Such a Lovely Sentiment

Heart colored pencils

“So I got edges that scratch
And sometimes I don’t got a filter
But I’m so tired of eatin’
All of my misspoken words
I know my disposition gets confusing
My disproportionate reactions fuse with my eager state
That’s why you wanna come out and play with me, yeah” “Beggin’ for Thread” BANKS

How many of my stories this year have started with, “Back in June…” ? Well, Back in June, I guess I posted an ad on a pen pal site. No, not a “horny women want to write you letters” pen pal site. I can’t remember what is is called or how I found it. I only remember it had no images. It was text-boxes only. Bare bones HTML forms. I barely remember what I wrote. Something like, “I want to go back to the days before the internet was the internet.” Maybe more. But I meant it. I didn’t want an electronic connection. I used a fake name, my real age, and my real snail mail address. I forgot about it until August, (I think) when I received a three page letter written in perfect cursive script yellow, lined legal paper, from someone claiming to be a 21 year old gay man. “He” wasn’t talking about sex but kept mentioning “he” wanted to share his secrets and if I wanted I could share my secrets. I had no idea who wanted to hear my “secrets” but I wasn’t biting.

Last month I got the obligatory letter from a lonely woman in Russia. I’m not really sure because it was very convincing but I threw it in the trash. If it didn’t come from Russia I may have saved it.

Wednesday night my mom was asking if I had any newspapers to catch the potato and carrot peels. Here I am, 52 and I’m the kid again, it’s my job to the peel the fucking vegetables. “Newspapers? What are those?” I thought I haven’t checked my mail in a week, I bet my box is stuffed with grocery store flyers. Those are newspapers, right? I got down there and I was right but sitting in front was an unusual envelope. I read it and thought, figures, I got someone else’s mail again. Wait a minute! That’s my pseudonym!

I got back upstairs and my mom went out to smoke so I opened the envelope. It was odd sized, inside was small paper with a pattern printed border with hand writing. I’m not going to share the details because it is more real than something I would find on the internet. There was nothing personal, there was no tease. It was from a woman, it said, Hi, my name is (…), my friends call me (…) I found you on some penpal site and I like writing letters. This is my first letter to you. Inside the envelope there were more pieces of paper, I imagine were from a stationery store but like, where? A one and a half by four inch piece of purple paper with a small watermark? On that she asked a few of my favorite things, food, etc.. but, favorite smell? That was a good one. Another piece I think was part of a note card and had basics about her, three things she likes and three things she doesn’t. Nothing earthshaking. We both like music. Wow.

I put it away until my mom left Sunday and I spread it out on the table. If this person is pulling the long con, they really put too much effort into it. I noticed she switched different colored pens randomly and tiny stickers. Kids stuff but she said she was in her 30’s. I’m weird, I used to do this shit when I was younger.

I thought there is no way I can respond by typing on the computer and printing out an 8 1/2 by 11 and sending it off in a business envelope. But I want to write back. I don’t have any materials. Then I noticed there was another piece of paper with a printed border which was left blank. Okay. I imagine that is for me to write on. I only have a black pen but it’s a start. Where am I supposed to find an envelope for this?

You know me though. I am quite verbose. My favorite smell? You know that is going to be more than a one word answer. That was a good one because I just came up with it a few weeks ago when I was walking down the street.

I remembered I had an old journal with unique pages from years ago. But I can’t fill the whole thing up and mail it. I decided to write my one word (paragraph answers in sections and cut them apart and use the paper she provided for a “thanks for writing” note. That’s pretty good, right? I wanted to put at least a quarter as much effort into it. I don’t know, it was fun. I am under no illusion we are going to fall in love and live happily ever after.

Meanwhile… The same guy who says he wants to get off the internet is back on the internet. Fucking Bumble! I’m not drinking… When do I do this shit? But this was good. Somebody finally got the point of my profile being a big fucking joke! Who was it? Apparently someone who is very well educated. I don’t know… Well… I do know the impression I give by the way I speak. But the funniest phrase (to me) I’ve been using for months is, “I know when to drop the vernacular.” I think it’s funny because I think a lot of people who hear it wouldn’t imagine I know the word, “vernacular.” I love that word. “Colloquialism” used to be one of my favorites but it sounds stilted. It doesn’t “roll off the tongue.”

I lost track of my mind… Oh, right, my point is I don’t use words because I think they sound cool. I choose certain words because they mean exactly what I mean to say.

She made a joke about my elephants hiding in trees joke and didn’t ask me to explain why I was one big joke. I checked out her profile. It made sense now… She said she appreciates people who appreciate the absurdity of life. And, she is ivy league! I am going to like this… I was right. I could relate.

I forget everything. She said she had the good fortune to have a job she enjoyed and I told her I don’t believe in luck. Please go on… Please go on? Don’t do it! What have I been running around yelling about all year? Synchronicity. Okay, I did it.

It was starting to get too serious and I wanted to make myself clear. Because at some point, I added to my profile something about people like me for my honesty and openness and not pretending to be someone I’m not. I picked my spot and interjected, “Either way one of us is trying to get lucky tonight.”

It was an educated guess and worked to move things along. Now I know she likes to be playful but this is my kind of playful. We were talking about something and she used the word “unmoored”. I stopped her and said, I don’t mean to change the subject but I am more interested in the word unmoored. (WordPress doesn’t recognize it as a word. You bastards!) She said, “It’s not a bad place to be.” I’m thinking, How does she know I’m crazy? I added, “If it is even a place…. It doesn’t change from an adjective to a noun until you drop anchor.” Mm… “Why would anyone want to do that?” Okay, now we are getting somewhere.

