Friends With Benefits

It’s time to discuss the “friends with benefits” thing in a little more detail. I’m aware that some girls will read my blog and think I’m a shallow scum-bag. My defense: hey, I’m a guy. There’s a big secret about women that females don’t want broadly publicized: girls like sex.

It’s shocking, I know. I’ll give you all a minute to let it soak in.

Men are so upfront with their sexual desires that maybe we don’t take the time pick up the signals that the fair sex sends off. They want ass, too—they just have more conditions: class, dignity and quality. We guys are never thinking that far ahead.

So negotiating a deal isn’t all that hard; after all, everyone wants the same thing. There are, however, a few key elements necessary to make things run a little smoother.

First, it helps if you actually enjoy the other person’s company, even if you’re not emotionally attached. It sounds simple, but if you can hang out with a person when there’s no sex involved, everything stays a lot cooler. Why? It goes back to my statement that women have conditions. The first one is that they want respect. Even if deep down, she knows that you’re only coming over for wild monkey sex, she needs the out of thinking that you respect her. Respect is a tough thing to fake, especially over long periods of time and especially after you’ve already fulfilled your needs for the exchange. Suck it up and have a conversation before you start plotting about grabbing your pants and making an exit.

The next key factor is quality. I’m pretty open about sex…it’s just the way I am. From my very diverse poll of women I’ve chatted with, it seems like there are a lot of men who just aren’t putting in the work. I don’t pretend to be the world’s greatest lover (though I harbor some suspicions), but guys, the needed elements to being an adequate lover are well within your grasp. Stop obsessing about you dick size and do three things:

1. stop focusing on yourself and make it all about her
2. actually put some effort into it
3. Talk about it after and see where there’s room for improvement

Didn’t mean to preach there, but with the stories I’ve been hearing, I start to wonder where the American work-ethic went to.

There are good reasons to practicing the above items, even with girls who are just “friends with benefits.” The most prominent is this: if you want to be asked back, you’d better make it worth her while. There’s no reason for her to want bad, emotion-free sex.

The last real element to making the arrangement work is honesty. Think about it: this is a relationship where there’s no huge emotional bond. You two should be able to put emotions on the back-burner and talk things through. If one of you gets a real significant other, you should be able to part company with no ill-will. Just be upfront with what you want and what you think. When there’re no raging emotions, things go a lot smoother.

Under what conditions do I suggest the relationship? That would be pretty much never. It’s weird, because you go to her house to feel good, but you leave there you feeling worse than you did in the first place. Even if the whole casual sex relationship went smoothly, it always made me more acutely aware of all the things that I wasn’t getting: like security, affection, and a real partner.

Here’s a secret about men: we want relationships, too.

I know some scummy guys…there’s a dude I know got hammered drunk and hooked up with a girl. It was her first time out of a long relationship, and they’re making out like kids. She decides to find out what she’s got to work with and decides to get him ready for the main event. So her head strays south and she starts doing her thing. Only problem is, this guy’s had about a bottle of whiskey and not everything is functioning to its peak ability. The poor girl is down there for 10 minutes: nothing. 20 minutes: nothing. Finally, 30 minutes in, he says, “Why don’t you just bite it?” Girl leaves in tears.

Let it never be said that I don’t know low-class guys. But each of them, believe it or not, is still really looking for that perfect girl to settle down with. I guess it’s strange that in a world where everyone wants the same thing, we have such a tough time getting it.

Relationship Withdrawal

Let’s face it—I’m a junkie. Why do I dedicate so much space and so many words to relationships and sex? It’s because I’m a relationship-whore.

From 1998-2003, I was nearly always in a relationship. It’s a terrible, horrible, life-destroying addiction. I’d get drunk, sleep with a girl I knew and then do something dumb like say, “Let’s be official” or “I don’t want to see other people” or “I respect you as a person.”

And then I would sober up and realize that there’s a reason I only ever thought to say this while drunk: it’s because while drinking I have the decision making skills of a neurologically impaired, crack-addicted chimp. Who am I kidding—it’s not like I’m much better while sober.

