Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.

Otherwise, hello, and welcome.
Mail Trillian here<





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Women, The Internet and You: Tips for Men Who Use Online Dating Sites
Part I, Your Profile and Email

Part II, Selecting a Potential Date

Part III, Your First Date!

Part IV, After the First Date. Now What?


"50 First Dates"






Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.

Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Find Federal Officials
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Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)

Quasar
Hyperbole
Amenable
Taciturn
Ennui
Prophetic
Tawdry
Hubris
Ethereal
Syzygy
Umbrageous
Twerp
Sluice
Omnipotent
Sanctuary
Malevolent
Maelstrom
Luddite
Subterfuge
Akimbo
Hoosegow
Dodecahedron
Visceral
Soupçon
Truculent
Vitriol
Mercurial
Kerfuffle
Sangfroid




























 







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Highlights from the Archives. Some favorite Trillian moments.

Void, Of Course: Eliminating Expectations and Emotions for a Better Way of Life

200i: iPodyssey

Macs Are from Venus, Windows is from Mars Can a relationship survive across platform barriers?
Jerking Off

Get A Job

Office Church Ladies: A Fieldguide

'Cause I'm a Blonde

True? Honestly? I think not.

A Good Day AND Funyuns?

The Easter Boy

Relationship in the Dumpster

Wedding Dress 4 Sale, Never Worn

Got Friends? Are You Sure? Take This Test

What About Class? Take This Test

A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far Far Away, There Was a Really Bad Movie

May Your Alchemical Process be Complete. Rob Roy Recipe

Good Thing She's Not in a Good Mood Very Often (We Knew it Wouldn't Last)

What Do I Have to Do to Put You in this Car Today?

Of Mice and Me (Killer Cat Strikes in Local Woman's Apartment)

Trillian: The Musical (The Holiday Special)

LA Woman (I Love (Hate) LA)

It is my Cultureth
...and it would suit-eth me kindly to speak-eth in such mannered tongue

Slanglish

It's a Little Bit Me, It's a Little Bit You
Blogging a Legacy for Future Generations


Parents Visiting? Use Trillian's Mantra!

Ghosts of Christmas Past: Mod Hair Ken

Caught Blogging by Mom, Boss or Other

2003 Holiday Sho-Lo/Mullet Awards

Crullers, The Beer Store and Other Saintly Places

Come on Out of that Doghouse! It's a Sunshine Day!

"...I had no idea our CEO is actually Paula Abdul in disguise."

Lap Dance of the Cripple

Of Muppets and American Idols
"I said happier place, not crappier place!"

Finally Off Crutches, Trillian is Emancipated

Payless? Trillian? Shoe Confessions

Reality Wednesday: Extremely Local Pub

Reality Wednesday: Backstage Staging Zone (The Sweater Blog)

The Night Secret Agent Man Shot My Dad

To Dream the Impossible Dream: The Office Karaoke Party

Trillian Flies Economy Class (Prisoner, Cell Block H)

Trillian Visits the Village of the Damned, Takes Drugs, Becomes Delusional and Blogs Her Brains Out

Trillian's Parents are Powerless

Striptease for Spiders: A PETA Charity Event (People for the Ethical Treatment of Arachnids)

What's Up with Trillian and the Richard Branson Worship?

"Screw the French and their politics, give me their cheese!"


















 
Mail Trillian here





Trillian's Guide to the Galaxy gives 5 stars to these places in the Universe:
So much more than fun with fonts, this is a daily dose of visual poetry set against a backdrop of historical trivia. (C'mon, how can you not love a site that notes Wolfman Jack's birthday?!)

CellStories

Alliance for the Great Lakes


Hot, so cool, so cool we're hot.

Ig Nobel Awards

And you think YOU have the worst bridesmaid dress?

Coolest Jewelry in the Universe here (trust Trillian, she knows)

Red Tango

If your boss is an idiot, click here.

Evil Cat Full of Loathing.

Wildlife Works

Detroit Cobras


The Beachwood Reporter is better than not all, but most sex.



