Thursday, March 31, 2011

Oh, The Places You'll Go!

(click image to buy the book on Amazon)
Ah, the places I've been!

    So little time, so many white patches!  (Map courtesy of TripAdvisor "Cities I've Visited".)

    Wednesday, March 30, 2011

    Men's vs. Women's Brains: A Very Humourous Take!

    One of my BMF's send this yesterday, VERY funny (and true!).  From Mark Gungor, a great couples' coach who is also a pastor in the US.


    My brain has a box I call "the Dog House" (aka, for a while, as "The Cave") where this particular man's best friend lives.  His name is Rex.  Just like Mark's "the Nothing Box", when Rex comes out to play, it's all about Rex and I have little influence on where things go next!

    Tuesday, March 29, 2011

    Rex Already Knew This: The Brain Feels Physical Pain from Rejection

    Interesting new research results that confirm what Rex already knew!  The same pain centres light up from a cigarette burn or thinking about an ex who rejected you (click to read the CNN article).


    Sunday, March 27, 2011

    "You Should Date an Immature Man"

    A blogger-muse of mine brought my attention to a response to "You Should Date an Illiterate Girl" by Charles Warnke.  I was quite taken by the latter as I share his sentiment, but the response it illicited from Amanda Dookie had some gems, too (though, overall, the post is a bit of a slog to get through -- paragraphs, Amanda, paragraphs and less-is-more -- you're being read online!).  

    K, captured the core message in this snippet from her post about it:
    The man who has grown up, in all his rarity, will bulldoze his way in to every area and aspect of your life, both mentally and physically. He will do this because he’s actually aware of the fact that you there are other planes to your existence beyond the mounds on your chest and the vast space between your eyes. You will no longer be able to live with your current, untouched belief systems because from the moment he comes in to your periphery, he will infiltrate your mental space, stroking your ego and picking your brain, until he’s got a pretty solid idea of all of your own person doctrines, theories, and mantras and has already imposed his own perspective on it.
    The man who has grown up will permanently taint your memory of all the other boys you’ve ever dated, younger or older in age, blasting them far off in to outer space never to return to your mind or heart. He will raise the bar well above average, officially casting away a large sum of the rest of the men on this planet by heightening your awareness of their immaturity, their bullshit lines, and stark stares. He may leave you speechless as to what you actually want and desire. Above all else, he’ll consume you with desire. He will open your eyes and change your vision. He will challenge your current beliefs. He’ll listen to you, actually listen to you, and then he’ll have something to say about it. He will open your eyes up to ideas, feelings, and thoughts, you solely believed could never be shared. The way he will make you feel will have you questioning your own sanity. 

    This will drive you insane. 

    He will sear his way in to your mind, memory and heart. I could go on, but hey, I’ll just date an immature guy instead.
    As a man who is no longer immature (sigh...) I must say thanks for the sincere shot at educating the "Queens" (no longer "Princesses" and not yet "Courtiers") out there, Amanda!

    The worst experience for a man who is most interested in starting a family (better late than never!) can go through is continually coming up against a wall of online profiles of attractive women in their 30's who consistently claim that their "what I'm looking for" age range is from TEN years younger, to PERHAPS 2-3 years older (no, not all of them, there are Courtiers amongst them).  That and their "300 Criteria for a Second Date" drive me into paroxysms of, well, blog-rants!  ;-)

    Thursday, March 24, 2011

    You Should Date An Illiterate Girl

    Kind of a brilliant, poignant, lovely read:


    Click on the image to read the post.

    Friday, March 18, 2011

    Are BMF's Even ALLOWED to Feel Neglected?

    (Where "BMF" stands for Best Male Friend, BTW...)
    OK, I haven't been 'fluffy' enough in my posts of late (ever?), so here's something warm and fluffy...
    I'm having an unfamiliar feeling.  Like something's not quite in the state of balance my nature usually prefers.  (No, it's not my IBS.) 
    The BFF has been busy.  Dates and whatnot.  Business stuff and girly get-togethers.  Sink trap cleaning and drawer contents re-arrangement and what have you.  So little time, so many demands.