When the relationships finally ended, there were two distinctly different withdrawal symptoms. The first hit about two weeks after the break up and was purely physical. I didn’t care if I was getting the most inanimate, uptight, embarrassingly poor sex in the world; two weeks later I was ready to stab someone. I remember that there were a few girls who were so bad that I decided sleeping with them wasn’t even worth the car-ride over. It was like making love to a corpse that’d been violated by a 40-ounce bottle of malt liquor. None of that mattered. Two weeks after the supply lines had been cut, I thought I was going to die if I didn’t see naked breasts.

The next part is the emotional withdrawal. I’ve been in love three times. The worst part about those break-ups is not even the pain, but the feeling of “oh fuck, you mean I put all this work into this and now I’m back to square one?” Even when the relationship sucked, I at least had a sense that I knew what I wanted—I had something to work at and towards…and then it was gone. That’s what the emotional withdrawal is all about. You sit on your ass, sure that you’re never going to find love again, replay old relationships in your head, and start planning on a long life where your most meaningful relationship is with your cat.

I’m back to the depressing stage of relationship withdrawal. It’s so bad…I’m a total chick right now. I’m obsessing over meeting someone (which is the worst, because as soon as you start looking, you stop finding), and feeling generally unattractive and worthless. I swear to God, I’m about a pint of ice-cream and a bad hair-cut away from bitching about my thighs.

Deep down I know hope is not lost. I had a friend who recently told me that Hell would freeze over before I got married. I sort of take that as a compliment. Because as many heart-breaks, betrayals, and bad break-ups as I’ve had, I’m still not ready to settle. I’m not ready to just say, “I can’t deal with the self-degradation that the dating world requires. I’ll just marry the next thing that comes along so I can stop this living Hell.”

A co-worker commented to me recently that I had contradicted myself. I had said that I had no standards and was looking for a very particular person. Everyone listen up: I’ve got low standards for interviewing and the very highest for promotions. Meanwhile, I’m going through both emotional and physical withdrawals in the worst way. So here’s hoping a worth-while applicant comes along before I get drunk and tell some innocent girl I respect her.

Work-Related Drinking, Hallmark, and Happy F*cking Birthdays

Granted, I never took any business classes at college, but it seems like there’s so much of the business world that’s a total mystery to me. I’m currently working at my first real corporate job and I’ve been struggling with the proper etiquette for the daily situations.

Example: Work-related drinking. Apparently it’s bad form to show up for work drunk. Yet it’s good form to accept your bosses challenge to a Cognac drinking competition. Yet more proof that the most valuable things I learned at college were not taught in any classroom (well except for the time that some of us broke into the lab with a case of whiskey…)

This is the first year that I’ve had actual corporate co-workers, and I’m starting to get concerned about the birthday and Christmas situations. I don’t want people sending me cards! If they do, I have to get cards for them…I can’t even remember my parent’s anniversary! This is just another one of those times where I walk in and I’m the only one without a gift or card. It’s a vicious, horrible circle, where the only real winner is Hallmark. Damn you Hallmark!

It doesn’t help that I’m not a big birthday guy. My parents want to make big deals about them and I keep telling them I don’t care. First of all, I get hosed on presents. Any time, I get a gift it’s a “Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas.” Next, no one’s ever around and nothing’s ever open. Pssssshhhhtt…what’s Jesus ever done that’s so great? Besides all those magic tricks? I guess that’s the price I pay for being born on Christmas-Eve.

If my birthday does anything, it makes me wonder about how everyone views me. For example, last year I received the following gifts:

A Bottle of Johnny Walker Black
A Box of Cigars
A Flask
A Porno Magazine
A Mattress

Apparently, I’m an out-of-control, hard-drinking sexaholic, intent on killing himself by cancer of the mouth. I know people say that success comes from within, but if this how I’m viewed I can rest assured that I’m doing something right. Bah-Humbug, losers!

Break-Ups

One thing I don’t think women are unfair about is their need to talk about relationships and commitment. I don’t blame them because dating is such a weird, transient, drifting thing these days. For example, just because I went on three dates with a girl, doesn’t mean I’d consider us “dating.”