Hey! Why not check out some great art and illustration while you're here? Please? It won't hurt and it's free.

Shag

Kii Arens

Tim Biskup

Jeff Soto

Jotto




Get Fuzzy Now!
If you're not getting fuzzy, you should be. All hail Darby Conley. Yes, he's part of the Syndicate. But he's cool.





Who or what is HWNMNBS: (He Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken) Trillian's ex-fiancé. "Issues? What issues?"







Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.


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Reading blogs at work? Click to escape to a suitable site!

Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains

Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains

A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains





























Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero

 
Monday, February 05, 2007  
Men are weird. There. I said it. I hate that I said it. I hate that I think it. I hate that this is even a topic of consideration. But. Men. Are. Weird. Yes. Women are weird, too. For every example of weird male behavior I know there is a female counterpart.

So really, I guess I should rephrase the statement: Women think men are weird. And not just this woman. Lots of women think men are weird. I’ve been a holdout among my gender. I refused to pin a label on an entire gender of people simply because a few of them behave oddly. But I’ve met a lot of men in the past few years. Apart from a few who somehow slipped through the weird brewing process, they’re weird. And no, my focus group did not consist solely of men met on online dating sites. I’m talking about the whole big bunch of men I’ve met online and in real life. Including men I haven’t personally met but either observed in action or heard about via other women.

I've got a few case studies to present. A few not-so-good men, specific men who represent types of men I've met online and in real life. In many cases the real weirdness asserts itself in the form of sex. Which almost overwhelmingly makes me conclude the pursuit of sex makes men do weird things. And I do not mean endearingly cute weird things. Or rash and cold sweats weird things. I mean just really odd, illogical, stupid, weird behavior. Take sex out of the equation and many of these guys are probably capable of being decent men, or at least less weird men. But unfortunately men and sex go together like brain and dead.

Nothing new or insightful there, the fact that men are ruled by their sexual organs was established a long time ago. It's just, well, you know, we, most of us, at least us womenfolk, have been trying to give men the benefit of the doubt. We don't really want you to all be ultra sensitive to the point of annoying metro-asexuals, but, we've been hoping you've evolved and become enlightened enough to at least be aware of our capacities beyond sex.

We, ha ha, silly us, we've been under the apparently misguided impression that some of you actually want us to possess, and respect us for, qualities other than our looks and abilities in bed. I know, I know, who's weirder? Men, or women who think crazy thoughts like that?

And therein lies the root cause of womens' perceived weirdness among men. Basically, we're operating on two completely incompatible platforms. We all know successful relationships consist of give and take. Acceptance and respect. Support and understanding. Love and trust.

What finally dawned on me is that while both sexes understand these fundamental relationship principles, we're using the same words and ideas to describe very different things.

How did I hit upon this insightful theory? Ancient Chinese secret... I was with a guy in a Chinese restaurant. We had a very odd conversation. We were both trying really hard to get along, we wanted things to go well and we'd been polite, but, not exactly hitting it off, either. It was odd. We shared a lot of interests and outlooks, but somehow we just weren't in sync. The transcript of the conversation would read as if we had a lot in common and were getting along great, but the reality is that something just wasn't right. The fortune cookies arrived. I got the usual pithy nonfortune cookie doling out some stupid platitude soon to be a Successories poster. I scoffed, "Aw, c'mon, fortune cookie people, quit slacking on the job and tell me something useful." The guy quickly jumped in with the "in bed" trick. Okay, yes, tee hee, that old stand-by usually brings at least a smile to my lips.

And then, suddenly it dawned on me: Even though we'd been talking about the same concepts and outlooks, we had very different motivations and desired outcomes. One fortune cookie, two people. One wants insight and advice, the other wants an easy laugh and sex.