    Me too, of course.  There's been, well, TV shows that required watching and long-distance blog-mates to keep in contact with, blog post topics to contemplate, Facebook updates to peruse and TV shows to watch....online (where you can find episodes you haven't seen).  There was St. Paddy's Day drinking to be done (with a buddy who insists on chatting up women he has no interest in because they seem to hang on his every word -- and there's a word for that -- another splendid opportunity for 'early to bed, early to rise'!).  Oh, and we mustn't forget sabre-toothed tigers to fend off on dating sites and witty, flirty messages to be sent to women who, based upon their carefully cropped photos and cleverly written profiles, I imagine I'd quite fancy in person.  (Though the gods, to ensure the healthy state of my humility, ensure that the latter are invariably met with the online equivalent of stony silence...)
    Yes, well, yet I'm feeling, dare I say it, pangs of, well, longing.  A craving gone unfulfilled.  An inadequacy.  If it's not quite a hollowness, then it's an indentation in a favourite chair that someone else's personage is supposed to be nestled within.  A deficiency in my current state of affairs.  A wanting, not of just companionship, but of a specific companion's sunny repartee.  
    It's just a change in routine that is throwing me off, of course.  Once you get used to things occurring with a certain cadence, an established frequency, it's perfectly normal to feel oddly off-balance when your regular 'sounding board' isn't available to bounce ideas off according to your normally scheduled programming.  Like a detour erected in your normal route to work, an interruption in newspaper delivery, or Starbucks discontinuing your favourite bean blend.   Not something one can't work around, over, or through to get past though!
    Somewhat, well,  disquieting, however
    Discomfort-inducing, to be more precise.  
    Nothing I can't shake off, of course.  A challenge to be met head-on as only a man can do.  I haven't got enough on my plate, that's likely what the problem is.  To negotiate this speed-bump on my (of late) normally placid emotional passage I'll: 
    • Go to the gym again this afternoon and sweat the feeling into oblivion.
    • Write a blog post to diminish and diffuse the disturbance.
    • Go out for drinks with a pal to fill my headspace with "what if's" about the ones that will get away. 
    • Drive out to my boat to remove, re-cut, re-caulk, polish, repair and generally put far too much energy into replacing my porthole windows, thus undermining this peculiar sensation with busy-work over the weekend. 

    "There! I feel better already!" said the King. 

    Thursday, March 17, 2011

    Michael Jackson's REAL Legacy (Hint: It isn't his music....)

    A blog-mate of mine has demonstrated a lot of courage (and maybe just a dab of "Damn the consequences, I want more followers so I'm going to take risks!"...) in posting whatever is on her mind, no matter how racy, and I have to admit I'm coming around to a new view of what it means, in this new era of free self-publishing on the 'internets', to acknowledge who we are inside to all comers.  The barrier that existed pre-Bill Clinton (and before all those "ultra-conservative" televangelists!) between public and personal lives has gradually been coming down, to the point that what's very likely a majority of today's youth are going to grow up with naked (or even, er, "more explicit") photos of themselves as teenagers/20-somethings forever available to the general public.

    And you know what?  Maybe it's not such a bad thing.  As was the case with many celebs in the past (James Brown comes to mind in the "Too Much Information" category), maybe its not such a bad thing that we all know each others' personal predilections on most fronts.   If you enjoy 'swinging' in your spare time (and I don't mean in the park), more power to you!  Learning that kind of thing has never effected my view of someone's work or contribution to the world.

    So here's a not-so-secret predilection of mine:  I have a hard time keeping my insights to myself, ESPECIALLY when it involves people being unfair to innocents.  I'm OK with any adult's odd tastes in doing what they want with each other -- I draw the line, however, at the point where it is not willingly participating individuals past the age of consent who are involved, but infants and pre-teens.

    Science has proven over the past couple of decades that, as much as the severely and sadly twisted people out there would have us believe that it's OK for them to molest children because the kids "seem to like it" (or WHATEVER they're trying to convince us of this time round), kids have not gone through sufficient brain development to be able to make responsible choices about issues they aren't ready to reason through.  Paedophilia begets more paedophilia perpetrated by former victims as they mature -- that doesn't make it right, not ever.

    If we can work together to stop it from happening by starting to talk about it's causes and consequences, we might, at least in part (faulty genes are always going to drive some individuals to partake compulsively in bizarre, anti-social, destructive behaviours), begin to eradicate the prevalence of this predatory behaviour from all countries of the world.
    Why the lead-up?
    I'm going to go out on a limb here and take credit for a post that could get me on a lot of Mikey's fanatical fan's hate lists, but I'm hoping that their genuine and rational concern for some innocent kids will overcome their blind faith in half-truths and obfuscation!  It used to irk me every time I heard one of MJ's songs on the radio, knowing that it meant a bit more 'wealth creation' was flowing his way that would enable him to continue doing what he was doing behind closed doors, but I have to admit I feel better today knowing that the same money is now going to support his sadly traumatized adoptees -- I just hope it doesn't empower them to perpetuate the same cycle of abuse that Michael found impossible to resist.

