Sunday, March 23, 2014

For the Betterment of Mankind

We all know my pathetic dating life is entertaining to many, including myself.  Most recently, however, it has turned into fodder for my married friends who love to ask me, “So what’s going on with that guy?”  And, like Pavlov’s dog, my response has turned into an immediate, “Which one?”  By all means, I don’t answer this way in jest either.  Guys I “date” (I use that term very loosely) fly in and out of my life quicker than I change tampons on my most heaviest days – sorry for being crude, but it’s the best comparison for producing the dramatic effect most representative of my situation.  On any given day, I can’t remember which guy was the subject of which conversation with which friend…because generally what happens is that if I do meet someone I’m interested in seeing again (this doesn’t happen too often), before I’ve finished telling my friend about how great I think he is and how excited I am to go on another date with him again, he’s already hit “send” on “that text” (we all know which one that is). 

But I’d like to think of my dating debacles as my public service contribution for the betterment of mankind.  See, while guys think it’s funny when I write in my profile that I am on the site for “research purposes”, the fact is, that I am.  And, I’d like to think that through my last year of dating fieldwork, I am well on my way to earning a PhD in the Anthropology of Douche Bagging.  Being a researcher, however, one must research a particular subject and present the findings based on the research data collected.  Although I plan on writing a full dissertation on my findings after more intense research, I’d like to present to you with some of my findings thus far:

1.   Males species who have recently gone through a “separation” are to be avoided at all costs.  Despite what they tell you, they present acute symptoms of “newlysingleitis”…a condition that causes them to seek out unsuspecting women and woo them with false-intentioned dating rituals.  The subject’s goals in this is to make himself feel “desired” and that “he still has it” despite being in a loveless marriage for many years where he wasn’t getting any and he gained about 30 pounds.  He will repeatedly tell his dates that he "checked out" of his marriage years before and is completely over it.  This type of male will exhibit symptoms such as hiring a personal trainer, becoming a vegetarian, doing yoga, getting a stylist, waxing his back, eye brows and groin area and frequenting online dating sites hunting for younger, attractive women.  This male is not looking for a relationship in any way, shape or form.  Once these males sense that the female object of their desire is interested, the subjects will quickly retreat and whip out the pre-printed "I just got separated" card, which likely have the imprint of a condom as it is generally stored right next to it in his wallet.

2.     A most unique subject is the male species in the 19-22 year old category.  These boys suffer from an affliction I have labeled “cougaritis”.  “Cougaritis” presents itself with the following symptoms:  a propensity to use the term “hey” as a mating call; extreme eagerness to “score” including contacting proposed mates at all hours of the night to just “cuddle”; submissiveness (these subjects are agreeable to just about anything you will do to them; vomit and feces are no exception); and an inability to grasp that females of the opposite sex (in the 35-45 age range) do not find headwear tilted to the side, long plastic cups in fluorescent colors and their mother’s flowered shower curtain shown via typical shirtless, bathroom mirror photos as sexually stimulating.


Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Mediocrity Is, As Mediocrity Does

I know it has been quite some time since my last entry…and it is not at all that I have forgotten or tossed this aside…but my lack of writing has stemmed from my complete fear and distaste of mediocrity.  Some of you have grown pissed at me as a result, and I do half-heartedly apologize, but it has really been for your own good.  See, it would be incredibly easy for me to sit down and write something craptastic for you, but instead I chose to self-censor myself.  For instance, I could have effortlessly told you about my angst when two guys broke up with me on the same day even though I wasn’t dating either of them (which, as was incredibly appropriate for the occasion, also happened to be the same day as my dick-in-a-box party).  Or, I could have lashed out in written form about the indignity of the other two guys that failed to show up at an event I had invited them to even though both said they would…yes, I know, quite the intentional faux pas on my part but I decided to take my chances on at least one making an appearance or hoping they’d both show up because I would definitely have some good writing…ultimately, they both blew me off, which, although a disappointment, was not a total shocker.  The night was salvaged, however, because I ended up meeting someone else at the after-party.  So, despite not getting felt up that night by either of the guys I shaved my legs for, having to deal with the  pimples in the morning from wearing make-up was not completely for naught.  Even better, though, I could have bored you about the date with a strikingly handsome younger man I almost punched in the face before asking the waiter for the check and storming out all because of a Middle Eastern politics exchange gone totally wrong.  According to him, Assad’s positive contributions to the Syrian economy and democracy in the Middle East outweighed the lunatic's crimes against humanity.  Needless to say, this didn’t bode well for my date at that particular moment and he later dubbed me “CP” for “Check Please!” 

Still though, I somewhat take pride in anything I create, so the very thought of providing you with mediocrity is on par with me waking up next to a wealthy, short and bald CEO of fledgling technology company with a major Napoleon complex who is still wearing his country club embroidered golf shirt and is donning an attitude like he just did me a favor.  At one point in my life, though, I would have settled for mediocrity and, in fact, I did all too often for all too long – I married Mediocrity, slept with Mediocrity, ate at Mediocrity, shopped at Mediocrity, wore Mediocrity, wiped with Mediocrity, drank Mediocrity, swam in Mediocrity, waited for Mediocrity to call or just have fucking Mediocrity remember my name in the morning….all until I realized that Mediocrity was, well, mediocre.   And if I have learned anything from my past, which is debatable on most days, it is that I can also tell Mediocrity to fuck off at my leisure…