Eureka. All this time, all these years...all the disappointments and confusion, and it all comes down to semantics. I say I need acceptance in a relationship and I mean nonjudgmental understanding of who I am, as a person, and acceptance of that being. Men say they need acceptance in a relationship and they mean nonjudgmental approval of their fetish, kinks or hasty release in bed. I say I need time to establish trust to feel comfortable in the relationship and I mean he needs to prove that he wants me for something other than sex and that he'll be there for me through thick and thin. He says he needs time to establish trust to feel comfortable in the relationship and he means he needs proof that I'll acknowledge the safety word and stop whipping him when he mumbles it through the ball gag and that I won't post the photos of him in women's undergarments online. Or tell his friends that he cried at the end of Charlotte's Web. Or that he even saw Charlotte's Web.

When women think and wax philosophical about relationships and their components - give, take, acceptance, respect, support, understanding, love, trust - we're thinking in terms of emotions, intellect and soul. Men think about the exact same components, but in terms of sex. So there's this huge misunderstanding right from the get go.

A couple has a conversation about what they want in a relationship. They use the same words so they think they're a good match. Turns out they're talking about two very different things. And yes, of course this is a generalization. I know lots of enlightened men who are capable of thinking about things other than sex. But. Put them in front of a woman they're attracted to and, while they may like and respect her for her intellect, quick wit or charm, he's still thinking/hoping/wondering if he's going to get some from her. Meanwhile the woman is sitting there thinking/hoping/wondering if he likes foreign films and cats.

Okay, maybe nothing terribly new or anything that will change the course of nature and history. But if you’ve been having communication issues and can’t get to the bottom of the problem because you both say you want the same things, you might want to investigate to see if this is the problem.

Looking back over some of the men I’ve met I can see where this may have been an issue. Which caused me to review many of the men I’ve met and realize: Sex was an issue, but not quite in the misunderstood capacity as outlined above. No, the sex issues here were more confusing and contradictory and add fuel to my: Men are Weird fire.

Case #1
Larry, Larry Quite Contrary
I hated this guy. At the time I was trying really hard to like him. Why? Because he is intelligent and at times very funny. But that constant contrary attitude, the argument for the sake of arguing, the need to be “different” just for the sake of being “different” just wore me out and got on my nerves. In a big way. He wasn’t different at all. He’s just a contrary, rabble rousing jerk. The guy picked fights with me, literally picked fights, over everything. Yes. Everything. Especially insignificant stuff. And I’m not labeling him a jerk just because he didn’t agree with me, I’m labeling him a jerk because he is a jerk. When I finally played his own game and rescinded and earlier comment I made to him, over which he vehemently argued with me, he then switched “opinions” and started fighting for the view I had earlier presented. Jerk. Fighting for the sake of an argument. It’s apparently his communication style. I’m getting a headache just thinking about him. He’s a bully.

Basically, he disagreed with everything I said. Yes, literally, everything. And yet, he kept calling. He wanted to get together for dinner and drinks. He said he really liked me. I cannot even imagine what it would have been like to go out with this guy. “Where would you like to have dinner?” he’d ask. I’d say, “How about that Thai place in your neighborhood?” He’d bark at me, “Are you crazy? That place sucks!” “oh. Okay. Well, you choose a place then.” And so it would go. Yeh. That would be a fun date. That would be a great relationship.

But get this: The guy called several times after I refused to see him and had the nerve to suggest a weekend away, a fling at his brother’s cabin in the remote Wisconsin woods. I’m not kidding. Some of you may be saying, “Can’t blame the guy for trying…” I’m guessing those of you saying that are men. Take the creepy “fling” and “remote” location out the equation and it’s still weird. In all our conversations all he ever did was argue with me and try to demean and belittle me – bully me – by taking an opposite point of view just for the sake of playing argumentative pundit. And he thinks I’m going to in any way find this attractive? That I would want to have sex with him? Can you even imagine what that would be like? There would literally be no pleasing the guy.

But that’s not the point – why in the world would he even want to have sex with me? He argues every word I say, he can’t possibly like me, and he flat out told me he wasn’t that attracted to me, so why? Why repeatedly call? Why send email after email offering to help me “release some stress?” What the…? Eliminating the stress having a conversation with this guy causes would require a lot more that a roll in the sack. Yet he somehow completely misses the point that he’s an arrogant, bullying, argumentative jerk and thinks a) sex will make everything okay and b) that I would want to have sex with him. Am I the only one who finds this weird?