    Michael Jackson was a victim of a bizarre and exploitative father, Joseph Jackson.  It screwed him up for life.  (It would have screwed up you and me, too.)  So here's an old post of mine that originally pre-dated his death that I hope might encourage people to STOP sweeping blatant paedophilia abuse under the table just because it was perpetrated by someone rich and famous.

    For a QUICK SUMMARY just look at the photos below one after the other, they tell the story.

    Originally posted anonymously on July 8, 2009 on http://barsalona.wordpress.com/:

    Michael Jackson's REAL Legacy

    thriller-michael-jackson

    Fascinating, isn’t it, how human nature is revealed during something like the passing of Michael Jackson?

    Like so many others in the world, I grew up with Michael’s music and enjoyed it. Yes, many of my fondest memories were connected to it. Those connections are somewhat, but not entirely, marred by his real legacy. How can special, happy, significant, poignant memories of key moments in anyone’s life linked, for example, to a James Brown song, be irrevocably damaged by the knowledge that he only enjoyed full sexual fulfillment from scatological encounters and went to jail on charges related to this sexual predilection?

    But the outpouring we have and continue to see for Whacko Jacko is akin to the unconditional support we saw amongst many in the black community for OJ Simpson, even after it was abundantly clear that he murdered his white ex-wife and her friend in cold blood. If you are a decent human being, of any colour or stripe, if you are a moral person, you have an obligation to stand up and speak out about immorality and the abuse of innocents.

    Reverend Al Sharpton said to Michael’s adopted kids at the funeral that there was nothing strange about Jacko, only that the treatment he faced was strange. Excuse me? Last time I checked, Al’s title is “Reverend” and the responsibility that comes along with that title is standing up for the innocents of the world — Michael was no innocent, but did prey upon them. Still a brilliant performer, but a deeply disturbed individual, a child predator, and a person who the Reverend Al was close friends with, but abruptly de-friended many years ago.

    Let’s let the words of so many die-hard fans ring forever in our conscience:
     “Michael REALLY loved children!”. Yes, he certainly did.
    I understand the sentiment and reluctance to mar our memories, and I understand there’s a significant portion of the population who aren’t adept at dealing with complex issues at a conceptual level, or aren’t emotionally equipped to confront unpleasantness, but this was a man with a very sad and tragic upbringing that lead him to perpetuate the cycle of creating more disturbed adults by doing to others what was done to him.

    I’d argue that anyone who unconditionally supports a child abuser quite literally empowers all abusers. If it’s OK for a rich guy to do whatever he feels compelled to, then it must be OK for anyone with the perversion. Michael Jackson was one of the wealthiest people in the world, and he never stopped using that power to relentlessly work to fulfill the sexual gratification he craved.
    At puberty MJ's voice never matured.  How was that even possible?
    Only the removal of a male’s testosterone-producing glands would produce this result, and sexual predilections are already in place by age 13, they don’t begin in maturity. EVERY one back then KNEW that the fact Mikey’s voice never changed was disturbing — it was both unnatural and virtually impossible. He did not want to mature, it was clear -- he wanted to remain 12 years old forever (it wasn’t just about his voice, folks!). It seems patently obvious that it was back then that his surgical self-mutilation began.

    Years later he was about to be convicted of child molestation when the then 12 year old victim told police he could prove that he’d seen Jacko’s genitals by telling them that there was something unusual about them.
    What was so distinctive about MJ's genitals? 
    Was it that he had something extra down there, like some scars, or something missing entirely?  (Recall it was this titillating bit of evidence that forced Mikey and his lawyers to ‘pony up’ and pay-off the Chandler family, clearly offering them a deal that included being legally obliged to pay back, or lose access to, the multi-millions of dollars they received in ‘hush money’ if any member of the family EVER revealed any of Michael’s secrets or actions.  None of them ever has.)
    Why did Michael ‘fall in love’ with a black-haired white boy the same age as he was when he tried to freeze his own development?
    From interviews with people close to him it was clear he acted like any other man in love would with his paramour when he dominated the life of Jordan Chandler for almost a year, until the boy had the courage to speak up back in 1993?

    jordychandler

    In his teens, Michael mysteriously began never being seen without a glove on his right hand.
    What was MJ covering up with that single glove, and how did he 'turn white'? 
    Given the fact that he’s the only black person I’ve ever heard of who successfully went from black to totally white, it was most likely vitiligo, a not uncommon depigmentation disease. (From Wikipedia: “The most notable symptom of vitiligo is depigmentation of patches of skin that occurs on the extremities. Although patches are initially small in size, they can often start to enlarge and change shape. When skin lesions occur, they are most prominent on the face, hands and wrists. Depigmentation is particularly noticeable around body orifices, such as the mouth, eyes, nostrils, genitalia and umbilicus.”)

