A new dating website

Just wanted to share with everyone a new dating website you might want to check out! It may be the only site I've ever seen that actually recommends you carry a gun for protection "until Obama takes it from your cold dead hand" har har har.



Looking for more wackadoodle stuff like this? Start with Stuff Fundies Like.

And if you're not a sodomite, go ahead and check out the site here.

Dignity

Editors' Note: My friend is the drug dealer. Rad.

The Text Message Diaries

A good looking friend of mine recently joined Match.com. We'll call him "Guy." Guy already has plenty of dates, and his online dating hasn't stopped him from asking out the chick at the bar, all of my friends, pretty much any cute girl.

The other day we were chatting about Girl #735 and how it had ended poorly, yet again, over text. I asked to see the conversation and almost pissed my pants. Good stuff. The best part is he's too lazy to delete his texts. We're talking months of texts with dozens of women.

So I asked, would you be willing to let us publish the conversations, au total, on DatingIsWeird?

He's game. Sorta. I had to buy him beers and dinner so I could transcribe what follows is.

Guy:

I just felt Like we had a cheesy good bye and all.

And now I'm second guessing

my communication like u :)

Girl #1:

Well don't!

Guy:

Clicked "politely ignore" on ur wink.

And your messages and profile disappeared.

Girl #1:

Really? I saw a message that said

something along the lines of "thanks but no thanks",

funny!

I didn't feel like u invited yourself last night.

I ended up just hanging out at my

friends house. I closed my profile on match for a bit,

probably why its gone.

Guy:

Jeeze... I hope its not b/c of me. Didn't mean to try &

make it a date & I should have kept my

developing crush to myself. Hope u stay in touch.

I would like to hang out again

but I won't pester u. I promise!

Girl #1:

Ha ha. Second guesser. The crush talk was sweet!

I closed my profile for a bit because

I just felt like taking a break, has nothing

to do with you. I like you, stoke we are friends!

Going through some bullshit right now,

stressful day. If I don't respond or pick up

its not because of you.

Guy:

guilty as charged!

(A few days later....)

Girl #1:

Thanks? Ok. Match is weird because

it causes pressure when u go out. Like

you have to decide right then if u like

the person. Pressure!

Guy:

Thats all you. I mean we do get to choose

from dozens of possible dates so I imagine

lots of people end up liking something

about one another, thats fun

I don't feel it like pressure

Girl #1:

Yep, it is all me I guess. That's why I realized

that I'm not ready for dating. I've never really

done that before. Just met friends and

it turned into something. Dating isn't fun for me,

plus I have too much baggage. Well, good luck ;)

Guy:

Yea I know you were just looking for friends...

Sorry I wasn't fun for you. I think u r hot and cool

but I didn't mean to bring the pressure.

Hope we can hang out again sometime, friends.

Girl #1:

Crap!!! No! You were fun, ugh,

can I make this more of a mess?

I'm such a social retard. I like u.

YES friends and let's hang out again.

(Again, a few days later...)

Girl #1:

We should go grab a beer??

Guy:

Dang..I think I may have plans as of 1/2 hour ago.

Text u tomorrow and let's figure it out.

Girl #1:

Sounds good...I'm more fun :)

Guy:

I wouldnt know. Jus kidding.

Girl #1:

You son of a bitch!! J/k...

I might go out tonight.

Okay I'm not. Talk to u tomorrow :)

(The next day)

Guy:

Okay what about planning on a beer later :)

say 6 or 7. And just see what unfolds

Girl #1:

What about your other plans??

Guy:

Well im keeping it vague

and since u r just a friend,

I'm not going to feel bad

if we cut it short because someone else

wants to meet me afterward.

Hah, like u did the other day. Fair enough?

Girl #1:

Ha ha! Ok. You would not have had fun

if u came with me. It was lame. Me, my friend, and

her Weirdo husband at their house...

Guy:

That's perfect, u wouldn't have fun

w/ me later either b/c

my other plan might actually like me. Hehe

Girl #1:

Oh please! Of course they will,

but will they be as fun as me? NO

Guy:

We'll see, call me later?