One of my friends actually tried to come to his defense by giving him credit of doubt. Theorizing that he only knows how to argue, that he can only communicate by debating, that he’s clearly insecure, and maybe after some therapy he might be a great guy.

I’m guessing right now sympathetic women are thinking in terms of emotional growth and maturity. And men are thinking, “in bed” at the end of my friend’s optimistic appraisal. To me it’s just weird. Contradictory (which in his case is a way of life so not exactly weird) and weird.

Case #2
We met via a friend. He wasn’t that into me. Okay, he was totally not into me. He wouldn’t let it go at that. He insulted and berated me and threw out a long list of criticisms and ways “women like me” need to change. Among other things, he called me a waste of time and a waste of air and suggested I consider the options the Catholic church has for “women like me.” I never got a definition of “women like me” but I did find consolation that by his broad generalizations there must be a lot of “women like me.” Hey, I’m alone but not alone in my plight. That’s always good for some reassurance on the therapist’s couch or in the quiet lonely dark hours between midnight and dawn.

Right. So. Clearly that date wasn’t going to go anywhere good. Whatever, dude, good luck trying to find that perfect woman. Don’t trip over those unrealistic ideals of yours, as high and mighty as you are that fall will be long and it will hurt a lot when you land. Yadda yadda yadda, a few weeks ago he told our mutual friend that he’d like to see me again.

Okay, some of you are thinking, “awwwwww, he’s learned his lesson and wants to see you again. That’s cute. He’s still a jerk, but that’s kind of cute.” I’m guessing that response is coming from the female audience. While the male population is probably thinking, “in bed.” And guys, you’re right.

My friend set up an ambush “date” of sorts, wherein several of us met for drinks after work. And what do you know, he just happened to be there. And what do you know, there was an empty seat right next to him. And what do you know, he stared at my boobs and repeatedly put his hand in my crotch. Yes. Really. Just like that. He never apologized or even alluded to the time we went on a “date” and he insulted and hurt me. Badly. He just jumped right in and “went for it.”

Why? Why would a guy do this? Why would anyone not actually being filmed on a dating “reality” show do this?

Because he’s weird. Very, very weird. His sudden change of interest in me, especially an apparently sexual change of interest in me, does not automatically make me forget or forgive his behavior and comments to me on that “date.”

I finally switched seats with someone just to get out of his reach. And no, it doesn’t make me “feel better” knowing someone is willing and ready to have sex with me. No. It doesn’t. It offends and insults me. The weird aspect of this is not his sexual advances, but that they came after really mean and harsh uncalled for criticism.

And what’s even more weird is his presumption that I’m totally willing to just give in to his advances as if that date wherein he insulted and criticized me never happened. Lecherous jerk. Whatever. Weirdo.

Case #3
This one, well, this one left me contemplating the virtues of a life spent in a convent. Sure, there are a lot of drawbacks and oh yeah, you need to actually believe in God and devote your life to blind faith, but, you know, other than that, there are some positive aspects. I mean, at the very least you don’t go on a first date and have a guy barf on you.

Over the course of this dating push I’ve met a lot of men. A lot of them turned out to be immature in a lot of ways. A lot of them turned out to be shallow, arrogant jerks. A lot of them turned out to be pouty spoiled boys. A lot of them turned out to be cruel, callous, cads. I thought I’d seen, heard and experienced it all. And then I met Barf Boy. He is the embodiment of all those characteristics. Barf Boy and I emailed quite a bit and eventually made the leap to phone conversation. Which went really well. So well that we agreed to meet for drinks.

