Cosmopolitan Dating…

I recently met a girl… Oh god, another blog on the internet about dating and experiences that no one else really cares about right? Well, I wanted to write about a concept that I’ve been thinking about the last few weeks.

“Does she like me?” “Is he stable?” “Does she shave?” “Does he love his mom?”

Typical questions we may ask ourselves in the initial process of getting to know someone. The rush of uncertainty within the first stages can be fun and aggravating all at the same time. Why do we do it? I call it Cosmopolitan Dating.

In current times we have social media to help carry us through those ‘oh-so-tough’ personal situations. Motivational memes that tell us to be strong or that being single is the best thing ever or that we are meant for greater things…. Yawn…

My first handful of dates with this girl were great! Really. For me at least. I really liked this one. She was a sight for my sore eyes. She had a slight bitchiness that went along great with her apparent passion to enjoy life however she could. I wanted to do everything right just in case this was one of those elusive unicorns that we all hear about.

Weeks later, I still got excited to see her. Sweaty palms and all. I was excited to see a text from her at any random time. Problem was, each subsequent date felt like the first date over and over again. A connection I was yearning for still seemed like it was dependent on how each first date went. I would talk with friends about it and a common piece of advice was to play a game of sorts. “Make yourself unavailable” or “Ignore her for a while”, “make her feel envy”… Sorry, but I’m not a game player like that and even if I was, why the fuck would I want to pursue someone who I have to play those games with?

Before social media, we relied on these magazines that guided us with articles about sex, dating, being single, being a player… and so on. Why do we have to conform to those standards? Is it because some angsty journalist had some bad experiences yet can write really really well so we take what they say as gold? That’s my guess. It’s probably from decades of Dear Abbeys as well.

Dating should be about doing what YOU feel is right. Not what someone else pushes on you as the way things are supposed to be. As soon as I realized that the only feasible way to ‘maybe’ get anywhere with this girl was to play this game, I shut myself off. I got the hint… whatever that means.

I’m 35 and I can reliably say that I don’t need newsstand advice on how I should feel about pursuing a relationship with someone else. It truly should be ‘Fuck Yes’ or ‘Fuck No’… (google it) This in-between shit isn’t worth it.  

The One…

I have a not-so-secret affinity for stellar baristas. Not so much into the risqué bikini/naked baristas though. Though I work for Starbucks (twice now), I have yet to find a better barista than all the girls at Cutters Point in good ol’ Port Orchard. Initially I went because the girls were cute and the drinks were made to be amazing… To this day I still go because the girls are cute and the drinks are amazing, but I have continued to go because the service is more than I’ve ever expected out of anyone. They treat me better than past girlfriends have. It’s cool as hell that I can be gone for nine months or more and when I come back into town, they not only still know me by name, they know my drink to a tee.

 

So that’s the skinny on my love affair with my coffee girls.

 

The last time I went through, one of the girls (name withheld) asked what I was up to, blah blah blah… I told her about moving to California. Nothing more than simple conversation about how the weather is better and there’s more to do… As I got ready to leave she said to me “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” It was spoken in a tone that I would expect from a heartbroken friend or lover that has more than a simple opinion about my life choices. That moment has stuck with me and I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.

 

Last night I was pleasantly surprised to hear from someone in my past. This is a person much more familiar with me than the coffee girl yet provoked something in me that I haven’t given enough attention to. She also offered condolences saying ‘Good luck’ in regards to finding what I am looking for. It’s a curious thing that I’m looking for though.

 

Won’t lie, I’d love to find ‘the one’ for me. But I’m over that notion for now. I’ve tried in my own special way to express interest in creating something more with plenty of girls. Just as I have certain things I’m looking for, I understand others have expectations and desires that I simply don’t fit into. Trying to figure it all out gets old. So I’ve given up on trying to find something meaningful with someone else.

 

What I’m looking for is really something that no one else really gives a shit about. It’s all about me. So much to the point that as I write this, I wonder why I even share it. A cynical twist I know but maybe it has to do with the fact that I’m waiting in the lounge at the trucking terminal to finish my last load. The load ass pigs aren’t getting my creative juices flowing to share something a little more meaningful… I’ll write more from the road… Just a few more days and my life starts… again…

Signal…

I decided to stop at a place tonight that I was sure would have reliable internet… Of course my luck has it, I can’t get a signal to save my life. So, I’m hoping to write something and stand with a foot in the air while I stick my thumb in my ass in hopes of grabbing a signal just long enough to upload something…

Seems to be the story of my life. I can’t get a decent signal. I give people and things the benefit of the doubt too much and I end up getting the shaft. I remember about ten years ago I was going to throw a few thousand bucks into some stocks. I was getting tired of the futures market and wanted something a little more mainstream for a change. I thought it would be cool to research the companies behind the big-ass cable that runs along the ocean floor and connects places like North America and Europe. Soo, I land at Tyco. Wow, cool… Their prospectus seemed in shape and the outlook was great… Well, for some stupid reason (the reason had a vagina), I held off on investing… Good thing because Tyco has about the same investment value of Enron. I got lucky on that, but I didn’t see the signals that any prudent trader should have seen. Phew…

My dating life is about the same way. Actually, even my ‘friend’ life works that way as well. Hell, my wifi scoping skills are on par with all of my life as well. Seems that I can’t quite get the signal or ‘hint’ as we know it…

I’d love to meet myself in the polar opposite universe that I’m sure I’m living in.