For me, relationships have clear rankings:

Seeing: an occasional date
Sleeping with: no emotional relationship is implied
Dating: regularly seeing each other—no exclusivity is implied
Girlfriend: dating regularly and exclusively

Of course, after girlfriend, comes fiancé and wife—I doubt that those titles need much explanation. My favorite definition of the word "Husband" came from a book called The Devil's Dictionary. "Husband: One who has tasted the cake and been forced to keep the platter."

Where things get weird, though, is the etiquette involving ended each of these relationships. I think up until 5 dates, either party has the right to simply stop returning phone calls. Things don’t always work out and that’s the way it goes. There’s no need to make a big deal over it. I always like to give one follow-up call if I don’t get a callback. After that, it’s time to cut your losses and move on. Ladies and Gents, if you call more than three times you’re obsessing and you’re border-line stalker.

At five dates, I think the other party at least deserves a phone-call break-up. At seven, you need a face-to-face sit down.

Here are some rules. No quibbling, non-negotiable, if you break any of these rules you’re a jack-ass:

1) Be decisive. If you’re finished with someone, don’t give them the idea that you need time or a break. Establish a clean break so that you can both get on with your life.
2) Be polite. These things are never easy, but if you get drawn into a discussion about her short-comings or faults things will get very bad, very quickly. The last thing either of you needs is an assault charge. There’s no need to make any life-long enemies.
3) Show some remorse. It’s just common courtesy. Rejection isn’t easy to take, so at least let them think that it wasn’t easy to give.

I’ve been involved with some truly memorable break-ups, and most of them were because I was too dumb to follow the rules above. Yes, I know I’m a jack-ass.

Horrible break-up number one happened because of a monumentally stupid move on my part—I opted for the snap-decision break-up. Let’s call her Anne—I need a fake name because I’m pretty sure that she will actually come to my house and stab me if she reads this. I had invited her over to my house. I had cooked dinner and had a whole evening prepared. She showed up and we started fighting about something. I honestly don’t remember what. I made my first mistake, when I tried to win the argument. She then said, “Oh yeah, do you remember three weeks ago when we were standing out in front of our friend’s house? I turned to say something to you and you started talking to your friend. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW THAT FEELS???”

To which I replied, “I’d don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about! How could I possibly know how you feel?”

Things degenerated from there. The climax of the story is that a week later I received a 12 page letter from her filled with such cheery phrases as, “If you live a hundred years, you’ll never outlive all the pain you’ve given me” and, “We’re going to meet again in a happy place, even if this is after death.” Then the letter launched into four pages of song lyrics.

This brings me to my next rule of break-up etiquette: take it like an adult. Even if you’re heart-broken, don’t call and leave rambling, sentimental messages. Don’t send threatening letters. Don’t put up passive-aggressive away messages. Just shut up and don’t make yourself look like a prick, wimp or psycho. Also on this note, if you’re being dumped, don’t insist on “being friends” if you can’t take it. You’re just making yourself more miserable.

My favorite passive-aggressive break-up story is this: The girl I’d been seeing me had just dumped me. We had a whole bunch of mutual friends, one of which I saw at a Halloween party a week or so later. I stumbled in drunk, dressed like “The Crow” and had a long chat with him. He told me that he’s seen her making out with a guy just before she dumped me.

So I went home and wrote an away message. You have to keep in mind that virtually ALL of her friends were on AIM and checked these things obsessively. The message was:

White face-paint: $5
Black overcoat and leather pants: $150
Hearing from a mutual friend that your ex-girlfriend is a cheap, lying skank: priceless.

I got about 20 messages from friends. I hear that she was reduced to tears. Hey, I was drunk!

It also led me to my next lesson: revenge dating is not a good idea. A few months later I started dating her best friend. Here’s something you may not know: girls don’t like when you do that. Even if they broke up with you, they don’t approve when the best friend sweeps in. However, that’s nothing compared with how angry they get when you dump them and go for the best friend. I know.

I didn’t really mean to date a girl, take her virginity, break up with her and then date her best friend a week later…it just sort of worked out that way. Besides, now I know that girls don’t appreciate these things.

I like to think that she got equal revenge, though. She spread the rumor that I beat her. Then she called the girl I was dating (her former best friend) and said that I had given her an STD.

For the record, both statements were absolutely false. I’m respectful and I’ve been tested.