Then she was struck by me writing about Grace Jones being my love language… Oh shit! That is when I changed my profile! What the fuck going on with Grace Jones? I said, I love her language she speaks in tongues.

She said her words bring her warmth… I told her , her words are bringing me warmth… Then she said it…


I know it’s an expression but I know it means something more than it means to me. I had to look it up and I am so glad I did.

I told her what I found.

Indeed: used to emphasize a statement or response confirming something already suggested.

Indeed: used to introduce a further and stronger or more surprising point.

She said,


She said, “Your username (BoringOldBill) is sunk in the very depths of irony”

There was a lot more but those were the highlights.

Whatever we had fun but I keep doing this to myself. I’m never going to meet her. What am I going to do? Tell her I’m on disability for being unmoored? Am I pretending to be someone I’m not? I have to get offline. I feel like Cyrano in the bushes telling the acceptable guy what to say. I am giving a false impression though. Come take a look at my apartment. I am not “put together.” I always say people come to my place to see me, not my apartment, but…

This is why I’ve been trying to stay offline. I didn’t even know I was back online! I’ve barely touched my phone for a week. then it beeped last night? I

I have to get out of here.

I Don’t Get It?

Heart colored pencils

“Paranoia is in bloom
The PR transmissions will resume
They’ll try to push drugs that keep us all dumbed down
And hope that we will never see the truth around
(So come on)

Another promise, another scene
Another packaged lie to keep us trapped in greed
And all the green belts wrapped around our minds
And endless red tape to keep the truth confined
(So come on)”

“Uprising” Muse

It keeps happening! With all the craziness this past week, I was texting Marnie and remembered why I do like talking to her. I let her bullshit slide and she let’s my bullshit slide because we have a lot in common and interesting lives. (This is not the story)

Everything going on, I forgot I had Bumble on my phone until I got a message last night. Like WTF? I don’t remember the last time I opened the app?

The message was, “Why the profile name, “BoringOldBill?” I get that question a lot, half the time they don’t get it and half the time they do, they are trying to get a conversation started. She didn’t get it. I explained, I thought it might give people cause to pause for more than a fraction of a second before they swiped left. Do you think it was a good idea? I didn’t think she was going to answer but I guess she need an hour to think about it. She sent back, “Maybe, it worked, and I guess it is a “bit” funny. It says in your profile you are active, how do you stay active?

Okay, this broad doesn’t get the joke and she obviously doesn’t get the point of Bumble. It’s for women who are tired of get “hey babe, DTF?” messages all the time. That is why the men can’t send the first message, even if you both like each other. She obviously didn’t get the point of my profile. The username is to get you to stop and read my profile if you get the joke and then you see my whole profile is a joke and if you don’t find it funny, don’t send me a message. They even have prompt questions to start conversations, on of my prompts is, “We may get along if you find this funny” and I put a stupid dad joke but it is pretty funny if you have the same sense of humor.

Active? That is one of the checkbox multiple choice questions, “Athletic, Active or Fatass”. She read my profile, saw it was one big joke and she starts off asking a serious question? Active? How do I stay active? Okay, I’ll try one more joke and that will probably be the end of it, “I bicycle in the summer, walk in spring and fall and shiver in the winter.”

She didn’t answer for a bit but I thought WTF? Why am I always on the defensive? Explaining myself? She didn’t get the joke, why did she answer me? I wrote back, I see on your profile it says you are a social drinker, in my experience that means different things to different people, what does it mean to you?

Now she is explaining herself. Okay, she’s not a heavy drinker, but she’s not a social drinker by definition. A “social drinker” is no more than 2 drinks in one session. A “binge drinker is 4 or more for women and 5 or more for men.” Not a sure thing but one of the “red flags” for addiction. I’m not making this up.

I forget exactly she said like, I see you said sober, where are you in your recovery? Well, that’s a huge assumption… She’s correct but… Alcohol is the only drug people wonder why you don’t drink and assume you have a problem if you don’t drink. Nobody ever asks me why I don’t do heroin. I know plenty of people who don’t drink. My last “serious” relationship was with someone who didn’t drink at all. She didn’t like it. I didn’t ask her to explain herself. But apparently that wasn’t a “serious” relationship by a lot of people’s definitions. (I don’t want to get sidetracked)

I was going to leave leave it, we’re obviously not going to meet but I’m questioning why I’m always the one to prove myself worthy? I swiped on her because I read her profile she mentioned a couple things she liked and said, “let’s meet and see what happens” It doesn’t mean she wants to hook up but I that’s what I do, meet and see if you get along. If not, no problem. But why did she answer me? I had no intention of following through but I was being an asshole.

“Recovery?” She answered, I forget the wording but wondering why I don’t drink. I said, “I just don’t like to drink.”, She said, “How do you feel about people who like to drink socially?”, I said, “I feel great about it! It’s not like I’m a Mormon.”…. Her, “Lol, do you like coffee?”, Me, “Hell Yes!” She asked, “Do you make it yourself at home?” I had to think for a moment, “Are you asking if I like to grind?” (suggestive) “I wouldn’t expect someone to got that far, but that would be pretty impressive!” I said, “Some women like it”… She didn’t hesitate, “I’m beginning to think Boring old Bill isn’t so boring.” If I was a scumbag the way people assume because I like to “hookup” or “FWB”, I could have kept lying and might be telling a different story now. I “unmatched” and went to bed.

I don’t know what people assume about me or with whom I have “not serious” relationships. My last “girlfriend” I was highly qualified in a 20 year career in high technology area. She was a freakin’ genius. The company she worked for was a little concerned one time because some idiot crashed the system by not only accidentally deleting the password, but blocking access to the password and they thought she hacked into it, “a little too quickly”. Companies lost millions of dollars every minute the systems were down. (side tracked) She was making over a hundred grand and was considering switching companies to make more. She rented a house, car, beautiful, sexy, kind, what is she doing with scumbag me who is on disability for a mental illness?

