I don't have a full blown, unabomber beard going but I have a little more than a five o'clock shadow. It's a stubble. I've had it for a while and I have to admit I kinda like it, but I wonder if it might be something worth getting rid of.
The pros: hey, it makes me look like a man, man. Plus, I have a round, chubby face, and I think having the stubble gives me a little something to hide behind.
The cons: I don't really have a good read on how the ladies feel about the stubble. I have one female friend who absolutely loves a little stubble, another one who hates it, so it is really a crap shoot.
Plus, like long hair (which I don't have) you have to keep up with the stubble or it turns into so weird patchy thing on my face. That's the worst. Stubble can quickly go from a little hair paint on your jaw to something that looks diseased.
If I had readers, I would now open it up for some kind of discussion, especially to the ladies, to see where I stood but, in the end, I guess I'll just have to keep asking this age-old question: to beard or not to beard?
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Rejected, cyberspace-style
I want a woman. Not in some kind of caveman, knock her over the head and have my way with her way, ala Ben Rothliesberger, but a woman in a relationship.
I'm 32 years old and the small, somewhat casual relationships I have had throughout my life just don't seem to be enough now. Some of my friends are married, or heading towards marriage, and some are even having kids. It seems like the grownup thing to do.
In all honesty, you get to a certain age and realize that, yes, you would like a family, and that you would like to start on all that stuff right about now. It certainly doesn't mean I want to get married tomorrow, or have kids next year. I have had somewhat of an aversion to both of those things, so the concept is going to take a little getting used to. But, a real, no holds barred, Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan relationship, I'm down for that.
As such I decided last month to do something different to try and meet girls. I have never really been one for the bar scene. I am just not the go up to the girl and ask her to grind in my crotch for three hours sorta guy. Most of the women I have dated have been friends of a friend whom I have gotten to know, like, then dated. It has worked out well.
But, as my friends are all now older and already in relationships, and since their girlfriends and wives have collected a mass of friends that either look like they have a weekend pass from the leper colony, or are already in a relationship, meeting someone through them seems unlikely.
So, I took the plunge, plunked down my money, and signed up for internet dating. un stuff.
Now, here is my theory about internet dating, and it probably doesn't bode very well for me in the future: I get why guys do internet dating. As men, we have to cast the biggest net possible. We have to play every angle. It is a tough world out there and you usually have just as good a chance of striking out as you do hitting a homer. Its like applying to a job. You don't just send your resume to one place and cross your fingers. And, if you're rejected by that place, you don't keep sending the application back hoping persistence wins out. In love, persistence usually lands you a restraining order.
So, for guys, utilizing every avenue to find someone is completely understandable. For girls, not so much.
Look, if you are a well balanced, somewhat attractive woman who isn't carrying around Kate Gosselin numbers of kids and don't have a hitman former boyfriend in your past, you should have a pretty easy time finding a guy. Don't believe me? Well, if you think you fit that description, take a step outside, find a small but heavy rock, and throw it. The first guy you hit will probably want to date you. If he turns out to be a jerk, repeat rock throwing until you find the right one.
So, when I see women looking for love on the internet superhighway, I automatically begin to think, "what the hell is wrong with her?"
Kind of a strange thing to admit when you're signed up for internet dating, right?
Well, beggers can't be choosers, and despite my misgivings, there are so many people doing it now, figured I had a good chance to finding someone interesting and normal.
The site I signed up for sends you "matches" each week and you get to look at their picture and profile and see if you "connect." In all honesty, all one does is look at the pictures, I think. Let's face it, dating on the internet and dating in real life isn't going to be all that different. You go up to someone and strike up a conversation based on how that person looks, and how attracted you are to them, not based on their likes and dislikes and whether their grandmother was the most influential person in their life.
After you find someone who looks interesting, you send out a series of questions to them, which they can choose to answer if they wish to begin communicating with you. If they wish that you would go away and die, instead, they simply don't respond.
What I have learned? Being on the internet just provides people another way to reject you.
What I have come to realize is that there is absolutely NOTHING wrong with women who sign up to date on the internet. It is the smartest thing in the world for them to do. Why? Because they put up their picture, usually one from a wedding or a party, one that isn't extremely suggestive but shows they are very visually appealing, write some nonsense about how they like to hike in the summers and snowboard in the winter, and then watch as the invites come rolling in. Their "mailboxes" on the site are probably filled every single day. And, they don't have to reject anyone, don't have to wait for some guy they like to make a move at the bar, only to be disappointed when he doesn't, and don't have to worry about being hounded by someone who just won't take no for an answer.
They simply peruse the profiles, pick out the most promising candidates, delete all the others, and start whittling down their finalists.