    Interesting that he remained quite obviously black until his 30's, then rather suddenly turned white, which could only be explained by his having spend a TON of money on medical treatments to either depigment his skin (you can see the purplish transparency of his facial skin in close-up photos after the transformation) or induce vitiligo universalis, leaving little pigmentation anywhere on the body. If anyone had the money to pay for this kind of procedure, it was Jacko.
    What was up with all that cosmetic surgery?  
    Mikey liked comics, as any 12 year old boy would, and he wanted to attract children to him, hence the enormous investment in everything he could come up with that might bring children to him: chimpanzees, giraffes, an amusement park, a private, secluded ranch where no one could penetrate his bedroom, dolls, the Elephant Man’s bones, and a comic-book hero’s face. Think about it.
    MJ was NOT trying to look like his sister...
    She also had surgery on her nose, but Michael was trying to look like a comic book hero that 12 year old boys, ideally Caucasian, would like. He became the image of what he’d like to embrace, absorb, control, have sex with…


    Let’s take a look at what Jordy, the love of Jacko’s life when he was 12, looks like today:

    jordy-chandler-sized

    Hm…

    Many kids become disturbed due to early life trauma, trauma such as a dad who beats you and controls the entire family, forcing them to perform together, etc., which is what Joe Jackson, the patriarch, did with all his kids. And if you want to understand childhood trauma, imagine being taken out of school with your own-age peers at 5 years old and never attending normal school or having same-age friends ever again… That kind of trauma might even turn you into a 12 year old who doesn’t want to grow up and is fixated on little boys similar to himself when his sexual feelings begin to emerge and develop. Mix in the issue of growing up black when most of the real power and success in the entertainment world which you are submerged in and controlled by was (is) in the hands of whites…
     Why was Jacko trying to build an amusement park in Poland in the mid-90's? 
    The Poles were desperate for investment, the economy was only just beginning to grow and the opportunity to pay the authorities to allow you to do all kinds of nefarious things was possible — and the young, very Caucasian-looking children, many of whom had black hair, were attractive targets for a character like Whacko Jacko.
    Why did Michael’s PR team set up a marriage of convenience with Lisa Marie Presley immediately after the paedophile charges? 
    Everyone could see he was obviously not interested in women, much less adults, so no one with an IQ over 85 ever believed this was anything but a total sham. She admitted they never ‘consummated’ the relationship and interviews reveal that she was seeking a male figure in her life who was similar to her drug-addicted father, a man she could struggle to “fix” to compensate for having been unable to “fix” the dad she barely knew and lost so early in her life.

    Look back at what Michael was singing about for so many decades. Pop fans like to believe he was writing songs just for them because he loved them all so much. Or did he love the power they put in his hands by buying his music and making him vastly rich and by adoring him unconditionally, feeding his enormous ego?
    His songs were NOT about his fans, but about himself, as most singers’ songs are:
    • Be careful with who you mess around with (Billy Jean) because they might come back and demand things later.
    • It does’nt matter if you’re black or white.
    • PYT – Pretty Young (12 year old) Thing.
    • Ain’t nobody’s business but mine and my baby’s.
    The list includes most of his songs if you listen to them in the context of his relationship with Jordan Chandler. There are dozens of references in all of the songs he wrote to his very particular and peculiar personal issues.

