Why Speed Dating and Hipsters Don’t Mix

I know what you’re thinking. “Who cares about how you make a living, woman! I want more horror stories from the dating world.”

How about Eye Gazing Parties?

More on that in a second. Bear with me. I’m pretty excited right now. I secured a fantastic location for good old fashioned spring speed dating. In May, we’ll be taking over the gorgeous outdoor patio area of 60 West Bistro for Second Monday Speed Dating. Yes, I am a big fan of alliteration. I also like Palmyran Rebels Progressive Dining. It has a nice ring to it.

Anyway, my goal as a speed dating host is to help people avoid the kind of first dates you read about in my blog. You get five minutes to make a good first impression. That’s it. No staring at your watch over coffee. No slipping to the bathroom to frantically text a friend she needs to show up and rescue you from this crazy date. Heck, if you really don’t like the other person, you don’t even have to say so to their face - you’ll have a confidential form where you can check yes, no, or maybe and personal information will only be exchanged if you both like one another.

Ah, but old fashioned, “let’s learn what we we have in common” speed dating is apparently so 2008! In the coastal hipster communities of New York and San Francisco singles can attend, Eye Gazing Parties. That’s right. Three minutes of silently staring into a strangers eyes. NO TALKING! You might learn something about the person you’re gazing at!

I’m going to make a bold and controversial statement here: staring into people’s eyes is creepy. Yes, I said it! The only time total strangers stare intently into my eyes mentally ill homeless people are involved. As adults, we’ve learned how to deflect that kind of attention for fear of muggings, unwanted marriage proposals, and lice. A guy who attended one of these parties freely admits it makes everyone involved uncomfortable. Sure, it’s an interesting social experiment, but so is painting a life sized Chutes and Ladders board on the side of a hill with slip n’ slides and flat ladders. (Spring is coming, folks. If you’re not a member of the Go Go Guerrilla Army, you’re missing out.) Which would you rather try?

First Contact: Bot Baiting

I’ve been scrolling through responses to my own personal ads in preparation for tomorrow’s Dating Profile Perk-Up. In addition to general advice, I want to give these guys specific examples of What Not To Do.

One of my biggest pet peeves is the Bot Accusation. Gentlemen, I KNOW you hear from a frightful number of bots and it’s disturbing just how badly those robots want to sex you up and suck you off, but if you’re optimistic enough to reply to an ad in the first place, why not stay positive and assume the lady is a real flesh and blood person. Nobody likes it when your first impression is that they’re a lifeless automoton designed to milk you of your money. Take a chance. Leave that part out.

Hello, your ad interests me. Trust me, I am a better than average wordsmith; but I am over 50–too old??? I live in Louisville & I’d like to meet you. response gets my pic. Not into wasting time typing about myself until you reply to confirm you are a real person. Hope you understand.

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Hi. I was just browsing thru and noticed your profile you had up while I was at work. I am very interested in possibly meeting you, hopefully tonight. I wanted to send this first to make sure that its an actual person and not some retarded bot or something. If you are an actual person then make sure to contact me back and we can definately do this thing! Please contact me back at [e-mail address removed] before I leave work today. I get off at 5 p.m. Then hoepfully we can make arrangements for later. Look forward to hearing from you! If you’re real.

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I have some free time. I would love to treat you to a meal. Please prove you are real. I hate bots.

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Any interest in going to skiing at Perfect North (near Cincinnati) ?? I’m nice/nice looking, fit, professional type, 40’s. My typing is really slow, so I’ll wait to see of you are real before going further.

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I’ve just seen your add on site. I was really impressed!!!
Seems we have lots to discuss))
I 30y.o. and I’m from Louisville.
If you want to meet me (may be even in reality) please write more about you and, of course, send lots more pics!!!
There are so much fake ads on web, so i can’t send my pics first (but I really want!).
Waiting for your reply. Kissing you, darling))

Tags: 22 First Dates, dating

Sometimes, those who CAN do, teach

My friend S is scared of her own kitchen. This is a darn shame, as she has a gorgeous, massive space that puts mine to shame. She’s eaten at my place a few times. Okay, so  it’s true that at least half the times I invite people over I also feed them. What can I say? I love to cook.

I’m ridiculously flattered that after eating my lactose intolerant kosher food she asked me to give her cooking lessons at home. I’ve missed teaching - a lot. In fact, I’m thinking of applying with University of Phoenix just so I can get back into the groove. This was a great opportunity to find out whether I really enjoyed the process of teaching or if I’d idealized memories from back in the day.