Girl #1:

Stop being so mad at me.

Yes, let's plan for around 7?

(A few logistical texts later. I'm going to include times from here on out because they also say something...)

Girl #1:
5:28

You better not stand me up

because you're so mad at me ;)

It will hurt my heart. See u at 7

6:05

Ok, you're going right?

6:29

Tonight seems weird and you have plans after, so

let's plan for another time :)

Have fun tonight on your date!

Guy:

7:02

Are you effing kidding me? I just got the message that you want to bail?

I'm pissed I rushed home to take a shower so I could meet up with you

after you practically begged me.

I actually canceled my plans with a very sweet girl...

And now I've got nothing to do....

Damn it I'm so pissed. I was on a motorcycle ride with a friend

so I didn't get the texts until I got home and got out of the shower.

We rushed back from ___________ so I could meet you on time.

(Guy calls Girl #1 twice)

Girl #1:
7:02

I'm not answering cause I don't want to get yelled at.

I'm sorry I came across as begging you.

You made it sound like you had plans right after,

u didn't tell me u canceled. If u could relax a little

we could figure out what to do, Jesus!

Guy:

7:15

Whatever! You're acting totally crazy.

The score is love-love...

We have a guest post from "Strobino" today. HAPPY DATING!

A woman had expressed interest in me on a popular dating site by "winking" at me. I looked at her profile, and saw her pictures and life stories. She seemed cool enough. I didn't see too much in common with her except that she liked playing tennis, but wasn't that great at it, and wanted to play more. That was the same as me.

A few emails later we had set up a tennis date. When we first met we made some small talk before taking the court, and everything seemed to be going well. However, about 15 minutes into the game she hit a shot that was clearly out, but she claimed was in. The dispute was minor at first, but I didn't want to just let it go, and it escalated. Realizing that I was being a little too stubborn for a first date I tried to play it off and give her the benefit of the doubt and said something playfully like "Ok, McEnroe it was in." All hell broke loose.

She ran around the net screaming "You fucking asshole! What the fuck is that supposed to mean!!?." She began hitting me with her racket as hard as she could clearly aiming for my face every time. For about a minute I made every effort to run away and block her blows, but she was a little quicker than me and kept cutting off my escape route. After she cut my hand with one of the swings with her racket (intended for my face) I cocked back and bashed her head with mine with a fair amount of force. She then cried and ran away. Later that night, I sent her an email saying "Just for the record it was out." I still haven't heard about a second date.

My very own pet stalker

Today's offering is a guest post from "hackneygirl". Happy Dating!

My first ever internet date. Yay! But me being me I should have known it couldn’t go well. And in fact I think I have managed to bag myself my very own personal stalker. WAY TO GO!

I ought to have clocked it earlier but I’m new to this game and his profile was very funny – dry and sarcastic – and his pics were pretty cute. His emails were short and to the point and he seemed keen to meet up rather than spending lots of time exchanging inane emails. My impression: alpha male, possibly quite arrogant but could be a lot of fun. So, to a backing track of alarm bells faintly tinkling, I agreed to meet him for a drink the following evening. And that’s when the trouble started.

8am. My phone buzzes. It’s a text seemingly checking I gave him a real number. Concerning. I reply with a one word affirmative.
8.10am. Another text. This time re-confirming the details of our date later on. I do not reply.

The uneasy feeling persists throughout the day but I am repeatedly reassured that everyone feels like this before their first internet date. Just go along! What’s the worst that can happen? Ok Dr. Pepper, fine, I’ll go!

