1) I love to stay home and read a good book, but I also love to go out and watch a movie.
2) I love cooking at home, but I love going out to eat too.
3) I love to travel, but I also love San Francisco. It's the best.
My comments:
1) Nice dichotomy. You're so fucking deep. You read books and watch movies? Shit, you're like one in a million. I want to make babies with you now.
2) Another dichotomy. Amazing. So you like food? That's so unique, it's not like we need it to live or anything. Well, at least you're not anorexic. Fattie.
3) I'd just love it if you'd shut the fuck up, travel to Istanbul, and never show your ugly mug on match dot com again. Even on the Istanbul match dot com.
Anyway, those chicks are lame. But I seriously enjoy going out with them. With these chicks, I practice *my* version of their game, which usually involves acting repugnant and seeing how far I can push it. Some may call it practice, others may call it having too much time on my hands. I call it, The Evolutionary Theory of Modern Dating: Society Versus The Individual. It's fascinating stuff. My research for this fictional book provides hours upon hours of entertainment.
Well, not this time.
The second date of my double-header last Sunday easily ranked in the top three worst dates of my life. This is a very serious statement; I've been on a lot of bad dates. I have a friend (Giz), who likes to encourage us to ask out girls (and go on dates) by giving the following advice: "What's the worst that could happen? Is she going to hit you in the face?" No, Giz, she's not going to hit me in the face, but she is going to make me want to end dating season. And she's also going to make me want to hit her in the face. I'm totally against physical violence and solving problems with your fists, but sometimes you just gotta smack a bitch. Note: I did not smack the bitch, but I should have.
The aforementioned bitch is Rachel, a slender, 5'9" Jewish chick, living in San Mateo, from match dot com. Let me rephrase that - a slender, 5'9" Jewish walking shit-pile of psychosis. When I originally saw her profile, I immediately categorized her into the standard-boring-chick-but-hey-
Let's get fussy. I'm sure you've heard of that 25 Random Facts fad on facebook. Well, being that this chick didn't have a personality, she copied and pasted her 25 random facts into her match dot com profile. It was not the least bit interesting. Here's the list in its entirety, with my comments italicized and in parentheses:
1) If I find a artist/album that I like, I will buy and listen to said song/album over and over and over until I get totally sick of it and can't listen to it again for months. (You and everyone else. Whore.)
2) I am the primary speech therapist on a rehab unit, and I am scared every day that I have no idea what I'm doing. (That's probably because you're not good at your job, just like how you're not good in bed. I don't actually know this, I'm just assuming. Though, you are a whore, so maybe you're really slutty in bed. I don't know.)
3) I have an amazing relationship with both of my parents... and step parents! In particular, my dad is the first person I call when I'm feeling sad, upset, or really happy. (Your parents divorced and neither of them wanted you.)
4) I may be addicted to the internet. (Profound.)
5) I have owned 4 cats in the past 6 years. I had to give away one because he had some serious "issues" that may have required kitty prozac or worse, one died suddenly and mysteriously after accidently getting outside, and now I have two that I adopted from the local SPCA last year. (You kill animals. That's associated with the mentally ill. You're mentally ill as well as physically gross.)
6) I used to bite my nails... I've been nibble-free for over 6 months! (You've likely also been sex-free for over six months.)
7) I live 5 blocks away from work, but I drive every day because I hate getting up early :) I'm a night owl. (Five blocks? You are a wasteful waste of human flesh.)
8) I played percussion in a community concert band while in grad school. (By "percussion", she means resident, filthy whore.)
9) As a follow-up to #8: I've been in the Morgan Hill 4th of July parade twice! (See my comment to #8. Four words: Morgan Hill Whore Parade.)
10) I have lived in 10 cities: San Diego, Hayward, San Jose, Mountain View, Sunnyvale, Emeryville, Albany (CA), Ann Arbor (MI), San Rafael, San Mateo. (I hope your next city is somewhere on the Gaza Strip.)
11) I make a lot of my own jewelry. (And it all looks like turds, which bears a striking resemblance to your face.)
12) I've had an apple computer since I was 6 years old. I am a mac-user for life! (I never thought I'd say it, but I'm a PC and I wish you were dead.)
13) I'm so glad I moved back to California and I live so close to my family... but I miss my Michigan pals a lot! I don't miss the cold though :) (You won't get to miss the cold when you spend your eternity in hell. Unfortunately for you and me, I'll likely be there too.)
14) I think all four seasons have different smells. (I want to fart in your face. That's the smell of dating season indignation.)