No. My expectations weren’t high, because, well, let’s face it, I’m skeptical by nature and the past few years have given me a very realistic (cynical) edge to my outlook. They say they’re great and that I’m everything they want in a woman. I say: Show me the money. You gotta do more than talk the talk with me. If you don’t walk the walk and put your money where your mouth is, I’m not playing that game. Anyone can say the right words. But very few people actually back them up with appropriate behavior. So, you know, I wasn’t thinking this guy would be The One or even a One. I was a little hopeful that we might have a nice time chatting because to this point we seemed to be on the same wavelength on a lot of levels which matter. Unfortunately we didn’t discuss puking on a first date. Now I know to broach that topic of conversation before agreeing to meet a man. “Have you ever puked on a woman? Have you done so on a first date? Even if you haven’t actually puked on a woman, do you condone and accept this behavior?” will now be in my lineup of questions I ask prospective dates.

Thanks to this guy I’ll also now ask prospective dates if they will be flying solo on the first date or will have a wingman in tow, or, perhaps, the entire squadron.

Yes. I show up at the designated meeting place at the appointed time. I see a large group of people at a table. One of them climbs over the group and approaches me. He looks vaguely familiar. Someone from work? A friend of a friend? Who is this person emerging from a large group and heading my way with a big smile of recognition? And further, how embarrassing, I’m here to meet a guy I met online, once I figure out who this person is I’m going to have to make polite excuses and then have them watch my date unfold. It’ll be awkward because my date might think I’ve brought all these people along to check him out.

Or. Perhaps my date has brought them along to check out me. Yep, the guy looked familiar because he was my date. My date who’d obviously been drinking for a while. With his friends. Who were all there as a pre-date party. Apparently this guy is very involved with his friends. They do everything together. Even go on first dates together. And apparently all their other dates. They travel as a group. They date as a group. I wouldn’t be even slightly surprised to learn they have sex as a group. Some of them are related by blood (brothers/sisters), others are old friends, and others are boyfriends/girlfriends/spouses of the core group who’ve now been sucked in by the group. Everyone in the group dresses similarly and wears the same hairstyles. (Sport team jerseys, jeans, urban hiking boots on both the men and women, hair cut short and styled “messy” for the guys, modified and highlighted “Rachels” for the girls) Okay. Well. You know. Hail hail, the gang’s all here, and if I’m going to date this guy apparently I better get used to all of these people being an integral part of our relationship. In fairness to them, they all seemed nice enough, these aren’t bad people, but, um, this is a first date. Is it too much to ask for a little privacy and space to get to know each other without being watched and judged by an entire squadron of wingmen?

Well. The group aspect doesn’t really matter. Because shortly after I joined the group a few more pitchers of beer were ordered. Judging by the staleness of the smell of beer clinging to my date, they’d already finished off several pitchers prior to my arrival.

And apparently several orders of cheddar fries. This is not a guess on my part. It’s not a guess because within exactly 15 minutes of my arrival, my date threw up on me. Well, his best friend was caught in the main line of fire and his best friend’s wife also caught some of the vomit, and to be fair it was just on a portion of my sleeve. But. Yes. He threw up on me.

One of his group mates followed me into the ladies room and insisted that he doesn’t “usually” do this and he’s a really nice guy and he really likes me and I shouldn’t judge him by that first impression. Oh. Okay. Sure. I’ll pretend he never puked on me. And I’ll try to pretend he didn’t bring an entire squadron of wingmen on a first date. But I’m going to have a hard time letting go of the fact that he’s clearly got a drinking “issue.” After I cleaned up in the ladies room I left. As I walked by the table I noticed my date had also been cleaned up and had returned to the table. He was propped up in the corner with that “I just puked cheddar fries all over everyone but I don’t care because I’m still so drunk I’m almost passed out” look on his face.

And no! None of that is what compelled me to think, “Men are weird!” Nope, at that point I just thought he was an immature jerk with socialization issues and a drinking problem.

I didn’t think he was weird until the next day when he called to enthuse about how much fun he had and how he couldn’t wait to go out again.

I’m not kidding.

No apology. No humility. No humbleness. No “I know this is a long shot but could you find it in your heart to give me another chance?” Nope, none of those pesky social conventions which manners dictate in this type of situation. Nope, just a complete lack of recognition that he was a drunk jerk who brought an entire crew of people on a first date and then puked on me.

