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|Women Problems
In general, the ladies and Mr. Saint Gasoline usually do not mingle very well together. Like oil and water, we don’t mix; and also like oil and water, when we are both put into a test tube we tend not to absorb each other and form a solution, which is probably good, or else swimming would really suck.
I know what you’re all thinking. Dear, gentle reader, you must be shocked and astounded that I remain perpetually single in spite of my devastatingly rugged good looks, immense narcissism, and indefatigable ability to stare at myself in the mirror while shirtless. In fact, I am what many people would call a “catch”. Of course, this is probably used in the negative sense, as in “catching a cold” or “catching a case of herpes”. Like herpes, though, I am swollen and red and pus-filled and will grow on you over time, only to be suppressed by your immune system and then rise again during periods of stress. In short, I’d be the perfect boyfriend.
So the problem, as I see it, is not my amazing personality or many talents or even my intense—some would say overbearing and glorious—attractiveness. It seems that I am just too perfect. I show up on a first date, say tremendously witty things, try to make out with them within five minutes and end up getting my beard in their mouth, constantly mention my penis and make allusions about its lackluster size, occasionally piss myself with excitement, and inevitably the girl never returns my phone calls when I call her seventeen times at 3 in the morning and subsequently leave countless messages indicating my various mood swings, ranging from bawling pleas for acceptance to overconfident rants about my glory. I can totally understand why a girl may not find herself worthy of such majesty, though. Or as the kids used to say, I can see why they ain’t ready for my jelly, because my booty is apparently quite tasty and delicious and bootylicious.
But in all seriousness, I am perpetually stuck in first date-ville. And going on first dates is a lot like living in Awkwardsville, USA; population 2. Being male, of course, I suppress this awkwardness and instead assume a date is going swimmingly, because it is in my own self-interest to assume any sort of attention paid to me is some sort of signpost toward future copulation. The male brain is not wired to rationally assess a woman’s interest. It is wired to assume every woman is interested, to resist rejection as long as possible, to put one’s penis in as many things as possible, and to hope that one of those things the penis eventually ends up within is somehow a woman rather than an overripe watermelon. (Sadly, it is usually the watermelon. Why must that watermelon always be so conveniently located right in front of my crotch?!)
I have tried almost everything to have a successful first date that leads to a second date. I’ve refrained from ridiculing people when they profess a belief in some sort of crazy mystical crap, be it crystal healing, angels, astrology, or whatever. And it is hard to withhold the inner turmoil that rages within me when I hear such bullshit, yet I do so with pained initiative at the behest of my lonely, lonely penis. Yet even pretending to be credulous and accepting of the typical womanly superstitions has not helped. My desperate penis, withered with disuse, sits huddled inside my pants as old cobwebs hang from my pubes. As a result of this foreboding appearance and murdered sex life, my crotch is actually number 96 on the top 100 haunted places according to A&E, and many a ghost hunter holding a thermal reader has noticed a large uptick in heat generation after pointing their misused electronic devices at my crotch, assuring me that this is heat generated by some sort of spiritual entity and not my own body heat or the friction generated from my constant rubbing. I have a fucking poltercock.
So, I am not compatible with the large majority of women. This is a sad, terrible thing. Mostly for the women. They willingly deprive themselves of my astounding wit, vain superiority complex, and constant condescension toward them. How they manage to get through the day, much less their shallow, empty lives, without my god-like presence is one of the great mysteries of the universe. I can only console myself by constantly, incessantly, telling myself that they don’t deserve a man like me, that I am too good for all of them, as I softly whimper into my pillow at night, cuddling my pillow and pretending it is a woman, only to find that my pillow, in its strong distaste of me, evolves the capacity for speech just to tell me to get the fuck off of it and to stop whining like a silly little bitch.
And that, ladies and gentleman, is why I blog. And also because there are stupid people on the internet saying stupid things.
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March 6th, 2009 at 1:43 AM
I like your writing style.
March 6th, 2009 at 2:08 AM
Yeah, stuck in first dates-ville too. Good luck to both of us I guess.
March 6th, 2009 at 6:50 AM
I’m married now, but I know what you’re going through.
You don’t ask for advice, so I won’t offer it.
March 6th, 2009 at 7:32 AM
I almost died reading your ramblings, because I suffer from a bad cough at the moment. Laughing and coughing don’t mix pretty well.
But I totally know what you and Mike are going through, because I’m also a resident of first date-ville. If God existed, he’d be a woman, because they are soooo complicated
March 6th, 2009 at 8:06 AM
Barefoot, the concept of this “marriage” you speak of is so elusive and foreign to me that I don’t think I’d understand your advice on how to attain such a state if you chose to confer it. The language game of marriage is simply incommensurable with my own singledom, colored as it is by perpetual horniness interspersed with depression, existential angst, and bad philosophy. But thank you for the kind empathy.
March 6th, 2009 at 9:55 AM
I thought I was in the lonely minority of losers after I split from a long, spectacularly awful relationship. After the break up I had the epiphanic realization that I needed, i mean like a crack addict NEED, insert my bit into a warm female. The twins Righty and Lefty didn’t make the grade any more.
So I spent my evenings trying to chat up cute 18 year olds at Pizza Hut where I was a driver (yeah, I know) disdaining the micron thin shallowness but continuing just because they unfortunately had the luck of possessing perky bits.
The only thing I hate more than first dates is the first phone call. What to talk about? How much should I reveal of my depraved nature?