6pm. Another text. ‘See you soon. x’ SERIOUSLY! I am going to bail if he sends me one more word. I send a matter of fact response. Definitely no kisses.
7pm. (we’re meeting at 8 and I am at this point waiting at a bus stop). Another text! This time saying he’s been delayed at work. So I ring him to find out if he’s a total loony or what. It rings out. I leave a message then head home. This guy has clearly never been out with a girl in his life.
8pm. Buzz, buzz. ‘Just leaving. Can be there in 5 mins.x’ Dude, did you not listen to my message – I’ve gone home for pete’s sake!
8.05pm. He rings me. It takes me FIFTEEN whole minutes to get him off the phone in which time he has repeatedly tried to find out where I live, offered to come and meet me near my house, asked me out for dinner on every single night of the next two weeks (it’s amazing how busy I am all of a sudden) and extracted a promise that I’ll check my diary and get back to him.
10.30pm. Unbelievably, he texts again. Not being insane myself I do not reply.
2am. Yes, you read that right, 2 o clock in the am, he messages me online to explain, yet again, what held him up. I will have to block his profile. He’s not going to like that.

So, I remain an internet virgin and very likely the object of some disturbed fantasy. I am also probably going to have to change my phone number. Do I feel just a little bit grubby and freaked out? Yes I do. Am I going to quit internet dating? Of course not! Or not yet anyway… *

*Since writing this post he has settled into a routine of texting me every morning at 9am with a new angle on why he didn’t make it to our date and the myriad ways he would like to make it up to me. It’s kind of comforting. I might even miss him when he stops.

Vagina Power

** We don't recommend watching this at work. Or in front of children.

On retiring poster boy

Hey, y’all, heads up: This is a long post. You’re not required to read it. (Yes, I’m talking to you Anonymous Cereal Hater. You’re not going to like this post. You are welcome to save yourself some time by not reading it. I can just comment for you: "Cereal sucks and she can’t write blah blah blah, Signed, ACH.")

I recently wrote here about the family of my ex, Poster Boy. All it amounts to is a little ditty about how I love and miss them, and they miss me, too. In comments, I was accused of having a heart. (And yes, maybe, Internet, I’ll admit that I do, in fact, have a heart — just don’t tell anyone, OK?)

I sent a link to a member of Poster Boy’s family, a woman who has become a friend. I think her reply was, “Awwwwwww.”

Days later, late on a Friday night, I noticed I’d missed a call from Poster Boy. I called him back pronto, since, although we’d remained friendly enough that I’d actually had him and his girlfriend to my house for a big, fan-fucking-tastic end-of-the-summer bash about a month prior, (after I extended the invite, he called me to thank me, then Miss Poster Boy emailed me, thanked me for the invite, and asked what she could bring. I thought we were all being Oh-So Mature until he got a little too drunk at the party, and, in a mock-friendly gesture, slapped me on the back hard enough to leave a welt) he didn’t usually call me at midnight. I was worried.

“Well, I actually wanted to talk to you about what you wrote about me and my family on the internet,” he said. I could tell he was drunk. I refused, on account of the drunkenness and told him we’d talk later.

But when I got home, I listened to the message. It was a condescending reprimand about how I needed to move on and stop writing about him on the Internet, (I guess writing my mother, or writing in my journal, or writing a zine would have been cool, but not the Internet) about how I’m a grown adult and I need to start acting like one. I think there was something in there about how the internet isn’t everything. (We know better than that, though, don’t we?) I texted him a message reading, basically: “Eat shit and die.”

He called me. Stupidly, I answered, and he ranted and talked down to me. When I reminded him that he was not allowed to talk like that to me, he actually responded, “I can talk to you any fucking way I want.” Naturally, I hung up on him.

But I was confused. He’d never before minded when I wrote about him on DIW. I think he liked the notoriety. He even commented on some posts — even after we broke up. He e-mailed me about one once and told me it had touched him. And there are choice Poster Boy stories — horrifying, jaw-dropping stories — that I’ve never written about on this site. Believe it or not, I do have boundaries.

I noticed the next day that a comment had been left on the post at about the same time we talked, an anonymous comment reading “get a fucking life and move on.”

I was done. I sent an email and told him that if he didn’t want me to write about him, he could’ve just ASKED. I wouldn’t even need a “please.” But I’d taken my last drunken phone call—something I should have done years earlier. I told him to lose my number.

