Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Dinsdale McPethis: Master Cocksmith
I know that I’ve said in past blogs that I’m just not ready to plunk down money in the pursuit of a girlfriend, but I’m beginning to realize that it may be my unwillingness to change that’s holding me back from the relationship that I’m looking for. I felt that maybe it was time to nut up and make my profile and my intentions known to a wider audience. After all, it’s kind of selfish of me to keep myself away from some women simply because they paid for my email address, right? Fucking wrong. My adventure into paid dating, although brief, left me more unsure of myself than anything I’ve gone through on Craigslist.
My story of paid internet dating begins as I was reading ‘Tubby Kitten’ magazine this past week, a monthly periodical which depicts overweight kitties in various positions of laziness (my favorite being a 40 pound tabby cat asleep on the face of an obese clown)…when I received an instant message from a friend of mine that I hadn’t heard from in a long time; Smart Jim.
Smart Jim was a stock boy at Waldenbooks when we first met in 1994. I had just been hired on as the assistant manager, and Jim had been there for nearly a year. Even though he was only part time because he was still in high school, the manager of Waldenbooks counted on Jim more than any other part timer. He had a strong work ethic and he did his job well. Although I was 21 at the time and Jim was only 17, I quickly found that he was more mature, responsible, and defiantly smarter than I could hope to be. Instead of feeling jealous of him, I felt that I had to know this kid better.
Over the years that we worked together, Jim’s bitterness and general disdain for the stupidity of our customers rubbed off on me and eventually festered and boiled to the point where it now stands. I’m happy that Jim got out and went on to the career he wanted, however I miss bitching about customers with him as I think that it calmed my nerves a great deal to have someone to vent with.
Aside from being smart, Jim was also funny as hell. He had a ‘take no prisoners’ attitude toward humor that I related to, and I found him easy to get along with. During our time together at Walden books, Jim and I saw a lot together, and I eventually introduced him to my group of friends. Everyone loved this kid, including Cous’n Hemp’n, although Jim thought he was pretty nasty, and rightfully so.
Jim introduced me to one of my biggest comedy influences; Dennis Miller. Over the years we would see Dennis Miller perform live in Chicago, among other live shows. We saw a live taping of The Jerry Springer show with Grey Jim and Action Jim (the first and last Jimboree) and Jim even scored us tickets to see a screening of Rumble in the Bronx at the Chicago Art Museum, followed by a live question and answer segment with Jackie Chan after the film was over. This was when Chan’s movies first started being released in America, and he had to have an interpreter. I had a lot of great times with Jim, but the influences and impact he made on my life went far beyond a simple co-worker relationship. He became another brother in the ever growing group that I found myself a part of.
Jim was also an Atheist, and after many debates, he turned me over to his point of view. Up until I met Jim, I just assumed that you HAD to believe in God because it had been drilled into my head from birth. But one afternoon Jim put The Demon Haunted World by Carl Sagan in my hand and opened a whole new universe of thought to me.
Over the years I watched as Jim worked his way through college until he finally became a PHD of Physics and a PHD of Mathematics. He began work at a Government facility where he made diamonds for nano technology and worked on perfecting the bluray format long before it was available to the public. I’m sure that a lot of us know scientists or doctors, but we’re reticent to ask them questions lest we sound stupid, but Jim and I would sit around for hours pondering ridiculous scientific theories. There was no question that I could ask about time travel, UFO’s, or radioactive spiders that Jim wouldn’t attempt to answer.
A favorite of ours that still sparks debate to this day is: ‘if you were to go back in time to FIVE minutes ago and give your OTHER self a handy…would that be homosexual or masturbation?’ This question has yet to be answered to our satisfaction, but it did bring about a wealth of interesting conversations with friends and co-workers. Rules were even set up in the unlikely event that this hypothesis came to be. It was decided that if any insertion was to take place, THAT would be homosexual…however a handy would just be like having a third hand or or giving yourself ‘the stranger’ (for the layman, that’s when you sit on your hand until it falls asleep and then you whack off)
In all the time that I’ve known Jim, he’s never been a drinker. When I was out getting wasted through most of my twenties, Jim was studying or working. I think that we were both at opposite extremes and if I needed to calm down, Smart Jim probably needed to loosen up. I was an alcoholic and Jim was a workaholic, however, in the late 90’s I saw something on television that would introduce a new hobby to both of us. One that would satisfy Jim’s love of study while getting him out of the house, and that would give me something to do other than drink.