15) Growing up we didn't have normal pets. My dad was studying herpetology. We owned a few rosy boas and a tiger salamander. When we went camping, we would catch newts, salamanders, and fence lizards with fishing poles and floss. We always let them go where we found them. (Your "dad" should've left you in the dumpster where he found you.)
16) I have four little brothers - 1 full brother, 1 half brother, 2 step brothers. (And they all call you, That Crazy Bitch.)
17) I love talking to little old ladies. (When you become an old lady, I guarantee that no one will try to talk to you.)
18) I know entirely too much useless trivia, but not enough useless trivia to win trivial pursuit! Curses! (Face it, you're just useless.)
19) I always drink ginger ale when I fly. Its just a tradition, I don't get motion sick. (You should start a new tradition of just jumping off the plane.)
20) Sometimes I have nightmares about waking up with tattoos. (Tattoos are awesome. I've had nightmares that I'm still out on that date with you.)
21) Constantly have to resist the temptation to quote Mitch Hedberg. Sometimes I give in. (An even harder temptation: to look at you for more than ten seconds without crying.)
22) I am Jewish but went to a Catholic high school... I can recite the "our father" by heart. (I went to Westmoor High School. We shoot bitches like you.)
23) Additionally.. I used to say the "shema" in my head during religion class in high school so that I could mentally block out all the Jesus prayers around me. (Does "shema" translate into ugly? Because that's what you are - inside and out.)
24) I think Iron Chef is the best TV show EVER. (I heard you were an ingredient once. They had to make dishes out of turds.)
25) My granddad's company made the parachutes they used when the astronauts came back to earth after the first moon-landing! They are on display at a museum in Dayton, OH. (That's kinda cool.)
As I stated before, I went out with the last chick (Natalie) because she was asian and I hadn't gone out with an asian chick in seemingly an eternity. I have no idea why I went out with Rachel. Maybe I wanted to see if a Chinese-Jewish child would be the cheapest, stingiest son of a bitch ever known to mankind. Maybe I was expanding my horizons and going out with chicks that I initially deemed boring. Maybe I wanted a free blow job. Whatever the reason, it was a mistake. And even though I've consciously attempted to repress and forget the entire incident, I've been unable to. Weak. What follows is entitled, I Hate This Bitch. It's chapter eleven in my book.
I was scheduled to meet Rachel at Broken Record at 5pm. I need to stop taking chicks to my favorite spots. I had never really considered that I could be introducing a potentially lame-ass chick to one of my neighborhood haunts. What if this lame-ass chick liked the place and started to frequent it? I could never go back for fear of my projectile vomiting. I will need to evaluate this further. Anyway, she was late. That's never a good sign. Granted, she was driving from San Mateo. As my non-friend, Toby, likes to say, "Chicks come up to me." That's why he's not my friend. He's a fucking self-righteous motherfucker with a huge ego. I prefer self-absorbed assholes with esteem issues... like me. I had actually offered to go to San Mateo for the date. My exact words were, "I can also go down to San Mateo, though I heard it's pretty lame there. If there are any non-lame things, please suggest away." Smooth. I have so much email game.
While I was waiting for her, an offensive asian dude and his dreadlocked white girlfriend stepped into the bar. Normally, I'd sneakily watch the asian dude-white chick combo and secretly wish to be in their place (after all, hapa chicks with asian dads are amazingly beautiful). However, this couple was gross. They had definitely never been to Broken Record before, as was evidenced by their exchange:
dude (in a fobby accent): Coo. They got a pool table. You wanna play some pool?
chick: No.
dude: Why not!?
chick: I don't play pool.
dude: Well, you can learn.
chick: I TOLD YOU. I DON'T WANT TO.
dude: Bitch, I want to.
chick: Fine.
So offensive. That dude should obviously not be playing pool. He should, instead, be attending English classes in an effort to correct his fobby accent. And the chick, good lord, she might have deserved him. Normally, I'd feel sorry for her, but she was a pale white chick, with ugly, long dreadlocked hair. Her face was also gross. I pictured their kids eventually being on television in year 2025, on Cops: Ugly Hapa Kids Gone Wild. After all, in the future, they run out of good, original show ideas and start combining ideas from formerly successful reality shows, like Cops and Girls Gone Wild. It's the #1 rated show in all demographics in 2025. The second highest rated show is, So You Think You Can Whore. I hope I die before 2025.
