WTF?!?!?: I Want to Punch Japan in the Face

Some things just make your jaw drop and need no explanation other than…WOW! HOLY CRAP! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE!

Japanese Rape Video Game Goes Viral

Shaking my head…

The Clutter Singularity: Psychological Junk and it’s Impact on the Space-Time Continuum

(JK contributed heavily to the information for “The Clutter Singularity” series)

“Junk is not, like alcohol or weed, a means to increased enjoyment of life. Junk is not a kick. It is a way of life.”

–William S. Burroughs

Sometimes called one of the most influential authors of the Twentieth Century, William S. Burroughs was no stranger to what we will call psychological junk (I know this is not officially recognized by APA as a valid term. Yet, it is much more accessible than things like Schizophrenic Traumatic Multiple Despressosity Malfunctioning Disorder [Which doesn’t actually exist]).  Burroughs, whose own demons included opiates and repressed childhood homosexuality, wrote about drugs, sexuality, amorality, and all sorts of other junk. According to critics, he had a keen awareness of the junk piles that make up the human mind.

Thanks to a number of phone conversations with JK and her liberal use of the term (I have full faith she will use her Dr. title to make “junk” an official designation), I got to thinking about what are the different levels of junk and how much junk I can tolerate before I’m ready to toss a friendship/relationship down the garbage chute.¹

Here is where I diverge from the classic Hot/Crazy scale, as put forth on How I Met Your Mother by Barney Stinson. [You can take the quiz on Barney’s Blog here, but I think most of you won’t actually admit to being all “stabby-stabby”, even though you are thinking it.]  While, this graph certainly applies for general dating practices and attraction, it’s comes up short for “relationships.” I think a third axis needs to be added to the graph, making the model more like space-time continuum.²

Some people are just a black hole of goodness!!! Here we can see how a person's "junk" affects friends, family, space, time, matter, and light.

In fact, when you think about it, “junk” kind of acts like a singularity because, at some level, a mass of junk will obliterate all matter and light.³

Junk and Crazy are closely related, although you can have varying amounts of one, the other, or both, without a necessary connection.

For example, if that part of your crazy only affects you, then it isn’t really junk. (Like you sing Taylor Swift songs in the shower)⁴

However, because junk bends the gravitational well around people who have larger amounts, it almost arbitrarily affects other people.

Now that we have a workable graph, how do we quantify “junk”. For this, I have collaborated with a fellow intellectual to create the “JK/JD Junk Index” (coming in serialized format over the next few days—yeah, I’m making you wait for it)

Footnotes:

1. Han had a much higher junk tolerance level than Leia. Sure, she had to deal with his arrogance and playboy ways…but she kissed her own brother. That’s some serious junk.
2. This is a shameless attempt to be sexually appealing to the hot, quantum physicists out there…why do I hear crickets chirping [incidentally, this didn’t work for Stephen Hawking either]
3. In fact, Einstein’s theory of general relativity was originally supposed to explain why he divorced his intellectual equal, only to marry his cousin (1^st maternally and 2^nd paternally!!! Wow, talk about relative theory).   It is safe to say, Einstein had a lot of junk.
4. I CERTAINLLY DO NOT!

Particle Physics in Action: When Reality and Philosophy Collide on Sunday Nights

“There’s no crying in baseball!!!”

–Jimmy Dugan (League of their Own)

But apparently, there is a ton of crying in softball! Well, more like complaining and whining, but it sure sounded Sunday night like a few people on the other team needed a box of tissue.

Now, for those of you who remember my last blog (A celebration of why competitive women are straight up hot), you know that my Sunday night “semi” coed team exists with the sole purpose of showing that a team with five women can kick the testosterone out of our all-male opponents.¹

This was never more apparent than last night when the opposing pitcher decided that not pitching to the men on the team would somehow increase his chances of winning. All this did was increase the chances that our women would be pissed off, an emotion that often provides a spark of motivation². (I have a simple philosophy for myself: “Piss me off and I hit the ball harder.”)

With HG out due to injury, HG-Pro-Tem stepped in and launched one over the right fielder’s head. Being proud, she did a little taunting, something about asses and elbows³ (Earlier, she made an out and unleashed a barrage of expletives I can’t possibly repeat…It was kind of cute) . All of the women contributed, from Not-Renee to MW (see NY Mets, circa 1986 for details) to increase our lead.

Then, their pitcher started crying, metaphorically.  He was still not pitching to the guys, but now he was being a pure asshat about it. When Lil’ Lady C made a comment about it, he decided it would be a good time to talk trash. What ensued was a four-minute verbal exchange where C answered each of his taunts. The pitcher was, at the moment, a petulant child who was obviously in need of some psychological counseling thanks to the beating his team was now taking. (Some people just don’t know when it is a good time for them to shut up⁴).

The festivities culminated with RG being walked to load the bases. C stepped in, seething with anger and venom, and ripped the next pitch she saw over the left fielder’s head, clearing the bases to the delight and excitement of all of her teammates.

Post-mortem:

I suppose one of the reason I enjoy playing with the men on my team is because they see these women with the same admiration that I do. They may not have the Drool! Pant! response or AAOOOOOOOOOOOOGGGGA that I suffer from. But I know that their affinity for these women is built upon the same foundation as my out-of-control hormonal response. We like women who kick ass on the field.

I am amused that men can’t handle it. I stated before that women who are winners can be intimidating to many men. I guess it’s only funny until some guy starts crying…then it’s freakin’ hilarious.

Final score, 24-8. Oh, and we are still undefeated.

Footnotes:

1. We are far from the first team to do this. I umpired a few years ago and there was a team of four women that mercy ruled all of their opponents.
2. By spark I mean out of control brushfire.
3. See Down In Mississippi by Sugarland
4. Often times this is me, but in other situation.

