Match - Disruption in the Matrix

 In a momentary lapse of reason, I unhid my profile on Match recently and the oddest thing happened.  A lovely, but not blatant scam lovely woman sent me a "like", which I of course responded to.  Long story short, our compatibility was off the charts.  She was a successful professional in the med space.  I'd been perusing profiles for a week or so, before unhiding my profile and did recall seeing hers.  It seemed genuine, although I considered her just a bit out of my league.  Back to the compatibility thing.

1. She wanted to learn how to shoot to get her CCW - I'll be going through the process in a bit myself.  Like Kansas, damned NC requires an 8 hour course that I could teach, myself; but I digress.

2. She wanted to learn how to be a better cook - I've been seeking someone to cook with / for

2a. She loved Indian food and in particular Tikka Masala - I make a fucking awesome Tikka Masala

3. She was looking for advice on buying a Porsche - I'm a Porsche head

3a. "A bunch of my friends drive Cayennes." - I've been mulling over buying a Cayenne

Obviously, some of my interests are present on my profile; I have pictures of me making pasta, shooting, and working on my previous Porsche.  But the Tikka Masala was just spooky, because I don't mention Indian food at all.

Other red flags:

She was over the top excited about meeting me; really over the top.  Capitalizing YOU over the top.

I asked for her number, to which she agreed, but she didn't give it to me.  After two more requests, she said she wanted my number so she could call me.  My sensors had been pinging in my ears the whole time, but the phone thing caused me to disengage and rehide my profile yesterday.  Today, just for grins, I went to reread our conversation to see if I'd been overly sensitive to red flags and she'd vanished.  

That's fucking weird, man.  

While I'm on the subject of dating, I have mixed feelings there.  There's a very large part of me that's just over the whole meeting someone thing.  Perhaps I don't feel my skin is sufficiently thick anymore or more likely, I'm tired of winding up with really fucked up women.  To be clear, I recognize I'm pretty fucked up, myself due to my intimacy issues that caught fire again while I lived in Kansas.  Not to mention I feel like a fat load at the moment.  I've put on a few pounds and the closest thing to working out I've done has been carrying boxes around.  I figure I have some time to think about it because I'm not bringing anyone over with my house littered in empty boxes full of packing material.  Hopefully, packing will be mostly complete end of next week.  Any longer and the damned boxes will become furniture that I don't notice...

Early North Carolina Dating Observations

 Regular readers shouldn't be surprised I'm already scoping out the dating pool in my soon to be new location.  I'm human and therefore have needs for human interaction with and without exchange of bodily fluids.  Those needs have mostly been suppressed for the past four years, but knowing I'll be in civilization soon has them beginning to simmer again.   

Ordinarily, I'd wait for a meaningful data set of experiences before claiming to have any sort of insight, but in just the past 18 hours I've encountered four profiles that included the exact same sentiment; looking for the D to my s.  I've only seen that sort of thing spelled out perhaps four times in the past four years of living here and maybe twice in the decade I lived in VA.  Further investigation will be required before I can legitimately call it a trend, so we'll see.  I think I'm going to really like Raleigh.

Gang Bang Queen - The Final Chapter

I'm almost embarrassed to admit that it took a couple of days to stop smarting over the recent GBQ encounter.  But I'd challenge anyone to not be shocked, taken back, etc. under the same circumstances.  The cherry on the top was, according to trick's review, she displayed more skill at certain things than she had with me.  Either that or he was inexperienced.  Or maybe she only brings her A game when she's getting paid.  I've finally been able to identify what bothered me the most / the actual emotional equivalence.  I think we all have former lovers / partners / etc. who I'll categorize as "not completely eliminated, just bad circumstances"; those who were the stars to realign, we'd entertain seeing again. They live in the back of our minds as potentially unfinished business.  However, there are rare completely disqualifying 'things', that can rip them right out of the category.  When that happens, it almost feels as though that person dies.  That's how it felt when GBQ informed me she was escorting again.  You don't recover from hooking, at least for me.  Regardless, the incident flared the fuck out of my intimacy issues.

For what it's worth, I don't think the move was to intentionally hurt me; more of a completely thoughtless way of saying "hey, look what I'm doing".  It almost felt as though she were proud of returning to sucking dick for a living, which is really quite fucked up.  For the record, I consider sex work to be actual work and I know there are those who enjoy it.  However, to leave a decent paying job to return to sex work is a different ballgame.

In reality, it felt as though she'd reached out because she lacked any real support structure in her life.  However, the more she said, the more it began to feel like a pity party.  She indicated she was done with actual relationships and made comments to the effect that she was where she belonged (I'm not sure if she meant Scotland or on her knees; maybe both.)  She didn't like the US, because of the gun violence and mass shootings.  Because her fiancé blew his brains out five years ago she continues to be triggered by anything gun related.  She said she was working to get past that, when we were dating, so it felt like she was just piling on the pity.  It would be cruel to take the position that she's not allowed to feel traumatized, but she didn't witness him do it and it's clear she's not sought any professional help to get past it.  

She was in full swing about how horrible her life was when I chimed in about her complete absence of  contrition for ghosting me, then a year later, hitting me in the face with her little hooker excursion.  As I previously mentioned, that's when she disengaged.  Fuck, she didn't so much as throw a bit of perfunctory sentiment of being sorry.  Definitely not a hooker with a heart of gold.  If I'm ever that self-absorbed, someone shoot me.