I met a nice Asian girl my own age and asked for her number. By this time, simply obtaining a phone number whether real or fake constituted some sort of pseudo-climax. I was averse to calling because I was sure the conversation would be mind-numbingly boring and awkward no matter how short. This idea was re-inforced by my recent experience dating a Ukrainian girl with so-so English who looked at fancy furniture magazines and liked to talk about exotic cars. (I promptly dumped her when she revealed she didn’t know what the Simpsons was, that was the final straw)
I relented days after, propelled by nature, and called her. Out of desperation to hasten the inevitable, I proceeded to tell her everything. I mean everything, the good the bad, the illegal. To my surprise she was still on the phone and the conversation was enjoyable.
I married her a year later. I owe a lot to not giving a damn.
March 7th, 2009 at 10:37 AM
Work within your league. I personally find even mock unfounded arrogance incredibly attractive.
March 7th, 2009 at 8:32 PM
I came across your website from a quiz you posted on HelloQuizzy.com.
I laughed my a** off at reading this post, but I am sure there is some witty, snarky chica out there for ya. Maybe hit the coffeeshops, perhaps a poetry slam and look for the heckler.
P.S. Dude, I’ll give you the same advice I give my guy friends - for a warm body hit any bar on a Saturday night around closing time. Its drunk girl galore.
March 7th, 2009 at 9:12 PM
My longest-lasting relationship was actually a girl I met from a poetry slam, S, so that’s probably good advice. But as for going to a bar for the drunk chicks, I don’t know about that. I may end up feeling bad when she opens up her mouth after it’s all done with and tells me she’s a pro-choice republican pentecostal fundamentalist.
March 9th, 2009 at 11:53 AM
But SG- republicans are what hate fucking is for. That’s why they exist.
March 9th, 2009 at 4:31 PM
You need an equal as a girlfriend (Funny, right?).
March 16th, 2009 at 9:54 AM
Hmmm, interesting blog, I can’t seem to figure you out !
Maybe that’s the point.
You seem like a really intelligent guy, funny too - woman do find those qualities exceedingly atractive - I have no idea why you are single.
Although you do seem like a manic depressive who writes a blog, to realease your emotions - maybe you need a woman… but have deluded yourself into thinking that you don’t. Need_4_Woman is right about not giving a damn aswel (in a way) because the best conversations are the honest ones, relax, and let people see who you really are.
Wel that’s enough analyzation, sorry if I’ve bored you.
March 17th, 2009 at 7:36 PM
I feel your pain….well not about having to stick my dick into things but the other pain of wanting to find someone but ending up on dates where you’re cataloging chores in your head just to stave off boredom. The only option other than randomly harassing people in the street is Drunk People, and really, I feel like if you get to a point where inebriated slobbering strangers are a comfort it’s better to abstain from interacting with humanity in general.
By the way, I love your blog, it helps me get my weekly dose of sarcasm.
March 19th, 2009 at 10:13 PM
gotta say dont agree with your opening… im of the female sex, and i enjoy your writing very much
March 21st, 2009 at 5:52 PM
I agree with Bronwen and Need_4_Woman. Let yourself be vulnerable. Share yourself. But also ask questions about her and listen. Show that you are interested in getting to know her, mind and body. And be willing to take risks. I’m a single girl and one of my pet peeves in men is passivity. I often feel like I have to do everything to get things going with a guy. Once I have ruled out the wimps and Republicans, there’s no one in this town left to date.
March 25th, 2009 at 8:45 PM
It’s just because you’re too perfect, m’dear. Keep looking, you’ll come across that equally perfect girl for you one day.
I share Bronwen’s sentiments too. Though my first reaction was: YOU’RE SINGLE?! IMPOSSIBLE. IMPOSSIBLEEEE. *UNIVERSE IMPLODES*
March 26th, 2009 at 7:07 AM
Take me…take me now!
March 29th, 2009 at 6:48 PM
You probably talk too much and listen too little. Maybe you don’t ask her enough questions. I know this because I am psychic.
April 11th, 2009 at 8:57 PM
I would say that you need to find someone EXACTLY like you, but seeing as how scientists have not been able to perfect the duplication of humans, you’re out of luck. But really you need to find someone who is smart, witty and pig-headed. Even if her beliefs and ways of thinking are different you can’t shoot her down for voicing her opinion, even if she is wrong. For one it is illegal and women hate to be told they’re wrong even when they are. So either hold out for that special girl, because she will come, eventually; dress a ripe watermelon as a woman and tape yourself talking, then talk back to this water melon; or become a scientist and perfect robotics or cloning. Good Luck!!!
April 13th, 2009 at 8:39 PM
Wow, I never thought that I could compete with a watermelon.
My excessive fruitiness must be more apparent than I realized.
May 7th, 2009 at 7:58 AM
I feel very much alike, apart from the insignificant fact that I’m female. And a Haughty Intellectual, according to your, probably scientifically founded, test on HelloQuizzy.com. A website that nerds and nerdettes turn to when they’ve checked every other frequently visited site for updates, and then try to find out what they should already know. I would really like to know how many users regularly retake tests when they don’t agree with the outcome. And I’ll bet money that most of those are women.
Er, but what I came here for was to thank you for a the creation of a beautiful mass-of-time destruction weapon (said test) and to suck up (tell you I like your biting sarcasm). That’s all. Bye.
May 16th, 2009 at 3:25 PM
I just can’t belive you’re single. I was as schocked as Liew, and I had the same reaction as her’s. I don’t know is the situation still the same… hope not. I also had same problem til about a year ago (except some little things because I’am a girl). My advice: anything but don’t give up your expectations.
A long time reader, first time commenter.