Particle Physics: Attraction, Kicking Ass and More Ways Women Rock

“Find something that you’re really interested in doing in your life. Pursue it, set goals and commit yourself to excellence. Do the best you can.”

— Chris Evert, tennis champion and winner of 18 Grand Slam titles

I’ve always loved quotes like this because they are filled with such fluffy inspiration lingo that we almost forget about the fact that it is, more often than not, a load of crap. Athletes are all too quick to offer these slogans because is masks how they really feel inside, the things they can’t tell their fans and admirers. If Chris Evert was being truthful, she’d simply say this, “I like…to kick ass!” (You don’t win 18 Grand Slam titles without the desire to reduce your opponent to a puddle of sweat and tears)

Now, why did I pick Evert and not any number of male sports icons for my point? It’s because she, and women like her, is my point. There is something incredibly hot about women who kick’s ass in sports and competition (I’ve noticed that I’ve become less erudite already just thinking about this topic).

[Women + Guy Brain = Increased motor function and decreased IQ, also called the drool and pant]

Now, when it comes to women who can not only hang with the boys, but also have an innate desire to kick ass against their less sophisticated, more Neanderthal opponents, that is a whole other league.

[Hotness ^{Ability to Make Men Look Stupid at Sports} = AAAOOOOOOOOOOOOGA!!!!!].¹

After downing a few slices of spicy peanut butter pizza (Don’t care what you think, it’s AMAZING!!! Your opinion is WRONG!)², NDF and I waged war in the game room at John’s Incredible Pizza. There were games where I came out on top, and others where she bested me. Each was a competitive match, although none as epic as the Air Hockey battle. It needed a third game to be decided! (In honoring the spirit of our competition, I will now make excuses for why she beat me; see footnotes³) Why is it amazing? There is this look of determination competitive women can get which is indescribable. It brings out the best in guys like me. I know I’m going to be tested, in this case with a smile…and I love it. (FYI: We go to war again tonight in a battle of wits, luck, and skill. Tonight, we play dominoes! And I know I better bring it!)

I need not go back any farther than Sunday night to give you an a few examples of how this works in athletic competition. For starters, I play on a “semi”-coed softball team. The coach of my men’s team (called RG) got tired of his coed team simply winning every game (they’ve lost once in five seasons). So, he invited me to play on a team with seven men and five women in the lowest, all-men’s league. I usually don’t play coed anymore (I’ve yet to replace my on-field partner), but jumped at this chance. This was a chance to go to battle as fire support for five women and “show up” groups of men. (I admit, there is a great amount of personal vanity in this because I do like to take on challenges that prove I’m just better than most people. [Hence this blog!]) So far, we are undefeated.⁴

RG’s wife (HG) plays on the team and is the cornerstone of female talent. Since I’ve seen her play, there is just something extra hot about her and I think RG is lucky to have married the same girl, twice (Long story). Last Sunday, the left fielder was playing in because…well because men just assume women can’t hit. She launched it over his head and raced around for a triple. The best part: there is an ‘OH SHIT’ look than an outfielder gets when he realizes that he was just burned by a woman. It’s a split-second look which I can’t adequately describe, but it’s awesome to see!

We also had a guest player for the evening who was filling in for a missing regular. I remember thinking to myself, “Hmm, she’s pretty cute.” Then I saw her turn a double play…Drool, Pant, Drool, Pant. Then she smacked a line drive in her first at bat…AAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGA!!!!!

Maybe it was all the women’s tennis I watched as an adolescent (well, it was only major tournaments…but boy, I loved watching these women in skirts grunt and destroy each other)⁵. Still, most guys, I think, have too fragile an ego and being defeated by a woman is demoralizing. I seem to be able to check my ego at the door (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! did I really say that out loud?⁶ I so know that isn’t true). Let me rephrase: I love to win and the sense of joy I get from giving it everything I’ve got and coming out on top. I really like that about myself. it’s no surprise that I find that same attribute so enticing in female form (Yes, you can say it…I apparently love myself. To that I say…hey, don’t you? Love me that is…) I suppose it’s safe to say that winners are attracted to winners (Is it any shock that Andre Agassi married Stephi Graff? I mean, why didn’t he marry the 100^th-alternate on the Olympic Team?).

My own history is littered with women who were not only competitors, but winners as well. Ex-fiancé “A” was a natural at hitting a softball and, had we gotten married, we would have been playing together (She also didn’t like to lose). Ex-fiancé “B” was a successful high school swimmer and hated when I beat her at anything (In a playful way of course). JK loves sports, is a rabid USC fan and is going to have the title Dr. in her field of study. After my ex-wife and I split (I obviously am not a commitmentphobe), there were two 22-year-olds that I had major crushes on because I got to play ball with them all of the time and they kicked ass on the field (I knew the folly of the 22-year-old, which is why I never pursued. I mean, one even called herself “Dirty”…drool, pant, drool, pant).

And, of course, there is my ex-wife. Our love of the game and competition is some of the best of what we were. I admired her as a player and was absolutely turned on by her prowess with a glove and bat. Three of my fondest memories of our marriage involve softball:

1. Her being the 10^th ‘guy’ on my tournament softball team, getting a single in every game, and helping us WIN the tournament.
2. The time I threw two runners out at third base. She was the third baseman. We got in the car after the game and she said, “Yeah. That was awesome. I LOVE THAT. I am so turned on right now!”
3. Twice, a guy was intentionally walked in front of her with the game on the line (once it was playoffs). Both times I screamed out, “You make ‘em pay for that honey. You make ‘em pay. Shove it down their throats!” Both times, line-drive base hit into the outfield, GAME OVER! (I was probably the most excited person on the field at that moment)

It should come as no surprise that NDF has those same qualities (Her desire to win goes far beyond Skee Ball and trivia). She was telling me about her workout with free weights the other day. In she walked and guys must have been thinking to themselves, “Wow, she’s cute. How sweet of her to come over and lift 5s and 10s.” Then she loaded the bar for squats and presses. She said you could see the STUNNED look on their faces. Sadly, many men were probably intimidated by this (Men often run away from strong, intelligent women). Guys like me, however, Drool…Pant…Drool…Pant. (It must be said, this does not apply for vein-popping women who have bigger pecs than I do. That is a lotta bit much).⁷

When I pointed that she liked to kick ass against men, she started to protest, claiming that she was competing against herself and trying to better her own performance. Ahhh…attempts at humility are so cute…and also are pure nonsense. As she smacked another golf ball, I called her on it. “Oh, come on! When you are running and you see a guy that you can beat, you go after him.” Busted! Yup, she even had a great story about a guy at the Mud Run who she battled back and forth with. AAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGAAAAAAA!!!!