I guess what I’m saying is, boys and girls: play nice. And when you’re done playing, don’t throw a tantrum.

Discussing My Gentilas With Cops and Other Fun Stories

What in the world could turn a normal, red-blooded American Boy into the monster that possesses the twisted World view of the abomination that stands before you today? I blame the schools. And some really interesting sexual experiences gone horribly wrong.

Example? Let’s just say it appears that I’m allergic to Spermicidal Lubricants. It’s a lesson I learned (excuse the double meaning) the hard way. You don’t really know the meaning of "awkward" until you have to explain to an officer that you were speeding because you have to get to the Emergency Room before your crotch kills you.

Then there are the interesting break-ups. Apparently there’s a whole code involving what it’s ok to say about exes that I was not privy to. Example? Apparently it’s perfectly ok for your ex to call up your current girlfriend and say that I gave her STDs. See, now I know these things.

Then there are the wonderful relationships that I’ve actually been in. A little known piece of etiquette: It does not leave the best impression on a man when you cold cock his friend’s fiancé after being invited to dinner at their house. I assumed this was common knowledge. Turned out I was wrong. Keep in mind: this was not an open hand slap. I’m talking rear-back-and-uncoil-a-right-hook-like-you-see-in-Rocky-Movies-kinda-punch. I haven’t seen a blonde drop like that since the Pam Anderson video.

Some ladies say they don’t know what guys mean when we say that girls are hard to read. When I hear that, I like to tell the story of a girl met while walking home from class:

I was ambling home, listening to music when a girl next to me dropped her bag. So I stopped and helped her pick up her things. Naturally, we fell to talking and I walked her home. She said, “I’m going to a poetry reading tomorrow night. Do you want to come?” I agreed to meet her at her place at 7:30. The next evening I show up there and the girl is MIA. Her roommate tells me that our girl hasn’t been home all day. So I leave my name and number with a note like saying “sorry I missed you. If you’d like to get coffee sometime, give me a ring.” The next day I get a call. The girl is very apologetic and tells me that there’s a party on Saturday Night. Why don’t we meet up? So I walk over again on Saturday and...Once again our girl can’t be found. She had to call and make sure I couldn’t plan anything else for Saturday. What bugs me so much about this story is not that she stood me up, but that she stood me up twice. I challenge anyone to explain that one to me.

I know I’m weird, because occasionally I’ll open my mouth and have absolutely no idea what’s going to come out of it. Usually the results are hysterically funny. Example: I was at the coffee machine at work, waiting in line. Some one in front of me comments that they had to have their morning caffeine jump or they couldn’t function in the morning. A wiser person would have nodded or said something like, “I hear that.” Instead my mouth opens and I realize that I’m going to say something that will forever change how people at work view me.

I blurt out, “I found that coffee just wasn’t giving me the kick that I needed. That’s why I switched over to PCP!”

There was a moment of silence as everyone considered if my desk provided a clear firing path to where they sat. Then, like the Red Sea, a path to the coffee machine parted. You could almost hear my career being leveled by a bus, mid-stride at a cross-walk.

PCP. Mmmm…smooth!

The Call Back

I had no idea there were so many mixed feelings about the “call back” waiting period. Yesterday I had a few people contact me with their opinions on the waiting time required before calling a person. Apparently there’s a huge controversy about this.

One side feels that calling a woman back the day after you get her number is a positive: it enforces that you’re interested, it sends the message that you’re serious, and also it says that you don’t play games. People of this view think that women will respond well to the early call back for all those reasons.

Logically, those features would make you attractive. In practice, they undermine your chances. Let me explain why. What I write below should not be construed as an attack on women—men are just as guilty as women here. This is a fundamental truth about people.

Those of you who remember my very first blog entry will recall that I proposed that people write up Dating Resumes. The idea was to make dating a more left-brain process and move away from making all our relationship choices based on feelings. Calling a girl back immediately says that you’re interested, straight-forward, and available. While girls say that those things are attractive, the truth is that those things are a turn off. It’s a fundamental philosophical truth about people: we pursue that which retreats from us.