We talked all the time, we knew everything about each other, but we weren’t looking for the same thing. She was still dating and hoping to get married some day and I was still hooking up once in while. We joked about the people we met. I’ll tell you the best one. She met a guy who was looking for a “serious relationship.” Good career, owned a house, two kids, divorced. He took her out on a first date, left the restaurant, said he couldn’t go back to his house because there was a baby sitter, would she like to park out back behind the dumpster and have sex in his car? She said, “See ya” and he called the next day and asked her if she would like to go on another date and meet his kids.

I’m the scumbag? I met her for breakfast, acted like a decent human, she took me back to her place, we talked for 12 hours and had sex all night. Then we had a “not serious” relationship for 3 years.

I’m on a rant because I’m sick of having to explain myself. Being on the defensive. I’m not mistreating people, I’m not lying to anyone. Well I lied last night, but I wasn’t trying to meet her. I shouldn’t have done it but I just snapped. I really haven’t been putting serious effort into meeting someone and maybe I do want more but I don’t want to inflict damage on anyone, you know? (I’m sick of explaining myself as I try to explain myself, lol) Last time a woman didn’t like my answers and stopped talking to me, I thought, wait a minute. She on a dating site saying she is “separated”. Separated is not a legal term, it could mean anything. In her case it meant she was still living in the same house and didn’t like her husband but didn’t want to get divorced until she found someone to move in with. There is something morally wrong with me?

Okay, they are looking for a serious relationship. Do they go on one date and it’s serious? Do they date, talk, go out to dinner once a week and have sex for a couple months until the bigger better deal comes along? I don’t know, I’m know plenty of guys who pretended they were looking for a serious relationship so they could get laid.

I was going to write about something else? What was it? Sorry about the rant. Oh yeah. I got up this morning texted my daughter , love you, she loves me… Started getting ramped up before I bought coffee, thought coffee might not be the best idea, bought some anyway. (Reminds me of that redneck comedian, “you might be manic if you have all the symptoms of mania) I texted N===, I started telling her how, that session changed the way I talk to myself and I haven’t been thinking about drinking but she stopped answering after 2 texts. I know I’m not her problem but I wasn’t expecting that. Same with my mom. I didn’t even tell her the odd stuff but she stopped talking to me. I hope she just fell asleep… WTH? She drank until her 50’s and now she is mad at me for drinking.

I could go without drinking while I was doing the smart meetings but sometimes I would do two meetings a day, do all the things they say, plan to stay busy at night etc.. Most of the time I was fine, sometimes I would do all that and at the last minute go buy beer. I don’t know I can’t do the meetings and all you do is talk about using. I was laughing yesterday about someone standing in the doorway smoking and blowing a big cloud and I was like WTF? Then I thought, I used to do that! I quit smoking ten years ago! I almost forgot. I didn’t have an urge to buy a pack of cigarettes.

I don’t get it, no change in lifestyle, yesterday, football all day, getting pissed off at the world, today, ranting, mind racing, recipe for disaster, but nothing.

I was texting M=== earlier, she is the only one glad to hear about it. What is it with me attracting women who don’t drink. My whole life. I’m not complaining but.. Just weird. She was worried about calling about her heat because she wanted to clean her place before anyone came in. I told her about me not wanting to call about my sink. I knew how she was feeling, I asked her if she felt like it was hard to get started. She said she felt overwhelmed. I told her how I started my kitchen by saying I would just do the stove and if I got that done I would be happy and an hour later the dishes, countertop and sink were done.

It’s a nice day. I think I will go for a walk. I can’t believe it’s almost Thanksgiving! Oh yeah, thanks Matt, I just checked my email for the Zoom link from my therapist and saw you there. 🙂 Thanks, I almost did forget!

I think I am trying to write my journal before my day starts. 2pm, it’s going to be dark in 2 hours.

Recollection Collection

“Beautiful girl lovely dress
Fifteen smiles oh yes
Beautiful girl lovely dress
Where she is now I can only guess”

“Gone Daddy Gone” Violent Femmes

I got home from work and half the furniture in our apartment was gone and so was she! I checked the bedroom and the cash was gone! More than two grand!

This was when your phone number was attached to your house; not your person. (Remember that? Every year the phone company would deliver a directory to your front door and you could find anyone’s name and address and phone number?)

I dialed M—-, J’s best friend, my brother’s ex-girlfriend and now, my best friend’s girlfriend. (How the hell did we all meet?) She gave me the 411. A few months earlier, When J— started working, she met someone and that is where she is now. She wouldn’t tell me exactly. I don’t know why, it’s not like I was going to go kick someone’s ass.

I went to bed to make sure I got a good night’s rest… Kidding! I was a fucking mess! I was devastated. It clicked. A few months earlier we were on the couch and she’s crying and I ask her what’s wrong? She doesn’t know… She feels so sad… Why? I don’t know… (I know about depression, I cry and don’t know why… I’m not going to push her) There we were, she’s trying to tell me she cheated on me and I’m sitting there comforting her telling her everything is going to be alright.

I got up early the next day and went to work… Kidding again! I drove to her workplace… I know, I know, Now it is so much easier to get ghosted by cell phone. It happened with two women this summer. I had known them for three years. I sent them a quick text, left a voicemail, didn’t hear back…. But to get ghosted in real life by someone you love and you live together…

We were in the parking lot, I’m crying, she’s crying, what the fuck, this fucking hurts! (You know the bullshit) I still don’t know why…. (Looking back, I know why… Tired of my own special brand of addiction to insanity) But you can’t keep my fucking cash… I”ll split it with you but you know? What the fuck?

