The Date (Girl Fail #10)

PoleStatistics show that the “…worst places to go on a first date include fast-food restaurants, your kids’ birthday party or school play, your parents’ house, strip clubs, X-rated films or swingers parties, a party where your ex will be, church activities, or window shopping.” How can strip clubs be on this list? It seems like every time I go there, women love me.  😉

After being dateless for over a year now, you can imagine how beguiled I was when someone accepted my invitation to dinner. By comparison, my date couldn’t have been more calm about it. Leah, an attractive marketing executive with curly brown hair, caught my eye at a bar a few weeks ago and our mutual sense of humor kept the conversation alive long enough for me to ask for her number. We texted pretty consistently throughout the following days and continued to hit it off. The great obstacle for me is deciding how to make the first date 1) memorable, 2) enjoyable, and 3) sexy/romantic.

My Plan:

An authentic Italian Italianrestaurant for dinner followed by a short stroll through the Village to a trendy jazz club

My Problems:

  • The menu’s all in Italian and, unlike her, I don’t speak the language
  • I’m allergic to 80% of all Italian food
  • I was excited and already over-thinking the date
  • Wearing nice shoes aren’t good for my bad knee
  • I cut my face shaving #RookieMistake

Preparation:

I suck at this part. Think about it. You try being an expert at a once-a-year activity. As far as I can tell, it comes down to two things; looking good and feeling good. Let’s start with looks.

Working out before a date is the pushup bra equivalent for men. After a long workout in the late morning, I knew that I’d look adequately fit for my date. Not to say that I’d be flexing at dinner but just as when someone shows their cleavage, I’d want to show a toned arm when I pour her a glass of wine. Next, I cleaned my apartment to the extent of my chances bringing her back there if the date went well. My chances this time were about a 5.5 out of 10, which meant I definitely had to clean my bathroom and bedroom. Also, I made my roommate aware of my chances and ordered him to keep his phone by his side in case a miracle occurs and she follows me home.

Then there’s feeling good. I showered as normal. I cut myself shaving but tried not to think about it. My thoughts raced in my head: Do I send her a text letting her know that I’m excited about tonight? Do I tell my parents what my plans are if they ask? No, I’m debonair and aloof – at least that’s what I’m trying to be. Should I bring a condom in case we end up at her place? No, that’s too bold of a move for a 5.5 out of 10 chance. Yikes, why am I asking myself this? Jesus, the date hasn’t even happened yet and I’m already thinking too much about sex. Why the hell did I pick an Italian restaurant anyway?

X rayNot only do I combat haphazard thoughts but my physical well-being was an issue as well. I suffered an injury a few years ago that left me with permanent knee damage. Meaning, if I wear anything but sneakers, it hurts to walk. But she was beautiful and I wanted to look nice for the date, so I threw on my black dress shoes, which tied my outfit together more than my Adidas’s.

The Date:

Feeling dignified and poised, I arrived 15 minutes early. I thought to grab a table but felt that it’d be best to greet her outside first. What will we talk about? I thought to myself. Eh, I suppose it doesn’t matter as long as the conversation doesn’t die out. Hell, it doesn’t even matter if I kiss her, I’m actually doing something tonight instead of jerking off. I have to at least congratulation myself for that! But she never showed. No message, no apology. Nothing.

The hostess asked me if I’d like a table. I shook my head and walked away. Stopping at a liquor store on the way home, I bought a bottle of Merlot. The rest of my night consisted of physical therapy exercises, since I could barely walk by the time I got to my apartment, and downing an entire bottle of wine. I was right about one thing though, I didn’t jerk off that evening.

Wine

And if you’re wondering why I titled this The Date when nothing actually happened, well, I suppose we’re in the same boat now, aren’t we?

