BATHING IS VERY IMPORTANT!

The account with OK Cupid is no more. I zapped it recently, having given it a try for about three or four years. I only checked in every two or three months, to discover once again that many single women want someone adventurous, extremely well off, who lacks a noticeable personality, and who likes either vegan or ethnic food.

Or vegan AND ethnic.

I'm sorry, what I eat is normal food. Albeit mostly Chinese.
There is nothing cute or meaningful about it.
Pork, shrimp paste, noodles.
Hot sauce.


I described my strengths as being able to take long baths, discuss pipe tobacco intelligently, and imagine what being a badger was like.

I listed milk-tea as one of the six things I would not do without.


All in all, I may have had the wrong attitude.


I still think being able to take long baths is a selling point. Remarkably, none of the people that OK Cupid decided were an eighty percent or greater match even mentioned bathing. I have to conclude that soapy water and twiddling one's toes in the comfort of a warm bath are not high on the list of desirable traits.

Maybe American women do not value cleanliness?


In any case, the chances of a woman wanting to wander around Nob Hill, Chinatown, and down to the parrots at Sue Bierman Park in the company of a middle-aged dude smoking a pipe and not saying very much being on OK Cupid are astronomically slim.

Throw in milk tea, and steamed pork patty with rice, and a tendency to read a lot, and it's one in a gazillion.



Almost everything I like qualifies as a bad habit, and after a life-time of reading I am filled with tonnes of useless information. I do not have a cellphone, and am never at a gym.

==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================

INTERNET DATING: MAKING A GOOD IMPRESSION

One of my facebook friends and fellow bloggers is a talmudic scholar who is having no luck with the ladies. Which is remarkable, because he is everything I'm not, in that regard. He is significantly younger than I am, has smikha, and, by all accounts, is a great wit despite his propensity to make truly horrible puns so bad makes you want to smack him.
A real charmer.

Like many Americans, he has tried the various internet dating sites.

So have I.

My first foray was a joke, in which I answered all questions exactly like famous Kazakh journalist Borat Sagdiev would, put on my worst male chauvenist pig act, and spoke well of one-piece mankinis.
The results were stellar; many women didn't get it.
My second attempt had two responses. One was a trailer park grandma with more dogs than days of the week, the other was a shy professional type with no social life who wanted to know if I owned real estate, and thoroughly hated smoking.
Third 'experiment', on a different site than the previous two. Evidently there are a lot of energetic women out there who want a successful careerist health club studmuffin, who is relatively quiescent, and a non-smoking vegetarian besides. And willing to sleep in the basement.
They want to be wined, dined, and go on adventures!
In which he may play a supporting role.
As the silent partner.

Because they deserve it.


Even if any of these vibrant and passionate creative types were to feel attracted to my profile, she might be discouraged, because I clearly state that I am a pipe smoker, check my account very rarely, and have utterly no expectation of ever meeting anyone, suitable or not, via OK Cupid; I signed up primarily so that I could chalk it off as a ridiculous experiment.
I am a complete cynic when it comes to internet romance.
It's the video game approach to dating.
Superpowers and ogres.


Most men on those sites will click on anything with cleavage, even if the only brain activity the blonde dingbat has is handbag collecting with his money. Most women will go for any man who unwittingly demonstrates both cleanliness and sheer bucket-loads of disposable income, yet shows that he is malleable.
He wants arm candy. She wants someone silently supportive, a rich good listener.
She also wants a non-smoking buff tofu eater.
Who wears nice suits.


With that in mind, here's probably the best date site profile video ever, by a suave Latin who would be an excellent catch for any woman.

WE'RE ROLLING? I DON'T FEEL VERY GOOD.


[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d19BawjJPhY.]

Remember, girls, I am just like him.
I too have a sexy accent.
Crustalicious.

I am looking to go out with a beautiful super model who is not afraid to date a powerful passionate bla bla bla.

Okaaay?


A NEW SUIT! AND BREASTS!


[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5oSG87gUTBs.]

Alas, poor Pepe the King Prawn. The only type of woman he's likely to attract is some Cantonese chick who is thinking of salted black beans, ginger, and garlic, as she initiates contact.
She's got a clay pot just right.
Hellooooo, Pepe!
Mmm.

My friend the rabbinic gentleman is in a different category.
Shellfish are not kosher, so he's "safe".


I am better than either Pepe or the Talmudist. Like any king prawn, I am totally superlative with melted butter, and like my scholarly friend, I have a neat and distinguished beard.
Unlike either of them, I have no reason to fear Cantonese chicks with treif on the brain.