I went back to the apartment, grabbed my clothes, guitar and amp, threw them in the car and disappeared. I don’t know why… I had two months rent and a job. It was a pretty nice place in a college town. We had a lease, but again, no cell phones. Nobody knew where I went.

I’ll tell you where I went… Not back to my job.. I went to The Atlantic Motel on Hampton Beach. Back then, off season rentals were dirt cheap. They were happy just to keep a place occupied. Now people drop some heavy iron for the privilege of living near the ocean year round.

The place was kind of a dump but actually not too bad. Queen size bed, color TV, small kitchenette, but full size oven and four burner stove, medium size fridge. That was all great, cause I knew how to cook. A dollar would take you pretty far back then. I stayed there for six months. I only left once a week, Grocery store to get food for the week, The corner store, for beer and butts. (Fucking cigarettes? I hadn’t smoked for a year, I’m standing there at the counter and say, “Could I get a pack of Marlboro lights please?” Marlboro lights? I never smoked those before?) and Blockbuster Video.

Blockbuster was a great deal. For no money you could rent a new release video game for a week. I had a PlayStation, worked out well. That’s what I did for six months. Once a week I would cook my favorite meal and get shitfaced. I was living well. My favorite meal? Two thick pork chops, pan fried in butter with salt, pepper and celery seed. Mashed potatoes (Butter? You bet!) Then I would stay in beating the video game of the week, smoking butts (It was still allowed indoors), learning new songs and I still cooked each night. Nothing special.

I’m trying to remember who found me? But I was lucky, I was running out of money and had no plan. It wasn’t my best friend, D—, but someone who knew him. Somehow I ended up at a party at the Sands Hotel, a place about a mile from me down the back strip. It was a bunch of kids I hadn’t seen since high school. But I used to hang out with them then. The next day D—- called me, like Elwood Blues, “You still playing the guitar? We’re getting the band back together.” (Spoiler Alert: I’m still alive)

About five years later, M—- handed me a slip of paper with a phone number on it and said, J— wants you to call her. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to call her. You know I did. About a week later while I was on the couch at 3am watching repeats of The Simpsons, as I was wont to do. Surprisingly she picked up on the first ring. She was lying in bed next to the dude, he was sleeping, they were married now. We spoke for about an hour. She said it was because I always said I never wanted to get married and have kids. It was true, I was adamantly opposed at the time. It was nothing against her. It was in my life I never had any good examples of functional families. (Was that closure)

Once in a while, I wonder, What if? What if we got married and had kids? Would I be happier? Would I not? Are we married in an alternate universe? Am I happy there? Or am I David Byrne, wondering, “What is that beautiful house? Where does that highway lead to? Am I right? Am I wrong? my god, what have I done?”

Or my other “J”? We were never going to get married. Her parents made sure of that by threatening to cut off her college money. She had to break up with me every other month. Then she would call me a week later and ask if I wanted to get back together. I remember I went to pick her up one night and she told me to wait in the den with her father while she got ready. (Like that wasn’t a set up) She came from a proper family. We went to dinner and the next day she called and asked, “What the hell did you say to my father last night?” (Oh shit! Here we go.) “What do you mean?” She told me he has hated all her boyfriend’s but he fucking loves me! I said, “I don’t know? I told him I noticed the ’63 split window corvette being restored in the garage.”

I don’t know what her parents were worried about. I was still against marriage, we had never talked about it. She liked me because she collected Gingers, I was her fourth one. It was a good thing I got pissed at her about another bimonthly breakup. I had always let it slide before because I knew it was her parents, but shit was getting old. I don’t really wonder, What if?

I wonder, What if Not? Because a month later I met N—–, and eventually we got married and had our daughter. We both said it again the other day. With all the horrible shit, throughout our lives, we would not change a single thing. She had twin boys after we split up and of course she loves them but she doesn’t talk about them the same. They are great kids, but…

I was going to go on why I keep meeting all these “J’s” but married an “N”? But I think that is all I wanted to say.

I already wrote about another “J” a long time ago. Dark as Knight

Every time I try to get out…

Heart colored pencils

I deleted Tinder two days after I downloaded it. Last week I stopped swiping Bumble Monday and deleted the app. Both apps said, “Are you sure? All data will also be deleted and cannot be recovered.” I said, Absolutely! and tapped the screen.

This weekend I started getting emails from both of them saying I have new matches or “someone is interested in you” etc… I thought, they are relentless.

Sunday I got an email from Bumble saying someone has sent me a message, click her to see who.

Later, the same thing from Tinder. I got curious and clicked Tinder. It brought me to their website. There was my account complete as if I never left. And I did have a message. I clicked Bumble, same thing! I never visited their website. I downloaded the apps from the appstore. Also, before I deleted the apps, I unmatched with anyone I had talked with. Well, here they all are with the conversations saved. I ignored them.WTF? I figured the messages I had were from robots and I am bored and send some replies like they are real to see what response I get. No! Not robots! I start receiving answers that correspond to my messages. How the hell is this happening? It’s almost midnight on a Sunday. The first woman wrote in her profile if you talk to me be prepared to meet IRL within a week, bonus if you want to spend the day on the beach. I asked her what keeps her up so late and she said she is on her way home from Six Flags. What the fuck? This bitch is driving down the highway at night on her phone. I’m too fucked up. I don’t mean drunk, I’m just fucked in the head. I want to see where this goes. I said the same thing I said to someone last week. That sounds great! I can’t wait to hear all about it… She asked if I would like to arrange a meeting? I told her I live near the beach but it’s only 50 degrees outside. She asked, where would you like to meet? I was two seconds from typing, My place? Hit the fucking brakes! I look at her picture it’s her dressed conservatively with her arm around someone in a Tweety Bird costume at fucking DisneyLand!