One night, I was in the living room of my mother’s condo flipping through TV channels, when I came across the local cable access channel. They were broadcasting a Greek fashion show that had been filmed at a restaurant that I was familiar with not too far from where I lived. These were some of the ugliest women I’d ever seen, and I found myself glued to the set as the announcer would call one to the stage and ask her imbecilic questions. After the woman with the least visible unibrow had won, there was a karaoke segment where audience members were invited up to sing songs of their choice. I’ll never forget the first guys name…Steve Kursing.
A man in the audience, in his late 40’s to early 50’s raised his hand and was called to the stage. He wore a beige leisure suit with thick glasses. He was balding on top of his head and had the ridiculous comb over that you would think men would stay away from at that point in life. He was nervous and jittery, and I found it odd that he volunteered for this event. However, you could tell by his demeanor that he was drunk, and by the fat woman at his table that cheered him on, it was obvious that he had been pushed into it. He told the announcer that his name was Steve Kursing and that he worked as an insurance agent. Of course he did. He requested to sing the song ‘In the Jungle’ and the announcer left the stage as the lights dimmed. The room went silent as the opening of the song began to play.
What happened next had me rolling around on the floor with laughter. I’ve been a student of comedy since I was very young. Before military school I used to listen to my mother’s Steve Martin 8 track tapes, while IN military school I listened to Bill Cosby records and Dr. Demento on Sunday nights, after military school I found Eddie Murphy and Monty Python, but nothing, and I mean NOTHING compared to the hilarity I found in Steve Kursing, the 40 something year old insurance salesman, singing In the Jungle. It would be impossible for me to explain it to you, but every key was wrong, he lightly bounced back and forth completely out of step with the music, and when the chorus would hit, he would bounce faster COMPLETELY missing the rhythm. His voice was high and unsure, and he rarely if ever sang the words of the song to the right part of the music. But the best and I mean the fucking best was when he would try to sing along to ‘aweembaway, aweembaway, aweembaway’. It was unbelievable.
After the show ended, there was a commercial advertising that the general public could participate in classes in order to receive a legitimate cable production license and then produce shows on this very channel. The address given was only about ten minutes away. I wellspring of television show ideas jumped into my head. If I could make a TV show where I could humiliate people HALF as much as Steve Kursing was humiliated in my eyes, it could be picked up by a real network giving me the fame and fortune that I so richly deserved! I was a tad narcissistic in my twenties.
One of my favorite TV shows at the time was Mystery Science Theater 3000, and I knew that that show had started off as a cable access show and then got picked up by comedy central. But my first thought was that Jim and I could make a movie review show where we actually talked shit about movies. The two of us were very much into film, and we would often get large groups of our friends to go see a movie every Friday night, however we both hated most movies that we saw. Sure we may have been overcritical, but we didn’t like it when Hollywood pandered to the lowest common denominator and most movies of the 90’s did just that. However, what we hated even more were the critics that would kiss Hollywood’s ass. You never saw a critic just flat out say that a movie sucked and that you shouldn’t see it…but now we could.
The way that cable access works is that if a cable company is available in a community, they have to, by law, offer that community one channel to use as their own. I’m not quite sure how censorship works because in New York there is cussing on cable access; however we were not allowed that luxury in Chicago.
