What?! You didn't read Chapter One? Class, I'm disappointed. Here click this...
The Bear Market. (No that's not code)
Some crazy things have gone down since I decided to "put myself out there" and blog about my adventures in the dating scene. For starters, some guy got all strung out on bath salts and ate a homeless guys face! Which makes sense, because it is after all a homeless guy, and finding decent meat on him is going to be a struggle. So naturally, this got all the zombie fan boys in a tizzy and...
What? Has anything relevant to this blog happened since last week? Well sort of, I'm finding that the single market seems at first blush, kinda bare (Dammit Obama!) I have been using two sites to try and drum up some dates. The first is a pay site. There problem there is that it always looks like I'm looking at the same ten profiles. I have turned profile shopping into a science. After looking at the pictures, I look at the "What She's Looking For" section. This may prove problematic...
What She's Looking for
Body Type: Athletic and Toned = Okay, never mind. Where's the fun in that?
No Preference= Liar
Slender = Pfft, enjoy your future emo BF
About Average= Hmm, closer...
A few extra "Biscuits"= Yes! We are in business! Proceed to Round 2
Round 2 is a general overview of the profile. I look for troublesome buzzwords like, "Yankees Fan," "Five kids," "Back Mole" or "Nazi Sympathizer." Assuming this is a person I share a few interests with, I proceed to the final round, check the last time she was on the site. If it's been longer than a week, I assume the game is over and she's already on the beach with the Old Spice guy...
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| Scott Pilgrim is in trouble... |
If she's on the site regularly, I send one of my patented Ice Breaker messages.
...and as soon as a one of them respond, I'll let you good folks know.
Moving to the free site. This site, put nicely, is like the bottomless pit of depressing hell. I have noticed a trend on there though, roughly 70% of the ladies on that site, have furiously angry profiles! Their pics are of them scowling. Their description page says things like, " I'm sick of the bullshit and drama, so assholes better leave me alone..."
What the hell? Do I owe you an apology for something? All I did was read your profile, but I'm going to go ahead and say sorry anyways, as I feel like that's the best way to not get stabbed. Look, I am sure roughly every single lady on that site has received some inappropriate email from some dipshitted lunk head, but the answer isn't to put up angry bitch wall. Then normal guys see that and say, no thanks. That's your tip of the day from Ray. Here's a typical free site profile pic...
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| IT CANNOT BE UNSEEN! IT CANNOT BE UNSEEN!!! |
What About The Real World?
With no real fail safe in case the websites don't work, I suppose I should at least start reexamining my policy on flirting/hitting on/talking to girls out there in the real world. For those of wondering, my policy is DON"T. This is my game in a nutshell...
Let's say, I'm at a diner (just pulling that out of my ass, don't read into) and there is a cute girl working. I honestly feel like the last thing she wants, is another one of her dick headed customers hitting on her. Not to mention, I've either just ordered something gross and fat, or it's 2:30 am and I drunkish (likely both.) Am I wrong here?
That's where we end Chapter 2. Feel free to share this with your social mediatlites by clicking the links below. Your continued support is always appreciated.
-Minch
This One's Going into OOOOOOOOVERTIME!!!!
Hi, I decided to add an addendum to this one since I'm not ready to do a whole new chapter yet, and I have a fun story to share from this past weekend. It essentially sums up everything I've been saying...
Saturday night I was coming home from celebrating the birthday of one of my dearest friends and former Fat Guy Friday co-host Dave. The relatively quick turnaround between the end of my work shift that day and the start of the party prevented me from having a proper dinner, (He said, trying to justify getting a garbage plate.) So I decided to swing by one of Monroe County's fine eateries that sell garbage plates. That's when this happened...
I was at the ass end of the line, when two ladies walked in. The taller, (and drunker) of the two saw fit to comment on my choice of head wear for that evening...
"RED SOX SUCK!!!"
Ugh, here we go...
"Aw come on. They try their best..."
Note: Since I was responding to a harmless drunkish girl, I gave a softball response. A "Bro" would have received a hearty, "Gee, Thanks Buster Olney!"
"I'M JUST KIDDING, I LOVE THE RED SOX!"
Okay, I have no idea what's going now. As she went off to make a phone call, I started talking to the other girl, (the sober-er) one. We were talking about her being, "drunk bus." Very shortly in Taller girl comes in yelling, "HE'S NOT ANSWERING. ASSHOLE! I'M LEAVING A MESSAGE"
*BEEP* YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE, YOU ASSHOLE, ANSWER YOUR PHONE! YOU'RE NOT ANSWERING YOUR PHONE, LIKE AN ASSHOLE, OKAY BYE.
Me-I don't want you to think I'm ease dropping, but you are going to feel really strong about that voice mail tomorrow. I think you nailed it.