At the end, I just wanted to virtually grab her by the collar and give her the speech.  You're fifty one years old and left a decent paying job to be a fucking hooker.  Beyond sucking dick (which you didn't do that well), you have no transferrable skills that would allow you to stay in Europe and make a living.  It's time to grow the fuck up and face your challenges.  You can either seek help or be a sniveling little bitch, being triggered by everything.  And no, it's not easy being single at this stage in life; it can be traumatizing.  But how many decent men are going to want to be with a woman with a pattern of being a hooker when things get tough?  I sure as hell wouldn't date you again.  Pull your shit together and grow the fuck up.

As a final funny point (as in fucked up, not humorous), I found her online hooker ad, which lists all the services she offers and sure enough, she's available for gang bangs.  Here's the link, if you're so inclined.  (btw, she's about doubled in weight since I last saw her)

Gang Bang Queen for Hire

As of today, she only has one review and her calendar seems to be wide open.  Not much of a whore...

p.s. - I realize my tone is a bit cold on this entry, but I'm out of fucks to give for people who won't grow the fuck up.

A Story For All Times

 While I tend to gravitate toward Top Gun as a timeless story that helps me to understand and address any situation, there's another tale I find particularly useful, from a relationship perspective.  I've decided to share it here.

There was once a man who discovered a tiny baby alligator in his back yard.  Being an animal lover, he was afraid the poor thing would perish, being separated from its mother, so he took it in and raised it as a pet.  This man loved his Ricky unconditionally and lavished it with attention.  He gave Ricky massages and only fed him the best alligator chow.  In order for Ricky to feel like it was in its natural habitat, he had an enclosed lagoon built in his back yard, with a hot tub for when the gator was stressed.  He was positive his love and these gestures got through to the now full grown alligator, suppressing the beast's natural predatory instinct.

One day, he was teaching Ricky how to play fetch, when Ricky decided to fetch him and mauled him to death.  The man awoke at the pearly gates, face to face with Saint Peter.    

"I don't understand how this happened!  I loved Ricky with all my heart and did everything I could to demonstrate my affection."

Saint Peter responded, "What do you expect?  He was an alligator and mauling food is what alligators do, you dumb shit!"

The moral of the story is that regardless of how sincere and earnest your actions, you can't change the nature of another and can lose your head over it.  Literally.   

PSA - Getting The Last Word On Tinder

 Since beginning to use the app (off and on), I've found myself in two situations where the interaction ended in a less than amicable manner.  In both cases, I had reached my limit of 'what I'm willing to tolerate for some boom boom' and metaphorically dropped anchor in terms of further entertaining the behavior being exhibited by the other party.  And in both cases, the other party fired off a 'fuck you' note and unmatched with me.  However, I admit to having no real insight into the content of their messages, since unmatching deletes the entire conversation and I never saw them.  Thus, they weren't actually able to get in the last word or parting shot.  

Therefore, the takeaway should be that if you feel the need to fire a last shot and get in the last word on Tinder, wait a few hours to ensure the other party has time to read your fuck you.  Of course, that deprives you the pleasure of unmatching and making that person go away.  Your revised takeaway is you can't have it all.

Under the heading of pleasant surprises, earlier today, I'd been trading notes with a woman who went into full bitch mode and I called her out on it.  There were notifications of additional messages from her, but for the reasons above, I didn't bother looking for them for a bit.  The pleasant surprise was that the message she sent included an apology for being bitchy.  

Fucking Filters

This subject isn't anything new, but I don't recall seeing a proper rant on the topic.  Therefore, I'm picking up the mantel and including it in my Old Man Ranting Series

Technology has delivered to us digital camera technology that yields photos with amazing clarity and resolution.  Today, even cell phone cameras yield superior quality, compared to high end digital cameras of even a few years ago.  With all of this amazing capability, it would follow that dating profile pictures would be crystal clear, but sadly, this isn't the case.  Someone created some filter app (maybe there's more than one; how would I know?) that allows the user to soft focus pictures to felony level, making it almost impossible to distinguish someone's features.  And a considerable number of women are utilizing this filter to laughable results.  Perhaps men are as well, but I don't look at their dating profiles.  Seriously, I've seen so many of these that I almost scheduled a doctor's visit to be checked for cataracts.  The worst are the ones who dial in eye liner enhancements to max level, making them appear ready for the next best horror film and causing small children to cry.

I'm sure most of my readers share my position that these filters have no place on dating sites.   Unless you plan on meeting someone after consuming half a bottle of Don Julio, you want their photos to provide an accurate representation of who you're about to meet.  Perhaps the only exception to posting such photos would be if someone had their portrait done by Annie Leibovitz and she incorporated some sort of filter.  But the most gifted portrait photographer on the planet doesn't use soft focus, so there goes that excuse.  Look, none of us become more attractive from our late forties onward; it's a fact of life.  And try as you might, those filters don't fix ugly, so if you're using them, save yourself the guaranteed ghosting after (or during) your first date.   

Some will never give up their squint inducing fog filters.  I recently saw a profile on the Big T where not only were filters used in the manner I've described, but the woman was positively combative about using them.  Apparently, potential matches challenged her on the subject and she was asserting her right to post pictures that didn't look like her.