I’m not doing this. Unmatch. Last Thursday I had to tell the woman I hooked up with last weekend, I’m sorry, I think you are looking for more out of this than I am. She said oh, no, no, no, I’m not. She was all googly eyed when she left my place last week. I didn’t want to get into a big discussion about it so I told her I have something going on with a family member and I can’t talk about it. Which is actually true. She said she understands, family comes first. Okay, thank you. (phew) Oh no, a couple hours later… Let me know if you want to talk or even just cuddle. I just said no two different ways. I typed. TY. Later, What are you doing Friday night? I can pick up some Chinese food and do [all kinds of stuff I would like done to me, but that is what got me into this mess] I didn’t make any overtures when I met her. It was all playful banter. No mention of any kind of relationship. I don’t do that to women. My profile is one long joke. I made up some excuse.

But now I have a message on Bumble, there is the number 1 on the browser tab. I look at her profile, it says, If you voted for Biden, think masks work or have been vaccinated with the experiment…swipe left. Unmatch!

Done, time to write about it, right? Oh no! The number 2 is on the Tinder tab! Two more messages, one is from a woman her profile says she is pansexual, bisexual, etc.. She just says, Hi. Women who Identify pansexual have never had an interest in me. But I typed, I’m laughing because you said your favorite band is U2 and I am hoping it was a joke…. She said it was her most toxic trait. I said, my most toxic trait is knowing enough to know I’m toxic. End of conversation.

The next woman is beautiful, her age isn’t posted, maybe 35, I read her profile and it’s about finding a man to celebrate the glory of god and getting married. That is a summary of 3 long paragraphs. But at the bottom it says, Godly sex would be hot! With 3 fire emojis. I don’t know what the hell is going on. I asked her what keeps her up so late swiping on a Sunday night. She said she was journaling about her recent experiences with the lord and decided to do a few swipes and something in u made me swipe right. Okay, that makes sense after midnight on a hookup app.

Alright, I gotta write about this! Not yet! A woman the app says she is 2,000 miles away, okay, scammer. But there is a long profile. She owns a business in Connecticut but is visiting family in the DR. She is looking to get married. Close the apps.

I don’t get it. I’ve been on dating sites before. I understand Bumble is designed for the woman to make the first contact. But I”m no sex symbol. Women never contact me first. Half the time I don’t get an answer when I send the first message. I send good messages too. I’m not like hey babe, wanna hook up? Whatever. I lost my two girlfriends last spring and told myself not to get on dating sites because I go out of control. I stayed off the sites all summer until I got the urge, hooked up and immediately fucked up. I talked in a smart meeting and they told me to Join Bumble. I said hooking up online and drinking is my problem. Oh no, Bumble isn’t a hook up app. It’s for people looking for things to do. I wasn’t going to do it but I thought how much trouble could I get into on an app where the woman has to message first? How many women are actually going to message me? Apparently all of them!

I don’t get it. What am I supposed to do? Cancel my internet connection? Can you ever leave these sites? When I deleted them they were like, are you sure? You are giving up your only chance. I said, hell yeah and hit the X.

I deleted at least 10 emails from Tinder and Bumble that said I had new matches. Because I can’t be on these sites. Plus I figured if I clicked it would say for only X amount of dollars you can restore your data or some shit. Then I got emails saying I had new messages and I had to know what was going on. I googled to see if they are owned by the same company. It said Bumble was started by a woman who “says” she created Tinder. I don’t know. They are exactly the same sites except different colors.

My friggin’ life is like Seinfeld. What is the show about? It’s about nothing! Nothing? Well, something happens… No! Nothing happens! Then everything happens.

That’s me. Sunday night football ends, I’m on the computer listening to music, couple people posted on WP, I”m gonna go in the bedroom and watch tv. BOOM! It’s 3am. Good thing I didn’t get drunk. I’d probably be banging DisneyLand girl instead of typing this.


Kenny Who?

Heart colored pencils

“We’ve got tonight
Who needs tomorrow?
We’ve got tonight, babe
Why don’t you stay?

“We’ve got tonight” Kenny Rogers and Sheana Easton

Done gone and fucked up again! I’m telling you, when that dude was fucking with me yesterday, other people in the meeting were telling me to join Bumble. I wasn’t looking for dating advice. I told hem the reason I relapsed was because I first got laid and then got drunk.

I didn’t want to join any dating sites but especially not Bumble. I’m supposed to sit there and wait for women to send me messages? Okay? I can see that happening. But I thought about all the women complaining about regular dating sites. They get 300 “hey, babe, you dtf?” messages a night. That is why they never even see my thought out message. These women are all saying they want a serious relationship and sick of the bullshit and so am I. But don’t lie to yourself, everyone is willing to hook up.

So I join this dating site where I am not allowed to send a message to a woman even if she swipes right. Nothing I can do except hope she sends a message. But it makes sense to me. I fit into this site. I’m not one of those assholes. (Actually I am but I’m not an idiot.) But I got a swipe left face. I need words to get me through. There is no room for that. But no, I took a stupid selfie grinning like an idiot and figured out how to get myself across without a profile. Three word user name: BoringOldBill.

Fill out the info, forget about it. What happens? I start getting messages! From real people. Not many, but I didn’t swipe many. High percentage of return! They all say, I bet you’re not boring! I have several answers in my back pocket for that question. Not many matches. But three. Only two sent me messages. And one has only 24 hours to make up her mind. I know she liked me but still, I can’t send her a message. I don’t care. I feel great about this!