I immediately called Smart Jim and told him what I saw and the next day we went down to the cable access studio. We began classes that week, and soon found ourselves working behind the scenes on other people’s programs. We both became good friends with the Producer of the channel who was also our teacher. Bill was a great guy, and he was the only one in the studio that actually got paid to be there. Bill liked his job and we loved him because, like us, he had a natural ability to pick on the flaws of others. During our time working with Bill, Jim and I met some characters that inspired us with hilarity and who often served to remind us of the ridiculous nature of life.
There was Ed Clay, the 62 year old Oak Lawn City Councilman who did a show called Community Voice. Ed was one of those old white men who was racist, but didn’t even realize it. If you asked him flat out, he’d say that he wasn’t. However, one night while filming his show, Ed said something that nearly had us all dying of laughter. Jim and I were working camera’s one and two, while Bill was working as director in the producer’s booth. Jim and I wore headphones so that we could communicate with Bill and he could tell us if he wanted a wide shot, a close up, etc., Ed was interviewing an African American guy who was a high ranking member of the Chicago Public School system. To be honest with you, as a camera man, you don’t really pay attention to what the people on stage are saying, but at one point we did.
As we were taking directions from Bill, there was a pause in his dialogue when we heard Ed say “So…do you find that there are a lot of shines in the public school system”.
SHINES!??!? Ed was looking at his guest as if he didn’t just say that. His guest was obviously taken aback, but I have to think he realized that Ed just didn’t know any better. Jim and I looked at each other from across the room, and then there was an uproar of laughter in our headphones. Bill was laughing his ass off, but WE couldn’t laugh because the microphones on the stage would pick it up. I wanted to laugh SO badly. ‘Shine’? Who says ‘shine’? I mean, that is OLD school racist from when people used words like jigaboo and porch monkey. I felt bad for Ed’s guest, and we were defiantly not laughing WITH Ed but his unintentional racism was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen.
Another cook that frequented the cable access studio was Paul Morgan. This fucking guy right here. Paul was one of those assholes in his 40’s who announced lottery numbers on WGN one weekend and somehow had that fact spread out into a 14 page resume describing his work in television. He was also a religious nut and the biggest homophobe we’d ever encounter in our lives. Our time with Paul was spent mostly making hints about his homosexual tendencies just to get a rise out of him. He would scream and shout in protest that he was NOT GAY! This only made him seem gayer.
Paul would go nuts at the slightest provocation, often embarrassing himself in front of his own guests. One afternoon, Jim and I accompanied Paul as he went to interview a producer at a music studio in the city. As we were carrying the equipment downstairs after the interview, Jim asked Paul to grab one of the bags. The producer that Paul had just interviewed, was standing next to Paul, and Paul felt he needed to seem like our boss, so he told Jim “That’s your job”. Paul was never our boss. None of us got paid for this work, including Paul, and Jim and I had volunteered to help him. I said “It’s ok Jim, I’ll get it, Paul probably can’t lift it”. Just that, nothing more. Paul began screaming at the top of his lungs “DAMMIT HEMPEN, I’M NOT GAY! HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT I’M GAY IN FRONT OF MY GUEST!” The producer took a step back and said “Paul, he never said you were gay…But I am” Paul threw his hands in the air and said “Great, they’re everywhere” and stormed out of the studio. Jim and I apologized to the producer and went to meet Paul by his car. He refused to give Bill the tape of his interview and blamed us for making his guest gay. Seriously, he said that it was because we intimated that HE was gay, that made his guest gay. Jim and I laughed at him all the way home.
Another time, Paul interviewed a nun in the studio. Bill produced while Jim and I worked the cameras. During the interview Paul mainly discussed homosexuality in a negative light without making much sense at all. That poor nun only wanted to show everyone the paintings that she had done. However, as cameramen, it wasn’t Jim and I’s place to cast aspersions on Paul’s show. It was cable access, a forum even for nuts like Paul to spout out their unreasonable hatred of those they don’t understand. Even though Jim and I are Atheists, after the interview, we politely helped the nun carry her things to her car and wished her a good evening. After the nun had left, Paul went on and on about how wonderful his interview went. I told him it would have gone better if he would have helped his guest carry her things out to her car. Paul, once again, professed his heterosexuality even though it was never called into question.