While on the subject of filters, if you're past forty years old, leave the fucking snap chat filters alone.  Unless it was a Halloween costume, bunny ears, cat whiskers, etc. don't paint you as playful or fun.  It just screams immature.  Worse yet, the majority of those you love the bunny ears typically run the picture through the Don Julio blur filter first, completely obscuring any facial detail.  A forty something woman that does that screams she's trying to hide ugly.   

Embrace who you are and be proud of it, people.

Scientists and Dating Sites

Because my life doesn't contain sufficient trauma, I continue the on again, off again, dating thing, although to a lesser extent, knowing I'll be moving in the near future.  In any case, I've discovered another trend I think is worth reporting on.  I've only encountered this one on Plenty of Fish and it's a head scratcher.  Over the course of the past few weeks, I've noticed a number of women listing their occupation as cosmologist.  For those who may not be clear on what a cosmologist does (I was a bit vague, myself), they're scientists that study the universe; how it formed, how it's changed, and what exists within it.  What's odd is none of them have advanced degrees and all have pictures with their faces with impeccable makeup.

Yep, there are a bunch of women cosmetologists who can't even spell what they do for a living.

Dating Expectations - Nebraska Edition

 Surfing through my phone, while waiting for my mother at a doctor's appointment yesterday, I found myself on the dating app that reminds you of the material you'd use to start a fire.  One of the profiles I encountered of a woman, who lived in Omaha, Nebraska.  She must have been in KC today, to pop up, but that's neither here nor there.  Her photos were mostly of her dressed up for one event or another, with no casual attire present.  A few years ago, she would have made DPOW for her profile consisting solely of what she didn't want in a man, but the true reason for my taking note is what those deal breakers were.  She stated emphatically that she didn't like hunting and asked what I assume to be the rhetorical question of why so many men posted pictures with fish they caught.  Here profile is here.

I literally chuckled when I read that bit.  

I'm offering what I think is a well-reasoned rebuttal to her requirements:  You wannabe socialite of the flatlands!!!   You fucking live in Nebraska and take issue with outdoorsmen???  Fuck, half the women there have their own photos of fish they caught on their profiles.  If you want a trove of sophisticated and urbane gentleman, MOVE!!!

Now, get off of my lawn...

An aardvark's tongue can grow up to 12 inches (30.5 cm) long.  No, I don't have their number.

Annual Dating Profile of the Week

It's been some time since I've posted a dating profile of the week.  This can be attributed to two factors.  First, I'm not actively looking and second, not much surprises me at this point.  The 'here are all the things I hate' profiles that share nothing about the person themselves, the half sentence profiles...they all run together at this point.  However, I recently stumbled upon a profile that made me stop in my tracks.  

This profile belongs to 'Bibbity' on Plenty of Fish and represents the essence of what Trump and willful ignorance does to people.  Unfortunately, the neither the website nor the app codes profiles as text anymore, which prohibits copying and pasting.  So, much as I'd like to share more of her lengthy profile, there was no way I was transposing the complete raft of garbage.  You'll have to make due with the snippets I did retype, which I did verbatim.  You can see it here - Profile

Bibbity is a 47 year old hair stylist from the same suburb in which I live and says:

If you are covid vaccinated please do not message me.  Im (sic) not interested in being with you...ever.  #mybodymychoice 

Full blown Trump supporter

But honestly if you hate him, please do not message me for as we will have zero in common.  I don't pander to snowflakes in la-la land.  Just tells me you are a follower, going with the flow and can't critically think for yourself.  Big fighter for freedom and truth.

Not only does this ignoramus want to risk getting Covid, but she won't be happy unless you do as well.  Apparently the idiotic hashtag only applies to her and not you, should you wish to date her; and I can't see why you wouldn't, considering her immense charm.  Seriously, I don't recall hearing any of the conspiracy fucktards spouting that being in contact with someone who's vaccinated could be harmful.  Perhaps she's a special breed of idiot.  

I'll skipe further commentary on this section, mostly because it makes my head hurt when I have to read the 'can't critically think for yourself' section.  

And why do people insist on putting hashtags where they aren't searchable?  

She goes on:

Don't send me hunky professional pics all the time and refuse to send a current. I WILL ASK YOU FOR A PICTURE DOING SOMETHING I ASKED YOU TO DO TO MAKE SURE YOU ARE NOT SOME JERK CATFISHING ME. HOLY SNIKEYS!!!!!!! For example... Take a FACE selfie holding a spoon..... 

If a women demanded that sort of thing from me, regardless of whether she was a Trump supporter, I have just the photo I'd respond with.  

Always Remember You're Special

 ...just like every other guy who's paying attention to me.  

I recently had an interlude, for lack of a better term, with someone whose identity shall remain a mystery that broke new ground in a number of undesirable ways.  On paper, she was a great fit for me (super smart, submissive, well read, hot), but distance precluded anything substantive from developing between the two of us.  Still, it was nice to interact and exchange ideas.  As she wandered into what something between us would look like, were the distance removed, she became quite effusive with her praise, referring to me as 'divine' and using phrases such as 'meant to be'.  You get the idea.

Of course, I wasn't the only man she was chatting with, which she confirmed.  She also admitted to craving attention from certain types of men.  Your grandmother would have called her 'boy crazy'.  But surely, she wasn't sharing such intense sentiments with other men, right?  There couldn't be multiple divine men out there.  Yeah, not so much.  She admitted espousing the same sentiments to other men.  Her rationale was she used them in a different context than was typical, and telling me of course, there's a back story.   Of course...there's always a back story.