The box…

Another ‘part two’ for my daily blog… Of a totally different topic…

I’ve come across a lot of articles and blogs about sex and relationships and happiness lately. I’m sure it’s not a trend out of the ordinary but probably something that I need more of in my life.

I’ve been stuck on this god-forsaken truck for just about two months. When I was assigned the truck it had a generally clean appearance to it. For having a ton of miles on it, I was impressed. Aaand then I drove it down the road. It’s only an eight speed. For those who drive manual transmissions, the performance behind shifting this thing is like starting your car out in first gear then having to shift all the way to fourth gear to accelerate. Literally, it’s just like that. It sucks ass. I’ll be maxed out on RPMs even with a light load and go to shift to the next gear and it damn near stalls out. The RPMs are immediately too low for the turbo to kick in so I end up having to slam it back into the higher gear and run up the RPMs…. Can this fuckin’ thing just blow up already? I could really use a splitter these days…

Not sure why I decided to write all that, but at least I got it off my chest… Speaking of chest, I finally saw a pair of naked boobs in a car this week! The highlight of my life right now. But really, what’s the point of seeing boobs if you can’t do anything with em’?

Ya know what I miss? Blow jobs? Nah… Never been a big fan of those… Beer? Well, yea but it’ll come soon enough… I miss something I’ve never quite had completely… A relationship…

The regular sex, and cuddling and general companionship is of course on the list of what I miss, but I want something more. I’m a weird dude, ain’t gunna lie. I don’t know what it is that turns people off so much but I constantly try to figure it out… Reminds me of when I got a job recently and I asked one of the workers what everyone thought of me. (This place had mostly females)… I wanted workable feedback but all I got was… ‘Well, we all think you’re hot’… Seriously? ‘And *name omitted* thinks you have a nice butt… Oops, was that not want you meant?’ Anyways, I don’t think I’m overly attractive either, but people generally only want what’s on the surface, and my ‘surface’ is not meant to impress…

So how the hell do I wade through the rubbage to find the pool of compatible companions? Dating sucks… Being friends sucks… Putting on a front sucks… Sometimes I don’t see the meaning in being cordial with certain people because they make it so very apparent that they could really care less…

And being stuck in this fuckin’ box doesn’t help either. And it’s not just about being on the truck. It’s about being stuck in this box of a life I’ve managed to find myself in. I have tunnel vision when it comes to focusing where I want to go next. No one wants to come along for that crazy ride right? I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be by my side right now…

I’m perfectly content being just the way I am right now. I’ve got no one to answer to and very few people text me any more so I don’t have to stress about what someone will think if I don’t text back right away. And call me? Hah! Right… I’ve felt more love and attention from the leasing agent at the apartment complex than anyone else in the past many years of my life…

For people who have been single for a great majority of their life, none of this is new. The single life is great for some things, and crappy for others… I’m just really tired of living my life just for myself. Hell, even if it’s a relationship of predetermined length I’d be happy…( well, actually that might suck at the end…)

This blog went nowhere… Go figure… Whatever weird muscle ailments animals get when they are caged for too long is probably what I’m getting now… Getting fat is one of those ailments… I get out of the truck lately and the first ten steps are walking like I have a stick up my ass. I’m done now…

P.C. Rape and Prostitution…

So, I offended a few people with a blog post about a ‘date’ scenario with a girl I was seeing. Meh, oh well. Basically she wanted to have a good old fashioned date. The kind where I came to pick her up, she would be getting ready, she comes out half an hour late making the trip to the restaurant more stressful than I cared, I was supposed to impress her with a flower or something… And in the end, she thought she would do me a favor and give me a piece of ass at the end of the night… Phew, good thing I worked up for that one.

Did I just pay for sex? Yup.

You know when I didn’t get it from her? When I spent four damn hours giving her a massage one night. Did I get sex for not paying anything that night? Nope…

You know where this is going right? This applies to the mainstream guy in the generation of dating we’ve been in for quite some time. Even if he doesn’t spend money directly on her, money is a driving factor in getting anything out of a potential partner. Gender variables aside, this whole game is bullshit. I think it’s why I’ve been a bit turned off from dating, or even trying to date. If someone really doesn’t like me, I need to figure out a way to find out before spending ridiculous amounts of money on shit that does me absolutely no good.