    Robin Williams is very, very smart (most comedians are) and he's brave enough to have not perpetuated the stony "OJ-like silence" that exists in the entertainment world around Michael's personal predilections and actions:


    So we have an enormously rich, powerful man doing all he can to stay 12 years old, to look like a Caucasian comic book hero, spend millions to create an amusement park trap to attract children, yet all of his attempts to land another Jordy Chandler were thwarted. Then stories of young orphans from the former Soviet Union being ‘adopted’ by single males in the developed world begin surfacing. MJ was tightly connected with his plastic surgery clinic where the staff had proven to be very pliable and would keep things VERY quiet if enough money was made available. Gradually a new idea emerges:
    Who could deny a guy the chance to become a dad?  Aww...
    Mikey placed an order for two kids, but he really wanted a bevy of white boys with no mommy on the scene — and incest was not really this thing (though he was a narcissist, in love with himself), so in quick order, another marriage was arranged, two kids were produced and some paperwork was signed. It was admitted that coitus never occurred, the two children were conceived via artificial insemination — with some male’s sperm. Unfortunately one of the kids turned out to be a girl…

    After successfully securing the first two kids, Michael, as he did to an extreme degree with his cosmetic surgery, went ‘all the way’ to obtain another, even more ideal-looking boy, and paid another surrogate mother (less strings attached, but also more opportunity for ‘custom ordering’, more on that in a moment) to produce one.
    What's a clear demonstration of a total lack of innate parental instinct?
    Hold your baby over a precipice, like a hotel balcony. The third human being he had designed and produced for him — and that he nick-named after an INANIMATE OBJECT, “Blanket”, a ‘comforter’ you take to bed with you and snuggle — was dangled thusly in public.  (Or was it the daughter he really never wanted, but had no option but to take?  Same point...)

    Now only a deeply narcissistic individual (narcissistic personality disorder is defined as someone who cares more for himself than anyone else, more than he cares about even his own kids) names himself “The King of Pop”, and then names his two boys “Prince Michael I” and “Prince Michael II”. (What did he call them at home? “One" and “Two”?)
    Famously, Michael admitted to having his children sleep in his bed with him. 
    I wonder if little Paris, his ‘daughter’ found herself waking up alone in her own bed, however? (I can see his 12 year old style bedroom door sign: “NO GIRLS ALLOWED!”)

    After disposing of the mother problem, by October of 2005 Michael moved the kids to an Arab country where there are no real laws on the book about paedophilia and where fathers have ultimate control over their families, without scrutiny or consequences for murdering or disfiguring daughters, for example, and where purchasing/renting young boys for homosexual encounters is kept under the table. He also bought himself some major 'points' with his new hosts by reportedly donating for the construction of a mosque near his home. He also kept all his children veiled in public.
    Why was MJ working so hard not only to live far from any criticism or oversight, but also preventing anyone from seeing the children's faces?
    When he finally -- only after the oldest were TEN YEARS OLD (that’s a loooong time to be kept in hiding!) -- allowed the children’s faces to be revealed while traveling through an airport, one thing became VERY clear for anyone in the world who cared to take a look and remember what Michael’s actual genes "look like" (not his surreal metamorphosis).

    Can you see any evidence of MJ's African-American, pre-Thriller genes in any of those children?  Really?
    The African-American gene is expressed dominantly when whites and blacks produced mixed children. In every mixed conception, if the African-American parent had broad nostrils, kinky hair and a dark complexion, these are virtually always evident, even if only marginally. Not in any of these THREE children, however.  Although the first two kids are clearly Debbie Rowe’s, none of them share Michael Jackson’s DNA.  All three are 100% Caucasian.
    Nicely pulled off, Mikey! 
    And what fun for him behind closed doors!  (BTW: Inside Neverland Whacko Jacko had a room filled with 12 year old sized dolls dressed in various uniforms — all of them were white, I'm not sure how many girl dolls there were amongst the boys.)

    What is EXTREMELY disturbing about the third child is that we could finally see that the little guy was “custom ordered.” Debbie’s kids came out with light hair but the last child, from an egg and a sperm donor who I’d guess BOTH had white skin and jet black, straight hair, like the long black wig that Mikey took to wearing.
    Think about that:  A custom-ordered "human-blanket"...
    For the last kid Mikey went out shopping for a genetically ideal egg and sperm donors to produce a boy that looked just like he wanted it to (the appearance of the surrogate ‘baby oven’ was unimportant if the embryo was produced in vitro), then kept the boy’s hair long the way he liked it:

    mj_kid3
    Now if all you die-hard fans aren’t starting to feel just a smidgen of disgust about the cold hard facts, keep another in mind: paedophiles do not choose their perversion, but they also cannot ‘turn it off’. It never goes away. For example, once a foot-fetishist, ALWAYS a foot-fetishist.