I think you'll agree that a shared language is important for well, everything.  Back story or not, a soldier sitting in an underground silo can't one day decide that saying 'we have authorization to launch the missiles' really means he's going into town for a pastrami on rye.

Needless to say, I severed ties after hearing that little gem.  That was late last week.  I've since happily moved on and reconnected with someone I should have held onto.  But for some reason, I felt compelled this afternoon to revisit the communication I had with the woman who called me divine (she's right, you know).  I feared I was being too harsh toward her.  Nah, should have been more harsh.  

In scanning her notes, I uncovered two instances where her effusive praise was wrapped in an agreement to something I never said.  This woman was copy pasting the exact same material to multiple men!  Let me say it again; she was sending the same messages to multiple guys.  If you've kept up with my blog, you know that I've seen a lot of different 'interesting' behaviors from women.  But here's something brand new for the annals of dating history.

Plenty of Shit Revisited

After returning to the dating wasteland of KC, where I met the rudest woman on the planet, I found myself with an urge to meet someone with whom I could spend time with.  There seems to be a bit of a lull, with respect to dating participation, which likely has to do with the holidays and holiday hangover.  I've been on Match and Okcupid off and on, with little success.  Plenty of Fish has been a non-starter for reasons I outline here.  Call it boredom or perhaps desperation, I decided to give it another go over the holidays.  In order to maximize the likelihood of retaining my account, I recycled nothing; completely different username, newly created gmail account, etc.  Damned if it didn't work.

Plenty of Fish has historically been a free site and commensurate member quality.  The latter hasn't changed, but like OKC, there's now an option to pay a monthly fee.  For $9.99 per month, upgraded membership offers a long list of negligible benefits.  My favorite is 'massive increase in messages', mostly because the claim isn't backed by anything so trivial as what will drive said massive increase.  You also get a gold star next to your profile, indicating you've been fleeced, I mean that you're a serious member. 

Upgraded members also have the option of only receiving emails from other upgraded members, because being conned out of $10 per month somehow demonstrates you're serious about meeting someone.  Except those members who check that box are doing themselves a disservice.  In the week or so since I've gotten back on the site, there have perhaps been three profiles out of many I've viewed where the little warning pops up about only paying members can contact this person.  Two of the three met my criteria and were of interest to me.  Except here's the bottom line - the likelihood of my tossing $10 out the window to send notes to two women who, based upon the law of internet dating averages, only have about a 10% likelihood of responding.  Except it's even lower.  My response rate on POF is abysmal.  Seriously, back in Richmond, women who didn't respond to my note on POF would show up on Match and reach out to me.

Innovation at Plenty of Shit

Plenty of Fish The website has been a previous target of my ire and continues to innovate in ways to raise it.  If I've not previously mentioned it, I was finally able to create an account on the site and not have it deleted fifteen minutes later.  Like other free dating sites, there's now a premium service option, where you pay and receive some sort of benefits.  No clue what they are, since communicating is still free and I don't care enough to investigate.  As usual, I have an opinion and that is those who pay for a free dating site are ripe targets for fleecing.  

One of the new features available to both the fleeced or unfleeced, is the option to check a box that prevents the unfleeced from contacting you.  The site attempts to convince you that they're more serious about finding a partner.  My position is do you really want to date someone who's dim enough to pay for a free site?  And besides, am I really going to pay for a service in the hopes the one person I'm interested will even respond?  Nah.  In any case, I've run across a few who've not unchecked the box and pass them by.  No one's been that irresistible.  That's where the site shows how slimy it's become.

Like every dating site, there's some way to 'like' another user.  You'll receive a little notification someone liked you and they show up in your matches.  Until I hid my profile, I was receiving a growing number of likes from really beautiful women.  I'd click on them and immediately got the pop up saying this member only receives messages from those who've been properly fleeced.  Hmm...something's not quite kosher, but I can't put my finger on it.  LOL

I'm sure you can fill in the blanks from there.  

On a semi-related note, Okey Cupie has updated their site / app again and achieved the pinnacle of making it completely unusable.  No longer can you just do a basic search for people in your area, within an age range.  You're forced to search by interests or some shit.  Oh, and of course, they want to fleece you as well.  Not surprising, considering they're both owned by the same company.

Of course, at this point in time, fleeced or unfleeced, ain't no one worth the risk of infection.

And that's the dating scene in 2020.

Marriage Number Four Down in Flames!

For those who've muddled through my previous entries, you're aware of how my ex-wife is the gift that gave and has kept on giving.  From the manipulation, to the throwing of the ham, to the hell she put me through in our divorce, marrying hubby number four, and the piece de resistance, becoming a wedding officiant.  I thought that she was done, hoped she was done because I genuinely hold no ill will toward her and want her to be happy, because she's got more than her fair share of demons to contend with.  But I was optimistic because she and Number Four have been together for ten years, a new record for her.  I thought of her the other day and wondered if she'd finally gotten it together.