Bitches…

So, you might be thinking “what’s that ‘rape’ thing about?”

As much as I’d like to refer to my favorite topic of yoga pants, I want to be a little more blunt. In the last few months I was in a hip-ish kind of bar/club with a friend. She’s beautiful… Really. But she was really pissing me off. I don’t like the club scene or any variation of it. I feel like I’m at a cattle auction. Meatheads, douchebags, sluts… Blah blah blah… So, she stands at the bar and ‘playfully?’ Starts flirting with some random guys. And then it was like the twilight zone. A swarm of guys came around taking turns trying to convince her of something. One guy would leave and tap-in another and put her in a weird predicament. Well, she did it to herself. My role is not to save anyone from themselves. Long story short, it was a bunch of guys looking for a gang bang. So why her? There was plenty of other good looking women in there, and quite a few that were probably drunk enough to do it….

As the night drew to a close, we got back to the house and she seemed moderately upset or perturbed at me that I didn’t do anything to intervene… How do I tell someone that they are a natural at looking like they want to get gang raped by a bunch of middle aged men? If I were to say anything, I’d come across as the jealous guy in the ‘friend zone’ and just to spite me, she’d probably end up going ahead with it. What a pickle we guys find ourselves in.

This is a unique person to me and cannot be compared to many other women, but the underlying idea made me realize that ‘some’ women naturally act a certain way that will get them into trouble. It’s not a fault, just a way of life in this generation…

So if dating is politically correct prostitution, what is politically correct rape? The blunt definition of rape in the context of this topic direction, is simply taking sexual liberties with someone without their consent. Guy offers a girl a ride home from the bar and decides that he wants more, yet she simply wanted a ride… She put herself in a situation not thinking she would be raped, but that he was a genuine person. So the story goes…

A ‘nice guy’ in a social setting starts talking to a girl, puts on his game face and gets her attention. “Gee he’s a nice guy…” This rape scenario could take days or weeks… He will only show her the side that garners wooing from her. Maybe plays her a song on the guitar, takes her for a ride in his co-signed car, maybe even takes her to the humane society to look at puppies. Then finally, she gives in. They are cuddled on the couch watching a movie and she decides to give it up. Bam! He’s getting the poon. All his hard work has paid off. Until he blows his load and he realizes that it’s game over. He decides he wants no more of it. He doesn’t call her back…

Was that rape? I my opinion, yes. Some guys get really deep into manipulation before trapping her into a situation she can’t get out of. My lame example above isn’t even the worst I’ve seen in guys.

So, instead of dating and spending money on a girl to get her to put out, why not just get a prostitute? You’re controlling your expenses and you knew what the end result is going to be. And instead of putting on a front to trick someone into having sex with you, why not just take it, blow your load and leave?

I’m not condoning either of these topics and shame on anyone for thinking I do. My point is, rape culture is alive and well. It happens all the time. Every scenario could take volumes to describe and correlate to this idea, but we can take a look at some realities right under our noses. If girls act like sluts and dress in a way that invites sexual attention, they may not get raped in the traditional sense, but in a way that they’ll never even realize was rape. And pre-dating status acceptance of gifts or someone else paying the tab is in my opinion offering something for payment…

And as a last thought as I re-read this, it isn’t even about what a girl wears or what kind of physical attributes she has. Class and confidence is sexy, and does not invite unwelcome advances from men looking for easy prey. Someone that doesn’t learn what a ‘bad situation’ is to be in, is going to be more prone to having this shit happen. Girls, quit being naive… Guys, be real men…

Post 243

So this is post number two hundred and forty three for the year. I had a little hiccup last night with writing. I had my iPad on my lap prepared to write something… I totally passed out. Not even sure why because I had gotten plenty of sleep and I had only been driving for a little over seven hours. Oh well. To be able to write ‘something’ every day is a little harder than one might think. I’ll have to double up soon to end up with at least a years worth of blogs when this year comes to an end.

I’ve been shut down for the day in central Oregon since my delivery still has another day until I can show up. After spending a day catching up on laundry, watching some old western movies, watching videos on server side scripting language and falling in and out of random naps I decided my blog needs a little more flavor.

Though some may tell me otherwise, my life isn’t as fulfilling as I want it to be. At least I don’t think so. There’s a few stories I could tell that could make the most un judgmental person reconsider their stance but I have to be careful. What if the mother of a former partner in crime read this? I’d feel bad for the impact it could have. Plus I realize that although I don’t really care what really care what people think of me, I still have a reputation to guard that doesn’t need the scrutiny of prospective employers or clients.

So my most popular topics so far have been about sex, yoga pants and surprisingly a one paragraph post about needing a co-pilot in life. Runner ups include my feelings on military, war and my thoughts on religion.