    Almost everything in Michael Jackson’s private life was built around trying to get close enough to prepubescent white boys to get them into his bedroom — it wasn’t a cutesy ‘love of children’. Some paedophiles have the moral strength to acknowledge that they are permanently damaging innocent kids by acting upon their impulses and, recognizing that they’ll never be able to change, request chemical castration, but the majority, due to human nature’s built-in ego-supporting mechanism, insist they are ‘normal’ and they seek out other paedophiles to hang out with and reaffirm their ‘normalcy’. Michael, suffering from a severe narcissistic personality disorder, could never admit he had a problem and had the power of virtually unlimited funding to fulfill his dark desires.

    (His final concerts were only arranged and agreed to after the licensing deal that funded his lavish lifestyle ran out in 2008.  He suddenly needed another source of revenue and had to come out of hiding away in his perfectly constructed world.)

    Note that in the funeral ceremony, ONLY the little girl spoke up, not her older brother, and she said:  
    “Ever since I was born, Daddy was the best father you could ever imagine!” 
    Lovely. Except that the kids never were exposed to anyone outside of the house in Bahrain, so how would she imagine what a good daddy was supposed to be like? From Superman cartoons?  Perhaps she might have thought that what daddy did in the bed and bath with her brothers was being a great dad! Patty Hearst loved her captors too, it’s a common reaction for captives, and is 100% natural for a child growing up sequestered. It’s also likely that nothing ‘untoward’ ever happened to her — her dad consistently demonstrated his intense, exclusive interest in little boys.

    So far, and likely until the poor little boys are old enough to write a version of “Mommy Dearest”, those two lads are not going to have a lot to say to the world, sadly. In the meantime, all those " unconditionally adoring" Michael Jackson fans might want to think about what they’d feel if their own kids were orphaned and then adopted by a paedophile…

    Yay, Mikey! You were the best dad EVER!

    Tuesday, March 15, 2011

    I'm a Nice Guy, Why Can't I Have a Jennifer Beals?

    Jennifer Beals, who I was very hot for when Flashdance came out and she was 20 in the early 80's, is now a 47 year old mother of one.  Here are a few photos taken last year, before she began starring in this year's TV premiere of Chicago Code:
    FORTY SEVEN!!! (Well, 46 in these photos.)

    I kind of lost track of her since 1983, then I turned on Chicago Code the other night (quite a good show, I thought) and suspected I recognized the lead, but was also convinced I must be wrong because there are very few women can be THAT ageless.  Then I Googled her.  Wow!

    Now, Dear Reader, I'm not saying, I'm just saying...  Yes, she has the resources and the industry pressure to do the botox and hire the personal trainer, but you have to admit that'she's pretty remarkable for 47 (48 in Dec. 2011)! Jennifer isn't going to take my calls, but I'm willing to break my 3-9 ceiling if there's a 45+ year old doppelganger out there.

    Some other random things to amuse you today, Jennifer is (in my dreams) not this personality type, I'm quite sure, but recently I've dealt with a couple of girls who are in their "Queen Phase" and in my current peevish mood this poster came to mind:


    And this (not that "Queens" can take advice):

    Suffice it to say that, despite their current convictions and confidence levels -- and their list of 300 criteria for a second date -- I'm fairly certain these girls are not going to be giving the Jennifer Beals of the world a run for their money when they hit 47.

    START WITH MONUMENTAL EXPECTATIONS, girls... 
    It's all uphill from there!

    Tuesday, March 8, 2011

    Drunk Dialing vs. Drunk Texting

    No, I'm not getting on a "this vs. that" trend here, but having enthusiastically shoved my proverbial foot down my proverbial throat several times of late with consistently disastrous results, I felt the need to raise a warning flag for the rest of you.  (Maybe a warning sheet of paper: scrawl the words "DON'T PRESS SEND TILL RE-READING TOMORROW MORNING!" and tape it to the side of your monitor -- on the side nearest the send button.)

    Now you all know what I'm talking about, but what strikes me is the distinct difference between the drunk dialing we used to fall prey to in the past and today's emails, or worse, texts from cell phones in restaurant washrooms and crowded clubs.  I suspect that the core difference is the risk of the other person actually picking up the phone.  That risk, however slight (along with the vague notion that it's going to be your voice she/he is going to be listening to versus letters strung together), does prevent most of us from drunk dialing -- at least until we are REALLY inebriated.

    Drunk texting, however, seems somehow safe, creative....erudite, even!  You get the opportunity to stab away at the keys, erasing and inserting (or often not, though you should!) until you become convinced that, despite the crippled syntax and odd phraseology, your words are poetry, your paragraphs (usually just one really loooooong paragraph) are a work of editorial genius. 
    "Oooo!  I think I really nailed my pointsh wish that one!  He/she'sh going to think I'm sho inshightful!"  
    Not.