Then today, my father called to inform me that Number Four's mother reached out to him.  Apparently, the marriage is on its last leg and circling the drain, and NF wanted to know what divorce attorney I'd used.  I can only speculate that my ex complained about how much of a bastard the guy was, hence his desire to go with the same formula.  My attorney has no love lost for my ex, partially because she was trash talking him to his (unbeknownst to her) daughter at a cocktail party.  Oops...  Maybe he'll offer a discount; she is a repeat defendant after all.

I feel for the guy, because everyone who knows him has nothing but praise for how kind and goodhearted he is.  But as I've noted before, you have to be pretty naive and more than a little dense to sign up to be Number Four in the first place.  Poor guy is about to enter a living hell, when he asks for a divorce and no one deserves that.  I'm hoping to connect with him before he pulls the trigger, so he can at least be a little prepared for the firestorm that's about to engulf him.


All part of life's rich pageant, my friends.  Thankfully, I'm not on the stage as one of the players, this time.

Out of Work Trophy Wife Encounter

Yes readers, one sneaked through my selection process and it didn't end well.  Our first interaction was through Match and she seemed intelligent, motivated, kind, and hot, but not OWTW hot.  Her profile and initial round of notes indicated she was a special needs teacher.  I'll fast forward through much of the intervening communication and provide the salient facts, since she's not really worth typing a great deal about.  We got onto the topic of sex, she wanted it, I'm a master at talking dirty and creating images, we were going to meet last night for dinner and she'd come over and begin to explore her submissive side.  I do love me some exploration.  We both seemed to want a genuine relationship and I parroted her desires, in that aspect of our communication.  I probably took it a bit further due to a combination of excitement over (seemingly) finding someone in Kansas worth dating. 

At this point, I'll mention recognizing a few red flags pointing to a potential OWTW, including how her successful, and apparently fuck nuts, attorney husband had traded her in on a younger model.

The day before our date, she went a bit dark, cutting email down to a single note.  I asked her if everything was okay, at which point she told me she thought I was pushing for something more serious than she wanted.  I responded that I had no interest in jumping into anything.  Her note made it clear she didn't accept what I'd told her.  Perhaps if I'd mentioned that there's no way in hell I want to establish anything remotely resembling roots in fucking Kansas. 

By the time our date rolled around, I knew there was no way she was coming home with me.  She arrived decked out in designer clothing and admittedly, looked quite delicious.  Dinner was full of vacuous conversation, where I learned she actually wasn't teaching, or working at all.  She was dabbling and not happy with any of her teaching options.  That one wasn't an immediate bell, because I was still determining whether I could get her in the sack.  Sorry, I'm a guy after all.  Dinner ended, with no conversation about her coming home with me, so I broached the topic.  As expected, she declined, sticking to her story of my wanting to move too quickly and how she didn't want to hurt me.  I commented that she had clearly made up her mind before coming to dinner, which she denied.  I'll come back to that.

I made the mistake of asking something to the effect of why she came to dinner, knowing she wasn't going home with me.  And she let me have it with everything she could think of: the rushing into a relationship, how she didn't like the phrasing I used in one of my notes, how I didn't apologize properly for something she felt I needed to apologize.  She was put off that I couldn't come up with any sexual fantasies, when she asked (sorry, they're not really fantasies after they've been fulfilled).  Then, she berated me for foisting fantasies onto her (except they weren't fantasies, but dirty things most other women enjoyed).  She took issue with things I'd said that I never said; those had to have come from some other guy.  On and on it went, with no end in sight.  I've had women I'd been dating for months tell me off in a shorter amount of time than this woman I'd just met.   She'd run through her list of transgressions, then circle back to the beginning, finding some new grievance to add for the next rotation.  I've never experienced anything like this!  I did everything I could think of to indicate the conversation was over, to gracefully make an exit.  I did this twice, but she wasn't losing any steam, so I wound up doing something I've never done before.  I got up and walked out on her, muttering something to the effect of 'have a nice life'.

It hit me later that all of these supposed transgressions occurred before we laid eyes on each other, so which only adds fuel to my previous query of why did she meet in the first place.  What a truly horrible encounter.

As I'm sure you can tell, I'm still angered by the whole episode, but was able to perform a post mortem on the date and finally uncover her motive for coming to dinner; the only possible motive.  She was still sexed up, from the dirty talk I'd been plying her with and was hoping I'd be more of a stud muffin than I appeared in my pictures.  At that point, she would have likely forgotten the whole 'hurting others' thing and gone home with me.  Transparent and shallow; not the things I look for in a woman.

And what pisses me off the most is I spent $30 on some fucking grapefruit flavored Absolut that she asked for me to have for her.  It's not the money, mind you, but the reminder of the bitch every time I open the freezer.  I sure as hell won't drink it.  Anyone want a bottle of nasty vodka?

Safety Is Important - Flotation Devices

Well, I've reached a point where I'm back to the online dating world and have noticed something new about women in Kansas.  Damn, there are a lot of them here with implants!  These enhanced blouse bunnies are easy to spot, because chests just don't match the rest of these women's bodies.  I'm sure there are plenty of women with implants who seek a more natural look, and you'd never know without a feel test, but these women have chosen the porn star big wahwahs route.  No way you could miss those pontoons.

Giving it some thought, this trend shouldn't be much of a surprise; one of the first observations I made, viewing dating profiles, was the rather robust trade in cosmetics, here in the KC area. 