You see this type of thing all the time. Guys run off on their wives with young, flighty girls. Women spurn the steady, reliable friend for the guy that’s done nothing but treat them poorly. Everyone wants love—but we want to feel like we earned it, like we worked for it. When love is easy people suspect it’s false or fleeting.

While reliability, honesty and straightforwardness are key to a working relationship, they really don’t play too much of a role in attraction. No one ever says, “Boy, I can’t wait to see Bob. He just swept me off my feet with his raw punctuality and animal responsibility.”

Relationships have to start based on attraction. Waiting a few days to call a woman lets her know that you’re interested…but not over-interested. It also gives you a little time to mull over your own feelings regarding your target. There’s a reason that guns require a waiting period—it’s not the type of purchase that should be an impulse buy. You should expect nothing less of your relationships.

F*ck Disney, College Girls, And The South!

On Friday, I agreed to take my sister to go see “The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.” I’m not sure if everyone heard, but apparently this movie is being marketed to some religious groups as a deeply Christian film.

This is the type of thing that gets me angry. If you think, from reading these posts, that you’ve heard what I sound like angry, think again. Two things have the ability to incense me beyond words: Religion and Politics. I’ve tried to back off. Really. I reached my cracking point during the last election when I found myself standing on a chair yelling at the TV set during the Republican National Convention. I just couldn't do it anymore. It was to the point where if I continued to pay attention I’d die of a stroke within a week.

Before I get into why making this out as a Religious Film pisses me off, let me just say this: Christians, if you think that this is the big Mainstream Cultural event that will bring millions to God, you’d better grab up some of those communion wafers and sit your robed fannies back down on the pews. You’re going to be waiting for a while. The movie was really bad. Essentially, it’s impossible to relate to any of the characters. Every single one is a two-dimensional card-board cut-out. It’s the kind of movie where you can tell inside of 10 seconds what each character’s role is. The plot plods along until it stumbles to an end with the battle scene everyone knew was coming. The battle scene pretty much sums up the film: characters we feel nothing for jumping through hoops that enforce why we hate them. You never get the sense that anyone in the film has any choice about their actions. They’re all one dimensional roles following their obvious paths.

I’m not surprised that Disney tried to market this as a Christian Film. Let it never be said that Disney is above pandering to religious groups to make money. I’m going to let you in on some advice: if you’re older than 8 and you can’t wait to go see the next Disney Film, kill yourself. Seriously. Thanks for calling. Make sure you get your whole head in front of the shotgun. We, as a culture, need to get you out of the gene pool as quickly as possible. Disney has really only ever made one film. All they do now is change the cast. Every single animated film is the same. Every single sports film is the same.

A lot of people think that I’m over-stating things when I say that Disney is evil. One of the few things I take very seriously is the importance of stories (I was an English major, for Christ’s sake!). Disney is on an unstoppable quest to kill all that is original, meaningful, and precious about our culture’s stories. If you’re one of those college girls who wears pink pajamas, has a thousand stuffed animals on her bed and rushes out to buy the re-release of each new Disney DVD, do the world a favor and take up a hobby: like chugging anti-freeze or sculpting nuclear waste. You might, in all seriousness, be the end of our species. You are the meteor of stupidity that ends the age man, reason and creativity. In my book of evil corporations, Disney ranks only SLIGHTLY behind Halliburton and FOX.

Now on to what really bugs me about the whole thing. The last time I read the Narnia books I was 6, so my recollection of the story is rather hazy. Now if you want to make the case that some of his story was inspired by the Bible, I’ve got no problem with it. The Bible is the single largest source of our culture’s stories. Every writer takes some of what’s out there before and uses it to make his own point. But making the step from saying, “Some of the ideas of this book were inspired by the Bible” to “This is a Christian Book” is insulting. Why is it that super-right wing Christian’s always seem to have trouble with subtly? Rather than saying that the Bible has some very enlightening and meaningful passages concerning philosophy, spirituality and our relationship with our inevitably fleeting time on this planet, you have to demand that everything in the book is totally one-for-one true. It’s not a contradiction to believe in evolution and the Bible. Christians, get this into those red-neck, republican, homophobic, misogynistic, racist, anti-Semitic, sheet-wearing skulls: there’s more to life than black and white. Shades of gray are acceptable.

