Wednesday, February 27, 2013

The core problem in online dating

Self-selection bias.

More than any factor, self-selection bias is the problem that wrecks all of online dating.  Simply put, you can't have a group of people who have self-selected for failure collect aggressively all in a single spot and expect anything besides further failure.  There are just too many damaged and broken people in online dating for there to be any real hope.

My experience of online dating is that it is littered with women whose level of skittishness and fear makes a middle school dance look like the Players' Ball.

There's nothing wrong with being level-headed about strangers.  Don't get me wrong on that aspect.  But, at some point you have to make an effort and take a bit of risk.  You agree to meet in a very public place.  You travel separately.  You keep the first date non-sexual and below two hours.

It's not a hard event to build a template for doing.

The problem is that the women in online dating are like dealing with an abused alley cat who is begging for food.  On the one hand they are desperate beyond comprehension for attention.  A lot of them are so horny their eyes are about to spin.  On the other hand, they're all afraid of all the random broken shit that has kept them single this long.

And that all means their behavior is even more schizo than you'd expect from the average female.

I had it in my head that I needed to try something different.  Change up.   Try a different dating pool.  Well . . . ?  The online dating pool is rancid.

Simply put: if you're remotely attractive and even remotely capable of socialization, online dating is an utter waste of your time.  You're going to exert more effort to experience worse outcomes than you're getting in real life.  Not worth doing.  None of it.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Just because she smacks you in the face doesn't mean she doesn't like you

Four rather disappointing online dating experiences got me in the mood a couple weeks ago to get back into my usual dating pool: party girls at 2am!!

I was sitting at the far end of the bar where I have the best record for pulling hot chicks on short notice.  It was a weak night, mostly because the bar was attracting a mob of 40 y.o. chicks having too much fun and 22 y.o. hipsters who . . . well, they exist and that's all I ever want to say about them as a species.  But, I was drinking and texting and not much else.

Out of the blue, this chick pulls up beside me at the bar and leans in to order.  She turns herself about a quarter my direction and lets on the knowing smile.

Every now and then I have a moment of clarity.  (Like right now, I suddenly realized I need to post the story of my threesome in Spain during the summer of 2011, because it's a much better example!!)  When I have a moment of clarity with a woman, I know it's on from the second I see her.  I know I'm going to win.

This chick was one of those moments.  Solid top ten hottest chick I've ever been with.  About 5'7", 135 lbs.  Fat in all the right places and none of the wrong places!  Boomin figure.  Solid 8, really a low 9, even if you're Brad Pitt level sexy.  Hot chick sending direct signals.

I get up, I walk behind her and I say "hi".  She looks over her shoulder, smiles and just starts dancing to music.  So, I put my hands on her waist, start grinding her as she's talking to the bartender.  I pull her hair back and start necking with her as she's getting her drink.  She dances harder.  I rub her up and down.

Eventually, the bartender (female, BTW) glares at me and tells me to stop.  I don't.  She then tells me I really need to stop.  I back off and walk away to the bar on the other side of the dance floor and get a beer over there.

So, I'm drinking my beer and I just stay there leaning back against the bar, looking at the crowd.  A few minutes later, the hot chick comes by and orders a drink from this bar.  I blow her off and ignore her.  She starts dancing and makes a point of repeatedly bumping into me until I can't take it anymore.

Once again, I get in behind her and start grinding.  This time, I really go for it.  I'm groping her.  This is basically public indecency.  A friend of mine who witnessed the incident told everyone he saw I was, and this is a direct quote of the story I indirectly heard about fifth-hand, "face fucking her".  I have never had a story like this about me get around so quickly.  Apparently I am now a minor local legend.

Eventually the bartender (again, another female) ruins it for me.  She tells me I really need to stop.  Several times.  And finally the hot chick turns around and slaps me.  I lightly apologize and walk away with a big shit-eating grin.

Now, kids, remember that this was a "moment of clarity" for me.  This hot chick wanted to fuck and I knew it.  I knew she only slapped me because the bartender was shaming her for letting me do it.