Paul refused to work with Jim and I after that, but we really could care less. Bill told us that nobody wanted to work with Paul because of his flagrant homophobia which HE often brought up himself without any provocation. Paul sent me an email relating his displeasure at working with me and I still have it saved to this day, along with my response:
This hurts me to write, because I did think of you as the little brother I never had, but after your sarcastic remarks the other day at the shoot in front of my guest, I’ve had enough. I don’t care to work with you on any of my show projects anymore. Take care and good luck, and with that attitude and mouth of yours, you’ll need it.
Paul Morgan, Heterosexual and all around good man
I almost felt bad until he wrote ‘Heterosexual and all around good man’. Here was my response:
Take it down a notch there buddy. Nobody thinks (or for that matter, said) you’re gay. Plus, and I think Bill will attest to this, I made absolutely NO untoward comments about you or generally inappropriate comments whatsoever in front of that nun. I was nothing but polite. I complemented her on her work, helped her pack up her gear, and then carried her shit out to her car. Now if you consider that inappropriate behavior let me suggest to you that psychiatrists are doing wonderful things these days. IF anyone made that poor woman feel uncomfortable it was you. All that bride of God wanted to do was show people her paintings and you kept bringing up homosexuality. The comment I made to you about not helping was simply a joke that I made to YOU, after the nun had left, not in front of her.
Now, if you find it that hard to 'turn the other cheek' as your good book suggests, or to 'love thy neighbor' then perhaps it’s time for you to find another religion to practice. I get sick of you religious zealots thinking that you’re better than everyone else. Its guys like you that make being an Atheist easy.
And as for your obsession with having to convince everybody that you’re NOT homo sexual...calm the fuck down. NOBODY THINKS YOU ARE GAY!! Well, that’s not entirely true. The more you protest the fact, the gayer you sound. However, your rantings on the subject are FAR MORE inappropriate than ANYTHING I have ever said. And as for you being a 'good man'. Not with an email like that. That email was the MOST arrogant, insensitive, self serving, pompous, whining, racist (yes Paul, being a homo phobe, at least at your level of homo phobe, is considered racist), bullshit I have ever been subjected to. Maybe when you’re done sending out hate mail, you can go round up a couple of homos and throw them in an oven. OH WAIT, that’s been done hasn’t it? who did that? I know the guy was arrogant, insensitive, self serving, pompous, whiney...Oh yeah...FUCKING HITLER!!!
You ARE, at least, as good a guy as Hitler, Paul, I'll give you that.
You can’t cover up the fact that you can be an asshole with a blanket of religion. Especially with a blanket as sheer as the one you use.
That having been said, I like you, I enjoy working with you, but we ARE two different people, with two different sets of views. I think of you as a brother at times too. That’s why I break your balls so much. Believe it or not, I respect you and I respect what you do, However, you are neither my boss, nor my father. I have never, NEVER, said anything that would make you look bad in front of your guests, because I respect what you do. I have never judged you as you do me, because it’s not my place to do so. However, if I were to judge you, I would find you guilty...of being a babe. See, that was a joke. I’m not actually gay, and I don’t want to put my cock in your asshole. Although if I were going to do it to anybody…
All right, well, that was my manifesto. I’m sure I will see you at the offices or in passing, and I hope we can be civil. I don’t feel any ill will toward you, so if you decide you can stand me and need me for a shoot, I’ll be around. That's what friends do, Paul. Friends are there for each other, you fucking faggot.
Mike 'Ahhhhhh!' Hempen
Bill actually forwarded both Paul’s letter and my response to everyone who worked at the cable access studio and I received a round of applause one evening when Bill was teaching a class.
After we received our licenses, Jim and I made a few cable access programs of our own, called ‘The Movie Snobs’ where we would talk about how shitty films were at that time, and compare them to older films. Jim was passionate when it came to film, and it didn’t take much to piss him off. During our show he did a segment in which he talked about the ridiculous science of a new movie and why it made the movie suck. The most memorable for me was when he bitched and complained about the movie Spider Man because the world’s biggest electron microscope is in San Francisco, NOT New York City.