And while finding time to pen this short 'holy shit, lots of fake sweater meat here' entry, I've also encountered a bunch of women who seemingly wear false eyelashes all the time. As with many of these things, I encountered one woman in particular who had fake lashes so large, they prevented her from wearing sunglasses and smeared her windshield, which heightened my awareness to them on other women.  But even in the most casual photo, there's full makeup and accoutrements. 

I'll resist the temptation to venture further into what the dedication to bolt on's and such say about someone.  It's a woman's body and she's free to do with it as she chooses.  Perhaps it's a thing, here in flyover states.  People sure as hell don't spend their money on travel or other enrichment, so they might as well have prodigious cans.  Some major league yabos, I tell ya. 

And yes, I enjoyed working in as many euphemisms as I could in the short entry; because like most men, I'm twelve and easily amused.

Do You Know Yourself? Really?

The words on the screen stung a bit.  They were from a woman with whom I thought I saw what could be an amazing relationship.  Our third date had been even more fun than the previous two and it was clear our desire would take over on number four and we'd become intimate.  I'd told her I wanted us to be exclusive.  Regular readers know I'm a fan of monogamy, plus I really liked this woman.  But there were the words.

I don't want an exclusive sexual relationship with you.

After a bit of back and forth, I got to the heart of the matter.  She wanted a sexual relationship with me but wanted to explore new possibilities, being fresh out of her marriage (dating separated people...never a good idea).  She wanted to sleep around a bit.

I responded by asking "you know we're talking about you, right?  The woman who, on our second date, wouldn't invite me up to her apartment in order to continue the heavy make out session that had begun in my car because 'I barely know you'.  The same woman, who on our third date, required some serious arm twisting before she finally relented to having me up; for the same reason, I might add.  (and not to have sex) And you think you can casually fuck random guys?"

While we were a couple, we would often joke about that, and she would always finish with 'I could totally be a slut.'  Sure you could, sweetheart.

My point in sharing this story is that her lack of understanding of who she was and what she was capable of could have torpedoed something great between the two of us.  (instead, it was her abysmal self-esteem that served as the projectile, but that's another story)

The experience that spurred this entry though, occurred recently, and was deja vu all over again with a similar encounter a few years ago.  While both women fell into the same demographic, two data points do not make a trend.  But the data points are the same.  The women were full blown submissives, who hadn't been with a man in at least a year.  Having spotted their concealed desires, I brought each 'out of their shell' and was met with a sentiment of 'I want you to take me asap' and called 'master' by both.  Then, to borrow a line from Top Gun, they each realized their sex drive wrote a check their body couldn't cash.  In other words, both flaked.  The first got halfway to the wine bar, at which we were meeting, and realized she couldn't go through with fucking a complete stranger.  She was apologetic, I was supportive.  There was some chemistry, but we never reconnected.  The second one ghosted me before we could meet.  I sent her a note a week or so after, asking why she ghosted me, to which she responded to the effect of 'those things you said to me before we even met were screwed up'.  Oh, you mean the things that you were self-stimulating to as I said them?  As noted, both women couldn't overcome their own inhibitions, even though they clearly thought they could.

The moral of these stories is understanding the person in the mirror is vital, when you're attempting to find a mate or chart your course.  Without knowing yourself, you can never hope to truly know someone else.

Happy dating, readers.

The Insightful Bachelor Joins The Klan

Sunday morning in the flat lands and I'm waking up alone again.  This is noteworthy because I had two women eager and willing for me to do very bad things to them, this weekend, and I bailed on both.  Each brought her own brand of lunacy to the table, and since they dropped in at the same time, I thought I'd share.  

The first woman was a previous float in my parade of loons.  We had traded notes a few months back, but not met.  She was the first woman who had 'scheduled' a sexting session.  Seriously, she told me that we would sext that evening and at the appointed time, began sending x-rated pictures and videos.  Perhaps I'm different from most guys, but I need a bit of warming up before such a stream of material excites me.  In any case, before I wander too far into the details, I blew her off because she was an oddball.  She was oddly self-absorbed and shared way too many details of her dysfunctional past with me.  Because she fancied herself as a writer, those details came in the form of epic length emails.  Ask her what time it was and she'd share interminable thoughts on time itself, as well as how it impacted her previous struggles with mental illness.  

This woman reappeared and wanted me to afford her another opportunity to date.  Having suffered her bullshit before, I told her I needed a fuck toy and she would come over Saturday (last) night to provide that service.  She readily agreed and the epic notes returned.  Fuck, I forgot what a whack job she was.  It was actually something relatively minor that caused her to be kicked to the curb again.  In the midst of the painfully long emails, she made the comment 'your such a good guy', or something to that effect.  I won't date a woman if her profile has that error and this woman constantly pats herself on the back for being an extraordinary writer.  Yet, she still can't get 'your' and 'you're' straight.  Granted, I would have finally skipped the encounter anyway, to escape the constant garbage coming from her mouth, not to mention, she had the strong aroma of a stalker, but the end result was the same.

The other woman, in some ways, was even more fucked up than the first one.  Like the first, she was smart, educated, and had something to say.  It didn't hurt she was gorgeous as well.  I'll also mention she was black; be very clear I have no feelings, one way or another, about dating a black woman; I'm mentioning it because it'll be important later.  Sandi was an interesting girl, in that she worked like crazy to maintain her tough, outer shell.  She also seemed to enjoy keeping me on my toes.  For those reasons, I took some of her demands with a grain of salt.  But she made demands that, in my mind, had her straddling the fence between high maintenance and manipulative.  For example, when we planned to talk on the phone for the first time, she got angry I wouldn't share my number as soon as the plans were made, even though we wouldn't be speaking for several hours.  