I don’t use a prompt to write, nor do I base a majority of these posts off anything mainstream. At least I try not to. A part of me wishes I lived a little more deviant adolescence in which my story could have some more worth. I read some blogs about some really fucked up people and I must say, I’m hooked on their story. The sex addicts, former heroin junkies, cutters, psychopaths, super sluts gone single mother status, self proclaimed missionaries… The list goes on and on…

I wanted to write about sex. I mean, something to really get a reaction out of my readers. Which by the way, for not advertising my blog I am amazed at the number of people that read this out of the blue. It’s why I write. The readers. The masses. Anyone that can get a grasp for what I’m trying to do here. Anyways, onward to sex.

I’ve had my fair share. I’m sure I’ll get some heat for what I write here from my future wife but anyone of importance in my life want judge at all for my past. What’s my number? Hahahah, you think I’m going to admit that here? Ok, well it’s twenty two. And no, the rule of threes doesn’t apply here. (When guys tell you how many you typically divide by three, when women tell you you multiply it by three).

There is a reality I want to share about how I feel about sex but first I will say that every single woman I’ve been with has been extremely important to me in their own special way. No matter how meaningless or ill performed it was (on either side), it helps me realize more and more of who I am.

The reality is… It’s just not what it used to be. I used to hold women on a pretty high pedestal. Part of the motivation was simply to get some action. A bigger part of it was because I really thought that something amazing could come out of meeting the right one. Maybe I’m just jaded from the handful of them that have screwed me over. Maybe it’s because there are some out there that I couldn’t quite get into the sack. My belief is that I’ve accepted the fact that I am allowed to have standards. Not just shaved, cleaned and taken care of either. I mean someone who fits my mold. Someone I don’t have to wonder about. Someone that doesn’t leave a shadow of a doubt in my head when they leave for a few days. I think I’m getting bored of the game.

Sure, I’ve got some baggage. Who doesn’t? My family situation is a huge sore spot right now and my social circle has turned into a pizza baked on the oven rack without a pan. I’m a fairly quiet guy without a lot of weird idiosyncrasies. I try to be accommodating and supportive. I’m self sufficient, good with my hands and can hold my own with any new learned skill. I’ve got hopes and dreams. I may not be super tall but I don’t think I have short mans complex. Enough about me…

Whether I’ve had sex with a woman or not, I’m finding myself frustrated. Sure, she’s got a great ass and that wonderfully kissable neck, but does she have the temperament to live a life with a person like me? Is she still trying to sow her wild oats? Is she simply at a pit stop in her life and is patiently waiting for something better?

Reminds me of being in a strip club while in the military. I actually didn’t look forward to going most of the time and when I did, I was quite bored. I’d watch the women on stage dancing all sexily-like while they stared off into oblivion… Kind of like a drone sitting at an office cubicle. I actually only really liked one stripper. No, not the one with t-rex sized arms. She came and sat on my lap asking if I wanted a lap dance. I was never hesitant to inform any of them if I didn’t have money, and I told her just that. “I’m just here with my friends and I don’t have cash or money to spend… Sorry”… She was cute and all but I figured when I told her that, she would get up and go to the next one. Funny thing, she stayed with me… Sitting on my lap of course. The whole night she turned down guys asking her for dances and she only left me to go dance on stage when it was her turn. She came right back. Now I’m not that naive to realize her game here, but why on a busy night would one of the better looking strippers be sitting on a guys lap that hasn’t spent a dollar on her or anyone else for that matter? I asked her why and she simply said she didn’t feel like dealing with the clientele in there and would rather be sitting talking to me. I took that with a grain of salt… I ended up staying until the club closed down and she probably made a whopping $40 that night. I was in love with a stripper and I never even got her name… And no, I didn’t go home with her and I never saw her again…

What I realized from that night (which was one of my last times in a strip club) was that regardless of who they are or what they do, a girl wants what a girl wants. Would I ever date a stripper? Probably not… Would I have sex with one? Probably not… At least not while they are practicing the profession. I don’t judge but I also have abstract limits to what I’ll do.

Back to another realization of that night, even though she was getting nothing from me at all, she made me feel good about myself. Maybe she was assuming I’d come on payday and spend every last dollar on her, but I think I made it clear to her that I wasn’t the kind of guy to frequent these places. Anyways, my point here is that I’ve met few women outside of this anomalous situation that have actually made me feel truly wanted like she did. Yes I know, the reality of it was that she was a stripper and her job was to be nice to guys like me… Thats not my point here…

I’ve spent a lot of money on (non-stripper) girls. A lot. Where has it gotten me? Sitting in the back of a semi truck in Central Oregon writing about how screwed up I’ve allowed my life to get. I’m surprisingly ok with that however, because I’d rather be sitting here writing about the downfalls of my personal life than spending it with someone who has a perpetual look of ‘I’ve got somewhere else I’d rather be’ on their face.

Sadly, there always seems to be some sort of deal breaker… She’s got ex issues, I have a gypsy soul, she’s a raging alcoholic, I’m emotionally guarded… Or we’re simply not attracted the way we’d hope to be. One of us seems to want something just a little bit different.

