alright, maybe biting on bob marley isn’t the way to broach the topic. but i gotta have something catchy as a title right?
so its 2007. i didn’t know if some of you were aware of that. but it is. this is the technological age that we live in. you can pretty much get emails, texts, or have a conversation with someone at any given moment. everyone everywhere is totally accessible.
not only that, i think that the dating world as it exists has never been so forthright. so open. people know what they want and they go after it. whether it be in a bar, a church, online, at school, wherever, the world is geared to pair you off with others. not only that, but the level of communication associated with it is unprecidented. you can ask whomever you like out. vice versa. AND the openness has allowed you to say yes or no without any real repurcussions. makes for cut and dry, clean sort of communication. almost transactional.
those two points being made, how is it that someone in this world can still be stood up? sitting at a bar in a restaurant at an agreed upon time, waiting… what explanation is there for this?
none.
but i have to consider myself fortunate. i honestly think that this is the first time that i went to an agreed upon place and the person i was meeting didn’t show. how a putz like me made it to the ripe old age of 31 without that ever happening is beyond my comprehension.
so i thought about punctuality rules while i sat there and tried to make sense of it all. and i think this works for first dates and only when there is no call warning of a late arrival.
five minutes late is okay. it could have been traffic. not to say that those five minutes don’t feel like an eternity, but the big smile when they finally walk through the door makes it worth it. (maybe she did it on purpose to build anticipation?)
ten minutes is still a moderate offense. no harm done, but you were starting to cast doubts in my mind.
fifteen minutes? doubt has been cast. maybe she isn’t going to show. this means she didn’t plan ahead and that she really didn’t think high enough of you to be on time. unless “i am SO sorry i am late” are the first words out of her mouth followed by some sort of compliment, the first is more than likely going to be the last date.
20-25 minutes late? chick is seriously pushing her luck. she better hope that you agreed to meet somewhere with a TV with sports on it where you are going to feel like a schmuck for sitting there watching a game with a beer. (by the way, you can order that first beer between the five to ten minute mark. but don’t go chugging the damn thing because she will think you have either A. been there a long time or B. you are an alchy.)
after 25 minutes, i ordered grub to go. she wouldn’t have even had a shot with me if she walked through the door as i was settling my tab. its downright freaking rude. i got up, i stood up, and i walked the hell out. not the way bob would have finished the verse, but it worked for me.

so as far as the grand scheme of things is concerned with the whole dating portion of my life, its so open ended right now its not even funny. with the whole CFF guys and dolls auction thing going on in the background, the possibilties are pretty much endless. of course, there is always the possibility that some geriatric lady that saves all her change throughout the year only to come in and bid on some strapping young buck, not unlike myself, to be her boy toy. hey, i have to keep the worst case scenarios in mind here. but there is always the outside chance that i meet a girl. or not just A girl, but THE girl. talk about delusions of grandeur.
the point is, that for the most part, i have pretty much been ignoring my dating life. not really one of the ridiculously self-imposed dating hiatuses that i have been foolish enough to declare in the past, but more of a passive approach. as the people at the MINI dealership would say, “just motoring.”
but lately, a fair amount of my friends have been pairing off. everywhere i turn there is someone starting a relationship, rekindling a flame, whatever. it just seems that way. and with entirely too much time on my hands yesterday, it left my mind to wander.
that in turn leads me to blundering around the internet. i mean, history tells me that i may be come across a little more appealing on the interweb. true or not, it feels that way sometimes. its not that i am not just as witty in person, i am just losing something in translation sometimes it seems.
and a few of my friends have found success in internet dating. some more recently. this brings me back to my old stomping grounds. match.com. i was a hefty user when i moved to the CLT some six years ago. i then decided it was all a sham and that the company was sending me messages of women that showed a hint of interest in order to keep getting their membership fee from me. that combined with the fact that there is something wrong with the masses of women that put up a profile on a dating site, but have no desire to be approached by men. odd really.
but i found myself browsing there again yesterday. i have a profile with no picture and just a postage stamp of info about me. i saw a lot of the same women that were on there years ago. and i see a handful of women that i know in real life. or women that i just see around. its weird (substitute the word sad, sick, or creepy if you like) to see people out and offline that you know look for love and such online. especially when i have a somewhat photographic memory for that type of thing.
i don’t know. just rambling at this point.
why do i continue to actively look for something/someone? my life is pretty decent. i have fun. i have great friends. i get laid on rare occasions (arbor day usually). so why do i think i keep seeing unicorns as far as a women in my life might be concerned? hey, sick bastard, that was a mythological reference, not a beastiality thing. damn.
passive dating. yep. that is the key to my success. or lack there of depending on how you want to look at it.