(Shorter girl laughed)
THAT WAS A BAD MOVE, WASN'T IT?
She went off to leave what would likely be an even worse apology message. The other girl and I continued our conversation. Now, I say this with no level of arrogance, if anything this series should really lay out just how riddled with self doubt I am, but my jokes were hitting. Every now and then I get a really good beat on who I am talking to and my brand of BS seems to be working. Not often, but it happens. Speaking of things happening, that's when this happened...
In Walk The Bros. Three of them. The Bro-iest Bros who ever Duded a bro. Their sights were set, on girl I was talking to. Now their approach was a little different than mine. I tried to use whatever charm and wit I could muster to engage in a conversation that would be both enriching and delightful. Their tactic was to be overly aggressive and rapey. To their credit, neither of the girls seemed wildly interested in these clowns, or their demands to be hugged...yes, that was a thing...and no, they didn't know them...thus "Rapey."
Outnumbered and not overly invested in the idea of getting the crap kicked out of me. I took my plate, which I had ordered to go anyways, and went home. To me, this was the personification of Hulk(s) vs Cookie Monster, and while I'm not trying to sell I had the love of my life stolen from me at garbage plate hut, I did have a stirring wake up call as to how aggressive my competition is, and taller, and musclelier, with more hair. This is going to be a long road, but that's all right...
I'm the God Damn Cookie Monster, bitches.
This One's Going into OOOOOOOOVERTIME!!!!
Hi, I decided to add an addendum to this one since I'm not ready to do a whole new chapter yet, and I have a fun story to share from this past weekend. It essentially sums up everything I've been saying...
Saturday night I was coming home from celebrating the birthday of one of my dearest friends and former Fat Guy Friday co-host Dave. The relatively quick turnaround between the end of my work shift that day and the start of the party prevented me from having a proper dinner, (He said, trying to justify getting a garbage plate.) So I decided to swing by one of Monroe County's fine eateries that sell garbage plates. That's when this happened...
I was at the ass end of the line, when two ladies walked in. The taller, (and drunker) of the two saw fit to comment on my choice of head wear for that evening...
"RED SOX SUCK!!!"
Ugh, here we go...
"Aw come on. They try their best..."
Note: Since I was responding to a harmless drunkish girl, I gave a softball response. A "Bro" would have received a hearty, "Gee, Thanks Buster Olney!"
"I'M JUST KIDDING, I LOVE THE RED SOX!"
Okay, I have no idea what's going now. As she went off to make a phone call, I started talking to the other girl, (the sober-er) one. We were talking about her being, "drunk bus." Very shortly in Taller girl comes in yelling, "HE'S NOT ANSWERING. ASSHOLE! I'M LEAVING A MESSAGE"
*BEEP* YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE, YOU ASSHOLE, ANSWER YOUR PHONE! YOU'RE NOT ANSWERING YOUR PHONE, LIKE AN ASSHOLE, OKAY BYE.
Me-I don't want you to think I'm ease dropping, but you are going to feel really strong about that voice mail tomorrow. I think you nailed it.
(Shorter girl laughed)
THAT WAS A BAD MOVE, WASN'T IT?
She went off to leave what would likely be an even worse apology message. The other girl and I continued our conversation. Now, I say this with no level of arrogance, if anything this series should really lay out just how riddled with self doubt I am, but my jokes were hitting. Every now and then I get a really good beat on who I am talking to and my brand of BS seems to be working. Not often, but it happens. Speaking of things happening, that's when this happened...
In Walk The Bros. Three of them. The Bro-iest Bros who ever Duded a bro. Their sights were set, on girl I was talking to. Now their approach was a little different than mine. I tried to use whatever charm and wit I could muster to engage in a conversation that would be both enriching and delightful. Their tactic was to be overly aggressive and rapey. To their credit, neither of the girls seemed wildly interested in these clowns, or their demands to be hugged...yes, that was a thing...and no, they didn't know them...thus "Rapey."
Outnumbered and not overly invested in the idea of getting the crap kicked out of me. I took my plate, which I had ordered to go anyways, and went home. To me, this was the personification of Hulk(s) vs Cookie Monster, and while I'm not trying to sell I had the love of my life stolen from me at garbage plate hut, I did have a stirring wake up call as to how aggressive my competition is, and taller, and musclelier, with more hair. This is going to be a long road, but that's all right...
I'm the God Damn Cookie Monster, bitches.
Seeing that part two was up brought me such a level of excitement that I can't even explain it. I met my husband because I hit on him while he was working at a bar. And I was drunk. Except when my mom reads this, in that case, I was sober. Not that it really matters since we are all going to be eaten by zombies soon.
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