Surely this justifies an optimistic attitude?


I am not nervous.


Okaaay?




==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================

BRUTAL REVIEW

Today is a day for wonton. I just don't know where. Someplace bustling and noisy, and probably just before noon. Due to my ex having a fine old time with her squeezy boo, this blogger has been a bit down in the dumps lately, so it's time for happy food. At a time of day when no one is smooching over their meal, or making sickening little cooing sounds at someone else.

I don't need to observe hormones in action.

Or hear her phone conversations.

Ick poo. In big buckets.


[I still see her on a regular basis, because we still share the same apartment. In San Francisco, you just don't give up on someone you trust around your sh&t, period. The alternative is much higher rent, and a crackhead schizophrenic psychopath -- or a computer programmer -- as your new apartment mate. Please don't tell me that it's "unhealthy"; I live in San Francisco, I should know from unhealthy?]


No, I do not wish to rekindle the relationship. What's over is over, and she's involved with someone else now. It's been the better part of four years, and our lives and personalities have changed too much.
Still. Twenty one years. I feel more than a little cheated.
There are fewer social options than there were.
Especially for someone of my age.
Which is a young 54.

Yes, I also realize that I can't stand most modern women. I've read too many profiles on OK Cupid, and concluded that none of them are my type. Whatever that is.

You, dear reader, probably think you know what my type is. Certainly a few of you have left comments indicating as much. Please stop thinking that. You could not be more wrong.

My type is probably crazy.

She'd have to be.


Other than briefly listing my usual bugaboos, I shan't mention what's wrong with modern women.

Bugaboos:
Tattoos, handbags, cellular devices.
Drugs. Booze. Superficiality.
Nearly illiterate.
Vacuous.

Most of them are twits, and a complete waste of time.

With minor edits, the same goes for males.

Europeans. Asians. Americans.

Almost everyone.


The moment has come to rekindle my love-affair with food. And to re-occupy my mind with all the books I have never finished because someone wanted to talk.


There's time enough for that now.


This is the age for anthroping very much mis.


At which, unsurprisingly, this bachelor totally excels.




==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================

PASSION, READING, AND COOKIES!

As some of you are aware, this blogger joined OK Cupid a while back. Many years ago, when I signed up on a dating site as Borat Sagdaiev, the results were stellar. Every week someone new deeply desired to meet an ultra butch and sweatily masculine demon lover. I never responded to any of them, of course, because it had been meant as a joke, and at the time I was in a relationship which I hoped would last forever. No doubt they've all found the Kazakh husband of their dreams by now.
When I signed up for OK Cupid, I did not have any expectation that much would come of it, as I realized that Borat was in all ways a more exciting person than I could ever be.
Even if entirely fictional.
Mmmm, mankini!

Recently I browsed through profiles.

Nobody on OK Cupid is even remotely interesting.

They've all written the same boring inoffensive bland stuff.


I have too, but we're not talking about me.


Everybody on OK Cupid is a keen traveler who loves food and movies or music, cares deeply about her job, friends, and family, and has or doesn't have a dog and a cat. They're committed, loyal, and are fascinated by different cultures, languages, and hanging out on Friday night with co-workers, homies, and fellow members of the choral society.
Or watching teevee with someone special.
Some of them drink (socially), smoke (never), and have one coy little secret that they are embarrassed to share with everyone on OK Cupid (which they do). OMG.

They like (or don't) Chinese food, Thai food, Korean food, Italian food, French food, Japanese food, Vegetarian muck, Vietnamese noodle soup, and anything ethnic. Including Mexican. Or not.

Some of them have jobs they hate. Some of them just love their work.
A number of them are thinking of going back to school. Either before they ever have kids, or after the grandchildren move out.

Quite a few are spiritual, funny, and creative.
Many of them have favourite teams.
And a number love to laugh.

They are ALL undoubtedly nice likable people, and very unremarkable.
This is uninspiring! There is not a single one whose profile is actually compelling enough that I would ever want to meet them (other than perhaps the tattooed Slavic single mother with a dog).

Or the bespectacled person committing a very proper act with a large stuffed Totoro doll, but I'm not sure she really exists.


4. 3. 5. 1. 2. 6.

So I've taken it upon myself to write some imaginary profiles that show possibly intriguing aspects of single women. Different personalities, with far more interesting details than ninety nine out of ten people on OK Cupid. But I'll simply name them all "Somethingsaurus", because you wouldn't believe how many woman are something plus saurus.
Snackasaurus, Laughasaurus, Joggasaurus, Teddybearosaurus.
PhdSuperSignificantIntellectualYogasaurus.
HelloKitty&Candysaurus.