i remember back in the mid to late 90’s, the group, live, was tearing up the charts. and being from lancaster county i was already a big fan of them. on their secret samahdi tour, they came to pittsburgh and i got a chance to see them at the benedum theater. it was an amazing venue for a rock show. even if you had a horrible seat, you were no more than a few hundred feet away from the band on the upper level. awesome.
well, a buddy of mine at the time worked for the event staff and he had said that he would probably get a chance to meet the band. maybe even get us back stage. did i mention that i was a big fan? unfortunately, we couldn’t find him after the show and were unable to try and take advantage of the hook up.
so we drove back to the rock. reeling from the show but wishing we could have made it back stage. a couple hours after we got back, my buddy that was working the show walked into the apartment and inquired as to where we went. he said he had two passes that he could have gotten us backstage. it was a stomach punch.
it sucks to know that you could have had a great time or taken advantage of an opportunity but it then eludes you somehow.
this same feeling comes over me when a woman tells me, after the fact, that she would have slept with me. what is that?
this kind of information comes in two forms. one, the woman tells you out of spite. things didn’t work out and she knows that the fact that you didn’t sleep together would be the perfect parting shot. especially if you ended it and she is pissed. it skips gut punch and goes right to kick to the groin as far as feelings are concerned if you decided to stop seeing her because things weren’t “progressing” in that department.
the second form is after you stop seeing each other and you strike up a friendship. you are comfortable with each other and get to the point that you can talk about your sex lives or lack there of. and she just nonchalantly slips it into a conversation. “i would have had sex with you.” WHAT?! i really wish you would have told me this sooner. like, before the phrase, “would have had” needed to be uttered.
i have recently been made aware of the ladder theory. women have two ladders for men to climb. one for friends and one for people they would like to have sex with. men have one ladder because at one point in time in the relationship, the thought of having sex with the woman has crossed the man’s mind. even his good friends.
this being the case, a guy hearing that he could have been on the woman’s other ladder may cause him to slip and smack his grill on a couple of rungs.
women, if you didn’t sleep with him, he didn’t know you wanted to, and you don’t intend to remedy that situation, keep it to yourself. thanks.

so i was talking with C last night about dating.  seriously, what else do her and i talk about?  but we both agreed that there is a stupid fucking comment that committed (applicable both because they are both in a committed relationship and probably insane.) people continue to offer up as advice for the single folk.

“you will find some one when you stop looking.”  or the closely akin, “it will happen when you least expect it.”

okay, seriously.  i will find someone when i stop looking for them.  are you kidding me?  i am a guy.  i am always going to be looking at women.  and if i am looking at the women, and i am single, i am probably going to entertain (be it ever so briefly) their possibility of being the one that i am looking for.

right, stop looking.  maybe when i go blind.  which of course, if i stay single and have to continue the “self serve” function, could be sooner than later.

okay, now for the happening when i least expect it.  guys, unfortunately or fortunately depending on how you look at it, watch entirely too much porn.  and if your man says he doesn’t, he does.  or he really wants to but he knows he will get in trouble if he does.  and in most porn, things happen in the weirdest of times.  the delivery person, the secretary, the teacher, whatever.  all times when you least expect it.  so a man’s brain is conditioned to expect it at any given moment.  that is why you have teenagers carrying around condoms in their wallet “just in case.”