But how dare you. HOW DARE YOU drag down the writings of C.S. Lewis, one of the greatest writers of the World War II generation. I’m not sure who sold the rights to Disney, but there should be a special place in Hell for him. When you start making claims about the intent of a writer who can no-longer defend his work, just to support your cause, you never really had a cause in the first place. The man did things that you never could. So stop trying to pull your Religion up by his coat-tails—because all you really succeed in doing is dragging him down to your level of raving, inbred fanaticism.

Pick-Ups

I don’t think guys are given nearly enough credit for the difficulty of pick ups. It’s really tough. There are all these other factors and rules and perceptions that girls mostly take for granted.

So let’s start at the beginning of the night. Guys have to get dressed up, look right and smell right. I read somewhere that one of the first two things that girls look at is a guy’s shoes. I can’t pretend to speak for every man out there, but I don’t even put that much energy into shoe shopping. I currently own three pairs of shoes: my dress shoes (weddings and funerals only), my sneakers (worn exclusively May-September), and my boots (worn exclusively October-April). That’s it. They’re comfy and practical. That’s pretty much all I care about. I figure, feet are feet no matter how you dress them up. Of course, I once dated a girl who owned over 370 pairs of shoes. No exaggeration…and yet all I ever saw her wear were her old converse all-stars!

So guys try to get spruced up, when we know that no matter how much effort and thought goes into what we wear, we’ll always be under-prepared compared to the ladies we’re looking at. Here’s a confession about my clothes: I go shopping once a year. My best friend and I just do one full day of clothes shopping and that’s it. Usually we’re done in about 3, maybe 4 hours tops. And then I’m set for the year.

Next, we have to get the crew together. Why? Because women don’t want to talk to guys who go drinking alone. It sends a bad image. However, once you have a crew of guys together, it’s generally a lot more trouble than its worth. There’s cock-blocking, teasing, arguments about where to go and when to leave, and then there’s always that one dude who gets way too drunk and starts shit or yells inappropriate things to you just as you strike up a conversation.

Example: My friends are out drinking one night. A cute girl comes up to my friend outside the bar and asks him for a light. Now, in any civilized culture, his boys would take a hint and go grab another drink, or head off to buy more smokes. That being the case, two of them immediately walk over and insert themselves into the conversation. When he finally gets rid of them, another one of his crew comes stumbling out and starts belligerently hitting on the cute girl’s friends before walking over to my friend and asking at the top of his lungs “Are you going to fuck her?” From here the night disintegrates into a bar-fight and some petty vandalism.

The worst part is the actual pick-up, though. I don’t have any “pick-up” lines, because I don’t think they work. Generally I just ease myself into whatever conversation and hope for the best. It’s a tough gig, though. Guys have to deal not only with fear of rejection, but with the knowledge that their whole crew is watching and ready to tear you apart if you don’t come back with a phone number.

Then, once you have the number there’s the question of how long to wait before the call back. Girls I talk to about this are always like, “You should just call her the next day.” This is really dumb. Here’s what I’ve learned about women: no matter how much they say they don’t want games and they just want honesty, they might want it, but they don’t respect it. It’s a key difference. I’m always pretty upfront with how I feel and what I want. But if you don’t make girls a little insecure they think they can walk all over you. It works the same way for guys. The perfect example: my friend got a girl’s number and waited three days before calling her back and leaving a message. For the next four days he talked about nothing but her and stressed about when she was going to call him back. She waited four days and now he can’t wait to see her.

Was this whole interaction pointless? Of course! Would it have made more sense to just call each other back right away and get together the following weekend for dinner, or one evening for coffee? Yeah! But I don’t think either one would be quite as keyed up to see the other if it happened that way.

It’s a funny situation. It’s like as soon as you exchange phone numbers, you immediately regress to a 6th grade relationship. “Does she like me? I want her know that I like her, but I don’t want her to think I like her more than she likes me. Do you know her friend? Did she say anything about me? Maybe I can sit next to her at lunch.”

People ask me why I play guitar. I like to tell them it’s because I’m not handsome. Good looking guys have such an advantage. It’s like they get loved without putting in any effort. They don’t have to work at being funny, smart, charming, sensitive, interesting or talented. The rest of us have to bust our ass.