I suppose this sets me apart from other guys and it’s a shame because this kind of women just absolutely rocks in so many ways.. But, I guess I just saw more than most at an early age. Chris Evert was out there on the court and I was a horny, pre-pubescent boy watching in fascination (Incidentally, at one point, Evert married Greg Norman, also a winner⁸). Then came along Mary Lou Retton, Steffi Graff, Monica Seles, Jennifer Capriatti, Katerina Witt, Oksana Biul…the list goes on and on. (I can only imagine how much women’s golf I would have watched as a kid if they all looked like they do now [click here]. AAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGAAAAA!)

Now, I have a dominoes match to attend to. NDF will bring it, and I won’t expect any less. Drool…Pant…Drool…Pant.

Footnotes:

1. AAAOOOOOOOOOOOOGAAAA is as much a mathematical number as I
2. You are still wrong!
3. I had baseball practice/My shoelace was untied/I was blinded by the flashing lights/There was something in my eye/I was only using one hand (Verbal irony!)
4. A couple of season ago, our men’s team played with wood bats against everyone else’s scientifically created and altered bats. We did it because we could. We went undefeated.
5. Call me what you want, but I was thinking OMG, she’s hot and not, OMG, that skirt is so cute with those shoes.
6. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAH!!! This statement just requires more laughter.
7. And not your Martina Navratilova types either. I respected her ability and all, but manly is not attractive.
8. Although, Evert was all he ever won in America. Dude was a choke artist when he left Europe to play.

Shifting the Collective Consciousness: Remove the Beck in Your Eye

(Disclaimer: Likewise, this post has nothing to do with Glenn Beck. In spite of my allusion to the Gospel, please do not associate Beck with the Bible…he’s more like the plank in thine own eye).

“We cannot change anything until we accept it. Condemnation does not liberate, it oppresses.”

–Carl Jung

The modern notion of “fairy tale” as something that just happens is what oppresses our ability to reach the highest potential of love. Liberation comes in the form of understanding that love, at its core, is an action, generated by clear desire to bring happiness and joy to the life of said object of affection. (This is why I know Peanut Butter loves me very much…and the 55 Freeway despises my very existence).¹²

The emotion associated with “real” love comes from participating in the action of loving the other person. The more you seek to “love” them and make them happy, the stronger your love will be for them.  [Just when you thought math was gone: Increased Action = Increased Love Feeling]  The choice to love comes from a much deeper place than emotions. Relying simply on emotions for happiness is a lot like relying on a Toyota to stay under the speed limit.

I’m hardly the first person who has had this point of view. A good MFT will tell a couple “in trouble” to remember what they used to do for the other person, then just “do it”, even if they are faking it for the time being. ³ This is because, if they participate honestly, they will eventually discover the emotions that had missing. Sadly, most people who go to counseling don’t believe this is possible and don’t “really try.”⁴ Those people who do discover that they control the emotions associated with the love and the “love” they seek goes far beyond the fluctuation of passion and “romantic” feeling. In fact, they discover they can generate the passion and romantic feeling by choosing to do so.

You wouldn’t believe just how much argument I get on this and, to some degree, I do blame the “fairy tale” scenario. Many people use the fantasy notion to avoid being responsible for their decisions.⁵

I find it comical that they will defend this notion of “love” as automatic and accidental by citing the relationship between a child-parent, as being a natural love bond. It may seem natural, but there is ample evidence that some parents never choose to love their children.⁶ Why does it seem automatic to you? Because you decided long before they were even conceived that you were going to be a loving parent.

I believe love to be a choice, followed by action. Because I understand this about myself (I make no judgments on those who don’t see it because, if you aren’t ready, you aren’t ready), it provides me a great deal of freedom in finding who I am looking for because, when the time is right, I can choose to love them with every ounce of love that is at my disposal. If the person has all the right qualities (which, if past history is any indication, is bona fide LOCO) , I can make a positive choice (This is based loosely on Habit #1 from Seven Habits of Highly Effective People…”Be Proactive”).

This also limits me because many women out there are still kissing frogs and eating poisoned apples. I am neither of those things.⁷ But, I am happy, overall, because I’m just not that into women who simply trust singing mice or seven random dwarfs (Have these women seen Law and Order: SVU?).

All the heartbreak I’ve seen and disappointment I’ve felt (sometimes in the first five minutes of a date) are worth it because, in the end, I sincerely believe I will get to experience something far more fulfilling.  In the meantime, I’ve just learned to enjoy the tempo of the dance and to learn from times when my lead is either too weak or too strong (and, if you’ve danced with me, you know both can be true at the same time!!!).

This is also why I don’t arbitrarily rule out friendships because, what if that friend becomes the right match (we all grow and change…well, we hope anyway) and comes to think that way about me? I would be foolish not to shift gears and give it my best effort, right?⁸

Change does not come easy for most and, when the collective unconsciousness is too busy shopping for books in the checkout stand at Ralphs, it is difficult to see the path to liberation (There is even rumor that the unconscious has moved on to reading Twilight, in which case, God help us all). Still, I think that the more people learn to define love as an action and take responsibility for it, the stronger, overall, relationships will become. The more people become participants in their own behavior, the more relationships will find their own rhythm.