Then a twist came. Poster Boy replied to my e-mail. He apologized. Twice. He told me he knew he shouldn’t have spoken to me like that and shouldn’t have called drunk. Then he closed by saying that he hadn’t commented on the post, hadn’t even read it, and: “Just so you know it makes things awkward for me that my family and you still are in contact with each other.”

Clarity. It was young Miss Poster Boy who’d read the post, gotten pissed, left the shitty comment. In all likelihood, it was she he was showing off for when he called and insulted me. Of course.

And it’s no wonder. Not everyone understands this about blogging and dating: When you’re in a relationship, a really good one, sometimes the new relationship doesn’t make it on your dating blog. I guess some people don’t like being written about on shit-talky dating blogs. That’s actually OK with me because the funny thing that happened yesterday with the sensitive, sexy man I’m now running around with? It feels precious and private.

However, the love I feel for people who were a second family to me for half of a decade? That feels like something other people might identify with. Lots of emotionally mature folks get that sort of thing.

And Miss Poster Boy? Poor thing. I sort of feel bad that she’s so insecure. That she doesn’t get, and clearly doesn’t have, that type of connection, forged over time. I really wish her luck with Poster Boy. And I know she’s going to need it.

But, here’s the thing: She won. Poster Boy and I are done. We don’t talk. I think that’s what she really wanted. Thanks to her hissy fit, I’ve decided it’s time to retire Poster Boy.

Flowchart to Determine If Your Girlfriend Is Cheating On You

**Funny story over at holytaco.com

Girlfriends are a lot like volcanoes: they're fascinating and mysterious, and at any time they can explode and completely blow your head off. I might be confusing volcanoes with those collars from the movie Scanners. Anyway, here's a flowchart to help you determine if your girlfriend is cheating on you:

Before eHarmony

Snuggiesutra

There's a chance you haven't heard of the abomination that is the Snuggie (I think half the haters out there secretly want one):



And just for fun, and your edification, we'll include the popular parody video, too:



Well thank the lord for the internet. Because some genius has created a new Web site, the Snuggiesutra. Because I just KNOW you were fresh out of ideas on how to integrate the Snuggie into your love life.

Here's one position called The Tablecloth:



"She lies on the table. He wears the Snuggie on his front while the bottom end covers her. It’s just not a holiday without stuffing."

Regarding Fatties

Dear Serial Monogamist,

So, I've entered the wonderful world of internet dating (and yes, I know, I should submit something of my own to DIW and I will do so after having a few liaisons under my belt). Anyway, so far so blech. Not a lot out there on the interwebs, at least not on the sites I've visited.

Anyway, I've gotten a few conversations going and then asked for a pic. Upon receipt of said pic, I've immediately been, like, "nope." I want to be really clear, and I'm not into lying, so in my next email I say "I just don't see it. Good luck to you." Since you're a member of the fairer sex, what do you think about how I'm responding? Yes, its entirely based on their uglyness, or extreme fat-itude, but oh well. I'm not just looking to date a nice person, I also want someone at least somewhat hot and I'm not going to pursue anything with people that aren't at least a 7 out of 10 on my personal scale.

Thanks,

Mr. Rodgers

Dear Mr. Rodgers,

OK, let’s start out with some linguistics.

I think you would be well-advised to be careful about using terms like “the fairer sex.” You know, like, um, EVER.

See, Fred, I know you’re not trying to get into my panties, at least not at the moment, but nonetheless, “The fairer sex?” I mean, when you use language like that, you’re likely to come off sounding like either:

A) That jerkoff with a goatee who tries to sound all ironic all of the time but who really just ends up giving away in a sarcastic, “who really believes this garbage?” tone what it is that he really thinks of women, namely, that we’re hyper-sensitive, weak-willed, and prone to hysteria (which, if you’re dipping your hairy little toes in internet dating, you’re only MORE apt to believe)

B) Some sort of renaissance fair guy who is, at this very moment, wearing crushed velvet pantaloons and drinking something you call “grog” that is really only apple cider mixed with Monarch rum, a guy who thinks it’s sexy to talk down to women so that it'll be this big fucking surprise later when you admit you just want to get tied up in a dungeon somewhere, but: Hey! It's no shocker! Your cat is named Azrael! We saw this one coming, dude.

or C) Some guy who just trying his honest-to-joe-sixpack-best to make a throwaway joke.