-Single Guy in NYC
@SingleGuyInNYC

Dating Websites (Part 2) (Girl Fail #9)

In 1979, the trial for a convicted rapist and murderer by the name of Ted Bundy began. Despite the fact that all of his victims were women (some say as many as 100 victims), he received hundreds of love letters from deranged female “fans.” Fan mail included nude pictures and even marriage proposals. In fact, dozens of his female “fans” attended the trials and made an effort to resemble those he had murdered. During this time, I bet every single guy in America shared the same sentiment as Bill Hicks:

Bundy_Hick

Why am I telling you this? Well, it’s complicated. I’d suggest starting from the beginning, which is actually my previous post (click here). Carrying on…

Believing it to be a massive cop-out, I swallowed my pride and, reluctantly, joined OkCupid six months ago out of sheer desperation to cast a wider net and to increase my visibility (at least, electronically). My naivety regarding dating sites encouraged me to rely on the rumors and stereotypical experiences of others. I thought, with all the schmucks out there (with their pompous bios, their idiotic poses with tigers, their belligerently perverted openers, and their superfluous dick pics), at least one date would spawn from this online platform. This had to auger well.

450 messages later, nothing. Not one date. Not one friend. Nothing.

Compounded frustrations + a dark sense of humor = laughing in self-reproach at the photo above. It honestly did leave me wondering if those that I contacted went on a date with a misogynistic womanizer and/or jerkoff instead. Although difficult to say, think of all the dating blogs out there, most of which are maintained by women. Of those, many are reflections on terrible OkCupid or Tinder dates.

But fear not because this wasn’t all in vain. I created a fake female profile to compare and contrast my experiences between both sexes.

The Profiles

ugly-womanPictures:  To make the experiment fair, both profiles had to be appealing on all fronts. Thus, I wasn’t going to pick a photo like this one for my fake account.

I’m a physically fit guy with a six pack, toned body, relatively white teeth, average height, skinny, decent but not perfect complexion, a few gray hairs and a bald spot. With this, I consider myself to be in the “average looks” category – nothing that will get the attention of the nearest Abercrombie & Fitch store but satisfactory to those I’ve been with. Appropriately, I used photos of a girl my age in the equivalent “average looks” category for the fake profile.

Profile Content: Maintaining the fairness of this ploy, the text of her profile had to be equally engaging. A joke for a joke, the same type of vague self-summary spiel, and no interests that could be deemed superficial. Any text that had the potential of being perceived as a flirtatious invitation were edited out of the fake profile. Just so you know, I didn’t list myself as someone looking for casual sex or anything like that either.

Questions: Much of the questions were answered the same way, which renders similar “personality” stats.

As a final test, my friends (both male and female) reviewed each profile and gave their reputable stamp of approval.

Results

Jewish women don't masturbate on OkCupid

Jewish women don’t masturbate on OkCupid

Real Profile: I visited over 600 profiles and sent about 450 messages over the course of six months. Out of those 450 messages, I only received 5 replies. I’ll  reiterate that in case you’re reading too fast. That is 5 out of 450. That equates to about a 1.1% success rate, where success SOLELY means getting a reply. I only received 1 unprompted message but she didn’t seem mentally stable. No one that I visited ever messaged me. No one that visited me ever messaged me unless I messaged them first. I only had 10 quickmatches and, oddly enough, half were overweight bisexual black women (maybe that’s my market?). I averaged about 70 visitors per week for the first month but this number slowly declined. Now I average about 8 visitors per week.

Fake Profile: I visited less than 100 profiles and sent 0 messages. This had absolutely no impact on my ability to get visitors or messages. In fact, before I had ANY content in my profile (only had a couple of pictures), I received 5 messages in an hour! I had equaled the number of replies that took me six months and 450 messages from my real profile in just one hour of creating my fake one. In total, I received 323 messages over the course of six months – all of which were unprompted. 1/10 of the men I visited sent me something. Compared to my 10 quickmatches from my real profile, I had a whopping 1,183 quickmatches in my fake one. It was effortless to maintain about 120 visitors per week for the first three months or so. This number has since decreased to around 50 per week, most likely due to my inactivity.

Discussion

Did the extent of this rough data despond you as much as it did me? Probably not. Most people already know that if the object of the game is to get messages, males must be more exigent with their profiles and more charitable with reaching out to others. These are the unfortunate circumstances – I would argue – that arise from social norms, which cyberspace, as we just witnessed, isn’t immune to.

How about the quality of these messages? I’ll confess that I made the mistake of sending the stereotypical “Hey, how are you?” openers a few times but I quickly made a habit of reading a women’s profile in its entirety and conceiving a unique, dare I say charming, message. This approach, deemed the most chivalrous, takes about 15 to 25 minutes depending on the profile. I did this about 300 times before I lost all hope. I’ve heard the opposite sex say that “no response is a response.” If this is true, I wonder if I was being treated with derision. My last 150 or so messages derived from whatever short, witty thoughts or questions I had after a 5 minute browse of their profile and pictures. Since almost all of my approaches were ignored, I’m counting this as Girl Fail #9.