As the 90’s drew on, Jim brought me into his world of Dungeons and Dragons and introduced me to Bloodbowl, which is a football board game from Europe in which you make teams consisting of mummies, vampires, and other mythological creatures. I wasn’t so much into the D&D, but I was enamored of the Bloodbowl. For my birthday one year he pitched in with our friend Ian and got me a Bloodbowl board from England. I fucking loved playing it, but unfortunately it caused a rift between Jim and I. My fault really, I’m a bit of a narcissist when I’m winning and a bit of a whiney bitch when I’m losing. But that’s as maybe; because of my dickheadedness during a game in 2003, we had a falling out, and I hadn’t talked to Jim for several years.
The time I spent with Smart Jim in my twenties was educational and sometimes sophomoric, but I loved that kid. It truly is the friends that we have who shape us into the people that we become.
Most of the time that I knew Jim I was dating the one that got away; Jackie. We were together from 1994 to 2001. During that time, I know Jim dated a few girls, but I always felt they were beneath a guy of his potential…not unlike Steve, I felt that a lot of women were missing out on Smart Jim.
One of the sad truths in life, and no matter what movies tell you…it IS true, is that if you’re a smart guy? Odds are that women won’t be knocking at your door. Most women now require you to provide copies of your release papers from Cook County Jail as proof that you’re tough, and copies of the letter that your mom got informing her that you were being kicked out of high school in the 10th grade for filling your teachers purse with bong water and continuously pronouncing ‘focus’ as ‘fuck us’, as proof that you’re a dumb ass. So, Smart Jim was never that much of a ladies’ man. Unfortunately for him, his moniker and his intelligence were something of a liability in the D.V.C.S.
However, as we conversed through the wonders of the internet this week, I was excited to hear that Jim is now engaged, and as happens so often these days, he met his future spouse online. I couldn’t be happier for him. I’ve watched him work his ass off to get to the position in life that he now holds, and I’m glad that he’s met a woman worthy of his intellect, his humor, and his incredible thighs. I can honestly say that nobody deserves it more.
However, THIS time I did get a tad jealous. Jim was the last holdout. Everyone that I know now is married, getting married, or getting a divorce. So, after hearing about his pending nuptials, Smart Jim did something that he hadn’t done in a long time…he inspired me yet again. Since I started my search for love on the internet, I haven’t had much luck. But after hearing Jim’s story, I realized that there were several factors that I hadn’t considered. For one thing, I’ve mainly been looking for a connection on Craigslist which is the internet equivalent of McDonalds; Fast food dating. Another thing is that maybe I haven’t been putting my heart into the search like I should have been doing. I went on a lot of dates last year, but I haven’t been on one since my nefarious douchebaggery with the Yoga Instructor on our Christmas Eve date. I haven’t heard from her since that night, and I’m pretty sure she changed her zip code the next day.
Part of the reason for my lack of will has been from outside forces. My district manager just got fired on New Year’s Day and I’m pretty sure that I’m next because the regional manager hates me. Back in November when we had our Christmas manager meeting, I got myself into a ‘Three’s Company’ type situation in which I made a comment about the regional manager in a room full of people, and he was standing, unbeknownst to me, RIGHT behind me. I was written up and shunned by him as if I had been accused of being a witch in Salem. Although I WILL say that I got quite a Nelson Mandella-esque outpouring of support from my fellow managers crying ‘Shenanigans’ to him about that write up…which probably saved my job at the time. It won’t this time.
Needless to say, I’m wound so tight right now that if you put a piece of coal in my ass it would turn into a diamond in about a week. My back and neck are so tense that bullets could bounce off of me. I’m almost AFRAID to get laid right now because my orgasm might injure some poor girl like a mortar round in Kandahar, aaaaaaand I’m pretty sure my apartment insurance won’t cover that, but it would be fun to ask my landlord if they cover accidental injury by intensely focused penile discharge.