Since S said she didn’t have a clue about how to feed herself, I insisted we start with a trip to her local grocery. I probably went a little overboard the first time around. “Here, let’s walk through your neighborhood Kroger and I’ll explain EVERY SINGLE ITEM IN DETAIL!” Heck, we picked up 3 kinds of oranges, 2 kinds of pears and a mango just so she could sample the differences between unfamiliar fruits. We also picked up everything needed for her very first recipe - faux “Asian” style chicken lettuce wraps.

Now I understand why my beloved Auntie stealthily conned me into learning how to cook. Watching someone who is a little intimidated by their knives go from “Er, how do I make sure I don’t cut myself,” to finely chopping 3 cups of multiple vegetables with good form using a chef’s knife is pretty darn cool. After making S chop away for nearly an hour, she says she still wants to try another lesson. Gosh.

Nah, it’s not just idealized memories.

Meanwhile, for anyone out there who wonders how long it takes to boil an egg, there’s a great YouTube based “Egg Timer” that’ll entertain you with a video while you wait for eggy goodness. I had no real excuse to throw this in. I just think it’s nifty.

22 First Dates: The Deer In Headlights

Lest you good people think I’ve somehow managed to find the worst losers on the internet, let’s give a little equal opportunity time to the other side.

Sometimes I’m the scary date.

I sent a snarky message to a guy with an amusingly sarcastic profile. A few exchanges passed over a couple of weeks. Then one night, we were apparently both in front of our computers at the same time and he proceeded to crack me the heck up in a rapid fire series of exchanges. I am a sucker for a good sense of humor. After an hour or so of this, I suggested we get together in a couple days. He wasn’t free then, but he could be free in, say, half an hour. Well sure. Why not?

Perhaps because I’d already had two drinks.

By this time I’d been on a LOT of internet dates. I kept meeting strangers because I’m an optimist. However, the realistic part of my brain long since accepted this probably wasn’t going to end well. I wasn’t expecting to meet a guy that night, but what the heck. It’d be a distraction. I was on my way to a nice buzz before plowing through some sarcastic writing. Maybe he’d be inspirational.

This is an absolute craptastic mental state to be in before heading off to meet someone new. When he said half an hour, I suggested we meet at my local dive bar, which happens to be in easy walking distance. I love my neighborhood. There’s a cheap, friendly bar two blocks away, plus a gym, a coffee house, a greek takeout place, and a bookstore. I know I won’t live here forever, but right now, I love my place.

I engaged in a moderately loud conversation with myself as I sauntered up to the dive bar. As a woman walking alone at night, I am under the delusion my safety is improved by looking like I just might be crazy enough to shiv you and steal your wallet if you try to mug me. It’s a lovely theory, but I suspect I come off as adorably cuddly mental patient. No one wants to hold up someone who thinks she’s a stuffed panda.

This early on a weeknight the bar was completely empty. While waiting for the clever gent du jour, I walked the bartender through making my version of a dairy free chocolate martini. He was dubious, but at least I was entertaining. A lot of people react to me that way. For instance, my date.

This guy was seriously cute. Imagine a thicker version of that nerdtastic god, Wil Wheaton. Yum. I like ‘em brunette and bearded. Add on an easy smile and a great sense of humor and…I turned into a blathering idiot.

I could not shut up. This is a problem any time I’m nervous, but when hoping to impress someone, it magnifies itself in the worst possible ways. As we added another drink to my pleasant buzz, I heard some of my more colorful anecdotes coming out of my mouth. I used to work at Planned Parenthood. One of my best stories from those years involves an inappropriately placed dead frog. Go on, assume the worst. I also told him about getting penis pictures from random strangers on the internet, laughed about The Fishmonger’s graphic discussion of his own equipment, and, because I’m classy, made my penises look like Aliens Chestbursters reference. Really, put a pair of dentures on a cock and it looks like it should be eating its way through John Hurt’s abdomen.

He laughed - a lot. Sadly, this just egged me on. At least I’m an entertaining train wreck. Every now and then I’d realize just how badly I was railroading over the conversation. I’d come to an abrupt stop and try asking him about work, hobbies, etc. His answers were mostly brief and somehow all led to me telling yet another embarassing story. I have a lot of them. We stayed at the bar for nearly 3 hours, him laughing often and easily. Sadly, after the first 30 minutes I knew he was never going to see me again. I was That Girl, the absolutely batshit crazy one who gives internet dating a bad reputation. He was only riding this train to see how badly it wrecked. I know. I’ve done it myself.