He had a good time? All 15 minutes I was there were fun for him? How could he even remember I was there, distill me out of the sea of faces and conversation taking place at the table just before he barfed up his beer and cheddar fries? He had fun???!

Men = Presumptuous, arrogant jerks at this point.

He still wasn’t registering on the weird-o-meter.

But as he persisted and persisted and persisted in asking me out again, he had the nerve, the complete and utter nerve, to say, “We talked more than an hour on the phone last week so that counts as a date, we went out last night, so Friday will be our third date, and you know what that means! C’mon Trill, let’s have our “third date” (wink wink nudge nudge voice) as soon as possible. I had so much fun I can’t wait to see you again, especially since this will be our “third date.”"

Um, right. I don't think so.

Case #4
Compliments Will Get You Everywhere
So, this guy seemed nice. Really nice. When we talked on the phone he had a sort of laid back intelligence about him. Easy going, easy conversationalist. Maybe a little too laid back in some respects, verging on lazy, but, you know, nice. Intelligent. What more could a girl want?

Well, for starters a girl could want a man who doesn’t compare her looks to that of a person with a serious mental illness. Unless of course the girl happens to have that mental illness, but even then stating the obvious or hinting at the less obvious, is not recommended on a first date. Or any date. No one wants to be reminded of their imperfections on a date. Most of us are acutely aware of our imperfections, the obvious and less obvious of our shortcomings plague us daily. We do not need anyone to call attention to them or remind us of them. We work hard to overcome our imperfections and we’d like to be recognized for the positive aspects of our personalities and looks instead of the negative qualities.

I’ve had a lot of insults hurled at me in my lifetime. A lot. I could write the Bible on being teased. I have thick skin. I can handle most of the insults and walk away with head held high, even though my heart and self esteem fall several notches with each blow. I learned early in life to accept the negative feelings and get past the hurt and subsequent doubt insults can cause. Accentuate the positive and all that.

But since HWNMNBS broke up me with solely because of my looks, and gave me detailed lists as to exactly what was wrong with my physicality and how that if he couldn’t “get past” my flaws certainly no one else could, I have had difficulty getting past the hurt. I'm more sensitive. And I don't mean by random insults or remarks. I mean there are some frayed nerves which won't heal and they're exposed. Every now and then the cumulative damage combined with zero positive reinforcement makes those nerves ache. And the doubts plague me daily. Especially when I don’t exactly have a trail of men vying for my affections. Especially when I have been further insulted on many dates by many men. This just proves HWNMNBS was right. If he couldn’t get past my looks, how can I expect anyone else to be able to overcome my imperfections? HWNMNBS tried, he tried because he wanted to focus on the positive aspects of me. But in the end the positive aspects weren’t enough. So. Yes, I have some baggage in this area. Baggage, or, a harsh mirror of truth? Tomato, tomahto. I learned a lot from that experience, I continue to learn from it. Overall I learned that being a good, honest, caring, intelligent, kind, supportive, loving person is not enough. Giving trust and respect doesn't frost the cake. If you lack in physical beauty you are simply not worthy of real affection, respect and love of men. And no, at first I didn't paint the whole gender with the HWNMNBS brush. But as time cruelly marches on, and I am increasingly rejected and alone, it becomes more obvious that he was right. If he couldn't do it, no one can.

One thing that has come from this is that once I was hurt so badly by someone I loved and trusted so completely that I pledged to spend my life as his wife, the insults and abuse from other men is meaningless and insignificant. For some reason they want to hurt me, insult me, embarrass me, shame me, mock me, something, anything to make them feel superior and make sure that I go home hating and doubting myself. But they don’t know, they have no idea how their insults pale in insignificance compared to what I’ve endured as a result of losing the man I loved so dearly because he didn’t find me attractive enough. Nothing, no one can hurt me that badly. so these Johnny-Come-Latelies with their stupid little remarks and jokes and insults mean nothing to me. I just add them to the pile. More kindling for the "good-bye cruel world" suicide note.

