Archive for January 23rd, 2008

Dr. Adam and the Women

My friend Josh wants me to try speed dating with him.

My response?

“Ugh. Seriously?”

It just doesn’t seem particularly, umm… prudent. (Which, I realize, makes me a prude.)

I’m not all that familiar of speed dating beyond what I’ve seen in the movies. Honestly, how many of you think of speed dating and instantly flash to that scene from 40 Year Old Virgin where the lesbian tries to get Steve Carrell to “tuck it back” and the brunette with the Tara Reid moment was the least dysfunctional? That isn’t to say I wouldn’t date a large breasted woman whose top comes off five minutes after meeting her. I would at least give her a one-date lease with an option to buy. But that’s beside the point. In my wildly psychotic, histrionically paranoid mind, I’m expecting to go to this and meet the cast of Rob Zombie’s House of a Thousand Corpses. Or maybe the circus is in town. I don’t know.

“But how else are we going to meet people?”

He has a point. This is not a singles-friendly city. And contrary to popular feminist dogma, life is not an episode of Sex and the City. Despite the testimony of Carrie 3:16, women don’t hunt down men, and they aren’t looking to fuck everything that walks. Even if that were true, do I really want to spend money on some loose hooker in a bar, just so I can take her back to her shitty apartment and fuck her from behind to the Kanye West songs she insists on playing, while I’m trying not to lose my erection from thinking about what a racist piece of garbage he is and how unbelievably stupid she is, and she’s desperately trying not to vomit from all the jaeger and the pounding? No I do not.

No, I don’t ever want to pick a woman up in a bar. For one thing, I subscribe to the Groucho Marx theory when it comes to dating. I would never join an organization that would have someone like me as a member. Basically I would never date a woman that would go out with me at first sight. I want a girl who thinks she’s too good for me. Then, I would slowly bring her over to the dark side and make her do all sorts of other things she never thought she would do. That’s right ladies, I am the Darth Vader of the Gulf Coast dating scene. Wanna polish my light sabre?

I’m not delusional. I’m creative.

I’m also alone. So maybe I should stop breathing heavy and using “I am your father… you do not know the power of the dark side…” as a line. … Nah. (Admit it, your panties got a little spring shower there.)

People are always telling me I’m too picky. That aggravates the shit out of me, because I’ve always maintained that I don’t ask much as far as my expectations. I’m sorry if I’m not Deuce Bigalow or Tommy Lee. (However, I am Rick James, bitch.) I do have some standards. So here’s a list.

Drugs: Fuck off. I REFUSE to date a woman who does that shit. If she experimented a few times in the past, there’s some wiggle room, but nothing long term, or current. And weed is a drug, regardless of what your older cousin taught you in your grand-daddy’s shed, hippy.

Smoking: It causes cancer. Do what you want, but I don’t particularly like the idea of black fluid filling up my lungs until I choke to death on bile simply because you need to shove a flaming cock in your mouth. That’s why God invented gay porn stars.

Drinking: I’m not entirely rigid. Even I understand the benefits of a woman lubricated and pliable after a little tequila. If you like the sauce a little, I’m okay with it. That being said, I don’t want someone who has to drink to have fun.

Weight: I like a girl with a little meat on her. No one anywhere near as big as me, mind you, but over weight doesn’t really matter if she’s a great girl.

Sense of humor: A must. I hate people that can’t take a fucking joke.

Intelligence: I want to marry a girl who is smarter than me. (Again, not a whole lot to ask.) But I don’t expect a girl I go out with to be a genius.

Tattoos: No more than 3, and nothing that covers entire sections of your body. I don’t need to be translating hieroglyphics on your back while we’re having sex.

Music: No rap. Or at least nothing post- 1993.

Piercings: Belly Button. Cool. Eyebrow. Fine. Nose. No bull rings. Nipples… well… show’em to me and I’ll decide. Vagina, lip, cheek… anywhere else… no way.

Politics: Hillary Clinton supporters need not apply.

I know it seems like a long list, but if you go over it objectionably, you’ll find it’s all reasonable. At the end of the day, I’m just looking for a nice, down to earth girl I can spend time with, laugh with, talk to… diddle…. whatever. And right now, I think I just want to go out on a date. Sex isn’t even a factor. Don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t turn anyone away, but I’m honestly just looking to have fun with someone of the opposite sex. Even if there is no second date.

So I’m going speed dating. And I’m not happy about it. But at least I’ll get a good story out of it. But I am NOT tucking it back.


Quote of the Day:

“I’m not shooting for a “successful” relationship at this point, I’m just looking for something that will prevent me from throwing myself in front of a bus.”

-Bye Bye Love (1995)