now, i know that mainly pertains to sex.  and that love is a whole other entity.  but if love is going to happen when i least expect it, she is going to have to either be breaking into my house in the middle of the night and i by chance don’t shoot her.  or maybe be a hot chick on the bomb squad when someone inevitably rigs my toilet to explode like they did to danny glover in the second lethal weapon flick.  or maybe some woman that plows into me unexpectedly in traffic that can withstand the verbal berating that i dole out for her.  or maybe the girl that is standing in front of me at the supermarket and doesn’t mind the fact that the contents of my shopping cart making me look like i am feeding an eight year old.  wait, i have already thought about that, so i would expect it.

bottom line, please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t use either of these cliche bullshit answers to try and give me hope or whatever it is you think you are doing, in referece to my singlehood.  you are just making me not want to be in a relationship for fear of how stupid it is going to make me.

-  chicken poo!

-  thanks to the big guy upstairs for bringing back a little sunshine today.  it helps this guy dramatically.  that and the fact that whoever picked the “myPod” songs at lunch today on 106.5 rocks!  you can’t go wrong with “dragula” by rob zombie followed up by “spacelord” by monster magnet.  classics.

-  i will be returning to the bench tonight for the third week of the indoor volleyball season at the sports connection.  we would be looking a lot better in the standings right now if we didn’t forfeit our first match of the season due to a lack of women.  (lack of women seems to be a running theme in my life…)

by the way, we are cranking back up the open play on sundays!  so if you want to come on down to the SW2 location between the hours of 5-8pm on sunday to play some volleyball, feel free.  actually, you can feel free, but it will cost you five dollars.  i will try to remember to put something up on my calendar here.

-  I VOTED!  yesterday, i took advantage of my constitutional right and voted in the local elections.  my precinct votes at the elementary school right down the street, which made it super convenient.  i somehow lost my little badge of honor sticker though in the two blocks from the school to the house.  might have fell off in the car.

the hoot was transferring precincts.  at least it was a hoot for the lady that was helping me.  “yes ma’am, my old address was COW HOLLOW drive.  and no, there were no cows.”  the sad part?  i took me a good five minutes to remember the numbers in my old address.  it was only like six months ago.  i have to lay off the booze.

but the computer touch screens were a breeze to use and i was done with the actual voting in a matter of minutes.  i cannot wait for the next presidential election.  two more long ass years.

-  so monday night when i got home from work, i knew that i had to clean up the dishes in the sink and empty the dishwasher.  it had been a little while and there was some funk emminating from the dishes in the sink.  always a bad sign.  and there may or may not have been some culture samples in some of the dishes on the bottom.

so when i got into it, i got into it.  and it took me a little while.  but by the time i got done with everything and settled onto the couch, it was about 9:30.  and i hadn’t eaten dinner yet.  i had grubbed down some serious chips and salsa, but no real dinner.  so i decided to eat something.  the mistake i made was that i washed it down with a pepsi.

i was exhausted to begin with, but the pepsi gave me just enough caffeine to not be able to doze off.  so i laid in bed from midnight to about three AM before finally going out.  and the little shit that was bothering me and keeping me up… i had to shut down my computer because the little fan in there sounded like it was in a jet airplane.  and after that was off, i could seriously hear the clock ticking in the kitchen.  for those of you not familiar with the floor plan of la casa delYerg, that clock is probably 35 or forty feet and three rooms away.  insane.

so i was dragging some serious ass yesterday.  and i will admit that i may have been a little tense.  and maybe a little short with some people.  it happens.  but after a decent night of rest, i think sunshiny jared may be back.

-  so i have been a little glum lately as far as dating and how it pertains to my life.  i haven’t really been seeing anyone.  and although its probably just in my crazy little noggin, it feels like i have been beat over the head lately with the “single” frying pan.  it seems that the women in my life fall into one of three categories: friends (in this case i am okay with identifying them with the F word), unavailable (seeing someone else, married, or living in another state), or not interested (have to do their hair that night, are leaving the country soon for work, think i am a jackass).  these are of course the cross section of women that i would in turn be interested in i guess.

that leaves this guy somewhat lonely.  as a friend inquired yesterday, “how can a guy that goes out as much as you do with as many friends, be lonely?”  well, there is a huge difference between being alone and being lonely.

but this guy is taking his time with the self inflicted “buck up little camper” speech and is ready to roll with his usual nauseaitingly chipper self.  alright, maybe not chipper.  but entertainingly sarcastic and thus fun.