Rachel finally made her appearance a little after 5:15pm. What is it with girls showing up over fifteen minutes late and violating my dating principles? I guess it's my fault for not following my principles and leaving. Note to self: if another chicks shows up over fifteen minutes late, there's a 99% chance that she's a miserable wench and I should vacate the premise immediately. When she came to my table, I did my best to act smooth. I greeted her with a "Uhh, should I get up and hug you now, or should we just shake hands?" We ended up doing neither. I meant for it to be funny in an awkward way. She didn't get it. That made it even more awkward. I tried to laugh it off, but she looked at me in a weird way. It wasn't a i-want-to-fuck-you weird look; it was a who-is-this-loser weird look. Amazingly, I am familiar with both looks. Though, I was totally unfamiliar with her Skeletor look. Her face was much scrawnier and bonier than her pictures. She looked like Skeletor and I wanted to shout, "By the power of Grayskull, I am He-Man. When the fuck did Skeletor turn into an ugly chick?" It would only get worse from here.
Since I had been waiting over fifteen minutes, I had already ordered and finished a mini-bottle of wine (classy, I know). I told her I'd be getting another one and asked if she wanted anything to drink. She asked what was on tap. I told her classy shit, like PBR. She responded that she hates PBR. I then told her that she should get up and look for herself. Broken Record only has three taps, all of which are plainly visible. Shockingly, Broken Record's taps matched the beers that were in the taps. Rachel did not seem to recognize this. She attempted to order several beers that were not on tap. Somehow, in the first three minutes of the date, I had already given up on having a good time. I looked around the corner to see if I could escape out the emergency exit without anyone knowing.
Eventually, she settled on a beer that was on tap. We went back to our table and were immediately beset by an awkward silence. I am very unaccustomed to awkward silences. I usually find it quite easy to talk to people, even if I have nothing in common with them. Well, at least with people I respect. I then tried to bring up a topic that I find fun, namely prior match dot com dates, because a horror date story is always a good story. Then, she got all psycho on me:
(awkward silence)
me: So, how's match dot com working out for you? Have you been on any other dates?
her: Why are you asking me that?
me: I love hearing date stories.
her: You shouldn't be asking me that.
me: Huh?
her: The only reason you'd ask that is if you weren't interested.
me: I'm not saying I'm interested or not. I just like to hear about horrible dates. If you don't want to share, you don't have to. It's really not a big deal.
her: What if I told you I have been on dates?
me: Well, by that tone I'd assume that one of them went well.
her: And what if it did?
me: I guess if I were interested in you, I'd need to step up my game and make you fall madly in love with me.
her: "If" you were interested, huh?
me: You're fucking psycho.
her: Sorry, sorry. I know I'm being psycho. I just get nervous before and especially during dates. I also tend to over analyze things.
me: You're still psycho.
It was all so amazingly psycho and not fun. I've never had a chick react so harshly to such an innocent question. Sure, she may have had a point about not being interested, however I've asked the question even when I was interested in a chick. I just like to hear dating stories - plain and simple. You can probably relate, you are reading this blog after all. Of course, her overreaction and basis for the overreaction only confirmed my beliefs that she conformed to the standard rules of dating, i.e. act like you're interested and don't ask a potentially awkward question. Fuck the standard rules of dating. Fuck this chick. Fuck her with a spike-studded bat.
Once we both settled down and the tension left the air, we talked about stuff. She revealed that she was indeed interested in a guy that she had just gone on a date with. I mildly implied that she should pursue this dude with all her might and conviction. After all, if this dude was down with her, it might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Maybe it was Moss Man; I always thought that those two were gay for each other. Or maybe it was Ram-Man; that guy was seemed like an idiot. For the non-nerds, those were some He-Man references. I don't understand why I'm still single.
Rachel then went on to say "You're not normally the type of guy I date. I've never dated an asian guy before." Wow, that was pretty offensive. I never knew that asian guys were a type of guy. By that, she probably meant that I was really good at math, only ate rice, loved the color yellow, went to UC Berkeley, and studied computer science. Wrong, bitch. I studied psychology. Then, I couldn't resist and retorted, "Yeah, you're not normally the type of girl that I date. I usually just go out with sane chicks."
I pretty much wanted this date to be over. About an hour into the date, I wanted the date to be over an hour ago. So, I asked if she was hungry. Fuck. That was a stupid thing to fucking ask. I was hungry, but I wanted to go home and eat. In my screwy mind, I was hoping she'd be hungry too, so we could mutually agree to end the date, go back to our mutual homes, and mutually eat separately. I guess chicks don't really think the same way I think. Actually, I think human beings don't think the same way I think. She replied, "Yeah, I actually skipped dinner. Where do you want to go?" Goddamn it, I wanted to go home. I am so stupid. Instead, I told her that I wasn't that hungry, but Broken Record was supposed to serve the best Soul Food in San Francisco. I heard this from the bartender. He might be a bit biased.