So, I went to the far end of the bar and waited.  Eventually, the hot chick gets into a fight with same bartender.  I can only guess why, but knowing the nature of the great female defensive circle, I'm guessing the bartender tore into her for letting me have my way with her and then she figured to tell the bartender to fuck herself.  Defensive chicks don't like to see men get away with shit.  Horny chicks don't like to be judged by others.  Put the two together?  That shit turns into an episode of Mythbusters.  BOOOM!

Whatever the case, I decided to escort the hot chick out.  Outside we talked and the hot chick made short work of it, asking me if I wanted to go home with her.  I said yes.  We got into her car.

Between the car and her place, we spent a couple hours together.  We actually made short work of the sex part.  And then she just buried herself in my chest and sat there nibbling on skin.  And, since it wouldn't be an Aloof Guy special without it -- yup, she barfed her soul out to me about everything!!

And eventually she returned me to my car and we parted ways.  Come to think of it -- I never got her name or her number!  Holy shit, am I wrong or what?!

So . . . it was nice to get back on the horse after my abjectly annoying online dating experience.  The worst part is I only ever get that perfect clarity after I've been thoroughly frustrated.  Oh, well.  And I do need to get the Spain story up sometime.  That one is actually better.

I also need to make myself a note sometime to start getting hot chicks' names and phone numbers.  Damn, I have issues.  Especially when I'm frustrated in that pure zone.  Oh, well.  The clear mind wants what the clear mind wants.

Friday, February 22, 2013

My fourth date from online dating

OK, "date" might be a bit too tight of a term here.  I messaged this chick on OK Cupid based on the theory of "fuck it, let's see if their match percentage thing is worth a damn".  I had two top matches (both 94%).  This chick was a student, age 23.  The other chick was . . . I don't know . . . I'm gonna say middle school art teacher who seems like she does drugs, but in fact is just high on life.  So . . . 23 year old student it was!!

We message for a couple weeks.  Killer convo.  Out there intellectual shit that I love.  Per my usual relations with women, she spills her guts to me.

Along the way, we kind of arrive at the conclusion we might both just be fellow perverts looking for play friends.  So, we decide rather than a real date, we'd meet at the bar, make sure things check out and then go back to her place.  So, that's what we did.

I'll admit this one represents a bit more of an experiment than I was planning to get into.  How?  In our discussion of our perversions, she puts forward that she's a domme (a dominant female).  Now, my entire life, I have never encountered a truly dominant female.  So, I figured, what the fuck, let's see where this goes.

Let me tell you upfront: being dominated is not for me!!  A woman smacking me in the face and trying to push me around is not for me.  My right shoulder hurt for a week after our encounter.

The worst part is I know I could have reversed roles with her and she wouldn't have minded.  I didn't.  A few times I reversed her physically -- in the wrestling sense -- just to let her know the score.  But, otherwise, I just let her play it her way.  In truth, I'd put her at the low end of my range of acceptable attraction.  Plus, to be honest, she has some older issues (daddy issues) that didn't make me comfortable taking over in our first encounter.

So, we put in a couple hours together like this and then I go home.

We text over the next couple days.  Then, one night, I hurt myself pretty badly.  When I say badly, I mean badly enough that I had to pack a blood-spewing wound with paper towels and then get medical attention.  I remember texting her about it and she showed me almost zero sympathy.

At that moment, I knew this shit was done.  I didn't like her playing domme.  I sure as hell didn't like her lack of sympathy for a serious injury.

In truth, I learned a lot about myself from this brief encounter.  For one, I ain't a sexual submissive in any form!!  Two, I appreciate the female for being a nurturer far more than I ever thought before.  When I'm hurt, I want her to give at least half a fuck about it.

I didn't even bother messaging her after that.  And she let the line go dead.

So, end of fourth online date.

For those keeping score at home: one month yield four first dates, zero second dates and a whole bunch of bullshit.

My verdict on online dating?  I'd sooner have my fingers removed one-by-one without anesthesia or pain-killers.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

My third date from online dating

This one came from Plenty of Fish.  I'm told from folks who know these things that this is some kind of grand achievement, that PoF is apparently a wasteland of broken souls who will never love again.  In other words, people just like me!

