Ahmusings

The 98% humorous musings of M. Lizabeth Currain

Tag: relationships

Let’s Just Agree

We are all going to have to agree that this guy easily has the most boring, try-hard, obnoxious profile on OkCupid.The best part: He didn’t even put pictures of himself up! But don’t worry, he’s “not a troll.” I’m sorry, but if you are going to be on a dating site, just put up a picture. The fact that you don’t have one up doesn’t make you more appealing. It makes me think you’re an idiot. Give me a break. You’re so cool and handsome that you can’t put up a picture because you want to keep some things private? You do know you’re on an internet dating site, correct? What is wrong with people? Can’t they just be normal? Well, I’m going to break this profile down for you all. And since he doesn’t have any pictures up, I don’t really see the harm in cutting and pasting his profile into this post. Because he’s the worst. My comments are the bold/italicized gems.

metadatacontrol

33 / M / Straight / Single

My self-summary
First things first, no photo…wtf? Here’s the deal, I’m retracting a bit from the long scary fingers of the internet (see: You are not a Gadget by Jaron Lanier). But I promise I’m not a troll and might even be good looking. Damn good looking. Oh, and humble. (if you are that concerned about being on the internet…don’t create an online dating profile. It’s weird. And makes you seem desperate for attention.)

Ok, now that’s outta the way.

After too many fits and starts with this sucker, I’m just going to lay out an ideal day. If you’re with me by the end, we will most certainly click:

Sleep to a reasonable hour. First thing: Coffee. Serious coffee. (“Serious coffee”, because that makes me seem unique and women like unique.)

Stroll to the local brunch spot with my best girl on my arm. Order the usual, and yeah, drink some more Joe, its not as good as what I have at home, but it will do just fine. (To be honest, he lost me with the first sentence  in this part. I mean. Come on! I bet he wears boat shoes, with chinos that are tight and rolled at the ankle. And he wears a long-sleeved madras shirt but rolls the sleeves up. And probably a stupid hat. JUST A GUESS.)

Taking it easy, we meander on home. The sun is high and there’s not a cloud up there, so we decide that today is a perfect day for a long ride. We’ll cruise all the way down to Coney Island and around and about Brooklyn, hitting all of those places we haven’t been in forever. Nothing too crazy, but a good sweat will be worked up nonetheless. (Christ all mighty. Even things that sound normal, end up sounding terrible.)

Once back in the hood, quality pub-grub and a cold beer hit the spot. Perfect. Well fed and well exercised, we part ways and cruise back to our respective apartments. After a short but exceedingly hot shower, it’s time to get back to business. You see, there’s a really out-there but supposedly incredible band that I’ve been wanting to check out, and it being NYC, they’re playing tonight. (This day just keeps getting worse. A “really out-there but supposedly incredible band”? Barf.)

We re-convene at the club and get ready to have our ears stretched and challenged. Unfortunately, it turns out these guys really kind of suck (or at least are having a very off night). Oh well. At least it was a free show. Damn. So we head to the nearest dive and over some whiskey (neat, thanks) we laugh about the awful music to which we were just subjected. (Free show in a club? Right. LIES! And wait, why are you saying thanks? Did I just have to buy your whiskey for you? And what is it with all of you and whiskey?! If all your friends were jumping off a bridge, would you jump too?! And I bet he liked that shitty band even though they sucked. But he didn’t want to seem lame, so he had to pretend it was terrible.)

Blowing out of there, we end up at a warehouse party in some industrial Neverland part of Brooklyn. And the DJ rocks. Like really rocks. It’s one of those nights where 3 hours on the dance floor floats by like nothing, we run into some friends we haven’t seen in ages (what are you doing here?!), and stumble back onto the street just before the sun starts to come up. (When I read this part I clawed my face off. I am having a hard time imagining anything worse than being at a warehouse party with a guy in boat shoes who says things like, “what are you doing here?” Obviously they are there to fucking dance you idiot. Jesus.)

Somehow we make it back to my place. After another hot shower (this one not quite so short), we crash out in each other’s arms, the echoes of the day fading into a delicate blur. (What a wad, seriously.)

Ahhh…sweet NYC. (He must be new in town.)

What I’m doing with my life

See above. And… (You mean that wasn’t a joke?)

By day, I do nifty things involving large, heavy electronic equipment with lots of flashing lights and spinning disks. It’s pretty cool and keeps me on my toes. By night I make heady, rather experimental electronic music of the decidedly not cheesy variety. Its a good mix. (Just say you are a DJ. Or a musician. Stop being so vague, you asshole.)

Otherwise, I like try to bike, hike, and get-down as much as possible, both in and out of town.

I’m really good at

Sometimes, I’m incredibly insightful. Other times, I’m an asshole. (I’m guessing by “other times” he means “all the time.”

Just like you.

The first things people usually notice about me

My amazing good looks and daring intellect. Obviously. (Oh look, he’s trying to be funny. But we know he actually means this. He might be a psychopath.)

Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food

Shouldn’t this be a part of the first date? Besides, I’m horrible at favorites. So let’s go one answer each of current interests:

Books: Burning in Water, Drowning in Flame – Bukowski (I bet he carries it in his back pocket.)
Movies: Repulsion. (Roman Polanski is kind of a fucker, but wow.) (At least he can separate the art from the artist? Can’t these people ever just say they like Kindergarten Cop or something? Why do they always have to prove how deep they are with their movie choices?)
Shows: nope. (Oh look. He thinks he’s too good for tv! Well guess what!? You’re not impressing anyone by saying you don’t watch tv. In fact, this makes you seem even more terrible, if that’s even possible.)
music: Tom Waits and old stuff, mostly. (Old stuff, because I’m an old soul.)
Food: yes.(I’m actually surprised he didn’t list every foreign cuisine he’s ever had.)

The six things I could never do without

Bicycle, Music, Sex (let’s be honest here), toothbrush, and at least 2 of my 5 senses. (I can’t really harp on this, because this question is pretty much bullshit anyways.)

I spend a lot of time thinking about

I think I’ve pretty well covered all of that, but add synthesizers. I am a total synth-geek.(Did he actually cover anything?)

On a typical Friday night I am

Sorting out the mysteries of the universe or elbow deep in culture of some-type. (“Elbow deep in culture”? Are you fucking serious? Going to a “warehouse dance party” only makes you elbow deep in assholes, asshole.)

The most private thing I’m willing to admit

I like a little kink in my coffee. (Wait, did he just admit he’s an alcoholic?)

You should message me if

NYC hasn’t burnt-out your creativity. You like to ride or at least aren’t opposed to the idea. You crave good coffee and strong whiskey. Ahh, and being cute doesn’t hurt either.(I think craving good coffee and strong whiskey is weird. Am I supposed to be dependent on it? Also, why do I have to be cute? You didn’t even post a picture!)

I seriously hate this guy. Hate him. I mainly hate him because OkCupid says we have a 93% match rate. Like what the fuck OkC?! I obviously am A) Too good for this guy and B) Not a complete asswipe. Why can’t you match me with someone who doesn’t want to take me to a warehouse party, where he forces me to do lines of coke off of his dick, and then hacks my body into pieces? YOUR ALGORITHM IS OFF.

You’re Doing Valentine’s Day Wrong

art by Jon Defreest via Vulture

While I was in Duane Reade picking up some toothpaste and other assorted sundries, I noticed the mad rush of men (and a few ladies) buying last minute Valentine’s Day gifts for their wife, girlfriend, side piece, boyfriend, or some combination of the four.

Seriously? You think your significant other is going to be impressed with the shitty teddy bear and box of Whitman’s chocolates (you cheap bastard, at least spring for some decent chocolates) you bought last minute at the drugstore? Do you really think that’s going to get you laid? News flash: It’s not.

My guess is, if your partner is the kind of person that gets really jazzed about Valentine’s Day and is expecting a gift, he or she is going to notice that you put exactly zero effort in to your gift choices. I’m also assuming that you’re the type of person that would leave the price tag on that tacky bear, showing just how much you “value” your loved one.

When it comes to gift giving, the recipient usually knows when you put some thought into it and when you didn’t. In the words of Deena from the Jersey Shore, “this isn’t rocket scientist.

Now, the only Valentine wishes I get are from friends, but I’ve seen my fair share of romantic comedies and know how healthy relationships work. Your drugstore finds at a 3pm on the day of the special occasion are not cutting it.

I’m not saying gifts have to be expensive or that you should even buy a gift for someone. Sometimes all the person wants, is to know that you love them and value them as a person.

These don’t have to be grand romantic gestures. Maybe if your significant other always needs coffee at a certain time of the day and you’re nearby, you can show up with coffee and a nice note. Maybe you never cook or pay for the meal when you go out; now is your chance! Homemade gifts are always nice. I don’t care if they come out shitty, taking time out to sit down and create something shows someone that they are worth your time. Also, craft supplies ain’t cheap, y’all. Get creative! If your significant other has been waiting forever for their turn to read a book at the library, go and buy it for them. They’ll know that you’ve been paying attention to them every time they’ve complained about the book being checked out.

Let’s face it, Valentine’s Day is pretty stupid, but no one wants to look like a giant asshole. Which is what you are going to look like if you show up with a sampler pack of chocolates and carnations that you bought at a gas station/bodega on your way home.

Hopefully this post reaches people before they get a box of Whitman’s chucked at their face.

Whitman’s? Really? You’re just asking for it.

I Owe You One, Whitney.

The Associated Press just broke the news a little while ago that the star of the Preacher’s Wife, Whitney Houston has passed away.

This is pretty sad news. We all knew she was troubled and had some pretty big problems with substance abuse, but everyone loves a comeback and that’s what we were hoping for. Unfortunately, that dream ended this evening.

As sad as this news is, it broke at just the right time. I know that sounds like, really, really bad, buuuuuttttttt, I was one a date that was sort of circling the drain (I paid for our drinks and he didn’t even say thank you!) and when he went to the bathroom, I checked Facebook and BAM! I had my out. Those three words “RIP Whitney Houston” were like a shining beacon of hope.

He came back and I said, “Whitney Houston DIED!” I acted deeply saddened and said I should probably get going.

Whitney Houston basically provided me with the perfect escape plan. And for that, I owe her everything.

You will be missed and I hope you’ve finally found someone to dance with, girl.

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