Tag : dating
In our western society, few are the times for greater reflection than on, and around New Year’s. A time to look back at a set of time and space and ponder on the deeds and non-deeds that have carried us to this point in our lives. A time only followed by one’s birthday and the death of a loved one in the totem pole order of reflectiveness. Surely many secular-types would like to add Lent, Christmas and Ramadan to name a few, but from an general perspective, New Year’s still has a certain Je ne sais quoi, which can inspire or still be abhorred by all people equally.
As I have always said, ‘people do not take enough time to know themselves.’ It is most unfortunate as this is one of the most important lessons a human being can learn. Alas, this is generally not the case. In fact, people will pay others to half-ass do it for them. Hence the number of inspirational Jesters out there who, for a fee, will surgar coat wonderful promises of ‘how you too, can be happy with money/love/sex/or all three!’ …It is quite the multi-million dollar industry. While omitting the fact they themselves would be as poor as dirt had you not paid them to tell you how you too, can be like them. Which ironically, it would have to be by you charging other people and tell them how they too, can be happy with money/love/sex/or all three. Creating some evil infinite loop where someone just has to be miserable for the whole industry to exist.
So I sit here, babysitting the flu and wondering about my last year on earth. Nothing better than spending it alone and sick as an old chapter approaches to a close. As you can imagine, it had both its highs and lows. Ultimately –for us who do it– that is, put your life on a proverbial balance from time to time, the hope is for said balance to lean over onto the highs rather than he lows. But this year, sadly, it has been a little too even. Losing a very loved one, changing jobs, faced some life-long illnesses. Well, I could just take it in for what it is and call it George, right? But I can’t do that! For it has been a year of some really good accomplishments. As they say, ‘the longer the fall, the more alive you will feel looking back down at the abyss when you climb out.’ And although I am not totally out… no point in lying, right? I can see the top closer than ever before. Teasing me to move forth. It will be sad to let go of a few things –someone in particular– but that’s how life is. The view is going to be breathtaking.
So, I sit here, waiting for the flu to get the hell out of my body and for my immune system to really get cracking. I mean, what else do I pay it for?
I hope all of you are in good health and have some interesting plans for the weekend; And subsequently, take the time to find out where and who you are. Only then you will know where you are going! Cheers.
In one of my adventures as an organizer of a social group I found myself at a trendy lounge in downtown Toronto next to someone who was wearing a shirt that read: ‘Remember my name, because you will be screaming it later.’
Never having heard before, I could not restrain myself from commenting: ‘Funny,’ I said with a hint of friendly sarcasm. Then asked if it ever worked, ‘It worked while I was in Vancouver’ he responded.
He was funny and he didn’t strike me as the shy type. Actually he seemed like the type who would benefit from a little shyness.
We quickly got into conversation. The usual things you would talk to a stranger at a bar. He had just moved to Toronto from aforementioned Vancouver –hated the weather, by the way—and had just gotten a job at a computer firm. My old job as a computer analyst gave us more few things in common but being a Friday, we non-verbally agreed not to speak about our jobs. ‘So what else do you do?’
Ah…here is where things got interesting.
‘A have a side business…’ he said hiding a smile. ‘I am just starting.’
I could tell he was hesitating. It was understandable; I was a complete stranger and had talked for less than five minutes. He reached in his jeans and pulled a business card and handed over to me. It was thinner than average, matte and with cheap looking ink. The main caption read ‘Enlightened Heart.’ Printed in calligraphy not much different than what you would find on a turn of the 1800’s cover of a Harlequin novel. His name was below this.
Wha? I said out loud, not fully understanding.
‘I teach shy people how to get women.’
‘Really?’ I said without disguising the doubt in my voice.
‘What are your credentials?’
Then read the back of the card, ‘Personal life and relationship mentor,’ and an uplifting quote regarding being able to get what you want out of life. I asked if he was any good with the ladies. No answer, just a sheepish smile.
‘If so, why come out to my social group?’ I asked.
Damn. At least he was honest.
‘You know,’ I said, ‘I give a lot of free advise; doing it for over a decade now… Heck, you could say that I am giving away the business for free.’
‘The world is not short of misguided people.’ He commented.
God, did I know that to be right. He made me think: What if I have gotten five dollars for every time I helped someone hook up with their crush? Ten for every time I set someone up? And, what if I charged by the hour for the long nights spent over the phone telling a friend who had just been dumped that he\she would be fine until four o’clock in the morning? Holy mother lode! This guy was onto something.