    For reasons I don't fully understand, if you actually get through to the same sober or sleepy person via the phone, you are going to get "cut some slack".  They'll chide you, laugh and give you a hard time the next day, but with drunk texting, not so much.  With the latter there's a hard cut, not a soft fade.

    Which brings me to a related issue, what is up with how we read/interpret the written word vs. vocal/live communication?  While people seem to treat dating profile content pretty much with a grain of salt (I regularly get mail/winks/nudges/smiles from women who clearly either haven't read it, or believed I wasn't serious, see post below), the same people (and I've heard this from women about men almost as often as the reverse) will hyper-analyse a few words of text to the point that they become convinced you're a serial killer, moron or Stage 5 Clinger (click for clip of the movie reference).  The result is bizarrely consistent: "block user".

    Face to face or on the phone you'll give that same person tons of 'benefit of doubt', yet the same words in text, even surrounded by multiple smiley/winky faces, carry a completely different message.  Yes, "emotional nuance", we're social, face-to-face creatures, blah, blah.  Hey, I'm one of the biggest promoters of that reality, but I suspect there's something else going on related to the same "click-delete" phenomenon we see with online dating.

    Recently I've been entertained by the chronicles of a talented writer who is female and single, but hasn't fallen prey to the allure of online (she doesn't have to, she's cute and in her early 30's!).  I have to say she's onto something: out every night meeting guys out in the real world, giving out her number, 'pashing', dancing, having one night stands and developing crushes on bad and good boys.  Past a certain age she, too, will not have the energy or interest in being out all the time, but her experiences remind me of how we're most naturally going to meet prospective mates we are either instantly attracted to, or not.

    Online dating is a really, really bad idea, with it's preternatural reliance on the written word and self-censored/edited photos, it runs counter to human nature, yet for most of us past our early 30's, it seems to be the only way to meet people without going through the torturous rigamarole of getting hammered night after night and making some poor (but fun!) short-term choices.  It would be so nice if someone would come up with a better, largely sober, social way to meet adults in person....

    I'm playing with a concept, but I suspect it needs a LOT more allure to work well, an irresistible gimmick/hook.  (Working on it!)  Here's the link to contribute your two cents worth: Face to Face Connections.

    (And trust me on this, NEVER, ever drink and text!)

    Sunday, March 6, 2011

    Fast or Slow? How "Fast" Should Our Dating Progress Go?

    Ah, the never-ending dilemma, when do you kiss him/her?  How soon is too soon to canoodle?

    Recently, having let Rex out of his dog house for the first time in longer than I'll document here, I've run into the two extremes.

    There was one lovely lady who, first after our coffee date, then again a couple of weeks later when I 'gave her what she appeared to be asking for' (a two week-long wait) before emailing her again, reiterated that she was interested, but want to "go slow".   Ahhhh....  Um, , er, OK, "slow".  I'm assuming she has some kind of internal clock or algorithm she uses to determine what "slow" means to her, precisely, but she  hasn't re-initiated contact to explain it to me, so I'm assuming that past several weeks of no contact are still not long enough to constitute "slow"!

    I'm being partly facetious, of course.  I get that she's a traditionalist who believes both that the man is meant to do all the pursuing AND that two people will develop a more solid and trusting relationship if they take things one SLOW step at a time.  Sadly, I've come to realize I'm not a slow kind of guy.  I won't pursue "Ms. Let's Take It Slow" -- and it's more than likely she wouldn't like the "fast" guy she'd come to know if I did (she also won't have even a single drink if she's driving, which is admirable, but facing a series of stone-cold sober dates while waiting for "slow" to be over...).  (Note: she later suggested we 'be friends' but did not want to set up any further meetings.  Tough to 'be friends' if you never meet!  ;-)

    Does this mean I'm jeopardizing my chances with a lot of great women who won't kiss on a first date? Maybe, but then I suspect they are not the kind of passionate and spontaneous types I'm drawn to.

    Alternatively, am I risking getting shut down by equally terrific women because they:
    • Didn't like the way I make out, hence more 'quality time' spent in advance might have made them more open-minded (or willing to teach me what they like)?
    • Have second thoughts about a guy who moves too fast and decide they don't like me in the morning?
    • Risk ME deciding they were too 'easy' and never want to see them again?
    No, no and no.  Or, more specifically, 'maybe, but I don't think so', 'never' and 'definitely not with me'.