But my feelings of both happiness for Smart Jim and jealousy over his new found love have put me in a Rocky Balboa state of mind. So I put down my ‘Tubby Kitty’ magazine and decided to take the whole ‘internet dating’ thing a bit more seriously. E-harmony away! (Cue Rocky music)
As I’ve mentioned, I’ve never been interested in going on ‘pay sites’ to meet a woman because it feels a little too much like going to a pimp, but without the awesome pimp clothes. I’ve tried non-pay sites like Plenty of Fish, but the women there seem to be more critical about looks than I am. Plus, if I meet someone on a pay site, you are forever cemented into that as the story of how you first met. I don’t want to tell people that a random computer test matched us and now we’re together. How unromantic is that?
I’ve always believed that the cooler your meeting story is, the better your relationship will be. Some people meet their spouse when he is buying roses for his ailing mother at the flower shop that she works at, or sometimes a girl will meet a man after he throws a Snapple bottle filled with Vodka at a movie screen while shouting “FUCK YOU AFFLECK!”, then there’s the first date where his car gets towed and she has to lend him the money to get it out of the impound, or the magical first kiss which is interrupted by him having to go bail a friend out of jail. There are a million interesting scenarios which don’t start with “I paid a stranger 50 bucks to find a girl with the correct breast specifications”.
I know that I’ve been dancing around that possibility, but I figure that if I meet someone on a non-pay site, then the date itself will take over as our first meeting story, NOT the website that hooked us up.
However, sometimes in life you have to make compromises. It was time to put away my childish fears and go for the gold. I went on E-Harmony and it seemed as though fate were intervening because they were having a free sign up weekend. I cracked my knuckles and dug in.
First of all, it took me a little over 3 hours to fill out the questionnaire. I didn’t know if they were trying to find out if I was compatible with anybody, or if they were secretly trying to recruit me for the CIA. The questions were not unlike the ones you’d find on a supplement job application. ‘If your family was dying of starvation, would you steal a loaf of bread to feed them?’ And then you HAVE to answer ‘of course not’ otherwise you’d never get the job even though EVERY one WANTS to say ‘fuck yes I’d steal a loaf of bread…are you an idiot?’
Their screening covered everything from foot fetishes to your interpretation of the molecular structure of a sub atomic particle, which is probably why Smart Jim did so fucking well. At one point I had to write a dissertation on the movie ‘The Human Centipede’. Half way through it, an e-harmony tech showed up at my door to take blood samples, do a ‘male pattern baldness’ test, and scrape skin flakes from inside my nose. I don’t divulge this much information to get laid when I meet a woman in real life. Hell, in real life a woman is lucky if I tell her my real name instead of my ‘nom de fuck’: Dinsdale McPethis – Master Cocksmith. I actually have a business card with that name on it.
Even though the form was more complicated than Chinese arithmetic, I was honest throughout the whole thing. Why lie if I’m REALLY looking, right? I basically said that I’m looking for a less slutty, Harvard Educated, Brittany Spears, who doesn’t mind that I look like Richard Kiel and Joe Don Baker had a kid, while earning less than the retarded ‘cart corral’ kid at Jewel. I accurately filled out all of the multiple choice questions that have answers like: ‘Big Time, No more than anyone else, somewhat, not at all, and are you fucking kidding me?’ Is it just me? Or would you like to expound on some of your answers there? I mean don’t just ASK me ‘do you like anal’ and give me ‘yes or no’ options for answers…I’d like a chance to explain WHY I like anal. Otherwise girls could interpret that the wrong way and think that I was molested by a priest in my youth and now I like ‘giving back the pain’ or some shit. And if you’re curious? The line I USUALLY use to garner compliance in this request is “C’mon baby…I just want to be somewhere that nobody else has been…because you’re special”; so don’t fall for that.