So here I sit at this point in my life… As if I was back in that chair in the strip club. I’m not throwing anything out there to attract the flies but patiently waiting for someone to come along and we’ll both know its right… Then maybe sex will be something I really look forward to again.

Cologne…

A few years back I was dating a girl (weird huh?) with quite a peculiar way of building a relationship with someone. First weird part was that she was best friends with her ex boyfriend. Not just the kind of friend that you could call every once in a while and talk about life stresses, but more so the kind of friend that she felt it was ok to sleep over with… In his bed… Because they were ‘just friends.’

She was not the kind of girl any straight guy could simply ‘sleep’ next to and her ex was no guy that should ever turn down anything half as good looking as she is. He wasn’t gay, just an insecure fat guy with a nice guy complex. Funny how that worked out in my favor. I was the one that she was ‘seeing’ outside of her confused relationship with the ex. After all was said and done, she’s now back with him and I think they’re married. Oh well.

Back to my scattered story. When we were pretty well into this relationship, she asked me to take her on a real date. She had never been on a real date and wanted to know what it was like. Dress up, bring flowers, nice restaurant, etc etc… It was the stupidest thing I ever did. How do you do an impromptu date where expectation is everything!? I dug out the dress shirt and tie and ironed some slacks in hopes of impressing this chick that I had already been fucking for a few weeks? Whatever. With the help of her friend, we timed it so I’d show up at her house with some orchids or carnations or whatever and it would almost be like I’m picking up a date for a school dance.

I won’t lie, when she came out of her room she looked like a million bucks. Is that how they say it? The black dress, the hair, the ass… Why were we going out again? We drove to the restaurant where I had reservations and it was one of the most uncomfortable situations I had ever been in. I had to refrain from whispering in her ear all the dirty things I was thinking of doing to her. Instead I had to tell her how beautiful she was and how good she smelled… She was in fact beautiful and she did smell good but the lack of a panty line and glow of her skin that night did nothing for the lack of personality she really had. Long story short here, the night was boring. We took the long way back and upon getting back to her house she wanted nothing more than a kiss and off to home I would go. Did she not realize I shaved my balls for this night! Oh well, the next night would be back to normal…

Now I love to get dressed up and do all that fancy-schmancy stuff but to be forced into it, that’s a whole other story. With this girl, I think she was less than impressed with the whole thing. What does she expect? Just the night before we had a good eight hour romp and I’m supposed to revert back to the courting stage? If she wanted a fun night out why not go camping or to a concert or even to the local dive bar and play some pool?

I’m not a fan of putting on a facade for a few reasons. First of all, what are you going to do with yourself when it wears off and the other person realizes you aren’t the ‘most interesting man in the world?’ Why play all your cards at once? Save the good stuff for later and you’ll find someone who appreciates you for who you are and not what you’ve bought (probably by going too deep into debt). Another reason… What are you hiding? The truth comes out sooner or later and because I’m a guy, I’ll pick on my gender. Too many guys put on this elaborate show for a girl, get her locked in and by the time the relationship needs to go to the next level, the guy has nothin’. His fancy car seems a bit too normal and his sixteen dollar an hour job (rule of doubles: he’ll say he makes twice what he really does to impress) doesn’t seem to be quite what is needed to do really awesome things in life and the personality all of a sudden becomes shit.

Did I mention guys (many, not all) are douchebags? I’ll try to stay off that tangent for now.

Back to what I was saying about facades. If this girl wanted me to treat her right and give her something she’d never forget, she should have simply stopped being a confused slut and given me a reason to want to do something on my own accord. I mean the sex was amazing and the reverse cowgirl was to die for but how about someone that treats me with respect? Not for the money I had or the lengths I would go for someone, but for what I really want out of life.

One of the big reasons I’ve decided to get rid of all my stuff and live with the bare minimums is the quality of people you meet. My boat is smaller than my walk in closet was in North Carolina. My car is probably being spotted right now for some wanna-be Mexican gang chop shop. I’m short. I don’t like awkward conversation. I can do just about any job I want but I’d rather be a garbage man or climb trees simply for the satisfaction of working hard and earning the beer at night. Why would I give any part of my life to someone who can’t appreciate me through all of the above without judgement? When I had the restaurant, I had money… And friends… Funny because the day I sold it and handed the key over, not a single soul was by my side to see me essentially give away something that I had given my life, sanity and well being for. So what’s the point?