She messaged me first.  She was actually someone I was thinking of messaging, but hadn't gotten around to.  Her first few messages were the kind of shit men who write about Game constantly drill about women.  She pretty opened with a shit test in her first response to my reply: something to the extent of "I thought you'd be funnier".  I blew that shit off with "I didn't know I was supposed to be your dancing monkey".  Deflect and lay blame (lightly) at her feet.  Then I said something to the effect of "I didn't expect you to be so terse".

Shit test passed, we conversed.  And conversed.  And conversed.  She absolutely spilled her guts to me.  Bad childhood.  Terrible mother.  Terrible father.  Boyfriends who wronged her.  Entire life story.  She also really keeps flopping over the idea that she's worried she's not up to my standards -- whatever the fuck that means when you're talking to a single man! 

In other words, a fuckload of red flags.  But, I'm used to women spilling their guts to me, so it's not a red flag that really gets my attention until things really start to go south and I think back to "oh shit, I guess that was a red flag I should've noticed".

She completely wrecks our attempt at a first date.  She runs two hours late, attempts to bring a whale friend, and then the whale friend diverts her from our choice of bars as I'm coming to the bar we selected.  Then she claims to have lost her phone.

I left her a nasty voice message to the effect of "enjoy being a cat lady, loser".

Apparently, calling a chick who can't get her shit together a loser and a future cat lady works.  We eventually do pull together a date.  Dinner, relocate to bar.  Boring but not awful date.  Some major makeout and then she says she has to leave because she has to get some sleep before a long trip.

Yup . . . this bitch had some game herself.

So, we text the next week and she really escalates shit.  Nude photos.  Graphic sexy texting.  The works.  But, we end up having scheduling issues pulling together a second date.

Finally, I just ask her flat out whether she's serious.  And that's when the replies stop suddenly.

I have a suspicion her issues center around self-worth and also enjoying having a man blow up on her.  She seemed to have a natural gift for shit testing and a relentless need for blow ups followed by apologies (the version I've provided here of events is a very, very abbreviated version).  She also several times seemed to hint she didn't feel she was worthy of me.  Eventually, I just got tired of trying to execute backflips just to make her feel like I might be attracted to her.

So, end of third chick.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

My second date from online dating

This one was from OK Cupid.  The kinda girl OK Cupid was built for in fact: bisexual, bipolar.  No, I am not making up a joke.

We had chatted a lot before I decided to give her a shot.  She was upfront about the bipolar, so that won her a few points. 

I actually initially messaged her just to find out what all the crazy shit in her profile was about.  What I quickly surmised is that her profile is a filtering profile.  A lot of folks, especially women, configure their profiles to deliberately screen people out.  Now, most just lazily post some "if you're a cheater, a loser, a scumbag" profile that pretty tells every guy who is like that that he can game her.

This chick's profile was more trippy hippie.  Whatever.  It takes many kinds.  Plus, I had never dated a bipolar chick, so I figured, what the fuck, why not?

So, I pick her up from her place, because she does not drive.  We go to a restaurant, eat and converse for a while.  Things go well, so we opt to head to a bar.  Bar is sausage-y as fuck, but the convo is still going well, so eventually we relocate to a second bar that's a little more hapennin.

Things eventually go south when she decides to start chatting up the bouncer and just won't stop, despite multiple major hints that I'd like to move on.  Finally I just abandon her ass then and there and go sit by myself while open mic night people perform.

Eventually she tracks me down -- twenty minutes later!  She tells me how rude I was, I tell her whatever, I didn't enjoy watching her hit on the bouncer.  We go outside so she can have her smoke and sure enough she starts hitting on a band guy who was outside!

She lights into me again about how off-base I am.  She says something to effect of "maybe you should go home".  So, I go ahead to leave and she starts into me for leaving.  I tell her hey, you're the one who told me to leave and just keep walking.

And then she utters what I still consider one of the most hilariously desperate things I've ever heard a woman tell me: "When you've had a couple days to think about, call me!"

O. M. F. G.   Wow.

I tell her something like, "I'm walking and whatever you have to say, you say now because I'm gone."  She storms back into the bar and slams the door behind her.

End of second date.  Terrible date.  Hilarious story.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

You're not righteous -- get over yourself

Most of my postings are about sex, relationships, love, etc.  This post isn't.

This post is about power and righteousness.