Footnotes:

1. Apparently it really hates MiO too.
2. And the 5, 605, 91, 60, 10, 210, 405, 710, 110, 101 as well.
3. For some reason, “Just Fake It!” did not catch on as a slogan.
4. Opening up to your therapist that your husband is a good for nothing DB is not really “trying”.
5. Just because you believe you are sleeping with Kaley Cuoco does not actually make it true.
6. Since most of the women I’ve dated have “daddy” issues, it seems that I actually need this to be true to have a prospective relationship.
7. The jury is still out on Giant Whale Penis
8. Especially if I get lucky, she’s made it past four hours and no one has daddy issues.

Shifting the Collective Unconsciousness: Love in the Time of Obama

(Disclaimer: This post has nothing Obama. But, this is the “time of Obama” so to speak. Furthermore, his  name just sounds something like Cholera (see this book for details). The subsequent association between the two terms you now have is entirely incidental, if incidental means mildly on purpose.)

“It all depends on how we look at things, and not how they are in themselves.”

—Carl Jung

During prosperous times for the psychoanalytic school of psychology (defined as before people discovered Freud was just as pervy as the next guy), Carl Jung postulated that, while we all have our own unique thoughts and experiences, we also share a set of thoughts and ideas with that dumbass who just called 911 to report their order from Wendy’s had extra mayo instead of extra mustard.

Now, before you all look in the mirror and envision exchanges between yourself (aka Topher Grace) and Kirkwood Smith¹, it should be explained that this does not mean your next trip to Arby’s will end with a call to the LAPD². It does mean, however, that:

“…in addition to our immediate consciousness…there exists a second psychic system of a collective, universal, and impersonal nature which is identical in all individuals. This collective unconscious does not develop individually but is inherited. It consists of pre-existent forms, the archetypes, which can only become conscious secondarily and which give definite form to certain psychic contents.”

Even though you may not be calling the FBI’s BAU to complain about the content of this blog (I see you dialing. Put the phone down!), you may share the same sense of entitlement that drives 911-guy to complain to a Federal Officer that I am committing verbal hate crimes against guys who dial 911 for stupid shit (Don’t you dare press send!).

Maybe you are different and, if you are, I sorry that your “best participator” certificate got lost in the mail a few years back. We will rush you a replacement, if you believe you are entitled to one, along with the “best forgiver” award you just earned. (Random Thought: How many people can be “World’s Best Dad” anyway?)

All kidding aside (for at least a few sentences), Jung hypothesized that, while we each develop individually, we also inherit a set of ideas and ideals from the society into which we were born. Ideas about sexuality, love, parenthood, intelligence, money, power, etc. are largely shared because the ideas are psychological imprint. In more basic terms, there is a tramp stamp³ on the back of each of our psyches.  And. Because we live in a society where the primary children’s network (aka Disney Channel) features characters sneaking into a strip club (Zack and Cody), you have some deep-seated problems and need some serious counseling my friend (I, of course, do not because I only ride the crazy train every other Tuesday).

Nowhere is this more prevalent than in the area of love and romance (For society as a whole, not just you. Talk about self-important)

There was a time when the concept of love was viewed very differently by society and, on the whole, society seemed to function pretty well. It is only in the last 30 years or so that the “fairy tale” romance has become the backbone for our view of love and marriage⁴⁵. You could try to prove me wrong by arguing Shakespeare wrote one of the greatest love stories ever told, Romeo and Juliet. And you would be correct because this, in fact, is the Bible when it comes to why REBOUND relationships can be a BAD IDEA. (Honestly, RJ was about social issues of the time).  In fact, I have it on good authority that Shakespeare did not write The Notebook and that viewing the movie Titanic was the actual cause of his death⁶.

Love was something more, something deeper that has been cheapened, to some degree, by this shift toward the intense and fleeting. Our attention span for “real love” and “smart choices” has turned into a 30-minute sitcom. In some respects, love is now this commercialized monstrosity (like Valentine’s Day) where you meet someone and explosions and sparks fly, we make all sorts of promises, buy all sorts of stuff and live happily ever after right? Oh, wait, he forgot to go to Jared. Dump his ass.

How many times are we actually wrong about that person we are going to spend the rest of our life with because we “listen” entirely to what our emotions tell us about how this person makes us feel. As my dear NDF said when I chatted with her last night⁷, lust and passion are often mistaken for “love.” (I have been guilty of this offense. So, I completely understand what she was saying…I may lust after you Peanut Butter, but I do not actually love you. I’m sorry if this breaks your heart⁸).

For a large segment of our society, love is that “mystical emotion”, something that “just happens” and we have “no control” over it. Never mind the fact that there is loads of evidence that this concept of love just DOES NOT work in a way that leads people to true happiness and allows for excuses for bad behavior and poor choices. (Yes Rachel Uchitel, your decision to quit stripping for Tiger was obviously a bad decision. He may have been married, but you “loved” him right? How is that working out for you?)

The reason for all of this is that our collective unconscious believes that love is an emotion that has something to do with the stars and cosmos; and, we can’t control our emotions can we?

We, in fact, can.

The hope and change we need comes in recognizing that love as an action.

(Part 2 will address this revolutionary idea)

Footnotes:

1. KIRKWOOD SMITH!!!!! (Just for you MR)
2. Unless they put sauce on my Beef N’ Cheddar. Heads will roll!!!!
3. It’s not artistic expression…it’s a butterfly.
4. This is largely because it’s hard for a society to appreciate the greatest love poems of all time when the majority of them couldn’t actually read. They focused on more practical things, like how a man pushed his plow.
5. Ironically enough, this should have been the time period of the “fairy tale” romance because, when you are dead at 30, you haven’t had time yet to hate your spouse.
6. He is actually hiding out with Elvis and 2-Pac. And, since his stories are lumped in with the likes of the Ghost Whisperer, I don’t really blame him.
7. Hello again MiO. You do know you totally rule right?
8. Don’t worry PB, I know for a fact that the Jelly loves you.