    Frankly, girls, regarding the latter point, I'm just not that shallow.  Maybe there are tons of guys who are (hence my point about it in one of my 'dating tips' posts ), but I'm not one of them.  How we 'make out' (I like the Aussie slang for it that 'K' uses, "pash") is as important to determining if we're compatible as anything else is (some would say more so), but in the end it is just one more element in the mix.

    Recently I went from the level of Date 1 (or is a 'coffee date' actually level zero?) to Date 3.5 in a single evening.  Did that lessen that lady's chances with me, or mine with her?  Not at all.

    While I already suspected that she and I weren't all that compatible on an intellectual/creative level (what can I say, I find big brains and creative talent very sexy  ;-), I did find out we were well-matched in terms of body type and other proclivities.  Did a rapid escalation of intimacy reduce her chances for another date?  Not at all, we continued to 'match proclivities' regularly for some weeks, but in my mind and heart the two things work quite separately: we check out and analyze personality and intellect on one level and the sexual, sensual things on another.

    Yes, we hope and pray we'll find them all in one package, but often times we just can't get it all (see "What You Want Most in a Man, You Need Least!").  In simple terms, we're hoping for a match of three key things:
    1. Intellect
    2. Personality
    3. Passion
    I was lucky enough to find two,  intellect and passion, in a girl I still refer to as "The One" decades later, but she had the personality of an immature, self-centered, empathy-free 'Brunhilda'.  I've found intellect and personality in one long-term relationship, passion and personality in another.  Have I ever found it all? I think so, but our timing was off (she not finished with a relationship while I was single, I was newly married to "passion and personality" once she was free).  She's now raising a family of strapping sons in Kentucky. Sigh...

    But fast or slow?  I'll take fast every time and almost every single woman whose hopes and dreams I've ever read about will say exactly the same thing (read K's 'perfect 1st date' in which she actually made me feel jealous of the guy!  Ha!  Well done, K.  ...sadly she's taken down that blog.).  What most women expect from the ideal first date comes down to "nearly-impossible-to-control physical attraction".  They hope and dream of that first date kiss, NOT second, third or fourth date kiss.

    And let's face it, ladies, we're adults, not starry-eyed teens or twenty-somethings.  We can have a lovely roll in the hay and wake up respecting each other without it affecting our judgement of the other person.  The potential partner slipping out from between your sheets to visit the lavatory, regardless of how good or bad we found them to be in bed, is still likely going to prove to be too arrogant, or too goofy, or too edgy, odd, dumb, selfish or clingy for us to want to have an actual relationship with, or maybe not!

    My point is that, with many people, holding back on kissing, or sex, in the short-term is not going to change the mid-term outcome, and it's the only way to furnish the ultimate answer to the chemistry question.  Of course how you judge who is or isn't a 'safe type' of person is all about your instincts and good judgement skills.

    Your Dating Profiles, Ladies

    I'm struggling here, ladies (and I'm feeling a bit cranky...).  First of all, let me applaud you all for getting braver and braver with your online approaches.  By the same token, two key complaints:

    False Advertising

    Yes, I know it's just a female ego thing, but the biggest problem I've had with attempting to date via online services is going through all the time and energy it takes to secure a coffee date, only to meet a different woman than the one in her photos.  We're visual creatures first and foremost.  YOU liked my photos enough to agree to meet, yet you're not offering me the same courtesy.  Walking into a cafe and wondering why you've sent your older, heavier-set sister to the date is no fun.

    Cropped at the shoulder shots are bad enough (OK, once we've had enough experience in the milieu, we actually know what that means, it means that your "average" body type means average in a world where 70% of the population is no longer slim), but the 10, 15 or 20(!) year old photos have NO PLACE on your profile.  NOT AT ALL!  We lads have absolutely no interest in how you looked long ago.  None.  Maybe on Date 5 looking at a family album, but ONLY then!

    Trust Us, At Least This Far...
    Please READ Our Profiles and Believe What We Say About Our Hard-Wired Predilections!
    We all write our profile text for a reason, to save us all some time and energy, to give you a little 'heads up' on what we're like, what we don't like, and how to avoid disappointment.  If it says we're not into older women, or heavy-set ladies, or people who can't put a sentence together, TRUST US and save us all a lot of time by not winking, smiling or writing to us.
    Believe it or not, it is very tough to say 'no thanks'!   
    Nuff said.  (Grrrr...)

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