I’m just sitting here and women are liking me and sending messages. Because I’m not one of those guys, right? I’m not that much of a stud but someone takes an interest in me and you won’t believe, I don’t believe, (although, I know it) I am a fascinating conversationalist. I’m talking to this woman I don’t even know if I am interested in but she is sure interested in me! All I did was write the simplest fucking profile.

She says she is looking for serious relationship in her profile but from the beginning I was anything but serious. I kept the LOL’s rolling. I know what to do. Something about the weather and I knew she was may age so I screwed up the word’s to the Kenny Roger’s song on purpose. Asking, Is this even a song? She googled it. I blamed her for putting the words in my head. I’m fucking two seconds into my way to hooking up tomorrow! How do I know? I don’t know? How do you know? I hate that fucking song. She is a woman 10 years older than me, I know she loves that song! How do I know? I’m not even trying to do this. I’m trying to make jokes.

Now she is really interested and she is challenging me to do my best. My best what? I’m sitting here on a Friday night doing what I do best. I’m ten moves ahead. Don’t get me wrong. I’m only doing this shit because I like her. She doesn’t know how good I am.

Out of the blue she wants to meet. But can’t directly ask. I know how to flirt around it. I make her invite herself. Square beach pizza and cannoli’s after she meets with her sister. Suddenly her sister is not so important. I know. I know I am important. I know what we are doing.

She wants to me to call her on the phone and we talk for hours. She tells me it is the first time she has met someone online and talked on the phone and made plans to meet the next day. Well, she has never met me before. Finally she hangs up. I plug my phone in to charge and she texts me!

Four in the morning, we are still talking. She went from we might chat to she might meet for pizza to she wants me to hold her in my arms! She can’t wait for tomorrow but she doesn’t want to go to sleep. Then a definitely stated end plan! I didn’t suggest it. I just played along. I’m not playing her. I spent this much time talking to her because I have fun talking to her.

She is forgetting about lunch with her sister she used as an excuse but not really it was a round about way to ask when I am free Saturday afternoon. 4am. I know I am up but what the hell, she said good night 4 hours ago!

I’m a fucking sicko. All I had to do was plant that song in her head. I want to go to bed. She is still texting me.We can’t meet until tomorrow afternoon.

(Saturday, that was then this is now) She texted me at 9am. She cancelled lunch with her sister and can come over earlier. (What???) Okay, sure. I’m waiting for her to get ready and my phone is blowing up! This must be a scam…But no! These are normal looking everyday women. They all want to talk. Every other dating site 9 times out of 10 if I’m not dead serious or I say one thing slightly off color it is the end of the conversation. I would 9 times out of ten I never get an answer. Now I’m just sitting here. They limit your swipes to I think 20 a day. That is more than enough. I can’t keep track of the 7 women I started talking this morning. My profile definitely indicates I am irreverent. They give you a few prompt questions if you want to fill them out. I chose, My perfect first date: “Meeting for iced coffee so I don’t get burnt when you throw it in my face.” What is my plan for the zombie apocalypse? “Run faster than you!” We may get along if you find this funny: “Q. Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees? A. Because they are so good at it.”

Almost all the profiles I have read the women say they are looking for a serious relationship but they don’t seem to mind I am completely off the wall. I had to tell them I was leaving for the day so they would stop sending me messages.

I told them at the meeting online dating was a former drinking activity and a trigger. They said oh no, it’s for people looking for new friends and things to do. Okay. Sound about right. Why did I just get laid on the second day? I am keeping it under control. When I was on Tinder years ago when it was still real and the wild, wild west I went overboard. I was texting 4 women with a different variations of the name Christine. Once I accidentally texted the wrong one and that is how I ended up getting laid.

What the hell. One girl who doesn’t look like she would have a problem getting dates was keeping my updated all day. “going out with friends”, “(something)”, and just now, “I’m heading home now, I’ll text you when I get there, if you are still awake.” I said, “That should be easy, I never sleep. Thanks for the warning though. :)”

I’m purposely turning off notifications because they were non stop. I am not that big into texting. I understand that is what everyone does now and it is a necessary evil but can I eat a sandwich?

They don’t look desperate. They are not supermodels but they are pretty. They are well educated. I’m just some old ugly dude with bad jokes. I can’t be doing this but WTF? Maybe it is because I’m new. I think it may also help that I say, I didn’t understand how this site was going to work but then I figured it was for women who were tired of getting 300 “hey u up, dtf?” messaged a night. That is usually a good ice breaker.

I met A– on POF and saw her regularly for 3 years. It was 2am and I sent a message, “What are you doing up so late? Reading through all the messages from the perverts? That’s okay, this pervert can wait.” She answered me right away.

Rumble in Brighton Tonight

Heart colored pencils

“Well, there ain’t a man left standing
So let’s all go get a beer”

“Rumble in Brighton” Stray Cats

I saw her on OkStupid around 2am back when it was an actual useful site. I think she was the only other person online at the time. I sent her some stupid message about the Stray Cats because it said she lived in Brighton (Boston). She said, “Who?” I went back and checked her age. She’s young, but not that young… right? “Never mind.” She told me she only answered me because I said I was an atheist. “No I didn’t.”, “It’s on your profile.” Now I had to go check myself. I guess they ask you when you sign up but I didn’t know other people could see it. Maybe I should have checked “Other.”

I asked what was going on in Boston tonight. She said she didn’t know, she’s in Virginia. Okay? What’s going on in Virginia tonight. She said she was at an “Atheist Retreat”. Okay, I’ll bite. What’s that? Apparently it’s where a bunch of people get real drunk and make fun of people who believe in god. That’s pretty hardcore. I like the get real drunk part but I don’t care who you believe in. Sounds as religious as the religions you make fun of. I’m more like Atheist 2.0. Yeah, There’s no god. So what?