Twilight-PickUp-Lines-14The most ironic aspect of this experiment was the messages my fake account received. Although, I got the gamut of openers, from magnanimous compliments to sleazy invitations, the vast majority of them were perfectly fine and often times funny. No one tried to romance me with “I want to fuck you in my station wagon” but I did get “…so for me intention wise….Honestly….nothing too serious….a fun friend really. With benefits situation is what I’m open to at the moment. Not looking for anything serious at the moment, but having it with someone fun, easy going, funny, witty, smart….sexy goes without saying. What about yourself?” Maybe I was lucky but I didn’t get any vulgar messages nor dick pic offerings. The flood of compliments I received actually boosted my confidence until I reminded myself that I was acting under a pretense.

My personal favorites:

  • I’m just going to completely cut the b.s because you’re the cutest girl I’ve seen here. Let’s get coffee, possibly share orgasms, then get another coffee. So much energy
  • I’ve never met (or read to profile of) anyone with favorite movies including ####, #### and the goddamn Blues Brothers. I normally wouldn’t put so much stock in this sort of thing, but, wow, we should meet. Plus, I’m a huge fan of too many books to list.
  • Hello I’m #### glad to meet you! I read your profile and think you are really great person and I hope we can talk and get to know each other better. I am attending graduate school to obtain my Masters in Forensic Science. I hope you message me back because you seem like an amazing girl with great qualities, and I would like to get to know you if you so choose to get to know me and you are really cute
  • OHHH MY GAAARDS!!!!!!
  • Random personality question – how do you feel about PDA? Write back.
  • Soo..um this is like ridiculously random and may come off as strange butt,hello there gorgeous lady! 🙂 I have the urge to get on my knees and kiss your feet. haha is this a bad thing?
  • You seem like a cool girl, but there is only one way for me to tell… and that is if you take this little quiz of mine.  (provided a 10 question quiz)
  • After wading my way through a river of 18 year old college students you seem like an actual person with their shit together. What’s up?
  • let’s be a power couple

Did you expect these types of results? What OkCupid stories do you have?

Guys, if you can’t resist sending pictures of your junk, at least do it the right way. Click here to learn more.  :p

-Single Guy in NYC
@SingleGuyInNYC

Single Status Overview (problems masturbating can’t take away)

Single Guy in NYC - Get Back Together With Ex

Single Guy in NYC – Get Back Together With Ex

After nearly two years, my ex and I broke up. The once benign, amorous relationship eventually turned on its head and became insidiously enduring. And as everyone will learn, if they haven’t already, you only really come to know your partner when one of two things occur; you cohabit or you break up.

I’ve been single for 10 months now. I never thought such a delightful round number such as 10 could bring so much indignation. Since the breakup, I have not had a date, nor sex, nor any sort of female companionship (which I miss dearly). My ex slept with someone less than a month after the breakup. Not knowing this, I stayed at her place for a weekend because she was going through a hard time. As it turned out, I was consoling her because her new lover was not interested in dating. After finding out she had slept with someone a month after she said she wanted kids with me and told me I’m her one and only love, it was difficult to mask my emotions. Quite honestly, when the breakup occurred, I could not even fathom sleeping with someone else. This is part of being in love, no?

After voicing my disappointment and my damaged pride, she calmly stated, “Look, it’s not like I did anything wrong.” The love of my life slept with another man 3 weeks after we split up, then called me to come over and stay with her for a weekend in order to nurse her back to health. And she did nothing wrong. You know what? I’ll grant her that. Yes, she did nothing wrong but one has to capitulate to the notion that this was morally distasteful and slightly selfish. A more extreme example may illustrate this. Let’s imagine a serious couple of 20 years splits up and one partner sleeps with a stranger an hour after the breakup. Wrong? Maybe not since they did not cheat. Distasteful and possibly spiteful? I’d presume so.