It begins to feel like your applying to colleges again when you are on these sites. You start out by sending your "invites" to the ones you really want. Then, when you don't hear back, you begin to look at "matches" that maybe aren't as appealing, but you still consider interesting. Then, when even those don't respond, you just begin to canvas the entire world, looking for someone, anyone, to write back.
We will see if that blanketing strategy produces anything. Right now, nada.
I'm 32 years old and the small, somewhat casual relationships I have had throughout my life just don't seem to be enough now. Some of my friends are married, or heading towards marriage, and some are even having kids. It seems like the grownup thing to do.
In all honesty, you get to a certain age and realize that, yes, you would like a family, and that you would like to start on all that stuff right about now. It certainly doesn't mean I want to get married tomorrow, or have kids next year. I have had somewhat of an aversion to both of those things, so the concept is going to take a little getting used to. But, a real, no holds barred, Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan relationship, I'm down for that.
As such I decided last month to do something different to try and meet girls. I have never really been one for the bar scene. I am just not the go up to the girl and ask her to grind in my crotch for three hours sorta guy. Most of the women I have dated have been friends of a friend whom I have gotten to know, like, then dated. It has worked out well.
But, as my friends are all now older and already in relationships, and since their girlfriends and wives have collected a mass of friends that either look like they have a weekend pass from the leper colony, or are already in a relationship, meeting someone through them seems unlikely.
So, I took the plunge, plunked down my money, and signed up for internet dating. un stuff.
Now, here is my theory about internet dating, and it probably doesn't bode very well for me in the future: I get why guys do internet dating. As men, we have to cast the biggest net possible. We have to play every angle. It is a tough world out there and you usually have just as good a chance of striking out as you do hitting a homer. Its like applying to a job. You don't just send your resume to one place and cross your fingers. And, if you're rejected by that place, you don't keep sending the application back hoping persistence wins out. In love, persistence usually lands you a restraining order.
So, for guys, utilizing every avenue to find someone is completely understandable. For girls, not so much.
Look, if you are a well balanced, somewhat attractive woman who isn't carrying around Kate Gosselin numbers of kids and don't have a hitman former boyfriend in your past, you should have a pretty easy time finding a guy. Don't believe me? Well, if you think you fit that description, take a step outside, find a small but heavy rock, and throw it. The first guy you hit will probably want to date you. If he turns out to be a jerk, repeat rock throwing until you find the right one.
So, when I see women looking for love on the internet superhighway, I automatically begin to think, "what the hell is wrong with her?"
Kind of a strange thing to admit when you're signed up for internet dating, right?
Well, beggers can't be choosers, and despite my misgivings, there are so many people doing it now, figured I had a good chance to finding someone interesting and normal.
The site I signed up for sends you "matches" each week and you get to look at their picture and profile and see if you "connect." In all honesty, all one does is look at the pictures, I think. Let's face it, dating on the internet and dating in real life isn't going to be all that different. You go up to someone and strike up a conversation based on how that person looks, and how attracted you are to them, not based on their likes and dislikes and whether their grandmother was the most influential person in their life.
After you find someone who looks interesting, you send out a series of questions to them, which they can choose to answer if they wish to begin communicating with you. If they wish that you would go away and die, instead, they simply don't respond.
What I have learned? Being on the internet just provides people another way to reject you.
What I have come to realize is that there is absolutely NOTHING wrong with women who sign up to date on the internet. It is the smartest thing in the world for them to do. Why? Because they put up their picture, usually one from a wedding or a party, one that isn't extremely suggestive but shows they are very visually appealing, write some nonsense about how they like to hike in the summers and snowboard in the winter, and then watch as the invites come rolling in. Their "mailboxes" on the site are probably filled every single day. And, they don't have to reject anyone, don't have to wait for some guy they like to make a move at the bar, only to be disappointed when he doesn't, and don't have to worry about being hounded by someone who just won't take no for an answer.
They simply peruse the profiles, pick out the most promising candidates, delete all the others, and start whittling down their finalists.
It begins to feel like your applying to colleges again when you are on these sites. You start out by sending your "invites" to the ones you really want. Then, when you don't hear back, you begin to look at "matches" that maybe aren't as appealing, but you still consider interesting. Then, when even those don't respond, you just begin to canvas the entire world, looking for someone, anyone, to write back.
We will see if that blanketing strategy produces anything. Right now, nada.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Now, let us begin.