I said it must be a great time if she’s on her phone talking to some dude back in NH. Yeah, most of them are passed out. Lightweights. I made some jokes and she made some back. Oh good at least we weren’t going to talk about god all night. We kept each other laughing for a couple hours, then I figure she passed out. I don’t know. I didn’t care. I forgot about it.

The next week I got a message with her phone number. I’m trying to figure out who the hell she was. Oh yeah, Brighton. I texted her. I got nothing going on. she really did live in Brighton. I told her I can’t get there anyway, so… She said she didn’t care, she thought I was funny. She was funny too. Okay.

I think we texted about a week. Not too much. She was good to talk to but she kept putting herself down. Not in a self deprecating humor kind of way. She was being serious. I don’t know what to say. Is she fishing for compliments? Am I supposed to make her feel better? I don’t even know this chick. I got my own fucking problems, I can’t be your emotional support human.

I think it was next Friday afternoon. She said she’s at a bar. I thought she was a fun drunk but now she was getting depressing. I didn’t know how long am I supposed to talk to someone I’m never going to meet? She started bitching about never having any money. I said, what do you expect? You’re fucking working at Newbury Comics to pay $3000 a month for a shithole studio apartment in the city and eating $20 sandwiches from Whole Foods on your lunch break. I can’t afford to be a hipster either. I guess she thought that was really funny? Later on she texted me a picture. Of course you’re drinking 10 dollar cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon at a “Dive” Bar. You’re too fucking funny.

She texted me again later. Not too late. Around ten. I want you to come see me. You are fucking drunk. How am I supposed to get to Boston? She looked up the friggin’ train schedule and map! She told me the station is only 5 miles away from my house. Whaa??? It’s only $60. Okay, I’ll just call a cab and hop on the train. She kept on about it. There’s no way. Even if I did I’ll end up lost on the streets Boston. Or I’ll be banging on your door and you’ll be passed out drunk. Then she started, if you really liked me you would do it. She was serious! I’m thinking, what is this chick? 12 years old? She kept going. You’re high. Like you? I don’t even fucking know you. I told her to leave the door unlocked I’ll be down in a couple hours. Christ, we only texted for a week, it’s not like I was making overtures.

She didn’t text me the next day. God, I’m glad that’s over. And women won’t talk to me when I tell them why I’m on disability?

Next Friday…. Oh no, it’s not over. My phone buzzed. Are you ready to apologize? I don’t know what the fuck is going on… For what? She told me… She was fucking serious! I give up. Okay, I’m sorry, let me make it up to you. Just come up here and see me. You know I can’t. Yes you can. I’m working tonight. So, take the night off. I can’t. Yes you can. Just take the T to the bus station. I’ll pay for your ticket. I can’t do it. If you really liked me you would.

Now it was over.


Heart colored pencils

I sent her a clever message coming up on midnight on a Thursday. She came back immediately with something funnier which surprised me because I wasn’t expecting an answer at all. I used to be slow at asking for numbers but not that night. I asked, Do you want to text and she sent me the info. We stayed up most of the night flirt-texting. We got along great with no hesitation between messages.

She worked 2nd shift and had kids in school so she was only available in the mornings. That was okay, I never slept. I think I ended up inviting myself over that morning. She said, yeah, after her kids left for school. (This will date me) I looked up her address on MapQuest and printed it out. She lived about 5 miles away. A right turn and a left turn.

She told me she wanted me to come over, open the door to her apartment, find her bedroom, walk in and fake rape her. I never had any rape fantasies but the letting myself in and finding her in bed sounded exciting. Ultimately I chickened out. I believed her but I couldn’t shake the possibility she was giving me someone else’s address and I could get into a lot of trouble. I told her she would have to wait in the living room and I would knock once.

I probably had some more coffee while I waited and then I texted her a “;)” emoji. She texted back, “;)”. I went out to my car and left. I walked up the stairs and knocked once. The door opened and she smiled and let me in. We sat on the couch and got comfortable talking for a few minutes and she was the one who ended up raping me.

In the bedroom I got my first surprise. I had heard about it but never met anyone who did it. As soon as I put it in, she slammed shut and forced me back out. Then she ejaculated about a pint of liquid spraying all over me. It’s not urine. it’s slightly slippery like a guy’s prejaculate.

She was also the first woman I’ve met that asked me to call her a “bitch, slut and whore.” I’m not very verbal but hey, she told me to do it. I liked it because she got more excited every time I called her a name. I am usually pretty quiet but I am capable of talking.

After the first day, things went pretty well. Every Friday morning I would text 😉 and she would answer 😉 and I would drive to her place. We got to be good friends while I was there, we just didn’t text much. At the end of that winter her mom got cancer so she and the kids moved in with mom to take care of her. We talked for a bit after that, then one night I sent a text and it went to another woman who just got her the (new to her) phone number. But that is a different story.

Hornpoutin’ About

I read a missed connection on CL about someone paying the toll for the car behind them and they chased each other around the highway, waving. They said they wished they had followed them off their exit. I thought it was kind of stalkerish and I was bored so I answered the verification question of, what was I driving?, with, “Toyota 4Runner!” They answered back, haha, nope. It wasn’t much to go on so I said, That’s too bad… so you were going to follow her home? I got a return saying, No, I’m a girl… I paid a cute guy’s toll behind me and we raced down 16 going 90 mph, I wish I had taken his exit but my gf was with me and we went home. I told her I was a guy and was just fooling around on CL tonight and wondered if anyone else had answered her. She laughed and told me no. You know how weird that can be if a man followed a woman down the highway but how hot is it if a woman follows a man down the highway? Whatever. I told her I had posted missed connections and gotten answers from people who thought I was talking about them. I had met some of them in person and even dated a girl for two years after meeting this way. She started emailing more frequently and seemed really interested in me. She was 21 and she asked me how old I was. Well, of course I’m like 10 times 21 years old! She didn’t care and we kept joking. Then she sent me her phone number unprompted and said she was curious what I looked like! I sent her a picture and that is the end of the story. I am too ugly. Seriously. I got no response. I’ve always know I’m ugly but I could always compensate. Now it’s just one picture and you are done.