SOMETHINGSAURUS No. 1.
"I'll do nearly anything for sushi! Including unspeakable acts and watching your damned Forty Niners, even though I absolutely HATE football. Though if you force me, it will cost you A LOT of fish!
All I want is a neatly dressed recently bathed man who can sit at the sushi counter with me while I stuff my face, who won't say "I'll simply have some of yours". Get your own. And on second thought, screw the Niners.
Let's eat."

SOMETHINGSAURUS No. 2.
"We shall galumph over the hills and wastelands of San Francisco, howling at the moon! We are the wolves of inner-city decay, we are the rampaging beasts of suburban nightmare. Let us chivy tourists and snap at their heels. Then let us passionately undulate and wriggle like sex-starved weasels, if the time seems opportune for that kind of stuff.
And if it's not too beastly cold."

SOMETHINGSAURUS No. 3.
"F*ck travelling together to exotic lands. Let's read books instead. We'd do that in the air-conditioned hotel room in Buenos Aires anyway, might as well do exactly the same thing here. You quietly in your corner, and I in mine.
Then, innocently, we will snake out our legs, and twiddle and interlock naked toes."

SOMETHINGSAURUS No. 4.
"Help me mind this horrid cat. And bring over some fresh apples.
You get the lumpy chair. Thank you."

SOMETHINGSAURUS No. 5.
"Are your habits eccentric enough to appall my parents? Mom's a spiritual vegetarian, my dad is wishy-washy, politically correct, and grows his own wheatgrass. Both of them hate smoking, liquor, burgers, and caffeinated beverages. Pick me up for a date wearing a fur coat and smoking a cigar, and give me an extra tall double latte instead of flowers. We'll have the bestest time! No weirdoes, please."

SOMETHINGSAURUS No. 6.
"Morose antisocial person wishes to be left alone. Can you do that?
And can you also leave a bowl of soup outside my bedroom door?
I probably wouldn't mind exploiting your body until you fall asleep once in a blue moon, provided you don't bring up angst, existentialism, religion, or your job, while we have post-coitus cigarettes afterwards. I really don't want to hear about your job and your aspirations. Or butterflies. I hate butterflies.
Sometimes I'm affectionate."


Personally, I feel that these profiles are more honest and realistic than anything on the dating sites of the world. Not necessarily alluring and inviting, but never the less infinitely more enchanting than any amount of poofle on OK Cupid. These are women with whom one could easily get along, and if after hot beverages and bund cake down at the coffee shop nothing further happened, one might still be friends, and say something like "let's go eat" occasionally.


The first two impress as delightfully wicked, numbers three and four sound both practical-minded and extremely charming, and five and six are possibly dangerous, in an innocent girlish sort of way.

If I saw any of these profiles, I would definitely write.
And then hope that something good came of it.
I could even put up with the horrid cat.
Or the appalling parents.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================

I AM ANYTHING BUT UN-IMPRESSED WITH MY OWN SASSY SELF

Honestly, I do not know why I even bothered to sign-up for OKCupid. Maybe it was desperation. Or boredom. Perhaps just ill-advised curiosity about the other species.
OKCupid is a dating site. Years ago, when for laughs I joined as Borat Sagdiyev, I didn't expect that he would prove so popular among their subscribers. I had answered the questionnaire in character, assuming that no woman would be smitten by a crude sexist vulgarian.
I was wrong. No sane woman would.
Hundreds of others were.
Desperate times.


About a year ago I joined up again. As myself.

Desperation, boredom, & curiosity.

Crazy move, I know.

I am not Borat.


OKCupid insists on trying to link me up with people who are 100% perfect. Which their profiles take pains to make utterly and completely plain, so that even the densest of males will be astounded by their awesome wonderfulness.


Herewith a sampling of the most recent candidates.

"I am creative, devoted, and always up for trying new things. Current events, current movies, current books my interest"

"I'm physically active, secure, financially & otherwise and non-judgemental if you are interested in sharing my grand passion for authentic experiences"

"I am witty, kind and incredibly loyal, I'm also adventurous, well traveled and well read"

"I have done a lot of great things but I would love to share these experiences with someone special"

"I’m really good at writing singing playing guitar languages listening understanding designing and being spontaneous"

"I am charming, athletic, artistic, and driven. I love muscle cars, art, sports, and outdoors. I'm looking to meet someone who has a strong interest in sports"

"I am a pretty happy accomplished girl who loves traveling, camping, and finding new places to explore. I like being around people who are being spontanious, adventures and extraverted like me"

"I love photography, artistic things, acting and fashion"

"I spend a lot of time thinking about how to make a difference"

"I'm enjoy cooking, baking, cleaning, riding bicycle, playing music"

"I'm reading, singing, walking, looking forward to adventuring in Africa"

"I spend a lot of time thinking about why Africa moves so slowly, tofu, biogas"



Well now. Aren't they just.