Normally, I meet people when I’m stone cold sober. I review the guy’s profile looking for good topics of conversation. I try very hard to make sure I’m listening more than talking. And most of all, I don’t mention anything about other people’s profiles, other dates I’ve been on, or any horror stories involving a penis. All that went out the window on a night when I met someone attractive and charming.

Give a little sympathy to this poor innocent man. At the very least, I hope he got a good story to tell his friends. “Hey, I met this crazy girl online. You’re not going to believe this…”

Tags: 22 First Dates, dating

Some days I can’t contain the class

There are many far more important things I should be doing tonight, but to heck with it - I finally made a Palmyran Rebels Thong Shop.

This was harder than I expected. I started off over at good ole Cafe Press, but DAYUM, those are some expensive panties! Worse yet, their selection stinks. After exercising my GoogleFu, I settled on Logo Sportswear. These are people who understand the importance of custom designed camo print panties. Plus, they didn’t limit me to one image on each type of underwear.

I’ll be setting up a more mundane merchandise store with things like t-shirts and aprons soon, but I wanted to start with the fun stuff.

Expect to see additions trickle into this shop any time I get tipsy within easy access of my laptop. They’re stupidly fun to make. Also, feel free to let me know if there are any thong designs you’re just dying to see in the wild. My sense of cheeze knows few bounds and my shop can fit up to 50 items.

Tags: Palmyran Rebels

First Contact: Pity Me, Please

Gentlemen, I know reaching out to a woman is tough, but your first impression really is important. She doesn’t know anything about you. This is your chance to shine.

Be clever. Be witty. Be bold. Whatever you do, don’t be pathetic. Describing yourself as unworthy is only effective on BDSM boards. Everywhere else, play up your strengths. Give someone a positive reason to want to date you instead of relying on pity. You might be pleasantly impressed by the difference.

These guys didn’t get a date. Heck, they didn’t even get a reply. They just made me sad. Live and learn, gentlemen. Don’t be That Guy.

Lol your funny…..So, how you doing Ms Lady? Reading what you wrote makes me feel like I’m just setting myself up for failure if that the kind of responses you’re accustomed too. I work as an accountant and my nights are either filled watching sports or tired from working all day doing taxes. But yea some night I get bad intentions, guess that’s life. Well, hit me back if I didn’t scare you away with all my sexy talk lol period(.)
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There is probably no way ever that i would be worthy of a woman such as you but if there is a way i could get to know you it would be a great honor for me to know someone as cool as you. I am not bad but I’ll leave it up to you… Write me please if you could
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I have’nt been to school in a long time . It is really hard for me to start a conversation. I have pics on Yahoo at [id removed.]
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Hello there. I have recently turned 41. I am a white male that has not accomplished anything in life and would like to have someone in my life to guide me through the journey.

Tags: dating, first contact

22 First Dates: The Spy

This isn’t the first time I’ve tried dating via online personal ads. I first tried it long ago - when we rode saddled dinosaurs to school, accessed the internet via dialup, and still believed man would someday go back into space - in a time otherwise known as “The 1990’s”

In those dark days uploading highly pixilized digital photos was a rare phenomenon. The online personal ads had strict word limits, reminiscent of an even earlier era when people actually printed ads on grey wood pulp in a thing called a “newspaper.” These “newspapers” evolved into mechanisms for distributing sunday grocery coupons and car advertisements before eventually fading into nothing but a blurry memory, but the personal ads lived on via the internet.

In those primitive times, between hand weaving mammoth fur to make my own garmets and reading cuneiform tablets during my first year of graduate school, I posted a few ads on the shiny new free classifieds over at Yahoo. Yes, this was so long ago Yahoo was actually a well respected company. The 1990’s were strange days indeed.

Read more…

Tags: 22 First Dates, dating, flashback

First Contact: Best of Zombies

Reading my blog could give you a rather biased view of the dating pool. To change it up a bit, I thought I’d share some absolutely excellent examples of First Contact emails. These guys can write, are interesting, and clearly paid attention to my profile. I was utterly delighted to hear from every single one of them. None of them resulted in actual dates due to details like conflicting ideological views, them being married, or a lack of similar interests outside Zombies. However, I want to make it clear to the world that even if you list very specific requirements, there are people out there who really can fulfill them. I challenged random strangers to send me a well written explanation of how they’d survive the zombie apocalypse, and here’s what I got.