When you decide that you're going to change your life around in a year, you have to start with day one. That's usually a Monday, for whatever reason. Maybe because Sunday is slow and boring and it lets you sit around all day thinking about what a failure you have been at life to this point. You can literally spend hours on Sunday doing nothing but think about how crappy your job is, what a fat-ass you've become, all the girls you could have had in college but never had the balls to speak to, how old you're getting, how little you've seen of the world, and how your dog doesn't even respect you.
That takes up about half a day, right there.
So, you committ to Monday. That's gonna be the day, you tell yourself. That's when the comeback begins.
That's what I did this past week.
I just turned 32. My job is okay but far from being exciting or fullfilling. It is a garden salad compared to a steak dinner I was always hoping for when it came to a career. I don't make a lot of money. I live wayyyyy too close to my parents. I haven't had a girlfriend in years and, what's worse, can't remember the last time I had a conversation with a woman where, at some point in our discussion I thought to myself, “you know, I have a really good shot of getting laid tonight.”
So, on Sunday, I made my descision. Monday was going to be my own personal Andy Dufresne Day. I was gonna climb out the other side of that shit-pipe like Dufresne did near the end of Shawshank Redemption, look up to the heavens as the purifying rain beat down, take off my shirt and spread my arms as a free man.
That's what you think when you start something. It's all farting rainbows and belching little cherubs. What did I imagine my Monday going like? Well, here's a little rundown of what I thought was possible:
Wake up at 6:30 a.m. and actually feel good that my alarm clock went off. Jump into the shower, singing a Bobby Darin song as my dog grew the opposable thumbs needed to feed himself for the morning.
Leaving for work, I would find a package on my front door. “You earned it, kid,” would be the only thing written on the note to the box while, inside, there would be exactly $120 million in very, very large bills.
Feeling so energized by my new found wealth, I would decide to walk the 42 miles to my job and, in the process, burn off approximately 60 pounds and do a significant amount of toning. Also, during the trip, the fresh air would suddenly make me look a lot more like Leonardo DiCaprio.
At the office, I would inform my bosses that, effectively immediately, I would be leaving. “That's fine,” they say, “as long as you can take today to train our new employee.”
Who is that new employee? Why none other than Jennifer Love-Hewitt.
“So, you're the new girl?” I say in my most charming, Leo-esque voice.
“I guess so,” she says, and we both smile wide, because our love is so deep.
After the day is over, I offer to drive Jennifer home and she accepts. On the ride, she informs me that she wants to go to my house, instead.
“You don't want to go home at all?” I ask her.
“That is my home,” she says, and we smile at each other because our love is so deep.
Arriving at my house around 7 p.m., a fully loaded 2011 Corvette, the only one made so far, sits in the driveway. “You're tops, kid,” says the note. I jump in and me and Jennifer ride around all night long, the top down, listening to music and pulling off to the side of the road to make out every once in a while, because our love is so deep.
That's sorta the day I had in mind.
What really happened?
Woke up at 6:30 a.m. and hit the snooze button, uttering some inaudible curse at my alarm clock in the process.
Got up, dragged myself into the shower, my dog taking the time by himself to sniff his own ass repeatedly, which is a true gift of his.
Got into work where some douchebag reader (I'm the editor of a local newspaper) decided to leave a nasty message about one of her insignificant press releases not making it into the paper. I immediately regret not calling in sick.
Around lunch time, I think about stopping at the gym next to my office, except for the fact that the walk from my desk, out the door, to my car nearly collapsed a lung. Twenty minutes on the treadmill would probably stroke me out.
At lunch, I chose between a nice garden salad and a hot-wing bar set up at the local grocery store for the first time. The salad looked like a plate full of night crawlers by that point, so count me in for some wings.
At night, I turned on the TV, settled in to watch some Kitchen Nightmares with Gordon Ramsey (so that I could watch other people have an equally shitty day as myself) and eventually got ready for bed.
Fantasy world – 1
Reality world – 0
I don't know if anyone is actually going to read this blog or not. I think a lot of it is simply for me and my own personal interest. If I write down all the things I am able to do, or not do, it might give me an indication of what I am doing wrong. I have to think of it almost as a life audit, and I think this blog can help.
What I want by April of 2011?
I want a clear vision of my career future, a lot of financial independence, to lose at least 60 pounds, and to find someone I can honestly, absolutely say I can love. So, to make it clear to anyone reading this, I want my life to resemble The Apprentice, Deal of No Deal, Biggest Loser, and The Bachelor (I will be soooo pumped if the next 12 months includes 25 hot and horny bachelorettes).
I don't think 32 is too late to change your life. I don't think 32 means that you are who you have been. I don't think the next 40 or 50 years have to be a series of second places. And, this year is as good as any to begin to do something about it.
How?