But. I have to give this new guy credit. He took a new and different approach and opened a new vein of untapped self esteem issues.

We agreed to meet for dinner. Because our conversations had gone so well, a full blown dinner date seemed like a great idea. We’d had such extensive conversations it seemed natural and even necessary to have a full dinner date for our first date. Pregnant or awkward pauses seemed impossible for us. We might not be right for each other, but we could talk. That’s nice. You know. That’s a good thing. A nice change of pace.

Twenty minutes into dinner he was leaning back comfortably in his chair and said, they way you might say, “your hair is long and brown,” “how severe is your Asperger Syndrome?" If you are unfamiliar with Asperger Syndrome the short explanation is that it’s a “high functioning” form of autism. Grant you, there are times, yes, that I feel like I have a mental illness, especially regarding words and their assault on me. But. Mr. Suave here was not alluding to my vocabulary or word traits. No, he said I looked either mildly autistic or full blow Asperger.

What do you say to a guy who says you look deformed and mentally disabled?

I mean, okay, maybe I do, maybe he’s right, okay, fine, but, um, we’re on a first date, here. The guy was all smiling all charming and pleasant as if he'd just bestowed me with a terrific compliment. The sort of compliment a guy gives when he's spreading it on real thick in hopes of getting laid.

I thought maybe, surely, he must be kidding. I giggled a very insecure and uncomfortable giggle. I don't like that sort of humor. There's nothing funny about mental illness.

I just went very quiet, let him do all the talking, kept my order to a side salad and got the heck out of there as soon as possible.

Okay, fine, got through that date. There’s one for the books. Geeze. I mean, I know I’m not pretty, I know I have more bad days than good ones these days, but c’mon, autistic? And no disrespect to Autistic people, really, of course not. In my past I've worked hands on at Special Olympics and I can personally attest to and vouch for the beauty to be found in not only the character but also the physical appearance of the mentally challenged. But I don’t happen to actually be, you know, Autistic. So even though I consider it an honor to be held among these incredible people, I'm actually, you know, not one of them. All pondering of experiments like Autistic, Like Me aside, this is both an insult to me and to the truly Asperger afflicted.

But the fact that he likened my appearance to an autistic person isn’t even the weird part of this guy.

The weird part is that he emailed me later that night and said what a great time he had.

The weirder part is that he called the next day and wanted to take me out again. He said he thought he just started scratching the surface and couldn’t wait to get deeper into my head. He said he wanted to help me. Yes. Help me.

Um. Thanks. But. I think you’ve “helped” enough already.

He persisted. “Trillian, we could be really good together. I can tell you need the right sort of man to release you from your head. You can trust me, let me release you from yourself. I’m different, Trill, I understand you, I know there’s a lot more to you than what shows on the surface. I’m not into looks. Different personalities turn me on.”

Click.

I hung up on him.

Mental disabilities can be overcome. In bed.

Cripes. Where do I find these guys?? Online? Well. Not this one. Nope, this one is a friend of a friend. Came highly recommended by my friend’s brother. A person I have heretofore found to have a great knowledge of history, good taste in music and a sincere kindness.

Weird. Just. Weird. The guy “compliments” a woman by telling her she looks autistic and then wants to “release her” from herself.

Still think men aren’t weird? Still think it’s unfair to make sweeping generalizations about an entire gender? Still think I just haven’t met “the right one?”

Yeah, maybe. But in the sea of weirdness and jerks I’m starting to doubt “the right one” exists.

Maybe I should just forget about establishing a real and meaningful relationship and just get as much sex as I can while I am still able to attract a few men. Mind you, not many men, not men I’m actually interested in, and most of them are weird jerks, but still, there are a few men who, with enough booze in them, are willing to have sex with me. So maybe I should just go that route. Other women have. I always wondered about “those” women. I always assumed it was self esteem or a hyper libido or drugs or alcohol or something else driving them into bed with these guys.