Of course one day I’d like to get a nice car again and maybe have a house (or a really big boat) and settle into a community. Until then I want to live life for myself and see what comes of it. No deception, no broken promises or bum expectations… Time to impress myself…

Summers Eve…

The first time I ever saw a Guido it was like seeing an Emperor Penguin in the wild for the first time in real-life. I heard all kinds of stories about them and the Guido lifestyle was explained very carefully to me. The greased hair, flashy jewelry and side-cocked hat with a horrible orange tan was unmistakable. I never really had any sort of conversation with one but overhearing them speak was like listening to a child have a conversation with a stuffed animal. Except children have more intellectual conversation…

When ‘douche’ comes to mind I get an image of a Guido. You know, the ‘situation’ or whatever his name was. Snooki’s type. A train wreck that as humorous as they are you can’t help but admire the stupidity. Lately I’ve been around a whole other breed of douchers who quite honestly aren’t really even good at being a good douche. With a little motivation from some co-workers I’m going to attempt to write a little list of douche-types. Keeping in mind that any of these could have a novel written on the type so this is just a tired rendition of mine… And the premise of these judgments are aimed at the courting activities that we humans do.

The Meathead

Either it’s a guy who is really in shape or a fat guy who is in denial that his fat is in fact not muscle. These are the guys who in the gym workout for the mirror. Seemingly nice guys yet self centered are easy to see right through. It’s like watching one of those lizards with the big spiky collar puff up. When a female comes around they shift into overdrive almost immediately and methodically find ways to bird-dog their gym buddies and pull a Will Ferrell trying to show off the eighty pound dumbbell that they lift oh-so-easily. Outside the gym they’ll wear hand-me-down clothes from goodwill that are a size or two too small to make it look like their gains are larger than reality.

The Obnoxiously Nice Guy

These are the ones that are super-duper nice to your face. Well spoken at first, puffing up their chests and focusing on posture. They dazzle you with their bullshit and make you initially give a slight shrug of the shoulder saying to yourself ‘meh, he’s a pretty decent guy…’ He knows this and will use it to his advantage. Just like the stereotypical beauty queens who think that ‘kids can’t read a map because Iraq has a starving Africa problem’, the nice guy douche has the depth of a half drained kiddie pool. After getting to know this species of douche, you realize that the condescending attitude is really fucking irritating and the apparent attractiveness is fleeting. He can be handled in doses and should not be relied upon to perform in any aspect for any reasonable period of time.

The Prick

This is the kind of guy I wrote about in ‘StupidBitch‘ This guy needs to get gang raped by angry orangutans. Really, he doesn’t even qualify on the level of ‘douche’, he is in a category all his own. They’re out there. Ladies beware.

The Bandwagon Douche

A recent trend I’ve noticed when I go to the local watering hole is the parade of douchers. You see one walk in and then an entire entourage follows with similar dress and personality traits. Either puffed up chests, designer jeans that are way too long or popped collar polos are usually the initial marker for these kinds. On further study you realize that they are one turrets outburst away from having a circle jerk with their friends because they are like horny dogs when a good looking girl walks in. Usually one of the group gets the hot girl while the others are like the hyenas in the Lion King when Simba gets lost. I sort of feel sorry for the women who fall victim to these idiots. They have no concept of ‘divide and conquer’. Instead they go for shock and…. awe?

The Cosigned

Cool car right? Did you have to call mom from the dealership to have her co-sign for that car? Or is it even in your name? Now there’s nothing wrong with having someone help you out when you’re trying to get established in life. We’ve all been there. As well, everyone has their own story to tell and every case is different but the particular kind of douche-species here puts on a front. His whole life is cosigned. He won’t tell you about it either. He has personal issues that he can’t deal with on his own so until he finds a poor sap to cuddle with him and hold him while he cries he makes others believe that he is inherently successful. He shows off just enough of his life without revealing too much just like the title of his car. It would be detrimental to his manhood if he revealed that he actually isn’t self-sufficient.

The Bird-Dogger

My favorite kind of douche. Well, not favorite in the sense that I like them but it’s something that deserves attention. Nice guy meets a girl, they get along great and the next step is introducing her to his friends. What better way to get to know someone by the friends they keep right? Maybe the guy and girl go to the bar and meet up with a bunch of other people. The relationship isn’t quite a relationship yet but waters are being tested and there is strategic planning being implemented. The guy gets up to use the restroom and upon his return he notices that his prospect is falling victim to the incapable acquaintance who can’t get anything on his own. This bird-dogger has found a way to converse with the girl without any regard to the guy that brought her here in the first place. He doesn’t care. It’s all he knows how to do. Someone else did all the work and he’s reaping the benefit. After all is said and done, the girl loses interest in the first guy because the bird-dogger has effectively scared her away. Everyone loses and the bird-dog looks for his next prey.

Musicians

I have a great affinity for musicians. Some of my best friends are well accomplished and talented individuals who I have the utmost respect for. I would LOVE to be able to do a quarter of what they can do. I actually don’t have broad experience with douchebag musicians but given the stories I’ve heard and the select few I do have experience with, they deserve mention here. It’s cool and all that you can seduce a girl with your song but come on dude… Get over yourself.