Denial Island: Knight in Shining armor or Manipulative Prick? (AKA Point #2)

Back in 2004, a friend of mine (The Friar of Puckington)¹ sent me a link to a comic strip called Something Positive. It prompted a discussion and realization that was highly troubling…many of my friends were far bigger assholes than I.

But how could that be? (No really…HOW IS THIS ACTUALLY POSSIBLE?)  In my younger days, I’d been a womanizing (somewhat reformed), self-centered (somewhat reformed), self-important (somewhat less reformed), egotistical (not at all reformed) gigantic whale penis with a keen awareness of his own awesomeness (see…you ain’t got nothing on me Barney…I was here first). ²

The comic strip (http://www.somethingpositive.net/sp02142004.shtml )presented an interesting theory that, needing to learn something new that I could use to pretend I know what I’m talking about, I gave a lot of thought to. At the time,,, some of my friends were offering their friendships to women in hopes that, one day, their “friend” would realize that my friends were “the one.” “You are the guy I’ve always been looking for, and you have been right here all along,” are the words they longed to hear. (SIDENOTE: My own “Oh Shit!” moment about this was considering, later on, how that played a role in the absolutely horrible foundation that my marriage was built upon).³

At the very least, with your standard asshat, you have a pretty good idea of what you are getting yourself into. Sure, you may build a nice little hut on Denial Island⁴ and think you can “change” him. But the reality is right out in the open. No surprises.

This is where the “nice-guy” becomes asshole incognito. On the surface, he is the best kind of friend a girl can have. He offers you all of the benefits of the boyfriend without having to pay for it with the desired physical affections.  (This is of course because you are not attracted to his weakness, see previous blog.) He is reliable and always there for you just when you need him to be…but, there is a catch. None of this is offered honestly. Instead, it is offered in the attempt to “win” you over. He never wanted to be “just friends” and he almost certainly never will. And, eventually, you will marry him right? (HAHAHA…Yeah, we all know that is SOOOOO not happening)⁵

Case #1: So, I’m an asshole, but at least I tell you upfront that I’m going to fuck you over. You get hurt, but at least you know, on some level, I am capable of it. You never completely trust me anyway, which helps you heal during the post-mortem phase.

Case #2: He never shares his true intentions. You get very close. Then, one day, in a moment of desperation, he cannot withhold his feelings any longer. He loves you, always has, and now cannot be your friend anymore unless you reciprocate.⁶ This was supposed to be your friend and he is now breaking your heart. You trusted him and, from day one, he has been lying to you. Your ability to trust is decimated because even “friends” can’t be trusted anymore.

Question: Who is responsible for more emotional harm?

This scenario is repeated, over and over again.

Example: I was talking in the lunchroom with TH about this and she explained how much she hated those men when she was younger (Trust me, I feel sorry for these men ever getting on her bad side). The friendships she counted on for months or years were quickly destroyed by men who could no longer hold back their feelings.

In one instance, the guy gave her the ultimatum and a weekend(!!!!) to think about it…

TH: I don’t need a weekend. I don’t want to go out with you. I don’t like you that way.

Nice Guy DB⁷: Ok, but I still think you should think about it. We can talk about it on Sunday.

TH: My answer is not going to change.
NGDB: Just think about it.

(Sunday)

NGDB: So…

TH: Nope.

NGDB: OK…well it was nice being friends…(hangs up)

(five minutes pass)

NGDB: You know, I hate women like you. You have everything you could ever want in me. But, instead of being with me, you’d rather chase after guys who will cheat on you and hit you…

TH: OH, HELL NO! Who do you think you are? How do we go from “me not liking you” to “I like getting the crap beat out of me”? You think that because I don’t like you that I like to be abused…?

(Conversation disintegrated after that…which is fine because I’m still laughing at her response).

Wait, There’s More—Second Offenses: So, not only do NGDBs offer their friendship with ulterior motives, they also believe that they “know what’s best” for their friends. The NGDB thinks that because they have been such a positive influence in her life, that she would find true love and happiness if she would only give him a chance. He believes he knows what will make her happy.

Who has the right to say that about anyone? Whether you’ve known someone for two months or twenty years,  you have no right to tell someone that “you would make them happy.” That speaks of pure selfishness. You have no idea what their deep emotional needs really are. Besides, if you were their “definition” of happy, they would be with you in the first place.⁸

I was talking to NDF ⁹ about this very thing last evening. I am never going to assume that I would be a “good” match for any specific person because I am not them and cannot define their happiness for them. (This is not to say that I’m not right for someone…All I’m saying it is for them to define, not me).

People, in general, should put effort into those who want to put the same effort into them. The average NGDB does not recognize that their efforts don’t count. The woman does not WANT to put in the effort and you can’t make someone WANT to, regardless of how much you try.

I would tell all the NGDB’s out there to go seek someone who actually is interested in them, but I don’t have the right to tell anyone what will make them happy. Maybe they are content being a teacup pig (see, I told you I’d be back for you).

Footnotes:

1. Way to not have a blog for me to link to FP. You are fired!
2. Upon further reflection, everything I just said might be highly suspect.
3. I’m not sure you could have built an outhouse on that foundation.
4. I’m getting so much use out of this thanks to NDF’s belief she can beat me at dominos.
5. While there are reported instances of this happening, it is very rare and usually ends up with a woman that does not respect her weak husband.
6. I wish people would stop doing this right before someone’s wedding. Talk about fucked up.
7. Nice Guy Douchebag
8. For example, maybe they have deep seated daddy issues and seek men who have all those bad qualities to try and fix a broken parent-child relationship. Maybe that is what happiness is to them. Do you know for sure?
9. Hi MiO

The Nice-Guy Conundrum: The Math and Science Behind Attraction

One of the reasons I watch The Big Bang Theory on Monday nights is that I appreciate intelligent humor.¹ The show is well-written and the characters resemble friends of mine (No, not the HOT one). But, mainly, I watch it because I like to look at Kaley Cuoco. “Wait,” you ask, “But you like smart women.” Sure, I like intelligent women and her character is as “dumb as a box of hammers”²; but look at her! (I may not actually be this superficial…It is still up for debate).