Did you feel that?

Heart colored pencils

I met this broad on one of the dating sites during a time I was very active. We emailed for a bit but she didn’t want to trade numbers so I had a hard time gauging her interest. That didn’t matter to me. I didn’t have to meet everyone. Everyone was interesting to me at the time and if they were still talking to me I was still answering. She only emailed periodically. I figured it was only when she got bored. We would go back and forth for a bit and she would disappear again. We never got personal or shared many details. Well, she didn’t. All of my emails to anyone were very expansive. I couldn’t shut up. She knew a lot more about me than I knew about her. She did tell me she was also on disability for a mental illness. I attract people with mental illness. I don’t know why. It’s not like I am advertising for it. I didn’t keep my illness a secret but I didn’t come out with it until it came up in conversation. I do talk to a much higher percentage of people with mental illness than I think is statistically average.

We emailed for a good amount of time but I was sure that was as far as we were going. Then one night she surprised me. She asked me what I was doing and when I said I was talking to her. She told me to meet her at Appleby’s later that night. It’s a crappy chain restaurant but it sounded better than sitting at home.

I took a shower, got dressed and drove to the restaurant in the bordering town. When I walked in there was only one person there; the bartender. Oh well, at least I would be easy to find when she got there. I sat down, ordered a drink and talked to the bartender. I finished my drink and she still hadn’t showed. I told the bartender I thought I just got stood up and said fuck it I might as well eat something. I think I ordered a quesadilla. It was pretty good.

I drove home wondering why she would do that. When I got home I had an email from her asking why I never showed up. I thought she was joking and I told her what I had been doing for the past hour. She said no, I’m sitting here waiting for you in Concord. That was a key piece of information she could have shared the first time. I thought it was weird. I knew where she lived. She had to drive fifteen minutes to go through my town, coming within a mile of my house. Then she had to continue down the same road I had just driven twice; get on the highway a mile before she reached the restaurant I was sitting in and drive another twenty miles to Concord. How was I supposed to guess that.

I said whatever and drove down to Concord to meet her. This restaurant was crowded but we got a booth. She seemed nice enough and we had easy conversation but nothing was really going on. I still didn’t know much more about her by the time the check arrived. I was ready to call it a night but she slid down to the other end of the booth and told me to do the same. She cleared the table between us and put her hands palms up. She told me to put my hands on hers. She didn’t say anything and just sat there staring me directly in the eye. I was thinking, what the hell is this broad doing. Finally she broke the silence and asked, “Did you feel that?” I was completely confused. What was I supposed feel? I felt her hands under mine. I said, “What?” She smiled and said, “Sparks”

Oh, I’m not like that, he he.

Heart colored pencils

When I first had to start dating again it was the beginning of the texting revolution. I had never talked to anyone that way before. But I buckled down and joined the 21st century, buying a phone with a full keyboard. I had no idea what I was in for.

At first I thought it was great. I had phone numbers from multiple women and it was fun texting all the time. But texting all the time was the problem because these women wanted to text, ALL the fucking time! First thing in the morning, all day, until they went to bed, again the next day and the next day.

I couldn’t figure out what was going on. Someone would text for hours and I would ask, “What are you doing?” and they would tell me they are at work. What was their job? Texting me? Yes. They were getting paid to text me all day. Not just a text here and there when they got a break. They could text me faster than I could text them back. That was my problem because when I was new to texting I felt compelled to answer someone as soon as I heard my phone beep. Another thing I found was women who only texted me when they weren’t available. Text, text, text. Me, “What are you doing?” “Oh, I’m at work.” “Oh, I’m at home with my kids.” I’m thinking for chrissakes, what are you doing? Spend some fucking time with your kids. I found that to be the worst. It was endless texting and I never got to meet anyone.

Another disturbing thing that happened a lot, like, a lot, was the fear of abandonment. I’d be text, text, text, get hungry, make myself some food, maybe take a shower, drive down to the corner store and buy some energy drinks. Anything. Just everyday things. I would come back 20 minutes later and my phone was blown up! “Where are you?” “What’s wrong?” “Was it something I said?” “Are you mad at me?” Different women, same four questions. That was too much for me and would be the end of the texting relationship. Not only is it, JC could you be a little more needy please? It’s also a form of controlling behavior. They want all your attention, all the time. I had enough. I developing PTSD from the sound of my phone beeping.

It got so bad I would be emailing chicks and they would ask if I wanted to text and I would say, no, I don’t text and tell them why. They would say, “Oh, I’m not like that, he he… ” Oh, a few days later they were most definitely like that. I probably missed out on a lot of good dates because I wouldn’t text. I don’t know. I would say I have no problem calling and talking on the phone at night if you want. Most people did not want to do that. I didn’t get it because way back when I started “dating” that is what people did. Now you have to text back and forth for four hours to say what you could say in a half hour phone call.

It was the novelty of it that first got me to fall into the “text trap”. Now I am more rational about it. I don’t feel compelled to answer right away if it’s not important. I bail when I realize a woman is only texting me when she is at work or with her kids. Then she gets a free night and I don’t hear from her? See you later.

Now my favorite text to get is, “I just got out of the shower see you in 45 minutes.”