You had me at Zombie Apocalypse.

Ok, terrible way to start off introducing yourself to a woman, but damnit I’m doing it. So I have a friend that is aware of my love for all things Zombie who bought me the Zombie Survival Handbook, must have. Also, in the last apartment that I lived in with this friend and her boyfriend, we had several conversations on “What if scenarios” to deal with Zombie Infestations, that got as detailed as getting in the truck and driving down the ilses (I’m sure I screwed up the spelling on that royally) of the local Kroger “shopping” for supplies.

Ok, sorry about the geek out there, but I hope it was enjoyed. The truly sad thing is, while the last apartment I lived in could have been a fortress. My current one is a death trap with lots of nice big windows on the first floor.

I appreciate the desire for people that can actually talk, or I guess in this case type. I know that people have become so, over saturated?, with texting that its spilled into every form of conversation. Although I still chuckle from time to time when my friend randomly says to do I D K my B F F Jill

So, I’m sure that’s enough to scare off any truly sane woman, and if you have read this far you must be interested to some extent. So why don’t you tell me more about yourself?

Hi!

I saw your post and had to compliment it. It’s ironic that you should mention surviving “the zombie apocalypse”, because it often seems as if most of the posts are written by brain-dead automatons recently resurrected by a voodoo priestess. I generally scan them for their entertainment value and unintentional insights their authors provide of themselves. Often the ads are even better than satires found on The Onion.

But as I said, your post was exceptional. Exceptionally intelligent and intriguing.

Handy thing to remember during the Zombie Apocalypse: insect repellent. I’m not sure if the “plague” can be spread through mosquitoes, but if other blood-borne pathogens like malaria can be, then can the zombie-flu be far behind?

I’m very interested in finding out more about you. Favorite books, films, experiences, perspectives…..

Before making any presumptions however, here are some things about myself. I’m not sure if I can really present an unbiased view of myself, but I’ll try to keep the self-promotional rhetoric to a minimum. And you’re right, it’s impossible to sum up a person in a short literary brief. I suspect even a text-version of the Human Gnome Project would be inadequate to the task of really describing what a person is.

* Go from 0 to brainy in 3.5 seconds or faster, covering topics ranging from Shakespeare to pop-culture metaphors to alternative music.
* Drug Free (unless coffee and clove cigarettes count)
* I write: I have some plays and screenplays to my credit.
* Artistic to a fault
* Agnostic but open minded, political but cynical of both parties.
* No tattoos, one piercing.
* Deeply dark humor and sense of irony
* Alternative interests in art, entertainment, and life
* Passionate about art and literature and film
* Prefer plays, bookstores, hosting movie nights and parties, and exploring antique malls.
* I love exploring films, books, and culture… and having someone to share it with, explore experiences and stories with while wandering odd places, and late-night coffee-driven discussions on pop-culture, meanings, and film and literary metaphors.

I hope you’re as intrigued by my reply as I am by your post. If you are, then I encourage you to reply with any questions you may have, topics you may wish to explore, or even random esoteric questions or stream-of-conscious pop-quiz.

If you decline to respond, then at least be complimented on the refreshing uniqueness of your posting.

Ok let me see if I understand this correctly.
  You want the replier to have a basic understanding of the english language, be able to throw rocks thru the windows of local restaurant’s, be charming and witty? What else? do you want this person to walk upright, and not carry a club? Good luck! Ok ok I’ll walk upright but I’m not putting my club away, I need it to protect myself from the zombies.
  Some of my interest are snowboarding, reading, actually reading is more of an obsession, and sailing, just to name a few. So far as surviving the zombie apocalypse thats a tough one. I would have to say I’d split the time between sailing the ocean and snowboarding in the mountains. Snowboarding in the mountains is obviously the safer choice, because everybody knows that zombies don’t like the cold.
 Now a quick question - do you see yourself as a sheep in wolf’s clothing or a wolf in sheep’s clothing?

First off, kudos for managing to espouse the value of both proper punctuation and spelling (I personally would add overall grammar and syntax) but that’s just me…and also including a zombie reference.