From then on we jumped head first into many theories regarding dating and the mating dance. I have to admit, he had some good points regarding how to approach a woman: avoid pickup lines at all costs. The importance of attitude over looks, paying attention to details most men overlook and other general things. Even though we saw it from different sides of the fence, which is understandable as a point of view based on experience. It was still interesting to see the similarities and not so similar takes on the opposite sex. The verdict: ‘the dating scene’ is biased towards the shy and the timid. No secret there.
By the way, did I mention there were four ladies sitting between ‘Dale’ and me? Listening to everything we had said and I have to admit they did not seem very impressed with either of us. Not that we were being lewd, but I think she did not appreciate two men sucking the romanticism out of romanticism by making it sound like some sort of hard science. By the way, Dale, if you ever read this, I am giving you free advertising, so don’t come complaining.
A few hours later, Dale said he had another party to attend to but he was glad that the dropped by. I knew he was in fact networking for his business but told him he was welcome to drop by anytime. After all, that’s my job as the organizer of a social group.
’So is this what he really does?’ A woman in my group asked at the end of the night while studying his business card.
‘So it seems,” I said.
‘Strange, overall, he seemed kinda quiet.’
** Would you like to find out more about my social groups? Then wait no longer, click here!**
Chicago – A new study spear-headed by the Sigma Xi Scientific Research Society released its results last week after two years of statistic and physiologic data collecting. Its results were of no surprise to the scientists involved, or anyone with an IQ higher than 138 points.
‘We found that on average, an IQ of 138 was the cut off figure a High School aged youth could no longer masquerade his intellect or brainy interests convincingly enough away from his peers.’ Said Dr. Carlton, Head Researcher of the “Virgin Project” as it became affectionately known. ‘The idea of the initiative was to determine why high IQ students tend to sexually lag behind their less intellectual school mates. It has always seemed like a case of Darwinism in reverse.’
The experiment consisted of rounding up 12,500 subjects from twenty different High schools from around the country who had to fill a questionnaire probing into their career, social and sexual views and accomplishments. ‘The results were quite astonishing at first,’ Dr. Carlton commented, ‘and very soon, the pattern basically hit us right on the head like a Klingon death dart.’
The studies showed most ‘jocks, cheerleaders and the generally cool crowd’ in High school are now stuck in dead end jobs and drinking their sorrows on Friday and/or Saturday nights. Have barely expanded their social circles and are constantly reminiscing about the ‘good old days.’ ‘In some instances,’ Dr. Carlton commented ‘A few subjects were actually employed in companies ran by the same individual they used to pull wedgies on. It is a case of extreme poetic justice.’
The results even illustrated instances of sad irony as in the case of Jacob Williams. Back in high school he was the soccer team captain for three years running. ‘Yeah, I got some sweet snatch back then, drank like a fish too, yeah, those were good years. (But) lately my career has been taking most of my time.’ Unfortunately, our interview at his place of work was cut short by a phone call, which required his immediate attention. ‘If you excuse me.’ Said Williams as he placed the phone back onto the receiver. ‘I gotta run. Some yuppie loser just puked his guts out in the men’s washroom on the 17th floor.’
The status quo of the study showed intellectual prowess and the willingness to apply it in scholarly interest proportionally reduced the chances of a student getting laid.
‘I was chess captain in high school and it was not until university that I kissed my first woman.’ Reported one Oscar Escobado, ‘But after I got my medical practice going, women have been practically throwing themselves at me. Honestly, I lost count how many I have had in the sack. You could say that I came back with a vengeance.’
The data also showed ‘Nerds’ tended to be better lovers than their ‘cool’ counterparts regardless of their financial success as their self-esteem with the opposite sex is permanently damaged. As such, a desire to always try harder, more passionately and/or for longer is ingrained in their psyche early in their teenager years as they feel they are never quite good enough. ‘We called it the Ugly-Duckling Syndrome.’ Said Dr. Carlton. It was also noted that none of the spouses or significant other of those in the study ever complained or seemed to mind their partner’s obvious emotional unbalance.
‘It was almost impossible to conceal my astuteness when you can remember what was taught three weeks before or the fact that I had to keep correcting the teacher on her calculus solving skills. Back then; being smart was like the kiss of death. Mind you, my ex-playmate wife things I am over exaggerating.’ Said one George Kyperous from his private yacht. Now a multi-millionaire whose patent of a drug that nullifies nicotine addiction is being subsidized by cigarette companies who are paying him not to bring his invention to market.
The project even had a chance to reunite many subjects who had not heard or seen of each other in years. As was in the case of Stevenson “Stevie” McNicoll, a Hyundai mechanic, but a Football God in high school. He had the chance to attempt to amend the years of emotional abuse he inflicted to Josh Patterson — now a powerful stockbroker, member of the board of the Bank of America and married to Miss Florida ‘98. Later that day Mr. Patterson smirked as he commented, ‘When his house is repossessed, we’ll see who’ll be laughing then.’
