASE let me mention some of my FAVORITE excerpts…..

U Sexy! – Want a 2014 man not a cave man please.

Wanna Play? I bet your (sic) a hot little pistol. – Oh sweetie. You need to be careful. You might get hurt! Hot little pistols burn!

Let’s get drunk – Well that would make you look somewhat acceptable. But no thanks.

U! Me! Horizontal! – I think I will stay vertical and walk up out of here!

By far my fav so far is: Gurl wassup yo digits im gonna tap dat  – Oh Yes! My dream man! Somebody hold me back while I pull up my Urban Dictionary App! UGH!

Then, somehow, some way, he acquires the “digits”! Women, you can’t be too  offended when the man is “all up on dat” when you posted the alluring pictures and let him tell you he wanted to “tap dat,” then gave him your “digits!” Really?!

You want him to look at you as he looks at no other? And whisper those sweet nothings? And feel those strong arms around you? Ladies, you can catch a man being modest and sexy at the same time. A beautiful smile catches their attention more than a duck face. And NO ladies that is not a pouty face! You want a man who will treat you like a lady? Then stop posting pics of yourself like you’re a hood ornament for sale and RESPECT yourself! YOU want respect? Be Respectful! it starts with you!

Highlights and not the magazine for children

As ever, the online dating genre is endlessly fascinating. The following are a few of my personal favorites.

1) Moniker: NO BS!!! Narrative: I am a positive person seeking the same.

2) The lovely young woman whose photos include one in her wedding dress
a. I asked if she still had the dress as she may need it very soon (no response received)

3) Every woman in a tight outfit taking a selfie in the full-length mirror when wearing their wedding ring
a. I think it is apparent why they are single

4) Popular first-date suggestion: something romantic, wow me, know how to treat a lady
a. Your hair was four different colors and two different lengths in your photos
b. You have used a color filter, lack of focus, and candle-light effect on every photo except the one of your boobs
c. I have plenty of reason to question how much of you there is to romance
d. This is essentially a blind-date and you are lucky if I even recognize you because you are not baring your cleavage and for all the reasons mentioned above

5) Seeking: a great romance story; someone who lives life to the fullest; soul mate; someone to complete me
a. As long as this person is within a twenty-mile radius.

 

6) Must: own a car, know what you want, have a job, not live with parents
a. Or, realistically, be hot since clearly jobless, homeless, clueless men are what they have favored to date.

C’mon, no one dates a jobless fugly.

My advice to the ladies is the same they frequently offer to the menfolk. Stop thinking with your dicks.

On Retirement

Unlike my friend, I pondered very little of my mortality around the annual commemorative of my birth. I did fall victim to a sales pitch and open an IRA to supplement my existing retirement funds. When discussing details, I was vastly disappointed they only had a single, high-risk, volatile fund option. I had specifically requested a violent, Biblically volatile, Taliban fund thinking the greater the risk, the greater the reward. Lacking the magnitude of risk I was original seeking, I began to ponder another retirement option.

 
I have no desire to play golf, travel a great deal, or raise Alpacas in my golden years. I can accomplish all of these things in my working years – especially travel. In my retirement I plan to shoot heroine, smoke weed, and spend each and every Monday faded and watching the race continue without my participation. All things I dare not do now. Chances are, to fund this activity, I will need to travel and sell the product I intend to use. My expectation is that it will only be a small matter of time before I do a large stint. So what? Instead of a cubicle, I will be in a cell with three hots and a cot. I am too unsightly to shag now. After years more of indentured servitude and my time riding the white horse, with a monkey on my back, rocking the ganja I will not become more attractive (except in my own mind). Full medical, dental, and vision without any premiums! No longer at great risk for being raped especially since everyone knows Toothy Fats keeps his dentures in no matter what. The latter part of the nickname comes from the contribution of magic brownies to my waistline.

 
So the kids won’t want to visit and have the grandkids see the old man in prison and be forced to answer difficult questions. Because the stereotype is long-term care facilities building parking garages to house the vehicles of all the visitors? Nonsense. No need to visit, just keep my commissary full and tell the grandbabies that on a limited income, old man can only afford to send them trivial presents like a toothbrush, Vaseline, or flip flops. Every now and then, should you feel the urge, pop in for a visit and brings lots of OTC smokes. You know, the good stuff old man cannot find in commissary and are worth a hundred times their weight in corn bread. Hope I am arrested in Arizona, I hear they have good eats in the penitentiary.

Online Date Melange

In return for the wisdom about the newest online dating site, I hope someone will solve the phenomenon discussed at the bottom.

 

In order to see a lion, giraffe, monkeys, or elephant one would go to the _ _ _ sk. Enough typed?

  • There is more cleavage here than a Hollywood, star-studded, red-carpet event. A celebration of the success of awareness brought by pink ribbon magnets.
  • The profiles with only a single picture are mail-order bride services. They will make first contact which serves as another clue (after the fortieth or so I realized this is the case, but in my defense see item 1 and remember there is only so much blood in the human body and in order to function at its full 10%, the brain needs plenty of oxygen).
  • Women lie about their age or good dear love for the creator what did you do to that in 32 years?!? I was born unattractive but my lifestyle over time hasn’t made it worse.
  • Boobs are the Black Jack, buy the insurance. You will not regret the investment. Seriously, one cannot overstate the cleavage. Boobs in a bikini are the Texas Hold ‘Em all in.
  • No woman is as interested in you as those from item 2.
  • No woman is attractive enough to approach after her list of: ‘no druggies, no alcoholics, no pimps, drug pushers, abusers, married men, baby mama drama, separated men, men who run back to their exes, deadbeats…’
  • Don’t MegaFlirt, just don’t.
  • Be certain to state you are living life to the fullest, like music, fun, and dancing.
  • Listen to Meghan Trainor’s All About That Bass when you peruse through the carousel.

 

Now, please solve this puzzle. Most men understand women go to the bathroom in herds. Where are they though? So many online photos of women in public restrooms and you can only see one of them. Are the others legs-lifted in the stalls giggling? Is it a photographic version of hide and seek? Does this explain why most potty-space photos are taken with arm extended out and from above the head of the subject? “Cindy, your man feet sized shoes are in the shot. Scoot back!” “Seriously, stop flushing the toilets. It isn’t funny! Stop! <snort>”