2003-09-25

2003-09-25 - 10:13 a.m.

All right, all right, so I caved and let Miss Beek talk me into putting a personal online. It's been one of the funniest experiences of my dating life. I'd never realized, for instance, that there's no way I can ever date somebody who doesn't know the difference between "your" and "you're" when writing. Fwap! Ball into the mitt; strike one. Next, if you have tickets to the Def Leppard show next week and refer to them as "bitching", swish! You swung through the pitch; strike two. Last, if in your *second email* you send me your home, cell and work numbers, then offer me a plane tickets to for a weekend with you in San Diego starting tomorrow, then STRRRIKE THREE, your ass is OUT!

Where are my techs? Where are my engineers? Where are my self-deprecating, funny, sweet-tempered men? One guy wanted to know what type of men I usually date, because he "knows what type he is and baby, it's yours". Um, human ones, you self-centered dillhole. Yes, I tend to like men who are a little bit nerdy. That's it on types. Thinking that Garth Brooks represents the recording industry's pinnacle is bad. Bathing daily is good. I don't have a physical type, I don't have an income requirement. I do ask that your emails not resemble an e.e. cummings poem ("i knows what i likes sometimes and i likes you"). For fuck's sake, use capitals. Punctuate. Don't try to tell me that you're "separated but will file the papers soon". Riiight. Being a little bit married is like being a little bit infested with crabs, buddy.

One of these days, I'm going to write a book. It will be called, "You're An Idiot!: And other reasons I didn't date you". I'll go on a 23-city book tour, bringing creative ways to say, "never email/call/text message me AGAIN" to straight women and gay men all over the country. They'll put me on Dr. Phil's TV show, where I will look him clearly in the eye and tell him what a motherfucker he is.

But of course, I'll still be single.

Transitioning...

I love you, Jessica Lovejoy. I fucking adore you. You take everything I would like to say about sex and you say it better, and funnier, and with more of an edge. I laugh my ass off when you write, and if I knew a single Midwestern guy who was anywhere worthy of boinking your hot self, I'd send him your way. Lo siento mucho, chica. Get yourself some action.

There is an enormous party on Saturday night; it's Bri-Cat's birthday, and that means trouble with a capital T that rhymes with P that stands for Probably. You know how there are people you could never, ever be in a relationship with, you maybe don't even like them that much, but you just know the sex would be incredibly hot? Yeah, it's like that. We just *have* that. It goes back to JL's entry that I linked above; onanism only goes so far. It just doesn't satistfy everything, you know? To put it as crudely as I know how, and to quote Jason Lee's character from Chasing Amy, "...what that girl needs is a good deep d*cking."

There's really nothing more to say, is there? ;-)

Comments: Speak your piece!

former / latter