I had a professor who found his wife on match.com. He is a devout Christian (allegedly) who teaches Tort Law, which he never seems to really understand or be able to explain in more complex terms than “A hits B, B sues.” She is a psychologist who seemed like she was fed up with her Jewish mother telling her to get married, so she got married. Where I’m going with this is that “what do you do for a living” was the first and probably only thing they could have possibly asked each other considering that he can’t put a sentence together and she has nothing in common with him.
You would have to either tell her before you ever met her what it is that you really do, or come up with better lies.
I think you should just come up with better lies. For example, “I write a blog about entertainment.” You don’t have to be Perez Hilton for people to respect it. And it is true because people watch porn for entertainment and well, you do write a blog. I guess you would have to eventually confess your employment situation, but that could be years from now. And if she wants to read the blog, tell her she’s gotta find it herself. Nothing wrong with that.
So I registered with OK Cupid a few weeks ago, after I blogged about wanting to find a non-whore girlfriend; and upon signing in creating a user name, a sudden wave a depression hit. I can’t really explain it, but all of a sudden I felt an overwhelming need to log off and walk away from my lap top.
Then, after a few minutes –and still feeling mighty blue — I logged back in.
Actually, I can explain it now that I think more about it; the whole idea of creating a user name drove me nuts. And completing a profile made me wanna jump off a bridge.
Not really, but you know what I mean.
User name: do I just give myself a straightforward name (Billy Watson) or something witty or fun or cutesy-pie? After reading through some of these ads, it seems like it’s all about being witty or fun or cutesy-pie.
I logged off and haven’t logged back in.
I was gonna blog about setting up a user name and a profile, and then address Lola’s advice about lying my ass off, but since that didn’t happen, why not tell you about the time I asked a Porno Princess to be my girlfriend? I mean it’s related, right? Plus, it’s a decent segue from setting up an OKCupid account to find a girlfriend…and actually asking one to be my girlfriend…so why not?
Porno Princess and I were pals for quite sometime — maybe even two or three years. In all that time we never banged. Never once fucked around. Never did anything but hang out as friends and enjoy each others’ company. Which I really liked, for the most part. Then, one night not that long ago, we were over at her house, drinking wine and watching Chelsea Handler. I’m not a huge fan of Ms. Handler, but she is — basically cause she kinda is Chelsea Handler, if you know what I mean: an aging, bitter chick who’s pissed at the world, and in order to cope with her issues simply makes jokes at everyone’s expense; in fact, the only real difference between my Porno Princess Pal and Chelsea Handler is Chelsea got her own show.
Anyway, we’re watching Chelsea, and I’m a little wine drunk and feeling…well, kinda like I wanted a girlfriend. Which is to say it wasn’t all about banging as much as “hey, we would make a good couple” — which, if I remember correctly, were my exact words.
“No room for old men!” she shrieked.
We were laying down on her bed, next to each other. I looked into her eyes and said, “excuse me?”
This time she shrieked a littler louder and repeated herself: “No room for old men!” Then, she jumped out of bed and scooped up her chihuahua and walked out of her room and out of her tiny apartment and down to the front yard. I was taken back, not because she declined my advance, but only because she played the age game.
This coming from a shot-out Porno Princess who’s approaching 35.
I laid in bed for a second, feeling more awkward and silly than I had in recent memory. SO I left. And on my way past her in the front yard, I don’t remember what I said, but I wanted to say something like “really? I mean really?!” But I didn’t.
And I didn’t hear from her for a few weeks. When she did call, she let me know I had been put on a two week “probation” for my behavior, which, to this day, kinda befuddles me. I mean it would be one thing if I reached over and grabbed a tit and blurted out, “let’s fuck!”
“Um…all I asked is if you wanted to be a couple,” I said.
“You wanted to bang!” she quipped.
“No. Not at all. I asked if you wanted to be my girlfriend.”
She asked, “Isn’t that the same thing?”
Not even close. We all know that. Like I even need to explain the difference — which I didn’t. I just kinda bit my lip and just rolled my eyes as we ended our conversation, and not too long after this all went down, and in a completely different story that features a lot more bad behavior on her part and has nothing to do with what I just told you, I ended our friendship.
Funny thing is, I’ve kinda missed her ever since.