I am flattered that OKCupid thinks they would be suitable for me.
But really, they deserve someone special.
Which I am decidedly not.

I am not creative, devoted, grandly passionate, adventurous, designing, spontaneous, charming, athletic, artistic, driven, accomplished, riding a bicycle, singing, or in any way looking forward to Africa.
I seldom think of biogas.

I am unworthy.




==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================

A FAIRLY QUIET MAN

Adventures on the dating sites of the world continue! There's gold in them thar hills!
Meaning, of course, that this blogger's attempt to connect with live human beings has taken a backseat to his computer.
I love my computer. It seems so... responsive!

Petite. Cute. Full of life.
Possibly even female.
And multi-lingual.


As you may recall, I mentioned signing-up on OkCupid a while back. One of my readers had spoken of it, and it sounded like an interesting concept. I remembered when strictly for laughs I signed up on E-Harmony pretending to be Borat Sagdiyev, answering all questions in that precise persona (as detailed here). For several years afterwards, I received lovely romantic messages from hundreds of women who where desperate, utterly crazy-desperate, to meet mr. Wrong.
I had no clue that someone like Borat was so desirable.
Consequently, OkCupid seemed promising.

And at least better than a crap-shoot.

I may have been mistaken.


Most of the women on OkCupid are totally perfect. Not my type at all. I have no idea why they aren't all in the bestest and most rewardingest relationships ever.
Well, other than the grandmother of seven, who has named her dogs after the days of the week. She has three Sundays. Whether it's the dogs or the grandkids, rabies is a looming problem. Given that she lives in a trailer park out in the foothills.
Apparently she's a 95% match, 86% friend, and 8% enemy.
That last percentage is crucial. I betcha it's the smoking.
Despite what her profile says, she probably huffs two or three packs of Lucky Strikes per day. How else can she put up with seven grandkids and ten dogs?
And the looming threat of rabies.

It's hard when you have to shoot a grandkid.

But all the other people that OkCupid thinks would be in my ballpark have so much to offer.


Profile quotes:

"I explore my creative parts..."

"I live in America because I like the weather"

"I am living in the present and planning for the future."

"Living out of a camper, skydiving and then scuba"

"I'm like the girl next door!"

"I'm great with knives, knots, locks, cooking, massages"

"I like staying at home watching my SF Giants..."

"Scoring reservations at a time later than the normal senior citizen"

"Indignant about the lack of decent sushi"

"I enjoy making connections and I am well-traveled"


Judging by their profiles, they are all intelligent, alive, likable, active and involved, socially polished, adaptable, agreeable, perky, and nice.

I'm not really looking for nice.

What I'm looking for is a woman who might describe herself like this:

"I'm a post-graduate still living at home, perfectly happy not going to bars or nightclubs. I like staying up reading until the wee hours -- not only books by real authors, but also trashy novels, reference books, and crap I found at a rummage sale. Not into high-fashion, though I do dress nicely when I feel like it.
I'm looking for someone to eat with; that way I can order more interesting things at restaurants. My job is rather boring and mundane, but I enjoy my coworkers, and quite a few of them are fascinating and intelligent. "

See? She's utterly perfect. Someone who is at ease with herself, down to earth, and evinces a keen culinary vibrance.

The only things that I would add are:

"I have a thing for pipe-smokers, I prefer sensible shoes, and I only wear my Hello Kitty panties ironically!"


Someone who also likes Chinese and Indian food, warm beverages, hot sauce, and cookies, would be truly splendid.



REALITY BITES

The question you might ask at this point is what she would get out of a relationship with me. What's in it for her?
Other than someone with whom she could to go to restaurants and order the interesting things.
As well as a man who thinks she looks cute wearing Hello Kitty underwear ironically, and comfy flats.

I'm afraid I'm not good at filling out a profile (except for the time I was channeling for mr. Borat Sagdiyev).