The Blogger

Just because I know a few douche-wads out there will call me out on this. If not to my face, behind my back. I’m not perfect. I care about myself more than others at times. I consider myself one of the nice guys that has to figure out the line between being a dick and doing for someone else what they really need. The pompous side of me will express the fact that I’ve actually been there and done that. Whenever I feel that someone else is subverting me as a fellow ‘guy’ that has his own approach on life, I think of things like being on a convoy from the Syrian border so tired that I was actually hoping to get hit by an IED just so I could go to sleep. I also think of the time I was fixing the fence outside the berm on a shitty, rainy April day while two vehicles came barreling up to the fence while we were out of view of the guard towers. Slipping and stumbling through the mud just to grab our weapons, locked and loaded I was preparing to take the first shot potentially extinguishing the life of another human being. Fast forward to now and I can’t believe the pompous behavior of these kids. Not just war, but real life… These fuckers have no clue.

Every Other Douche

I could spend days classifying these idiots into different categories but it’s late and I’m tired. A common quality they all seem to have is ego-centrism. It’s all about them. No surprise there right? The ones that bother me most are the sly little manipulative ones that fight like those who know Mexican Judo. They will wreak havoc on the carefully orchestrated game that ‘nice guys’ have to play because girls fall for these tool-bags all too often. Regardless of their dress style, mannerisms or lingo, they all deserve a good smack down. Or at least be exposed for who they really are before someone gets hurt. The flipside is the fact that girls (and people really) that fall for their antics are probably not worth losing sleep over anyways.

Beautiful People…

So. On the radio today I heard about this website that only allows ‘beautiful’ people in. It’s an online dating thing. Oh the controversy!

I decided to give it a try. I have to wait to be voted on before I can have any access to any other member. I’m a little torn on how I should feel about this sort of thing. It’s the ultimate ego-killer for some people but for others it would do wonders. Funny thing about this though…

I’ve done my fair share of meeting people online. It’s not so taboo anymore and really, it’s a heck of a lot better than meeting people in person sometimes. In my own little way I’ve been able to experiment with how a person looks online versus reality. For the most part it’s no big surprise. There’s plenty of girls that post pictures of themselves strategically hiding their muffin tops, fat thighs or beer bellies. The stereotypical ‘selfie’ is almost like a game to figure out what kind of feature they have that they are trying to hide. For the most part it’s easy to weed out ‘weird’ personalities, but just as meeting someone in real life, once you get talking real personalities surface. You can’t really plan ahead on that one. But the physical appearances are pretty easy to decipher.

Now guys are just as guilty, if not more than women when it comes to taking and posting only the flattering pictures of themselves. Especially when it comes to trying to find someone you’re attracted to on the internet. I’m in no way some strapping, muscle-bound tall guy… But just as well I don’t like to post pictures to highlight the laughing points of other people. It’s ok though. I so often realize that the people that aren’t impressed by me are lacking in quite a few areas in their own life so I cut them slack in my judgment. Sometimes…

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Back to this new website. I like the reality aspect that they try to promote. It has got to be the worst feeling in the world when you talk to someone online for any length of time and you finally decide to meet up. You take time out of your life to freshen up and act your best when it comes to socializing with someone new. You’ve seen a handful of pictures and you begin to formulate what this person is really like face to face. When the time comes, the feeling of ‘fuuuuu…..’ comes over you and you immediately regret the whole thing and you swear off online dating. You immediately look for a way out. Not only do you feel ashamed for stooping to the level of online dating, how are you going to explain to your friends and family that you settled for ‘this person’… You’ll just go meet someone at the local supermarket or something and you won’t even have to admit to your friends what you just did. I’m speaking of the one’s who hide behind the crop function. The one’s that memes are created from. The ones that make you realize why they are in fact using online dating.

I have to wait for two days to find out if I got voted on or off the site. I wish I had some more flattering pictures of me but I ultimately could care less. We all know guys can be pretty shallow when it comes to expectations but I think this kind of thing will do some good to highlight the fact that women are even more shallow when it comes to what they’re attracted to. Soon enough though I won’t be stuck in this hole of a town and can actually work on finding real friends again and won’t have any desire to look online for entertainment… Yes, entertainment…

The Game…

I’m horrible at the game of dating. It truly is a game. Just like a porn has a typical plot, dating has specific steps that must be taken otherwise it just doesn’t work out right. I mean, how horrible would a porn be if the facial came before anything else? No fun right?…