Now, there are two things to point out about the primary “relationship” of the show. 1. String theory³ is easier to prove than a “real” relationship between a woman this hot and a man this “not-rich” and nerdy; 2. Said “nerdy” nice guy is actually a douschebag.

The fact is…yes, nice guys do finish last, but they also deserve to. (To those of you who argue, please withhold judgment until you have completed reading both posts. You will see that my opinion is far more accurate than yours).

Point #1 The Real Reason Kaley Will Never Sleep With You

Guy #1: Envision, for a moment, your local dance club on a Friday night. In walks a tall, handsome, cowboy (aka, Me). Within moments, he has made his way through the herd of female antelopes, and occasional wildebeest. He has sized up the room and begins studying his selected prey to find weaknesses, self-esteem cracks that make them an easy target [(Attractiveness – self-esteem) *Daddy Issues  = Target acquired].  If he finds none on first glance, he is patient. No need to rush. Sometimes, all it takes is working the room and mingling with the known members of the herd. They prey will become available…they always do, often thanks to large quantities of alcohol. [Self Esteem Issues * Number of Drinks Consumed = % Chance of Success (This is often more than 100)].

Opportunity always comes.

And all the while, the women watch him, not with the wary eye they should be, but with awe, interest and growing desire. [Alcohol * Desire = Zero-Good Decisions] He may be a complete asshat, but, and this is important, he is also completely male and his hormones are gamma rays that melt all protest and inhibition. [Physical Attractiveness * Alcohol * Confidence(only part assholishness) = This guy is FREAKIN HOT]

Guy #2: Timidly walks into the same dance club. He desperately wishes some of these beautiful women would come up and talk to him. Largely incapable of effective interaction, he stands and even the wildebeest walk by with their nose and tails in the air. He is never seen as a threat. When he finally happens to talk to one of them, the words fumble from his mouth. He burns with the same desire, but that scent is overwhelmed by that of fear and insecurity. Women never feel a spark and he follows them around, like a lion cub on a leash, a leash he gladly puts on himself because he thinks that, if he talks to her long enough, he has even the semblance of a chance.

And all the while, he is invisible.⁴ [Number of potential women/amount of self-confidence, when SC = 0, is, frankly, impossible]

Summary:

Guy #1, traditionally know as the asshole, almost excretes confidence and sexuality in a way that women find attractive (if only I could bottle that stuff), and far more effective than Axe or Tag^5.. This is because that, while we are sentient creatures, we are not that far removed from other animals whose mating rituals are primarily for procreation (for example, rednecks and conservative politicians⁶). The concept of” Alpha Male” works the same in social situations as it does in the animal kingdom.  Alpha’s are the first to eat and the first to mate.

If this were not true, then brutish, undereducated men who like to drink and fight would never get laid. Men who are clearly rude, self-centered, and egotistical would never get women. Yet, reality shows us that women will THROW themselves at these men, repeatedly. (Recent studies have shown that if you also lack a conscience, even the most scrupulous “true-love-can-wait” girl cannot resist).

Guy #2 (Aka Leonard), traditionally known as the Omega male, radiates ZERO% sexuality and 100% desperation [Which smells a lot like day old toes⁷]. Because they are incapable of securing the kill themselves, they defer to whatever is left over by the Alpha, Beta and other males. In a social situation, this just does not work because the leftovers aren’t dead. Even the leftover women are attracted to confidence, fake confidence, the illusion of confidence, etc…etc…etc.  There are, in fact, no scraps.

There is nothing about being “nice” that makes the Omega a viable candidate. They display clear weakness and do little or nothing to change their status. They spend most of their time hoping to get laid, rather than believing that they will. And, while “hope” may get a president elected, it proves useless when there is no action [Obama’s presidency and sexless men have a lot in common].

To return to the BBT paradigm, in the real world (no matter how hard you believe, World of Warcraft is not, in fact, the real world), Leonard would be spending his nights with his best friend, constantly complaining about the jerks that Penny kept dating (oh wait, that was the whole first couple of seasons, which were far more realistic). And, by default, Penny would keep dating these men…not because she wanted to be treated poorly, but for the reasons stated in this blog.

Sadly, BBT’s flaws don’t end there because, in truth, Leonard is the biggest asshat on the show.  In part 2, we explore why the “nice guy” is, in fact, the biggest asshat of them all.

Footnotes:

1. The Dork in JD; see link
2. I have our choir teacher NM to thank for sharing that wonderful phrase.
3. See also String Theory for Dummies
4. In fact, the U.S. Marine Corps has invested serious man hours in trying to train their soldiers to become emotionally weak as a viable, invisibility option for combat. Unfortunately, most marines are unqualified to even pretend to be nice guys.
5. Body spray is about as effective as male, alcohol consumption in attractive women, in spite of what the commercials try and tell us.
6. Addendum, this is only when they have sex with their actual wives. Mistresses are a different story.
7. My Friend GL was so bad, it was the equivalent of week old toes. No really. Ask anyone who was ever in a car with him. Can you say, windows down when it is absolute zero outside?

Crazy Trains: Some Things Need an Early Warning System

People can contain the crazy for about four hours.