-  today is the day to comment on this stupid blog!  the beard… should it stay or should it go?!  the voting is in your hands, dear readers.

-  anybody want to go to the gun range with me this weekend?

piece out.

-  so a nice quiet dinner at creation last night, with C, turned into a really good time up at dolce vita.  orignially, i just planned on meeting patricia up there for a glass of wine, but it was apparently pumpkin carving night at dolce vita.

the winner…

it was a fun night catching up with friends and cutting up some punkins.  i wish i would have had a little bit more time to do the dolce vita pumpkin.  might have to make a second run at that for them next week.

-  how tall do you have to be to ride your ride?  C and i started talking last night about the height of dating.  no, not the pinnacle of dating, but how tall is the range of people that you would actually consider dating.  she had said that she read somewhere that height is one of the first things that a woman looks at when it comes to eyeballing a mate.  she measures up in a low to mid five foot range.  but she says she likes guys that are five ten and above.  not the starting center heights, but tall.  yes, i fit that bill.

she elaborated that the height adds an air of security, which i can understand.  i feel for the shorter guys out there.  i remember when i was in seventh grade and my bullshit was only piled about five foot four at the time.  that left a hell of a lot of women looking down on me.  in more ways than one.

so i started to think about the range that was the most Yerg compliant for dating parameters.  that answer?  between five foot three and five foot ten.  that is a pretty large range, but here is why.  for the low end of the spectrum, i can comfortably bend down to kiss since about the top foot of this frame is neck and noggin.  nothing uncomfortable.  the top end?  at five ten, the hypothetical suitor could pull off three inch heels (which is hot) and still find herself at eye level with me.  not unreasonable. 

but it is all to each their own.  although it may appear odd, people find happiness with different heights.  the four eleven woman with the six six dude.  the five four guy with the six foot lady.  if it trips your trigger, by all means, run with it.

-  in eight and a half hours, i set foot on the plane that will zoom me north for homecoming at the Rock.  the pictures and videos that may be posted here following this weekend may be distrubing.  they will probably be funny.  that will definitely include drunk people.  and they will be many.

-  you folks enjoy your weekend.  live it like its your last.  love every second.  soak in your friends.  make new acquaintances.  kiss somebody randomly.  do that shot at the bar.  you will pay for it the next day, but the night before will be nuts.  make memories you wish you could remember.  (hmmm…)

piece out.

-  thankfully the term metrosexual has pretty much dropped off the grid.  some writer along the way thought it would be cool to group all the well-groomed, professional, heterosexual, younger men together with a catchy term and it spread like wild fire.

the polar opposite end of the spectrum is what is really bothering me lately.  middle to latter aged men with poor grooming habits.  i have heard rumors about guys that just let themselves go after they have been married for so long.  they just don’t give a shit because the missus doesn’t either.

but at what point in a man’s life does he just stop giving a shit.  not the lackadaisical attitude that follows most guys (including this one), but the “yes, i can see that hair growing on the outside of my nose and don’t give a fuck if it disrupts my field of vision” type of thing.  errant hairs that show up on your grill that are not part of any discernable facial hair structure are just nasty.  even if you have a beard, there is no reason to let that inch long bastard hair continue to strive next to your eye.

and then there are the fingernails.  the horror.  i mean, maybe that borderline neurotic girl that i dated in college that wouldn’t let me touch her without well kept fingernails was a blessing.  but there is no excuse to have fingernails that look like you open tuna cans with them.  nail clippers dude.  its like a dollar for a pair.

i am not saying that these guys should be shopping at express, manscaping,  and doing their hair with pomade everyday.   but a little pride goes a long way.

-  thanksgiving dinner with fam at la casa delYerg?  possibly.  pop is floating out the idea of coming down with sal for turkey day since they didn’t get to come down this summer.  that would be quacktastic.