There were other things that rang some bells, such as her way of engaging her fwb's.  I'll stop for a moment and state that one of the other things I appreciated about Sandi was her sex drive and level of perversity similar to mine.  Back to her fwb's, she would fuck them, but refused to kiss them.  This, she told me, was in order to compartmentalize feelings versus sexual pleasure.  I found this to be rather odd, because I've kissed every one of my fwb's and they've eagerly reciprocated.  She also made it clear she was no one's sub; in fact, she told me I would be her's.  Also, she enjoyed having a man go down on her, but hadn't experienced that in years, due to the vulnerability involved in receiving oral.

We had planned to get together last night, but talked every evening this past week, almost always enjoying some phone dirtiness before hanging up.  Sometimes, the phone sex was the main event.  She slowly opened up to me and began to realize that I really wasn't just interested in fucking her.  That trust allowed her to share her deepest, darkest sexual fantasy with me.  I've done some very naughty, dirty things sexually, but what she shared shocked even me.  I was to secure a Klan robe / hood and put her in her place, treat her like a possession, rough her up / choke her, and degrade her without mercy.  I sort of said 'youwantmetodowhatnow?'  I find the Klan to be the worst of those with whom I share the planet and to have a strong, black woman want to bring them into the bedroom absolutely floored me.  It would have been difficult for me to put on a set of Klan robes.  That being said, within certain boundaries (i.e. no other species, football teams, scat, etc.) I'll do what it takes to take my partner to new levels of sexual pleasure.  So, that was the role play for that night's phone fun.  

But the demands / manipulation continued to where we'd talk in circles for an hour about the same topic, only to land back where we started; what was objectionable 30 minutes ago was suddenly a perfect idea.  The straw that broke it for me was she told me she wanted to hear me tell her I loved her.  (I'll remind readers I'd not met this woman)  Naturally, I told her that wouldn't happen for a bit, because, well, I'm emotionally healthy.  This hurt her feelings quite a bit.  She backpedaled to explain it was a sexual fantasy, although I knew she was full of shit.  Our last exchange of the night involved her demand for a certain dirty picture (btw, she's only the second woman I've encountered who likes dick pics).  I teased her and asked if she thought she deserved the picture.  'So much for making me happy.'  That was it; no dirty sex is worth the borderline tantrums and manipulation.  So, I woke up yesterday morning and called off our date.  

I've resisted the temptation to 'diagnose' this woman, although it's clear there are some serious intimacy issues present.  I'm just happy to have not had her over, because she also smelled of 'stalker'.

Those are the most recent women I've interacted with, beyond a note or two.  There have been a number of women who seem unable to hold a conversation, but that's a constant background noise.    

In closing, I will mention that finding KKK robes and hoods is pretty much impossible.  Neither Amazon nor eBay list them, and if those two don't offer something, it's likely not available to buy.  There's my tidbit of knowledge for the week.

Happy dating, readers.         

Religion and Dating in Kansas

Having been here for seven months (holy fucking shit, that realization just made me a bit nauseous!), I should have already encountered someone I wanted to date more than a few times, or at least developed one or two 'special friends', with whom I could spend quality time.  However, I've only gone on multiple dates with one person.  It goes without saying that dating sucks, but seriously, this has been an incredible dry spell.  This lack of companionship can essentially be attributed to one factor, religion.

I've already shared my views on religion and faith here.  With the exception I noted in that entry, I'd previously not encountered much friction on the topic of religion in the context of dating.  That is until I moved here...to the Bible Belt.  You see, the majority of people I've come across here are practicing Christians and most women want the same quality in their partner.  Beyond it narrowing the dating pool quite a bit, no foul, right?  Wrong.

You see, many of these so called devout Christians take quite a bit of license with the 'no sex before marriage' rule.  That's the one good thing about OKCupid; it's easy to see by how a woman answers the sex questions what's important to her.  It's fairly common to find a woman who responds she'll sleep with a guy on their first date, but God is very important to her.

My position is if you're going to be a Christian, be a Christian.  If you consider the Bible to be the word of God, follow it.  You're either in or you're out.  'I like these rules, but not those, so I'll ignore them' serves only to highlight your hypocrisy.   His word is either sacrosanct or it's not, and if it's not, then stop calling yourself a person of faith.

To those I've questioned on the topic, the typical response has been 'I have a special relationship with God'.  So, you and your sky daddy sat down and he said 'fuck all the guys you want, I got your back'?  You'll forgive me if I'm a bit skeptical about that one.

It all boils down to this:  This is your god, the one you worship, and profess to follow.  If you can't be faithful to Him, then how can I expect you will be to some schmuck you're dating?

The cherry on the top is these women (and I'm sure men, but I don't date them), will be the first to judge you for not being a Christian.  They look down their noses at you as though you're some sort of ignorant, evil creature.  Hypocrisy elevated to a very high standard.

And this has nothing to do with slut shaming.  Those who read my blog know I wholeheartedly celebrate sluts.  A woman can fuck her way through the NFC east, for all I care, and I'd have not one unkind word to say about her.  However, if she's espousing to worship her sky daddy while doing it, she's a waste of oxygen.