Even if the answer’s C, why’s it worth the risk of being seen as A or B? It’s not. I guess the moral of this particular rant is this, Freddie: Don’t talk down to me as an opener. Which, I guess, brings us on to the current topic.

Don’t string the fatties and the uggies along. There are dudes out there who can, and will, love some bigole chubba rolls and even a brilliant goddess with a cleft palate.

But: It ain’t you, babe. If you really feel bad about telling them off just after you get the photo, then try to get one more email with content out of them, and then suggest it’s something in that email that turned you off their fatty-ugg-ass-scent.

She’ll know anyway. But why put you both through the awkwardness of the in-person meetup before turning them down for being such hags? It’s painful, it’s pointless. Let their humiliation be electronic.

You also never said whether or not you were attractive. Maybe all you have to do is send a pic of yourself back to the ug-trons. Maybe then you’ll be the one getting the “yeah, I don’t see it, good luck,” e-mails.

Stranger things have happened in this neighborhood.

Love,
Serial

Got a question for Serial Monogamist? Just want to tell her to shut the crap up? E-mail her at seriallymonogamous[at]gmail[dot]com.

Or not. Who needs you?

MySpace Sucks

I had forgotten all about the hellish side of MySpace until I was cleaning out my messages last night.

Let me back up.

Once upon a time long long ago in a living room of a house I used to live in, I drunkenly hooked up with a guy I knew from firefighting. We used to work together. He was my boss. Of sorts. He was also rather attractive and knew it. We both did. Of course there was sexual tension the whole summer fighting fires. Of course he had a girlfriend. Of course she hated me even though I'd been nothing but pleasant and respectful.

Of course he didn't tell me they were still "on again off again dating" until the next morning.

"Huh. Interesting. So is the switch on or off this morning?" I asked.

"Uhhh. On. Yeah, on I guess. She would say on, so yeah. On," he replied.

Awesome.

Let me also back up to give some character development of this on-again-off-again girlfriend: She liked attention. She was loud. She was abrasive. She was attractive. She had a flair for drama. And if we had to go to blows, I might put my money on her and I don't often say that about other chicks.

In short, don't fuck with her man.

Which, I wouldn't have done had I known. But, he conveniently waited to tell until after the point of no return. Fucker.

So back to last night's mailbox cleaning.

I found the series of messages she sent in the weeks after. Oh boy. Here's a taste:

"Subject: O.P.P.

It has been brought to my attention that you had sex with the man who had been my partner for over four years. What's amusing is that he's been telling me for the last year that I'm gonna marry him and have his children. Fortunately for me, I learned (before making a big mistake) that I can't trust him.

While I primarily blame him (after all, he was my boyfriend)I also find you guilty of serious misconduct. Apparently you haven't learned or just aren't grown up enough to realise that you don't go around fucking other people's boyfriends. I must be honest, I never liked or trusted you from the beginning. It's too bad (for me at least) that I was right about you.

Let's face it, you wanted ___ from the beginning and I never tried to keep him from being your friend cause he always said he didn't find you the least bit attractive. Interesting how men can do that, screw woman they think aren't appealing. I guess one hole is as good as another if you're drunk enough and the lights are off so you don't have to see their face.

If this message hurts you in any way, I can't say that I'm sorry because nothing could describe the pain that I feel. Maybe you are laughing as you read this, or maybe you could give a shit; but on the chance that you have a shred of decency, I hope you take this to heart and realise the damage you have done. I would also take a moment to think about the fact that no bad deed goes unpunished, meaning that things have a way of coming back to you."

So ok. I felt bad. I mean, she has a point. And she even cleverly put a Naughty By Nature reference in the subject line. I didn't respond however; instead, I forwarded her message along to her "man" and said that perhaps he should look into it. He created the fucking mess after all. I thought he should be the one to clean it up.