When I finally came to the end of this intricate dick I.Q. test, I was out of breath. I felt emotionally and physically drained. But my hope sprang eternal. I had accomplished something that would finally end my search for that elusive long term relationship. I was honest and forthcoming in every category, and surely there would be several women for me to choose from. I waited anxiously for my results to finish calculating with a smile on my face.
Finally, after about ten minutes of excruciating anxiety, a message appeared in my e-mail box with the heading ‘Welcome to e-harmony! Your matches enclosed.’ I moved the cursor over the email and right clicked…
No shit, it was a rejection letter! In it, e-harmony told me that there was NOBODY compatible with me, and although it happens to less than TEN percent of their customers…they’ll keep me on file in case anything pops up. What the fuck? How much of a LOSER am I that I got rejected by a PAY dating service? To put this in perspective, I wasn’t rejected by A woman…I was rejected by a whole COMMUNITY of women! They didn’t even give me the phone number to a ‘suicide prevention’ hotline. I can’t say I got fucked ON e-harmony, but I can say I got fucked BY e-harmony.
So it’s back to the non-pay sites. It seems that, in this case Smart Jim’s intelligence was NOT a liability because he was smart enough to answer their questions with not only HONESTY…but decorum as well. I don’t have that decorum reflex, shit just spews out of me like a vulgar volcano but I’ve always thought of that as my biggest asset. Women know what to expect from me because I’m always honest, I’m always going to say what’s on my mind, and I’m ALWAYS going to try to talk them into anal sex.
The inspiration that Jim presented me with is still there, however I’ll just have to keep plugging away on different sites until I find a relationship-worthy woman. I’m beginning to realize that Craigslist is not the way to go because I’ve noticed that as soon as I post something there, 60 zipper heads post right after me, plunging MY post to the bottom faster than a lead turd in the bathtub. Even when I DO get lucky enough to have a woman read my post, it’s hard for me to take her seriously because 99 percent of the stuff up there is from fucking lunatics. And if she’s even PARTIALLY normal…what the fuck was she doing trying to meet a guy Craigslist? You have to KNOW that the damn has broken and the ‘crazy’ river has flooded out the cape of good dick when the only option left is fucking Craig’s List.
Not only that, but I was reading through some of the ‘men seeking women’ posts, and I’m surprised that the police haven’t used this site JUST to arrest one serial killer a night. Some of these guys are more frightening than a ‘New Kids on The Block’ reunion tour. Women have told me some of the wacked out things that men from Craigslist have said to them and then they justify it by saying ‘oh, he’s just being silly’. No, he’s NOT just being silly. He’s fucking crazy…RUN.
There is a FINE line between funny…and ape shit, hide the piano wire, buffalo bill, v-boy in front of a mirror crazy. And I’m not getting a ‘comedic genius’ vibe from any of those ass clowns. Some of these guys couldn’t get laid if they were standing in the middle of a mattress ware house with five thousand dollars in their pockets while a bus load of hookers crashed into it. Hell, I doubt they could even get laid by my ex T.C., and she fucks EVERYBODY. So much so that I was thinking of writing a ‘Jeff Foxworthy’ type book about her “If you are a high school, college, and or professional FOOTBALL team…youmighthavefuckedMikesex”.
But my failure at meeting a woman online is at least equal to my failure at meeting one in real life. Meeting a woman has never been easy for me, and even though e-harmony refused to give me a chance, it’s not the first OR the last place to look. I’ve seen so many derivations on the theme of meeting a woman that I know not to let my failure at ONE get me down.
When I was a teenager, you simply met girls at school. It was awkward and often times humiliating because you could no more control your mouth than you could your cock, but there seemed to be an endless supply of honeys to choose from. There was the hot chick who only put out to football players, there was the smart chick who only put out if you were depressive and dressed like Robert Smith from the Cure, and there was the fat chick who would put out for everyone else. There was pussy for everyone!
I didn’t go to college until I was in my late twenties, but that’s the place where everyone fucks everyone. Teachers fuck students, students fuck each other, and there’s no end to sexual experimentation. Guys can fuck guys, women can fuck goats, and horses can fuck chickens. It doesn’t really matter because you can always use that word as a ‘get out of humiliation free’ card: Experimentation.