– Single Guy in NYC

@SingleGuyInNYC

 

“Just dance…” – Lady Gaga (Girl Fail #3)

My good friend, Puff Girl, invited me to a Latin dance party in the Lower East Side one Friday evening – and like any white person who’s incapable of dancing and dislikes it, I cordially accepted the invitation. The venue was interesting in and of itself. It had a large movie screen playing Jaws (among other classics), plenty of couches and stools, a pool table, multiple bars on the ground floor, and a Rolling Rock Gibson Guitar suspended above an assortment of liquor. However, the dance party took place in the basement of the venue.

Loud music, DJ lighting, sweaty bodies, and a transvestite eyeing me the entire night. It wasn’t exactly my scene. Being the only white person, I stood out like a black guy at a NRA convention. After consuming my 3rd drink, I was prepared to throw caution to the wind and test my sense of rhythm. One thing I noticed right away was that every person there knew how to move, shake, grind, twist, hop, spin, wiggle, etc. Granted, this white man can’t jump nor dance but I’ll try. In the sagacious words of Lady Gaga, “just dance, Da-doo-doo-doo.” Spotting two women dancing alone, I approached one, played a 5 second game of charades in order to invite her to the dance floor, and gave it my all – which was nothing. I went to spin her but must have gestured the wrong way because she got caught off guard and our motions opposed one another till they nullified. She laughed at me and walked away.

After consuming some liquid courage for a half hour, I tried my luck again. I approached the same two girls and gestured to my previous dance partner’s friend to follow me to the dance floor. Openly admitting this was not my forte, I relaxed a bit more and had fun. We occasionally spoke while dancing and grabbed a drink together upstairs. She was friendly yet mysterious in her manner, and fairly cute. Before I could ask her for her info, she pulled out her phone and said, “Okay, I might as well take your number. What is it?” How interesting is this? I thought. This time I’m being asked for my digits; must have made an impression. It was a great close to the night, or so I thought, until I was walking to the metro with Puff Girl (who spent the entire night grinding on gay Dominicans). “You didn’t get her number?” “No, I didn’t think to since she asked for mine. Mistake?” “Definitely.” “Ah, dammit.”

And so it was; she never contacted me. Now it’s possible she met someone else or woke up the next morning and realized she really wasn’t that interested but part of me thinks she chose to ask me for my number as a preemptive measure to avoid giving out hers. It was obvious that I was going to ask and by asking first, it gave me this false sense of, for lack of a better word, accomplishment. It’s a cynical point of view but one would also assume attractive single women in their 30s have some tricks up their sleeves. If so, touche.

-Single Guy in NYC
@SingleGuyInNYC

My bubbles! (Girl Fail #2)

“Do you ever speak to someone on the subway?” I asked. Without much thought my friend simply replied, “I tend to never make that mistake.”

The irony city dwellers face every day festers in their mode of public transportation. Whether it be bus, train, starship, or hovercraft, everyone around you, although clearly in pubic, is lodged into their own little world. In NYC, the locals apply a thick layer of stoic aloofness before swiping their metro card and starting their day. It’s understandable why folks want to appear distant and keep to themselves when around strangers in such a populous area but sometimes I can’t help but try to break down this inexorable barrier.

While riding the subway to work one morning, an attractive girl sat next to me and placed her purse on her lap. Although I was reading a book and in my own little world myself, something about that morning made me feel optimistic and social. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that attached to the outside of this person’s purse via a piece of string was an unlabeled bottle of purell. A little odd but interesting that someone would need purell within reach at all times like that. I gestured to the purell bottle and said, “Always within reach just in case, right?” I instantly regretted opening my mouth. She glared at me with a look of contempt. “Those,” she replied, pausing to point at the bottle, “are my bubbles.” Naturally, I became doubly curious and wanted to know why one would need bubbles within reach at all times. However, her feelings of disgust towards me pacified this curiosity in a bizarre backwards manner.

It sometimes pays to just keep your thoughts to yourself. Damn this innate sense of curiosity.

-Single Guy in NYC
@SingleGuyInNYC

Neighborhood Sex

Image

My upstairs neighbors have sex all the time. The pesky creaks from their bed frame seeps through into my room at night with ease as I try to fall asleep. I’m sure I’d be less annoyed if they were good people but that’s simply not the case. My only sense of payback has been reduced to watching porn through my high fidelity sound system when my roommate’s not there. Sadly, I haven’t reached my low point yet.

-Single Guy in NYC
@SingleGuyInNYC