But no. She didn't see it that way. Here's another:

"I want you to delete him as a friend from your myspace and never call him again. If you don't want to comply, I will show up on your doorstep and we can talk about it in person."

Show on my doorstep and talk about it in person? Um, no fucking way. Fuck you. Show up at my doorstep bitch?! That would be a bad idea. For both of us. Remember how I said I might put my money on you if it came to blows, yeah, not on my fucking doorstep. Bring it.

But again, I didn't respond. Simply forwarded it to her "man."

Thankfully all that died away. I haven't spoken much to him since, though he did text me a few weeks ago saying he'd be in town.

The best part? I found all the other messages from jilted girlfriends who felt it was my fault they were dating a shithead. Thank you MySpace. Thank you for allowing stupid bitches to send me ridiculous threats and for saving them for years.

The Joys of Online Dating: Part Deux

**Editors' Note: Today's guest post is the second installment from Kate in KC. You may remember her first story about getting into a fight about college sports on a first date from a few weeks ago.**

Adorable Nerd came along and seemed as if he would be the answer to my holy-crap-this-was-a-bad-idea prayers. He was smart, funny, interesting, cute in that Seth Cohen (yes, I’m dropping an OC reference in here) super-nerd kind of way and, best of all, seemed very interested in me. We sent a few novel-length messages to one another before trading in email for 3-hour long phone calls. We would talk about anything and everything while staying up so late that we would practically fall asleep on the phone because neither of us wanted to hang up the phone and end the conversation…we finally arranged to meet one night.

We sat at a table in a small restaurant and talked and talked and talked…we were telling stories, laughing and having a fantastic time. We ended up closing the restaurant down and he suggested that we continue the night at a wine bar across the street. Sharing a bottle of wine, there was never an awkward silence or dull moment…it was like we had known each other forever and slipped into conversation with one another like it was the easiest thing on earth.

The end of the night rolled around and we strolled through the moonlight of the city streets until we got to my car. I had butterflies in my stomach as we turned to face each other to say good night…he told me that he had a wonderful time, looked deep into my eyes, leaned in…shook my hand and ran away.

He literally RAN the fuck away.

I never heard from him again.

A weird-o, a closeted gay and a guy with sports-related Tourettes…strike one, two and three. You win this one, online dating.

More on internet dating

So Katie Ett, a woman whose blog I started reading only because her Livejournal user pic was a still from the original Grey Gardens, one of the best films of all time, writes about all matter of silliness over at Unapologetically Mundane. Topics range from piles of family pictures from back on the farm in Iowa to reviews of fancy schmancy pants restaurants in New York (which are generally funny because she clearly has a midwest palate, but she seems to try). Her main obsession, which she admits, is her boyfriend. Whom she calls Dr. Boyfriend. It's a tad out of hand (she has a "creepy boyfriend obsession" tag, people) but sort of charming, too.

Here's a recent post from UM, which is amusing in itself:

"I’m a member of the online dating site OkCupid.com in the hope that when Dr. Boyfriend and I break up some day, you’ll look me up on there and woo me hardcore. Due to the fact that I’m not supposed to appeal to anyone in my current state of relationshipness, I’ve agreed to not change my horrible photos and to fill my profile with totally unattractive drivel such as:

Nobody’s really just looking for friends and activity partners on here, right? But I am! Seriously! And just think of all the activities we can engage in! That don’t in any way involve our genitals! Except, like, if we specifically decide to engage in genital-related non-sexual activities! Like by joining a nudist colony and shaving our genitals! Together! To get to know each other a little better! And to have the best-looking genitals in the entire colony!

AND YET. I receive messages all of the time from men who make me feel sad for people who are actually looking for dates. Such as this one, from a user in his 50s:

I used to live in Brookyn, in the Bushwick area. I thought I would write and get to know you. I notice you say about joining a nude club and shaving each other’s genitals. I would love to do that with you. Or at least to join a nude club together. I would love to smell your vagina too. I am sure it smells sweet!!

I mean, thank you and all, but no. I think the rule should be that if you wouldn’t walk up to me in a bar and say it to my face, you shouldn’t say it online, either.