I too have more education than perhaps I need but doesn’t that make both of us infinitely more suited to survive the zombie apocalypse? More on that later…

Might I also caution you from throwing that rock you reference… I doubt you really want to replace the front glass windows of many of great Louisville Original restaurants…

I do concur that punctuation and spelling are indeed sexy; though, I feel that the source of the sexiness is the knowledge that the subject gives a shit enough about grammatical rules and usage to try a little harder than the rank and file simpleton. Since I’m on the sexiness subject…dare I suggest that a woman who can deftly plow through the New York Times crossword puzzle is a serious turn on to me. Sure, it’s dorky but again; it speaks to a certainly intellectual eloquence that moves me…

Enough to my rambling here…I’ll offer my top 10 tips to surviving the zombie apocalypse:

1. Positive thinking. I don’t necessarily assume that the mindless zombies with their limited physical skills are capable of pulling off an apocalypse. For clarification, are you assuming that the zombies would be the fast-moving type zombies from 28 days or perhaps the slower, more lumbering zombies from Zombieland?
2. To borrow a quote from Zombieland…”Cardio”…I certainly would like to think that my above average level of fitness will serve me well during the undead apocalypse.
3. To shamelessly steal another line from a movie (perhaps you can tell I’m a movie afficionado)…”Guns, lot’s of guns…” Thanks Neo for that one…and props to Trinity for helping him acquire those guns
4. A fuel efficient vehicle. I can only assume that a post-apocalyptic world will suffer from fuel shortages and the availability of gas would be limited…therefore, I’d need reliable, fuel-efficient transportation. I’d probably have a fleet of Priuses along with some motorcycles and a plentiful supply of boats.
5. Access to an awesome island. We both know that zombies can neither plan nor swim; therefore, getting to a deserted island with a lot of food may be a good survival option. My preference would be to end up on the fictional island from Lost because it’s winter and I could use some color. I’d hate to look pasty compared to the flesh-eating zombies.
6. Facebook access. I’d like to be able to mobilize friends and resources via Facebook to help deal with the complexities and uncertainties of the zombie apocalypse. I don’t think zombies can type so I wouldn’t worry that a resourceful zombie would try and friend request me in order to learn of my secret plans.
7. A large collection of books and dvd’s. Mental acuity will be critical to survival and I need a diverse amount of material to keep my mind sharp, my spirit exuberant and my wits about me…
8. Pop tarts and Spaghetti O’s…they’re portable, tasty and won’t spoil. I also could use the sharp lid of the Spaghetti O’s can to help slice a zombie…
9. A quality chainsaw…good in tight quarters and can quickly slice off those pesky zombie heads
10. A lot of Purell. There is nothing more unsettling than the stink, stench and disease-ridden qualities of zombie gore. I imagine that I’d be cleansing my hands often.

I hope my answers advance me to the lightening round of your game where the prize values are greater and the cash bonuses enormous…

As for my hobbies…writing, cycling, movies, politics, and the nurturing of an ongoing level of curiosity of everything from physics to science and much in between….

First let me applaud you that someone out there still values good grammar. I sometimes think it’s my little “OCD” kicking in when I get disappointed that the English language is butchered to the point I wish people would just start using pictures. I almost get a headache when my boss tells me I should “dumb down” my emails! I tend to read through the classifieds for some unknown reason and every now and then I come across one that catches my eye and I just have to respond to. Although your comment about grammar made me smile, it was the Zombie Apocalypse that drew me to respond. I myself am a huge movie fan and Zombies being one of my favorite plot base. Anywho, this is where you get angry and throw a roll of the eyes. I am not expecting a relationship much less you to even respond to this. Unfortunately, I am stuck in a dead marriage which if I didn’t have two beautiful daughters I would’ve packed up when I discovered her affair. Albeit, I always crave to have some kind of intellectual or any kind connection with someone that I lost a long time ago hence maybe the reason I’m surfing personal ads at two in the morning. Well since I’m sure you stopped reading after that, I will quit with the typing. Besides, who will really survive the Zombie Apocalypse anyway?

Tags: 22 First Dates, zombies

22 First Dates: The Fishmonger

Gentlemen, I can not emphasize strongly enough how little you should talk about your penis when meeting someone for the first time. I know it’s your favorite toy. You want to share it with the whole world. Try to contain your excitement - or, in this case your disappointment.

Wait - I’m getting ahead of myself.

I met The Fishmonger on yet another of those early dates back when I didn’t realize an extreme facial close-up was a clever technique for hiding extra chins. A bearded brunette with a few tattoos, a fondness for science fiction, and an interest in exotic food sounded up my alley. He passed my basic literacy test in his profile and made amusing commentary about zombies in chat. I couldn’t wait to meet in person.

I have “a few tattoos.” Two, to be exact. The Fishmonger had inked his entire forearms and presumably much more. Okay, a slight understatement based on his profile, much like his weight, but who am I to talk? I’m a walking nursery rhyme.