Now, hopefully by the time you’ve finished college, you’ve got all that fucking out of your system and you’re ready to settle down and become a joint tax paying member of civilized marital society. However… for guys like me who DID’NT get laid until I was 18, and who DID’NT go to college until later in life, where does the relationship road take us?
After college, if you still haven’t met anyone, you have to meet women through friends. Sisters, Cousins, Grandma’s; you’ll take whatever is lying around. If you have good friends, they’ll even set you up with a family member or that ugly chick they met at space camp. And if that doesn’t pan out, it’s off to the wonderful world of bars.
In my case meeting a woman at the bar wasn’t always easy, but I went into it with a good attitude. Most chicks at bars automatically dismiss you if you don’t look like a fucking football player OR they talk down to you like you’re a retard who just picked up their cigarette butt off the ground and asked them if they’re ‘going to eat this’. Then, if you ARE lucky enough to get a conversation started with a cute chick, her fat ass friend would inevitably come by and start ‘harrumphing’ and making passive aggressive comments about your Z. Cavaricci/wrestling shoe combination ensemble. You wanna know why I don’t date behemoths? It’s because of YOU whaley. I think I saw Geppetto starting a fire in your mouth.
But sometimes in a bar you come across a woman that life has shit on JUST enough for her to say ‘fuck it, I’ll do ya’. Now you’re getting laid, but you’re still no closer to finding that relationship, so you have to switch it up and try something new. The problem is that after bars, there really wasn’t anywhere else to go. There were singles bars, but all the women there were so old that they were classified as ancestors. I used to hear that the supermarket was a great place to meet women, but when I tried that, I realized that hot single chicks don’t HAVE to shop for themselves, only fat chicks do.
I even tried speed dating. This was an event where instead of listening to ONE ding-bat drone on about how ‘instead of feeding the homeless, we should put that money to more important uses like buying sweaters for penguins because they must be cold in the Arctic’ or ‘teaching baby Panda’s to play with yarn because it’s ‘cute’’, you get to listen to 15 of them until your mind is eventually turned into some kind of paste and your nose starts dripping brain.
Now there’s the internet. Where one can indulge in the fantasy of meeting someone online who is NOTHING like they are in real life. I’ve met women on the internet who have lied about their looks, lied about how ‘stable’ they are, and have actually tried to have me meet them at the Cook County Clerk’s office so they could trick me into signing a marriage certificate in order to glom child support from me to feed their kids because they have so many children they could start a fucking baseball franchise with them.
But once in a while a sparkling ray of sunshine descends on an unwitting vaginally deprived individual. Smart Jim has not only inspired me to keep looking, but he’s shown me that there is hope in the digital age of relationships. So, I’ll just keep tapping away on my keyboard and perhaps my mindless rambling will score me a woman who’s NOT more unstable than a nuclear reactor at a clown college, who DOESN’T have more back issues than my ‘Tubby Kitty’ magazine (est. 1905), and who DOESN’T brag in her profile that she can use her clit as a cork screw.
OR, I could just bide my time until the NEXT big dating craze springs up like a ‘pussy’ whack-a-mole. Virtual reality dating. I can see the ads for that now: “it’s fucking but without the diseases, guilt, and inhibitions caused by taking some else’s feelings into consideration”. Yeah, and without the fucking too. They’re already using test subjects to screen the effects of digital fucking, and let me tell you, the line to get into THAT building is longer than the fucking directors cut of ‘ Das Boot’.
The bottom Line? I’m not gonna give up yet. There’re millions of women online and at least one of them has to have the qualities that I’m looking for in a relationship. After all, Smart Jim may have DESERVED to be in a loving relationship, but I fucking well NEED a loving relationship. Like Clint Eastwood said to Gene Hackman at the end of Unforgiven; “Deserve’s got nothin’ to do with it”