Even if you claim to have never watched it, the process is pretty darn close to having sex in real life. I mean dating… First it’s playful petting, then a little heavier foreplay, kissing maybe, fondling… Onward to clothes coming off, awkward realizations that she’s not a full C-Cup and his erection is a mere four inches… Next you move on to actual intercourse making sure that each of you gets some sort of enjoyment and maybe she’ll have an orgasm. She’ll probably fake it because she’s getting really tired of being sweat on by the guy’s fat-ass. Once she realizes that nothing in hell is going to get her off, she prompts him to blow his load. It’s the moment he’s been waiting for! Just to end the comedy and misery of the entire act, she even offers to take it in the face! Blam! He’s done! A flood of relief comes when his entire body goes limp and he plops down on top of her as if he’s just conquered Mt. Vesuvius. She pretends to flush and coo giving him an ego boost although she’s probably just fantasizing about the much taller, in-shape ex-boyfriend that she was railing just a few weeks before. Even with that, she just may fall in love with the apparent emotional connect she thinks they just had. Hell, the guy may even fall in love because he realizes that if he can keep her strung along, he’ll get a piece of ass anytime he wants… because they’re ‘in love.’ Even though a piece of him feels so much less attraction now that the influence of un-ejaculated semen is out of his system.

The problem with the above scenario is that all to often (more so in new relationships) is that one person has put in so much time and effort, they don’t realize the consequences of what they’ve just done. We are sexual beings and let’s not deny that the majority of younger and single people pretty much want something for pure physical fulfillment. It may be sex up to the orgasm, it may simply be the cuddling that we all rightfully enjoy. Either way, just like a porn, the order of operations must abide by those rules otherwise people get all bent out of shape.

Now, I’m going to refrain from translating all that into dating-speak. If you don’t understand my correlations it’s probably a good thing for you. The less you know, the better off you’ll probably be.

About dating… I’m a little non-traditional. I can’t stand the process. I especially can’t stand other guys that play the manipulative game only to leave the girls left out to dry… This leaves them jaded and makes the game even harder to play because you have to figure out the mind-fucking they’ve received from their past.

“Do they dress like sluts because they want to fuck, or is that their way of attracting classy guys?”

I don’t date much. I have good reasons why. I’m also not ashamed to say I’ve resorted to the internet to find prospective dates. It’s all the same. Mis-communicated expectations outshine anything else that should factor into the mix. Some people want to get married, some want to date casually, some want a plain-ol’ fuck buddy. Where I see the problem lie is pretending to want something else just to get what you want from the other person. This goes for men and women. Refraining from examples…

The biased and judgmental side of me would like to point out that women are confusing as hell and need to quit being such bitches.

I did a little experiment on one of my online dating profiles. I don’t get a lot of responses so I wanted to see what would change that. I simply changed my height to six feet. Holy cow! It was within hours that I had too many messages to respond to! Since I’m not stunning and muscular I decided to find some European model guy for my profile pic while putting complete bullshit in the ‘about me’ section.

‘Looking for someone to control and manipulate while I secretly have an affair with your sister…’

Even with that ridiculous statement, women responded! Of course a few battled back against that comment, but nonetheless they responded.

So back to the real ‘me.’ … crickets chirping… no response from anyone except the anomalous serial online dater who writes ‘you’re hot.’

This informal experiment worked as expected in the online world. My hypothesis is that it would work in the real world as well. Problem is, I can’t morph into a six foot tall douchebag with fat, er.. muscle bulging out of my two sizes too small t-shirt. I can be a dick to girls but who likes a short guy that’s a dick? Can you say ‘Napoleon Complex?’

All I can judge this on is the general observation that naivety falls for manipulation and self-preservation gives way to ignorance.

Fat, skinny, wholesome, slut, blonde, brunette… it doesn’t matter. Someone is always out of someone else’s league. We all want what we can’t have and sometimes that sucks. Sometimes we want to ride the sexy crotch rocket and not the moped. (insert joke about your friends catching you ride a moped…)

I’ve realized that if I have to change who I am or be uncomfortable in my skin she’s probably not worth it, so why try? I’ve been on a fair number of ‘dates’ lately and probably would have been better off borrowing someone’s dog for a day or two and going for a hike. (no, not to hook up with the dog you dirty pervert). I got the hint that she didn’t like me for whatever reason and it went stagnant. Cool though right? I could just forgo the aspiration of dating and just have a good time with someone. Nope… doesn’t work…

I don’t do well with the typical ‘getting to know you’ shit when it comes to dating. A girl can be beautiful but I hate saying it as if it’s part of the plot. If she likes me more because I try and flatter her does it make our connection that much stronger? Maybe I should filter what I say sometimes. I have a kid and because of the situation it appears that I’m a dead-beat dad. Dense skulls are hard to penetrate so once I see the eyes glaze over during my explanation I file these people in the same area of respect that I keep a select few other people. (it’s not a good place). Once I realize that a prospective girlfriend has no compassion, understanding or consideration for a different life that I live, she’s about as good to me as a fleshlight and a tube of IcyHot.

When I find the right person for me, I’ll make it amazing. I promise her that. Until then, I can’t bring myself to waste time while I’m being played just like the white-brimmed-sunglass-wearing douchebag is doing to her at the same time. If that’s what she likes, I’m so not her man!

The dead-beat dad thing is lingering huh? Stay tuned…

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