I have rings on my fingers and rings on my toes,
rings in my navel and ears and my nose!

That goes over great with my 2 year old goddaughter, but then she also thinks it’s awesome that her Jewish auntie is the only person who’ll play “This little piggy when to market” with a Muslim girl’s toes.

The Fishmonger showed off his seafood knowledge by recommending my entree at a very good local fish restaurant. While waiting for our food, we made small talk about favorite movies, butchering fish, and the reasons why post-apocalyptic scenarios are so darn popular in American culture. It was better conversation than my average date thus far - maybe this first date would actually lead to a second!

Once our entrees arrived he segued from butchery to death. A little odd, but I was feeling charitable. Dying parents tend to overwhelm one’s thoughts. I sympathetically listened to the graphic physical details, all the while immensely grateful I’d once worked at Planned Parenthood. It’s hard to gross me out. Somewhere in his description of what was slowly killing his parents, he said I was a really amazing woman and his parents would enjoy meeting me. They really wanted to see him with a woman before they died. Wait…what? We hadn’t made it through dinner yet. I wasn’t ready to meet his parents.

That was okay. There were a few other things he said I needed to know before dessert. For example, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but he thought he was probably sterile, so he didn’t bother using condoms.

You…what?!

Er. Gosh. Look at my fish. I wonder if it died of natural causes or a STD.

He ignored my wide eyed look of horror and cheerfully soldiered on. Before I saw him naked, I needed to know his penis was so tiny condoms literally slid right off it. Oh, and if I was in the mood for an orgasm, I’d probably need to provide it for myself since he was not only hung like a baby carrot, but also a premature ejaculator. But wait! There’s more! I learned about his hairy back, smelly testicles, and the fact when limp, you literally couldn’t find his penis in his nest of pubic hair. He said it only seemed fair to brace me for what was coming.

Whoa there, mister! You’re not coming anywhere near me.

He was so matter of fact about both informing me of his apparently immense personal inadequacies and taking it entirely for granted that we’d be having sex. I’d never seen anything like it. I’m not sure if the dying parents pickup line normally worked, if he trolled dating sites for women with shockingly low self esteem, or if he presented himself as such a freakshow that the kind of girls who sleep with carny’s were intrigued enough to see him naked. At that point, I felt like I was dazedly watching the world’s slowest train wreck. I was also afraid to let him shake my hand without coating it in Purell first.

I wasn’t able to escape without an inappropriately intimate hug. While washing all of my clothing, I called a girlfriend to commiserate about the unexpected swerve from halfway decent to TMI.

“Oh, he probably thought you’d pity fuck him. I did.”

Wait…WHAT?!

I wasn’t sure where to start with that reply. First, did I have a single dating match in the entire metro area she hadn’t already gone out with? Second, come on, you’re not that desperate. Third…eww. Ah, but it got better.

“If I knew THAT was who you were going out with I would’ve warned you. He’s not lying about his penis. I could barely find it. But that’s not the worst part.”

I was transfixed. Please. Go on. How could it get worse?

“His floor is covered in at least 3 inches of shit. I’ve never seen anything like it. Grossest thing ever. He has a LOT of animals in his tiny ass apartment. He lets them go wherever and he’s never once cleaned up after them. The whole floor, of his whole apartment, is just packed down layers of animal shit.”

This man spends his days handling raw meat.

I gagged at the thought.

Gentlemen, let this be a lesson. Word gets around. Women talk amongst themselves, and we are NOT kind. Sometimes being pathetic may get you a pity fuck, but if you’re hoping for seconds, learn to wash. Wash yourself. Wash your clothes. Wash your floors. Hell, go nuts with it one day. Strip down naked with a water hose and a bottle of dish soap and soak your entire apartment if that’s what it takes. Just get clean.

And one last thing - please, I beg of you - if you ever want a woman to touch your penis, leave it a thing of wonder and mystery until the day she decides to take your pants off. Trust me on this. It’s better for everyone.

Tags: 22 First Dates

Insomnia

I spontaneously woke up at 3 am brimming over with great ideas for progressive dining events. New proposal time. Stay tuned! Louisville has so darn many good restaurants. Once spring hits, I want you to have plenty of opportunities to try 3-5 of them in one leisurely afternoon while also meeting other adventurous foodies. I wish I had this kind of energy at 3 pm! Now, time to struggle back into slumber so I won’t be a groggy mess when making calls tomorrow. Er…later on today.

Tags: work