I am not sure if this is an actual theory in psychological study or not.  But, since my friend Little Mary said it, it must be true.¹ I was telling her about a date that disintegrated in a matter of minutes after being, for the most part, pretty good. “People can contain the crazy for about four hours,” she said (something like this anyway). “Sanity is an easy thing to fake. But eventually, the crazy comes crashing out.”

Sadly, I’ve yet to figure out an early warning system (HCCA – Here Comes the Crazy Alarm) for this phenomenon, which leads to a date or string of dates that stay on the rails long enough to keep you interested. Then, at a moment’s notice, you  don’t even have time to enjoy Chris Master’s pectoral dance before you are hit by the 5:45 express that just left Sanity Station.

Why didn’t God include some sort of “nervous tic” that would be like the little earthquakes that tell you it’s time to GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE; this is a volcano you idiot. I envision this would look like all those cartoons of my youth where character’s who drank something toxic/flammable, they had a few, random convulsions before they flip a biscuit. Ahh…dating would be so much simpler.

Example (And these are the actual events that prompted this conversation with Minimus Maryus):

I pick up the women for an evening of fine dining and a comedy club down in Hermosa Beach. This is a first date, but we had hung out a few nights before at her place [but only for about three hours, well under the LIMIT].  There was good conversation as we drove down the backside of PV to Hermosa. TIC!!! “All Aboard!!!! HAHHHAHAHAHA”

Dinner was good. She ordered normal food (It is highly awkward when you ordered a steak and your date belongs to PETA)². Didn’t drink too much, conversation was good. We talked about our past a little…TIC!!! “Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, AY!!!!”

The comedians were hilarious. We were laughing at a lot of the same jokes. I was making her laugh. She put her hand in mind, squeezed tenderly. It was sweet…TIC!!! “Mental  wounds not healing…”

Walked over to the pier.  Stood there talking about waves, the ocean, the dichotomy of power and beauty in nature. I had my arms wrapped around her…TIC!!! “Life’s a bitter shame…”

On the way to the car, we hit the four hour mark. The conversation began and the ground began to shake.

CT: “Yes, I had to deal with a lot of stuff back in Texas³. Like the time by ex-best friend stole my wallet. But, I guess that’s what you get when you have a threesome your best friend and her fiancé…”⁴

JD: “……………………………………………….”. TICTICTICTICTICTICTICTIC “I’m going off the rails on a crazy train.”

CT: “Not that I have threesomes all the time…It’s just…”

JD (Clearly unsure what to say next): I almost had a threesome once, but it was so strange that few people believe my story.

CT (TICTICTICTICTICTICTICTICTIC): Try me! [as much as she is trying here, we are past the four hour mark…there is no salvaging this]

Summary: I proceed to tell her about an almost threesome I had where I ended up having to show a lesbian how to pleasure her girlfriend.⁵ This is not normally a story I would tell on a first date, but, I was trying to make her feel less awkward about what she had just said. Mission accomplished…right?

CT: That’s why my last boyfriend and I broke up. He couldn’t satisfy me. I found that I had to masturbate afterwards while watching the food network. BOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM ⁶ “I’M GOING OFF THE RAILS ON A CRAZY TRAIN!!!!”

JD: ………………………………………………………………………………..

CT: Something about Alton Brown turns me on. “GOING OFF THE RAILS ON A CRAZY TRAIN!!!!”

JD: …………I…like…Iron Chef America??? (why are we still a 3-miles away from her door?!?!?!?!)…I used to watch it with my ex-wife. My ki…

CT (the following was a frenetic blur of words and this is my best interpretation of them): I’ve always been a relationship kind of girl. I haven’t done much dating (YA THINK?!?!). I’m not sure how you do things in California. But we’ve only hung out twice and you’ve already talked about your ex-wife. I don’t know how to react to that. “GOING OFF THE RAILS ON A CRAZY TRAIN!!!!” I really don’t think I’m ready to hear about someone’s ex-wife. “GOING OFF THE RAILS ON A CRAZY TRAIN!!!!”

Summary: With that, I dropped her off. She gave me a token hug, but it was clear that I WAS BEING BLAMED for our date going awry. WTF? You talk about touching yourself at the sound of “Allez Cuisine!!!” and I ruined the date? Today’s secret ingredient: Real Fuckin’ Nuts!

Post-Mortem, The Essentials:

1. Minute Mary said that, at the dropping of the first comment, I should have leaned over and said, “AWKWARD!!!!!!”.
2. We seriously need to fund research in to creating the HCCA. Imagine how much of this tragedy could have been prevented if, upon our first conversation, I was greeted with the nervous tic. Better yet, how cool and simple would it be if every time that she, and other women like her, walked into a room, Chris Master’s would show up and do his boobie dance.

Well, I’m out of here.  I’ve been writing for 3:59. TICTICTICTICTICTICTICTICTICTIC .  Don’t want to miss my train.

Notes:

1. No really. She is 99.9% right on everything. If you know her, best you should listen.
2. That is a story for another time.
3. Apparently, everything is bigger in Texas…especially the crazy.
4. I have been told that I am, in fact, crazy for not getting excited about this. But, as far as I know, it is BAD PROTOCOL to utter on date one. Her subsequent behavior proved that I’m right and those other people were idiots.
5. I know what you are thinking and I don’t blame you. I was there and I still don’t actually believe that it happened.
6. Insert volcano here.
7. I’m pretty fucking sure that we DON’T have disturbing thoughts watching Good Eats in California.

Cooking Tantamount to Sex: Five Love Languages Revisited

Being cerebral and with plenty of time on my hands for thinking (It’s amazing what things you think about when the woman leading your Shadow Boxing class is, in fact, trying to kill you), I like to take other people’s theories and contemplate how they might be applied in new situations. You might be asking, “You mean he is so egotistical that he will take apart other people’s theories, re-arrange them, and then use them for his own self-serving purposes?”

Yes…Yes I am.¹

And, because I have a penchant for bloviating, I like to share.