And now you should tell me about the even awesomer messages you’ve received."

OK, Serial again. Um, is it OK to leave your OKCupid or Match.com or whatever dating profiles up when you're in a relationship? I'd be seriously pissed if I found out that The New One had a dating profile up on one of those sites (Well, I would if I could get over the concept of The New One going near a the interwebs for such purposes, since he plans to be the last person on the planet to even join Facebook. Dude doesn't even read datingisweird.com, even when I tell him I write about him. On the internet. WTF?).

And I don't feel like I'd want to negotiate on that point. But I guess it could be entertaining. As entertaining, as, say, writing up a craigslist personal about a friend of yours, just to see what the response might be ....

Friends With Benefits

**Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes in from our semi-regular guest, Terry Tucker.**

This was an Internet date match-up. When I entered Starbuck’s I saw a man sitting at a table on the far side, wearing the jade-green, U-of-Oregon cap that so many men wear in these parts. Signs of French Canadian ancestry could be discerned in his fine, virile features. He had an oval-shaped head, dark eyes, olive complexion and sharply defined bone structure. His eyes held yours, though not in an unpleasant way.

He spoke in a manner not quite like ours, an indeterminate accent all his own. His manner was calm and relaxed, and he spoke in a very picturesque way, without gesticulation. He paused occasionally, and you felt that each phrase was being carefully constructed in the moment, not at all like the mindless, ready-made jargon we normally use in conversation. You quickly grasped that he had a gift of assembling words expressively.

It was unclear at first exactly what he did for a living; it hardly seemed to matter. He was well traveled and engaging, overflowing with zest. As it turned out, he was Algerian, not Canadian, with a French connection. He had a wide range of interest and something to say on every topic. To be with him was very agreeable

Things were developing nicely, when he began talking about a Private Stock Offering he was putting together for the construction of a Wind Farm on a South Dakota Indian reservation. The first-round financing was fully subscribed to, he said, but a way could be found to include me and my friends, if there was interest. Sounded so good, the way he put it. Friends with benefits. Might have gone for it if the Bernie Madoff scam was not so fresh in the memory. Maybe if he had waited until the second date to make the pitch.

You'll Know Exactly What These Are

Oh. My. God. My newest time waster:

www.TextsFromLastNight.com

Sweet jesus. Here's some examples:

(734): Pregnant stripper...not hot.

(843): I guess there's a 50 percent chance that it was her that wet my bed.

(859): im in a kiddie pool, high, with a keg in arms reach. If i had a sandwich and a blowjob this would be the best day ever

(516): Dude, just walked by a homeless guy pissing on the sidewalk while he was screaming at his wang. God, I love this city.

(714): I wish there was an iPhone app to help you with your shitty personality.


I can't stop reading.

Gay Marriage is Weird?

A story in the NYT tipped me off to this video, apparently a response to recent same sex marriage victories.



But the online responses are so much better:

Three ways to confuse the Serial Monogamist

1) Go out on one date. At the end of the date, ask for date two, to which she replies, “Maybe let’s grab a beer sometime, you know, as friends?” Follow up with near daily joke email forwards.

2) Go out on three dates. Get into an argument on date #2 and date #3. When you try to set up date three, and she says, “you know, actually, this is going to sound really strange, but I think not. I’ve met someone, and I think it might go somewhere. You’ve been there, right?” Tell her, of course, yes, sure. Thanks for being honest. "Pocket dial" her that night, so she can hear what sounds like a bar in the background. When she texts, asking if that pocket dial was intentional, ignore her. Then, weeks later, send her a text, just saying hi and wondering how she is.

3) Go out on two dates. Try to make date three. When she explains that while you seem really nice, you two don’t seem to be a match, tell her she’s “wrong.” Then continue for weeks afterward to send emails and texts. Continue this even after you’ve sent a text that says, “Hey stranger, how are you doing?” and she replies, “Good. I’m seeing someone.”

Isn’t it OK to just stop talking to someone you went out with just a few times, after it’s clearly, amicably way, way over?