Very good question. I am gonna make it up as I go along, but I am hoping to chronicle it all if, for no other reason, than to amuse myself along the way.
It has been 32 years of me. I am hoping that stops now.
That takes up about half a day, right there.
So, you committ to Monday. That's gonna be the day, you tell yourself. That's when the comeback begins.
That's what I did this past week.
I just turned 32. My job is okay but far from being exciting or fullfilling. It is a garden salad compared to a steak dinner I was always hoping for when it came to a career. I don't make a lot of money. I live wayyyyy too close to my parents. I haven't had a girlfriend in years and, what's worse, can't remember the last time I had a conversation with a woman where, at some point in our discussion I thought to myself, “you know, I have a really good shot of getting laid tonight.”
So, on Sunday, I made my descision. Monday was going to be my own personal Andy Dufresne Day. I was gonna climb out the other side of that shit-pipe like Dufresne did near the end of Shawshank Redemption, look up to the heavens as the purifying rain beat down, take off my shirt and spread my arms as a free man.
That's what you think when you start something. It's all farting rainbows and belching little cherubs. What did I imagine my Monday going like? Well, here's a little rundown of what I thought was possible:
Wake up at 6:30 a.m. and actually feel good that my alarm clock went off. Jump into the shower, singing a Bobby Darin song as my dog grew the opposable thumbs needed to feed himself for the morning.
Leaving for work, I would find a package on my front door. “You earned it, kid,” would be the only thing written on the note to the box while, inside, there would be exactly $120 million in very, very large bills.
Feeling so energized by my new found wealth, I would decide to walk the 42 miles to my job and, in the process, burn off approximately 60 pounds and do a significant amount of toning. Also, during the trip, the fresh air would suddenly make me look a lot more like Leonardo DiCaprio.
At the office, I would inform my bosses that, effectively immediately, I would be leaving. “That's fine,” they say, “as long as you can take today to train our new employee.”
Who is that new employee? Why none other than Jennifer Love-Hewitt.
“So, you're the new girl?” I say in my most charming, Leo-esque voice.
“I guess so,” she says, and we both smile wide, because our love is so deep.
After the day is over, I offer to drive Jennifer home and she accepts. On the ride, she informs me that she wants to go to my house, instead.
“You don't want to go home at all?” I ask her.
“That is my home,” she says, and we smile at each other because our love is so deep.
Arriving at my house around 7 p.m., a fully loaded 2011 Corvette, the only one made so far, sits in the driveway. “You're tops, kid,” says the note. I jump in and me and Jennifer ride around all night long, the top down, listening to music and pulling off to the side of the road to make out every once in a while, because our love is so deep.
That's sorta the day I had in mind.
What really happened?
Woke up at 6:30 a.m. and hit the snooze button, uttering some inaudible curse at my alarm clock in the process.
Got up, dragged myself into the shower, my dog taking the time by himself to sniff his own ass repeatedly, which is a true gift of his.
Got into work where some douchebag reader (I'm the editor of a local newspaper) decided to leave a nasty message about one of her insignificant press releases not making it into the paper. I immediately regret not calling in sick.
Around lunch time, I think about stopping at the gym next to my office, except for the fact that the walk from my desk, out the door, to my car nearly collapsed a lung. Twenty minutes on the treadmill would probably stroke me out.
At lunch, I chose between a nice garden salad and a hot-wing bar set up at the local grocery store for the first time. The salad looked like a plate full of night crawlers by that point, so count me in for some wings.
At night, I turned on the TV, settled in to watch some Kitchen Nightmares with Gordon Ramsey (so that I could watch other people have an equally shitty day as myself) and eventually got ready for bed.
Fantasy world – 1
Reality world – 0
I don't know if anyone is actually going to read this blog or not. I think a lot of it is simply for me and my own personal interest. If I write down all the things I am able to do, or not do, it might give me an indication of what I am doing wrong. I have to think of it almost as a life audit, and I think this blog can help.
What I want by April of 2011?
I want a clear vision of my career future, a lot of financial independence, to lose at least 60 pounds, and to find someone I can honestly, absolutely say I can love. So, to make it clear to anyone reading this, I want my life to resemble The Apprentice, Deal of No Deal, Biggest Loser, and The Bachelor (I will be soooo pumped if the next 12 months includes 25 hot and horny bachelorettes).
I don't think 32 is too late to change your life. I don't think 32 means that you are who you have been. I don't think the next 40 or 50 years have to be a series of second places. And, this year is as good as any to begin to do something about it.
How?
Very good question. I am gonna make it up as I go along, but I am hoping to chronicle it all if, for no other reason, than to amuse myself along the way.
It has been 32 years of me. I am hoping that stops now.
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