Now I think I’m starting to understand what these women learned: Men are all weird and all they really want is sex anyway, we’re never going to meet on any real plane of understanding, so cut to the chase, get yourself good and liquored up, it’ll numb the pain of your pride and self esteem shattering, give ‘em what they want and just do ‘em when you get the chance. One of them might bother to stick around and then you’ve got yourself a boyfriend.

And that’s so easy. So incredibly easy. Even for someone who looks like me. I get offers daily. Several offers. Here’s today’s offer. Who could resist this charming bit of flirtation?
Whats up im good looking im looking for a friend not a girlfriend just somebody to sex me from time to time i'm pretty cool and if your up to it email me

I know it’s difficult to understand, but I haven’t yet jumped at this offer. I know, I know, no wonder I can’t find a man and think men are weird. What do I expect when I don’t leap at this kind of opportunity?

Well, for starters, my profile clearly, in bold, states that I am looking for a long term relationship. Secondly, in the text of my profile I clearly, in bold, so it’s easy for all men to see, even if they’re just skimming for key words, that I am not interested in one night stands, married men or players. I spell it right out that men who fall into those (and other) categories will not get a response from me.

And yet, they write. They wink. They persist and persist and start to get scary with their emails to the point that I have to block them.

Guys, the cool thing about online dating is that we can spell it all out for you. Read our profile and you can learn a lot about us. It’s a great way to cut through the preliminary cat and mouse question and answer period. Unless you’re set up by a friend or relative who knows a lot about the girl and what she’s looking for in a man it can take several dates to find out this kind of information. How many of you have met a great girl, gone out with her two or three times only to discover, after you’re already falling for this girl, that she isn’t looking for a serious relationship, doesn’t want children and has six cats and an ex-husband up for parole next year? Had you met her online, assuming she was honest in her profile, you would know: She has cats, she isn’t looking for anything serious and is divorced. Forewarned is forearmed my friends.

But unfortunately a lot of you guys are giving this process a bad name. You see a girl online whom you find attractive. Or you actually bother to read her profile and like one or two things about her. Never mind that she clearly states many qualities you don’t like, or is looking for many qualities you do not possess. You go right ahead and email her anyway. Sure, she’s looking for a long term relationship but, hey, who could resist a few hours in the sack with you? It’d be the best time she’ll find online, it’d be good for her and hey, you’re honest, you’re telling her you don’t want anything serious so no one’s getting hurt, right?

Wrong. By contacting a woman who is clearly not looking for the same things as you, you are wasting her time and energy and giving her a more reasons to add to her list of why she will stop using online dating sites before she meets a few good men, or even just one. Thanks for blowing it for the guy she could have met, the guy who was perfect for her and the guy she was hoping to meet. Nice work, asshole.

Yes, of course we “expect” some of this sort of attention when we post our profiles. Of course we do. But. We don’t expect a constant barrage of this sort of thing. And your email could be the one that breaks that camel’s back. Trust me and my years of experience with online dating: You are not the first guy to email her with a salacious request or offer. However, you may be the last, because she may say, “That’s it! I’ve had it with these egomaniacal jerks who don’t pay attention to what I wrote in my profile! I quit this whole thing, it’s a pointless waste of time because all the wrong men contact me for all the wrong reasons!” It’s not just the one email, it’s the steady drip which makes us grow to resent you as a group. One bad apple boys, can spoil the whole lot. An entire peck of bad apples makes us think the orchard is in need of serious pruning and will make us start contemplating entirely different types of fruit. Bananas are nice. And high in potassium. Who needs an orchard full of bad apples when you can have one healthy, firm banana and all that potassium?

The commonality, the tie that binds all these men together in weirdness, is that they say these things, and behave these ways...and yet, still, they fully expect to get laid. Weirder still, they expect to get laid not in spite of their words or behavior, but because of it.

Weird men. Very, very weird men. And the women who deal with them. Women who are lonely and just want one decent guy. Heck, forget decent, we just want one man. It's becoming clear the answer to the question of differences which cause so much anguish between genders may very well be: In bed.

3:23 PM

 
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