I have a friend of a friend who I enjoy having the odd protracted Big Ideas talk with.  But, the thing with Big Idea people is they tend to betray themselves when they get into the continuum of power and righteousness.

Let's be clear about something right upfront: power is power.  Nothing more.  It's not good.  It's not evil.  It's just power.

The friend in question is that lovely breed of young, modern libertarian who makes me wanna barf.  You see, for the millenial generation, being an unrepentant Ron Paul anti-government type is the equivalent of being a naked LSD-tripping whackadoodle commie from the 1960s. Mind you, that's a completely forgivable sin, so long as you don't turn the mirror on yourself.

Like all millenials, he's trying to get ahead in his trade while acting like getting ahead isn't goal.  He's a graphic designer and as OK at it as any human being can be in such a limited pointless trade.  It's a masturbatory trade.  Worse, it's masturbation done to entertain others.

And like all millenials, he's a relentless online self-promoter.  In short, within his own efforts, he's an arch-capitalist seeking attention, adulation, and power.

Nothing wrong with that, either.

My problem is I don't understand why people can't just get over themselves and be who they are.  If you want to get ahead and seek your own little slice of power, fuck it, OK, go for it.  But, realize you're not Gandhi.  Hell, Gandhi was a piece of shit if you ever go read his bio.  Worse, Gandhi was a lawyer.  Nuff said, amirite?

The thing is, you have to appreciate that complaining about those who have power -- which is all young libertarians ever do -- while you are seeking your own laurels, is dumb.  Worse, it's whining.  And it's envy.  Barf.  Terrible qualities.  Least of all in a human who wants others to admire him.

Power is just a thing.  It exists.  It's not a problem.  It's not a solution.  It just is.  It's a component of life for any social animal.

The only thing power can get you is more power.  Power will not get you justice.  It will not get you righteous.  It will not even get you vengeance.  Power can only acquire more power.  That's it.

And, again, there's nothing wrong with that.  Anyone who doesn't have power will tell you how much that sucks.  Anyone who has lost power will tell you how nice it was.

But, don't confuse power with anything else.

You have power.  You exert however much of it you have on the folks around you.  They have power.  They exert it.  Nothing fancy.  Not even all that sexy -- unless you happen at that exact moment to be using it to get some sexy time with someone.

People like to assert power and then claim their own righteousness.  Might makes right, amirite?  Sure.  People like to strip others of power and declare them evil.  People like to envy the power others have and whine about how crappy those folks are that have power.  But, how righteous, evil, or crappy is anyone who has power?  Well . . . not any more righteous, evil, or crappy than they were without it.

Power does not make you good or bad.  It only allows you to project yourself out into the world more aggressively.  Nothing less.  Nothing more.

The next time you look on your own works, remember what your power is.  The next time you tear down someone else's works, remember what their power is.  And more important, remember what it isn't.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

My foray into online dating this last month

Usually when I don't post for a while it's because I have nothing going on.  This last month has been quite the opposite.

I decided to get serious about online dating.  I posted new profiles on OK Cupid and Plenty of Fish.  Made an actual effort: I put up a picture and started messaging.  So far the yield has been good.  Three dates total (two from OKC, one from PoF).  Two more pending dates.  A number of good convos that could yet lead to dates.  I'm trying to pace myself, so it's hard to juggle all the options.

Here goes the story of the first date.  The others I will add later.

First date (from OKC)

Marlene is a stylist.  Cute redhead with fairly short hair.  30 years old.  (For those not keeping score at home, I'm 34.)  I messaged her on OKC.  We hit it off a bit.  I pressed for a date and got one.

We met up for drinks around 11pm on a Thursday night.  Convo was good, but I anchored most of it.  A little annoying.  But, no dealbreakers.

We go out to the parking lot.  I push for a kiss and she obliges.  Then the makeout session gets heavy and long.  No sex.  She says she needs to get some sleep.  I text her when I get home because the weather was bad (it's an etiquette in the wooly north).

A few days later I messaged her with something cute saying I liked her.  She instantly shut that shit down, rewording my statement into a cutesy fuck-off.

No explanation.  If I had to guess, she was a bit shocked about the makeout.

So, end of that one.  First online date accomplished.  Good makeout.  Odd fuck-off.