We walked together to the back of the bar, where the restaurant was situated. While she was deciding what to order, I just left and went back to the table. That was definitely not a cool thing to do. I probably violated, like, seven rules in the standard people dating handbook. However, I was mentally exhausted. Having come off a previous bad date about four hours ago, I didn't have the mental fortitude to withstand two bad dates in a row. I considered just getting up and leaving the bar. I also considered bludgeoning myself with a pool cue. Or grabbing a couple darts and jamming them into my eyes. Or picking a fight with the offensive asian dude and his offensive-looking dreadlocked girlfriend. Maybe they'd render me unconscious with their inane talk and gross faces. I eventually settled on concentrating really hard and trying to become invisible. For those that have never utilized this technique, it involves closing your eyes, clenching your fists, gritting your teeth, and vibrating your entire body. I've never got it to work, but it has convinced people not to come up to me. However, Rachel was psycho so she came back.
She had ordered a po-boy sandwich. It looked and smelled pretty damn good. I decided to eventually try Broken Record's food, preferably on a day/night where I was with good company and enjoying myself. There's nothing I hate more than sharing a meal with someone I detest. Food is meant to be enjoyed and savored. If you're with someone you dislike, you're going to want to eat your shit as quickly as possible and then take off. I used this knowledge to my tactical advantage. I sat there and watched her eat her food. Ordinarily, I'd make conversation, say something interesting that didn't necessitate a response, and generally look away (so as not to be rude). Not this time. I just stared at her eating her sandwich and tried to make it as uncomfortable and awkward as possible. I didn't say anything. I just sat there. And stared. It was pretty fucking weird and creepy. But it worked. She ate her sandwich quickly. Within minutes, she was done. So, I said, "Was the sandwich good? It looked good. I think we should leave." She immediately and happily agreed. We both wanted this date to be over ASAP. Finally we agreed on something.
Thankfully, after exiting the bar, we found out that we parked in opposite directions. That was awesome. I quickly said bye and good night without actually looking at her. It was a pretty ass move, but it needed to be done. You know, I didn't want to lead her on. She might think that we were gonna potentially go out on a second date. Yeah, right. I just wanted to be mean. Sometimes I'm petty. Whatever. I got into my car and felt very mixed emotions. On one side, I was happy and relieved the date was over. On the other side, I wanted to follow her home and take a shit outside her front door. Or maybe I could just take a shit into a jar and then empty the jar onto her front step. I made a note to ask Daniel D about that move; he did originate the shit-jar maneuver after all.
I don't know if words could do justice to just how poorly this date went. It was a fucking catastrophe. Neither of us had a good time. I thought she was ugly, vanilla, and slightly offensive. She probably thought there was something wrong with me, since I was asian and could actually speak English. Needless to say, but I want to say it anyway, there was absolutely no chemistry. Our only bond was that I was He-Man, she was Skeletor, and I wanted to shove my sword directly into her skull. This is not a euphemism for having her suck my dick. That's gross, dude. Like Skeletor would ever suck He-Man's dick. That was She-Ra's job. I wish I had a first cousin that was that hot. Okay, no more He-Man references. It's worse than Star Wars. Sorry.
After the date, I emailed my two upcoming dates and canceled them. I had to recover. More importantly, I had to figure out if this dating season could continue. In my efforts to remain hetero, I had to make sure I didn't go out with too many wack chicks in a short period of time. Also, instead of just complaining about something and not taking any action (my number one pet peeve about people), I logged onto match dot com and searched for their form to submit complaints about going on dates with wack chicks. They had no such form. They should create one. These testimonials should also go on a person's profile, unedited and unmoderated. Maybe I should start a dating website, purely based off that one idea. It's pretty brilliant, I think. My comment for Rachel would be:
"Rachel is a psycho whore. I don't mean whore in that she'll suck your dick. I mean whore in that I hate that bitch. If you want to meet someone who is tall, slender, good-looking, fun, and smart, why the fuck did you join a dating website? You're a fucking idiot. The people on this site have serious issues, usually with their face. Rachel's issue is that she's painful to be around. Oh, and she resembles Skeletor. Die, Skeletor, die. You fucking die."
So, I don't have any more dates on the horizon; it's probably for the best. But cross your fingers, I might eventually find a chick who is attractive, intelligent, witty, and into me. Haha, who am I kidding. Why would a chick like that be into me?
Fun - 0
Masochistic Fun - 8.5
Interesting - 2
Being Psycho - 6
Future Relationship Potential - -10
Future Friendship Potential - -10
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