Get A Sense Of Humor!

And now a short disclaimer: Ladies, the things I’ve written in my previous posts are meant to be funny. My statements are overblown and intended to be tongue in cheek. So, feel free to call off the hounds.

I received a number of angry Instant Messages yesterday, from people who were hurt, angry or simply wanted to fight. So let me say, “I applaud the way your gender has rallied around Cock Blocking.” It’s touching, really.

However, if you do want to rumble, please note that “you’re a terrible person” doesn’t really count as an argument. I actually took a few debating classes at school, and you’ve got to remember that attacking your opponent’s character is only a valid technique in politics. Got that, you skanks?

Hahahahahaha…I’m just kidding.

In light of the personal attacks, I’ve decided on a new prerequisite for my perfect girl: sense of humor. It’s got to be a GREAT sense of humor. See, long ago when I was a lad, way back before the weight of the world crushed my spirit; I decided that a sense of humor was vital to survival. There was some generally horrible shit going on and I was getting depressed and moody, when finally I just started laughing at it.

In a sick way, life is really very funny. My philosophy since then has been, “life is a joke that you’re on the wrong end of.” That doesn’t mean you can’t argue with me. I actually really enjoy a spirited debate, but you’d better realize that I think just about everything’s funny and I take very little of what’s said personally. See, the really smart people, watch what you do not what you say.

I need the kind of girl where when we fight (and fights are pretty much inevitable, or you have communication problems) we can turn to each other and just crack up. Then have fabulous make-up sex. Then laugh some more...then more make-up sex...then...well, you get the idea.

The worst thing that can happen to a person is a loss of sense of humor. It’s what all fanatics have in common. The Christian right, the protesting hippies, and the Muslim fanatics. That’s really the scariest thing about terrorists: they’re a people who wandered the desert for years and never encountered a knock-knock joke. Maybe because they lived in tents. But you would have thought that’d at least have dreamed up a flap-flap joke.

There’s a special ring in Hell for people who take themselves too seriously. Unfortunately, we now have so many of them that they’ve brought it up here to the rest of us.

I’d like to end this rant with a quote from George Carlin:

“Anything can be funny. Even rape! You don’t think that rape can be funny? Ok, then picture Elmer Fudd getting raped by Bug Bunny. See? Rape can be funny!”

Sharing Is Caring

I made a discovery not long ago: girls are weird about sex and sharing.

I had been sleeping with a girl rather casually. Circumstances arose where it would no longer be in everyone’s best interest to continue our arrangement, which is to say that she met someone she wanted to date seriously. You should understand that this not something I normally do…anymore. However, while sex with someone you care about is always better than sex with someone with whom you have no connection, poor casual sex is still infinitely better than no sex at all. Both of us knew going in that this was going to be a casual, no strings attached thing. I was happy for her when she told me that she had found someone.

However, things started to get weird when I asked if she had any cute friends. All of a sudden, she got a little offended. Now, if we had dated seriously, I could understand that. But it seemed like we had parted ways on pretty amicable terms, and it’s not like we shared any kind of close relationship. We only slept together a few times over the course of no more than a month. So I figured there was nothing wrong with asking for a hook-up.

But when I asked, she said that she would never introduce me to her friends—that she’d be angry with one of them if they slept with me. This really came out of left field. There are at least three girls that I’ve slept with who I know have slept with one of my friends. Hell, I have ex girlfriends who I’d have no qualms about setting up with my friends.

Actually I recently found out that a close friend of mine and I have a girl in common. We had a great time talking about it and I didn’t find it in the least disturbing.

I guess what I’m getting at here, is I’m not really sure what kind of code there is among girls about sharing guys. It would seem to me that if there’s a guy that you had fun with, who you think is cool, but don’t want to date there would be no problem with hooking him up with a friend. Is it possible that I’m just being kept in “reserve dick” status? Am I the “In Case of Emergency, Break Glass” ass?

I really hope not. Because 1) it bodes really poorly for Mr. Steady-boyfriend if she’s lining up an emergency lay and 2) in some countries, cock blocking is punishable by hanging.

You see? This is exactly the kind of thing that makes me suspect I’m making a mistake by befriending women.