-  i need help with a halloween costume idea.  and its gotta be able to possibly incorporate the beard.  i was going to go as a graduate, but during the move, beth convinced me to ditch the grad gown.  kept my mortar board though.  and i was thinking of bearded ideas.  its going to possibly put an end to my TV characters streak.  last year i was a seventies news reporter and the year before that, i was magnum p.i.  thought about bob ross and just getting a fro wig, but i saw a guy do that last year at carnevil.  sigmund frued?  abe lincoln?  not sure if that would fly in the south.  grizzly adams?  most places won’t let me in with a live bear, which would be the only way to pull of the costume.  if i shaved down to the stache, then i could revisit magnum without having to do a fake.  that would rock.  not sure.  help a brother out here…

-  i finally got an appointment to see an orthopedic for my shoulder.  thanks to scott for the recommendation.  thursday, i guess i find out if i need to get cut or not.  or if i should even entertain ideas of playing ball seriously again.  and thursday will be perfect since i am going to torture myself by playing in the playoffs tomorrow night so that the old squad doesn’t have to forfeit.  weeee!

-  open mic night on thursday at dolce vita.  maybe i will read some shel silverstein.  or maybe sing all the parts to bohemian rhapsody without music.  either way, i am sure it will be a fun night.

piece out.

-  i think i am looking for a new boycott.  something to avoid out of general principle.  any show or movie that abuses the censorship beep.  a couple of years ago before he brought sexy back (go ahead big dog with it?  what does that mean?) justin timberlake ripped the only attractive jackson’s top and exposed a nipple to the world at the super bowl halftime show.  then the country became censorship crazed.  not only the political, right wing, big brother, fuck the first amendment stuff, but the parody.  making fun of what was risque because it was risque.  so instead of pushing the envelope with clever whiticisms like writers on shows used to do, they use that damn beep.  no more double entendra (yeah, i can’t spell).  no implied meanings.  just that damn beep.  another chapter in the dumbing down of america.

-  speaking of dumb america…  what in the hell is the matter with the lazy ass sons a bitches who have absolutely no urgency for walking across the street?  first of all, they put crosswalks with those nifty litle signs on street corners for a reason.  to assist you in not getting your dumbass run over.  so there is really no point in you lollygagging across four lanes of traffic in a 45 mph zone, risking life and limb.

i know its cooler in the hood to walk around like you don’t care about life.  you are a real badass.  you aren’t phased by a two ton SUV hurdling toward you at 6o mph.

as if my parents simple lesson of what those big chunks of metal on wheels steered by maniacs and what they could do to my scrawny ass wasn’t enough, i had the benefit of the gang on sesame street teaching me that i should look left, then right, then left again before crossing the street.  safety being the key.  i guess central or the plaza don’t intersect sesame street anywhere in charlotte.  not like you assholes would use the crosswalk there anyway…

-  singles was just on hobo.  i will admit that the movie is painful to watch.  a hollywood take on grunge era seattle.  if it weren’t for the cameos by alice in chains, soundgarden, and pearl jam, i would have been just as happy only ever knowing singles as a soundtrack.  state of love and trust.  would? dislexic heart.  seasons.  drown.

-  the oktoberfest brought about another drunken standby.  the female visit to the men’s room.  its a statistical fact that women take 60 percent longer to go to the bathroom then men.  it probably has to do with the fact that we just unzip and let it rip.  save of course those creepy guys that unbuckle their pants and totally drop trow to take a leak at a urinal.  what is up with that?  its just not necessary.

but of course the lines for the women’s restroom were long as hell.  so the more “adventurous” females decide to hit the men’s room.  why does this make drunk men all giddy?  its not like they are stripping in there.  and they aren’t going to just make out with a random guy in the can.  yeah, i want to bring home a girl that i met in a men’s room.  that is the story i want to tell my kids.

i just know that chick you are hooting and hollering about is only increasing the chances that you piss yourself while you wait for her to hover.  good luck with that drunk guy.

piece out.