My female friend and I have started not dating.² This was decided because both of us decided that the depth in the dating pool was rather shallow and we were tired of bumping our head on the steps.

So, we are “not dating.”  We are doing all of the same stuff couples do FOR dates, minus what actually happens ON dates.   I have someone I can go to a ballgame, the movies, a Broadway musical, or a country two-step class with.  She’s intelligent, funny, and, I’ll admit, very nice to look at (i.e. really, really smokin’ hot). But, she set the boundary as just friends and I’m cool with that (This is a foreign concept to most people). We both have a desire for companionship and can address each other’s needs. It’s win-win.

Then she brought me homemade Peanut Butter and Chocolate Chip cookies, which were Heaven in cookie form.

Thankfully, I understand and respect boundaries. (Yes, I am not a giant whale penis in this circumstance). But, this sort of thing can be very confusing because, at its core, cooking is, as one of my female colleagues puts it, “Tantamount to Sex”.

If you’ve never read The Five Love Languages, you are, in fact, fired (Please follow the link and re-apply to this blog later). One of the love languages is “physical touch”. Now, granted, baked goods could be defined as “gifts”; however, because they are homemade, they may be a sign of affection for a “physical touch” person because he/she is putting their caring and emotions into what he/she is making…by hand.

To me, this is very similar to how I communicate love, devotion, and passion (and, of course, lust) through my touching and caressing of the females who are goodly enough to let me do so.^{3 4} When I’m with a woman that I feel strongly about, I am keenly aware of the intensity that burns from my fingertips, through my lips and in my eyes. (This has lead, sadly, to a stalker or two in my time. See future blogs for details on why giving some women good sex is a BAD idea).

I asked said friend if she felt the same way about baking for others, minus all the eroticism. She admitted that, while, her baking was self-serving in many ways (Isn’t everything we do anyway?), she does take great care in making sure they are the kinds of things people she shares them with will like. She is making some cupcakes for her best girlfriend’s 30^th birthday, as one example.

Now, why could this be confusing to people WHO ARE NOT me? Because COOKING IS TANTAMOUNT TO SEX. ⁵

I was talking to my colleague about this because, in literature (and movies/TV are forms of literature) there is a great amount of significance and symbolism to eating together:

Nice to Eat With You: Acts of Communion

1. Whenever people eat or drink together, it’s communion
2. Not usually religious
3. An act of sharing and peace
4. A failed meal carries negative connotations

(From How to Read Literature Like A Professor by Thomas Foster)

She is also a woman.⁶

She agreed that women don’t just cook for anyone. In fact, the inspiration for this blog came largely from our discussion. TH: “I remember I was dating this guy and I barely knew him. He wanted me to cook for him. I thought, ‘Hell no! You want me to get out my pots and pans for you? You might as well have just asked for sex…Cooking is Tantamount to Sex!”⁷

Does this mean that my non-dating friend and I just had sex? No. How do I know? Because, I’m smarter than the average teacup pig (if you saw this episode of How I Met Your Mother, you will get this).

Most people interpret the “signs” toward their own personal benefit (In many cases, personal delusions…I’m looking at you Jay Gatsby). In Julius Caesar, Brutus, Caesar, and Cassius all see the same storm, yet all have different interpretations of what it is the gods are actually saying. Cicero explains, “But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.” Shakespeare, possibly the most astute armchair psychologist (of which I am one), clearly saw that the actual “signs” don’t matter anyway; we want to see. It doesn’t matter what reality is; most of us prefer Denial Island.

Could I interpret her making cookies for me as being romantic? Sure. Heck, I could even add it to a list of “signs” of her affection, much of which occurred when she was drunk.⁸ However, I want to see her as a friend, so I choose to see the signs as nothing more than the comfort that comes from being around someone that matters to you. I attribute it to her feeling safe and secure in our friendship, knowing that I will not push limits, crossing the clearly established boundary of “I don’t see us having a long-term romantic connection.”⁹

That is the key, boundaries. She established the boundary and, as long as said boundary remains established, I know to stay on my side of the line.¹⁰ Crossing the boundary would be disrespectful and be a clear sign of personal weakness. I like to think I am a far stronger person than that and clearly in charge of how I feel. I choose her as a friend; that is how I will continue to feel. And, honestly, why do people emotionally invest themselves in people who aren’t actively investing in them? It’s silly and makes no sense (see upcoming blog for details).

One last question that a reader might be asking: “How are you not confused by those ‘signs’?”  Answer: She is confusing, therefore, I am not confused. As a textficient friend ¹¹ of mine said to me last night about her own similar/different situation, “If you are confused about whether they like you are not, it means they most likely don’t”.

Thus, I am not confused. If you are confused or don’t follow my line of logic here, then you really need to stay tuned to my blog for further explanation. I will get to you in due time “Mr. Nice-Guys-Finish-Last.”

…you too teacup pig.

1. ^1. Thank you Phineas and Ferb.
2. ^2. In other words, she decided early on that she is not going to sleep with me.
3. ^3. And a few of them weren’t actually crazy
4. ^4. If you don’t know what this is like ladies, I profusely apologize for my gender. We really are a bunch of inconsiderate dunderheads.
5. ^5. Congrats to TH, this is the first time this word combination has appeared in this order on the internet, a rare occurrence.
6. ^6. She acknowledges that she doesn’t understand her gender either.
7. ^7. So many times when I could have had more than a sandwich?!?! Who knew?
8. ^8. Pliny the Elder said, “In Vino Veritas”, which, in my opinion, is a load of bullshit. Too much booze convinces people to lie to themselves, just more efficiently.
9. ^9. Ouch. Dude! That sucks…oh wait…that was me…
10. ^10. Boundaries have an allergy to alcohol. But as with sinuses, when the irritant is gone, the boundaries reform, often stronger than before.
11. ^11. Welcome back to my world JK.