For example, the girl who owned nothing would scream with delight as I pounded her ass, and called her a whore, but still gave me shit for not believing in God.

In another case, I'd been chatting with a woman (here in the Flat Lands) who seemed to be a good fit; smart, funny, cute, blah, blah.  We'd discussed sex and she became rather excited about becoming my dirty girl, even being owned by me.  We planned to meet for dinner, then she would come to my house, the next night, to get laid, no pretense of anything else.  Fast forward to dinner and the food arrives.  Before she tears into her steak, she bows her head.  Holy shit, this chick is saying grace!  The chick I had just met, who wanted me to fuck her like a slut the following night, was saying grace!

My rant toward these people:  You fuckers are the worst kind of hypocrites and numb skulls.  You make the rest of us suffer through you wearing your supposed faith on your sleeve, looking down your nose at those who don't share your beliefs, yet you don't live it yourself.  Exactly what do you plan to say to St. Peter at the pearly gates, when he points out more men had gone down on you than on the Titanic?

No one should be shocked that I absolutely won't date a Christian.  If she truly believes, I'm not waiting until marriage or a 'serious' relationship before we get naughty (and potentially discover she's horrible in the sack).  If she does fuck, she's a hypocrite.

And that's life in Kansas...how's your love life?

Plenty of Shit

Plenty of Fish was never the greatest dating site in the world, although this was mostly due to the user base.  It was free, after all.  For some reason, I received less responses from that site versus Match.  I've previously remarked how the same woman would ignore my note on POF only to initiate contact on Match.  But at least the site worked and allowed you to meet others.  Until now.

Around the holidays, the app decided it no longer recognized me.  Went online and same thing; username and password no workee.  So, I asked the site for a ''reset my password' email.  Days go by, no email; and yes, I checked my spam.  So, I create a new profile.  This one is literally deleted within minutes.  Same for the next one and the one after that.

For the record, I've done nothing to violate the terms and conditions of the site.  Hell, I haven't been on it long enough to piss anyone off!

Plenty of Fish Website - Today

So, I decide to give POF some time to fix whatever glitch they're having.  More accurately, I'm tired of creating accounts only to have them wiped within minutes.  In any case, in a moment of boredom, I tried again tonight.  I even register from another email address, just in case my usual one's been flagged for some reason.

It would be great if I could report the site's been fixed, but my new profile was wiped within half an hour or its creation.   In other words, POF is still the same massive pile of shit it was over the holidays.  I'd report the issue to POF, except there doesn't seem to be a way to contact the site.

As a reminder to my readers, POF is owned by Match.com, as is OKCupid.  Considering how unreliable the latter has become, I'm more than a bit concerned that the other sites will begin to experience serious issues as well.  Being that I'm a paying member on Match, I'm protecting myself by cancelling my membership and removing my payment information.  I would strongly consider my readers do the same, since the online dating house of cards may come crashing down at any point.

Looks like it's back to the bars for meeting people!

Semi-Annual Dating Profile of the Week - December, 2017

Yes, what was once a weekly endeavor declined to monthly frequency, then quarterly, and now semiannual.  The truth is garbage profiles all run together after reading the same crap for the 101st time, they lose impact.  However, once in a while, a profile jumps out as truly dreadful, such as the one below.

As usual, I've copied the entire profile, so readers can completely soak in the lunacy.  While longer than most of my previous examples, this is one that does keep on giving.  It comes from Emptynester, a 44 year old woman from Bucyrus, KS.  She's a bubbly, blond, type, who clearly spends her free time fearing carbs.  Empty not only seeks someone who likely doesn't exist, but takes 'here's what I don't want' to a new level of greatness.

I'm currently living in Columbia, Mo. My daughter is now a junior in college, so I able (and ready) to relocate if I met the right person. 

I've had two long-term relationships with two very great men. I'm three years out of my last relationship, and I'm ready to find another great partner. 

I will openly admit that I don't enjoy this experience too much, so in an attempt to save time/energy, please understand that I am at a point in my life that I would prefer to not deal with the demands of young children. Also, physical fitness is a VERY important part of my life and consumes a great deal of my time; I am also an active yogi and practice daily meditation...these are my passions. It is an ABSOLUTE REQUIREMENT that whomever I date also desires to live aligned w these passions. If you do not, please respect my time. I apologize if that comes across as rude, but I'm here looking for a partner, not friends or compliments. 

ADDENDUM: I have encountered a lot of "John 14:6 Christians" lately. For the record, I am an extremely spiritual person: I believe in a Higher Power, and I believe there are MANY paths that lead to God. I do not discriminate on a person's path unless "that path" forces you to be so ridged that you believe "your way" is "the only way". If you believe Jesus Christ is the one and only Son of God, we most definitely are not a Match: DEAL BREAKER. I'm not here to debate religious beliefs. 🙄


ADDENDUM II: I'm not a fan of facial hair, and it would take a lot for me to get beyond it: too scratchy. 😉

If we share these similar interests/beliefs, I look forward to hear from you; if we don't, I wish you the best in your search!

Initially, I struggled to properly describe all the ways this woman is just plain batty, but quickly realized there's no need.  She does it all by herself.

Be careful out there, my single friends.