Basically, I'm a normal guy who speaks Dutch, as well as a little Cantonese, Yiddish, German, and bits of other languages. I used to cook a lot more than I do now, and I would like to do so again.
I like being around other people, but not crowds.
I don't skydive, scuba, jog, work out at the gym, develop my creative and spiritual sides, or read self-help books. Lord knows I don't watch sports; anything with big butch men in tights makes my eyes glaze over.
Yeah, I read a lot. My living quarters are a fire-trap, what with cases and stacks of books everywhere.
My friends are all decent intelligent people with quirky interests and senses of humour.
They probably need that last characteristic, as they're all rather kind.


See? Hardly a description of Don Juan, an ideal daemon lover, the dark romantic stranger of a girl's dreams, or even Burt Reynolds. More like Sean Connery, considerably younger and with far less fat, a more intelligible accent, and a pipe. Sort of okay, I guess.



Food! She'd get food! And the recurring aroma of pipe-smoke!
That, plus occasional bursts of wit!
And beverages!




==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================

OK, CUPID, WHERE'S WALDO?!?

Just like all the other single men in the entire world (meaning: San Francisco), I have subscribed to OkCupid. Which is a dating site.
Not everyone there looking for the man or woman of their dreams is single, please understand, and some of them don't actually exist in real life. In some ways it's Creep Central with a few natural barriers built in, so a measure of caution is advised.
I seriously doubt that I'll find anyone there -- and I suspect that my animal magnetism does not carry over the internet at all -- but it is, nevertheless, both interesting and educational to browse.

Some people read books, some spend all day thinking about art.
There are far too many people who jog or exercise.
Many people love their dogs.

They don't smoke, rarely drink and then only socially, are Christians or not, and have six things they couldn't live without.
And they never do drugs.


This blogger definitely does drugs.

Caffeine, nicotine, and highly refined white sugar.

Consequently, you may spot me occasionally lurking in huge crowds, wearing my inconspicuous red and white striped jersey and matching beanie, looking quizzically stoned through my black rimmed bottle-bottom glasses, mere moments before I strip naked and start doing a merry dance to Spring. While singing about Joe Camel, the Marlboro Man, Mrs. Olson and her bottomless pot of Java oh sexy lady I want you as my grammar school mama, and pure cane shuga from Hawaii that's the one.
Or, if you're lucky, the 1970's jingle for Vaseline Intensive Care.


"Working hands! Working hands! Whatever the work you doooo; Now the working lotion, is working harder for you! New Vaseline! Intensive Care! Is working harder, for you!"


If you're in the mood, I'll follow up with the 'Welcome To Miller Time' song. After which we will recline upon our disreputably stained couch and watch black and white Sci-Fi movies from the fifties till four o'clock on the morning.

Now that's where the caffeine, nicotine, and highly refined white sugar come in. They're study aids. You cannot stay up till four o'clock in the morning without their help. Caffy, nicky, shuga, babe.
These three are key to upping productivity and remaining human.
They also make plain why the couch is so stained.
We're jittery, and we spilled our beverages.


In fact, I'm using all three of those things RIGHT NOW.

Coffee, with a spot of cream and spoon of sugar. It's strong-bodied.
Blonde Virginia flake tobacco, fully rubbed out, in a Savinelli pipe (shape no. 101, made for the Golden Gate Pipe Club), at perfect cruising speed. Sweetly tinglesome down the tip of the tongue.
It's all good. Exceptionally good. Utterly and divinely good.
The breakfast of champions, at any time of day.
I'm high as the proverbial kite.

You should be here to share all this.


You should message me if:

You want to meet the man you've been warned about.
You need someone weird for the family picnic.
You. Are. Legend.
Your brow needs wiping, you're about to faint.
Foggy nights make you want to take a walk.
You wish to paint the town a nice shade of mauve.
You need help with that lobster bisque.
You Jane, me British anthropologist.
You want an impartial observer.
The search for the best milk-tea is finally over.
Ob-gyn? Add ob-vermouth and ob-liv for an ob-martini!
You can't remember what your sign says about you.
Your nurse fantasies involve lime jello and wheel chair races.
Suggestive vegetables bring out the cleaver in you.
You think I have something of yours.
Your life isn't surreal enough.
The lab burned down and you need a place to hide.
It's very lonely out in the desert, Gringo.
The entire family went to Vegas and you've got lots of coffee.
You've seen 'My Neighbor Totoro' several times.
You've used your bra as a slingshot for conkers.
You'd like a man to look deep into your eyes and whisper "let's eat".
Everyone mind their own business! It's delicious, okay!?!
You want some cookies, please.



Oh, and honk if you ran over Jesus.





==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================