At the end of the study, it was discovered that in extreme cases chess, debate, science team captains and most serious nerds in general produced an income that was on average twice to five times greater than their entire high school populous combined. ‘Such flexibility, and liquidity in assets,’ Observed Dr. Carlton, ‘Is a humongous turn on for women, who instinctively gravitate toward such needs as companionship, security and diamond jewelry.’
Since the results have been released, The Bank of America and a number of Top 100 companies have generously subsidized the entire funding for the “Virgin Project.”
Friends always tell me I tend to meet strange people everywhere I go. My defence usually goes along the lines of “Hey, I am friendly; people tend to end opening up, that’s not my fault! Sometimes they tell me stories they would not tell anyone else and… well, we all have quirks. So when I tell you about them, it sounds like an above average number of people who are like that. However, I am sure we all have them, both friends and stories although we just don’t tend to share the latter.” Or something like that. Really.
Take a few nights ago for example. I was at a bar and a girl was trying to unbutton my shirt. Sure, it doesn’t happen often, and yes, it is a great boost to one’s ego but all this was happening right at the bar and for the amusement of all onlookers. I felt the need to say something. Like asking for her name but as a gentleman, I felt I would be intruding onto her dedication and defer fervent concentration from her craft, and trust me, it was taking her quite bit of concentration. ‘Vodka shots unwieldy fingers make,’ that is what I constantly warn my readers.
Anyway, so after she tried to kiss me a few times –by the way, the locale in question is a rip off, a glass of table wine for $12??– Anyway, I asked to go for a cigarette to relax. Once outside, this woman turned into the perfect example why I would never date someone I meet at a club. Not only she almost got into fight with a random girl whose boyfriend was right there. Which meant that me, as the defacto guy in tow, almost got sucked into a fight I had no part of. But wait there is more! After I managed to talk everyone out of a lot of scratching, hair pulling and punching, she then decided to curl up into a corner and become an emotional wreck. We are not talking fender bender either, more like two monorails going 215 km\h and crashing into each other kinda of catastrophe. With wheels and metal shreds exploding and decapitating flying birds and small herbivores everywhere.
All of the sudden she hated her job, her age, her life and just for kicks, me. To be honest, I was just standing there lighting a cigarette a few feet way. I knew we were just outside the lounge but I felt bad leaving her like that sobbing her problems away. Eventually her guy friend came out and asked me what as wrong with her.
She then glimpsed at us, squinted and called us losers. Her friend then moved closer and asked her what has wrong? She replied by slapping his smoke off his hand. Then both stared at the lighted cigarette now on the ground. ‘That’s bad for you!’ she argued. He then came back to my side, rolled his eyes and said he was going back inside for another drink. The now obviously drunk girl (NoOdGi) left the safety of her corner and stumbled to a fountain about 75 feet away. I followed. After repeating her ‘I hate my job, age and life’ mantra she decided to throw her purse, along with all its neat contents into said fountain. Then sat on the floor and cried some more. Wow.
Out of human pity –as at this point it could not possibly be for any other reason– I looked into the fountain but the purse which was glittery white, blended with the incandescent yellow lights of he fountain just perfectly. Adding to this, the the fact it was night time, made the purse and the make up and cell phone invisible.
A few minutes later, her friend came out and after catching on to what had happened, took off his shirt and began looking for the damn purse in the fountain. Looking and searching, working his way more by touch than by sight. Pictures of Pirates of the Caribbean came to mind. He couldn’t find it and Noodgi was getting pissed off. I could not help smirking at the sheer spectacle. At that moment Noodgi caught me and began insulting me. But can anyone take the insults of a drunken woman who threw her own purse, along with her car keys into a fountain seriously?
Her friend couldn’t find the purse and he was getting pissed off. Why? Because he was going to get a ride from her –something I DID learn is that both of them lived in Mississauga– mostly thanks to his rantings of disbelief.
It dawned on me that maybe just maybe, she may have overshot the fountain even though from my point of view it seemed like it had gone in. I decided to take a look a few feet further away where some patio chairs were located. As I went behind one of the chairs, lo and behold, guess what I found. A small white albeit now very dirty purse. I took it back to Noodgi, hanging off my index finger.
She then gave me a hug, said she loved me and began fidgeting with its contents. I asked the guy if they were okay to make it home, as there was no way she could drive. He said yes, he would probably wait it out until she sobered up. Noodgi then asked if I wanted another vodka shot. I said I would light another cigarette first.
As they went inside, I remembered my tab was paid and all of my actual friends had gone home. As I finished my cigarette, I checked the time, found my bearings, found Yonge and King and walked for my life.