date machine : celebrity

Video blog - 'The word on the steet' - the nature of attraction.

What we want vs. What we need and the power balance between man and women

How important are someone's politics when choosing a patrner?

Nerve Confessions: It's all about the looks stupid!

The Greatest Online Dating story - The PERSONALS file

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

The sex and the city movie was lame

Date Machine: Are YOU a sociopath? - what I look for in a woman... plus the daily throb

zeitgeisty — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 19:10:00 GMT

When people ask me what I look for in a woman, I invariably toss off, ‘ that they not be crazy!’. You see, I’ve done my time at the ‘nutsy’ mast, and I don’t ever wanna go back. Everything else can be rationalized away, but a crazy woman to me is just an untenable, undoable, unlivable situation.

Here’s a psychological test I’ve used on dates, that tests whether or not they have socio-pathic tendencies.. It is an actual test psychiatrists give to nutsos.. Most people don’t get it at all, but the ones that do get it, get it automatically.

These are the ones I avoid at all costs.

and now without further doodoo.. the official psycho test:

“Ok.. 2 sisters are at a funeral. The funeral is for a friend of Susan (sister A). The other sister Margaret knows no one. At the funeral, Margaret meets Bill. They hit it off immediately! Over the course of the funeral and wake they fall in love, but unfortunately they live on opposite coasts.. After the funeral they fly off, presumably never to see eachother again. 2 weeks later, Margaret kills Susan. Why?”

I went out with a girl who got this automatically, and she was indeed a total crackpot, so I’m a big believer in this when it comes to gauging someone sanity and or date-ability...

I’ll give you the answer in my next installment.. In the meantime, let’s hear what YOU think the answer is.. How many psychos are out there?

actress...tura satana

translations...

blogger doodles

The worst sex of my life

commitment phobia is a myth

Translations...

TYPES

Do.. do women really suck in bed?

The odd disconnect between profile photos and reality

50 sexual expereiences I've never had

Dating COnfessions translations

I'm a breast man... the JUGS file

Video blog - 'The word on the steet' - the nature of attraction.

What we want vs. What we need and the power balance between man and women

How important are someone's politics when choosing a patrner?

Nerve Confessions: It's all about the looks stupid!

The Greatest Online Dating story - The PERSONALS file

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

commitment phobia is a myth

Date Machine: The Sex and the City movie was totally LAME!!!!... plus the daily throb...

zeitgeisty — Wed, 08 Oct 2008 17:35:00 GMT

So last night I rented the Sex and the City movie and I have to say, it was far worse than I’d even imagined it could be.

Now, I’m not gonna play it all cool and say I’ve never seen the show, ‘cause I have. In fact I would actually say I kind of enjoyed it when it first ran. At the time, it definitely captured that whole late 90s vibe, and it did come at relationships from a slightly fresh perspective - albeit the gay male perspective namely Michael Patrick King et.al. So, all that being said, I must say I was a TAD intrigued as to how the movie would turn out. Well I did… it turned out…

lamely.

First off, could Sarah Jessica Parker look any worse? I mean, not to be mean here, because I actually thought she was attractive at one point - I dunno, sue me I found her charming from time to time - but in this movie she was actively homely - aggressively even. Maybe she had lost too much weight for the role, or that she hasn’t aged well, but I actually found it distracting. I mean, there were certain angles where I actually gasped.

Still, that’s just shallow aesthetics.The real problems with this movie were innumerable.

Ok… Let me throw this out there. You know how in every lame 80s movie there’s always a scene/montage where some idiot dresses up in different outfits – usually because said idiot is preparing to go on some big date with someone that’s ‘way out of their league’ – and he/she shows off these outfits to their friends, usually accompanied by an extremely cheesy song which rocks far too triumphantly?

Well there was not just ONE of those scenes in this movie… there were TWO.

Sigh… what else? In a nutshell, it’s hard to take seriously the stale drama trumped up my Michael Patrick King of a bunch of rapidly aging and in some cases aged morons. First off it wasn’t that dramatic and second it just was all so rote, so tired, so blahsville. For those that haven’t seen it...

Big ‘sort of’ leaves Carrie at the alter… He actually just kind of freaks out for a few minutes, but then comes back almost immediately and is ready to get married, but then Carrie yells at him and doesn’t see him for 6 months.

Of course the night before Miranda tells Big they’re crazy to get married.. a tidbit she fails to tell Carrie for 6 months and this helped cause Big's temporary anxiety. Meanwhile, Miranda stops having sex with her husband for 6 months so he fucks some other chick once, and she moves out to another apartment, even though Steve's filled with remorse.

6 months seems to be a theme here… Actually, the movie was so long it felt like 6 months.

Hmm… what else? Oh yeah.. somewhere in there, 50 year old Samantha just can’t stop being a total whore and breaks up with her boyfriend that loves her and stood by her through her chemotherapy just so she could go and fuck some more random guys, as she still hadn’t gotten that out of her system. It’s always funny to me how Samantha’s obvious psychological problem was just treated as a joke. This person is an obvious sex addict, with severe issues. I mean people go to clinics for this.. just ask David Duchovny!!..

Anyway, it all ends up that Carrie and Big get back together, and you’re not really even sure why they broke up or why it took 6 months for them to even TALK. Steve and Miranda get back together too, although if I were Steve I would have ran for the hills.. Jesus what a ball busting harridan Miranda is. Yeah, and somewhere in there Charlotte shits in her pants, and gets pregnant and Carrie hires some obligatorily sassy black assistant – I think it was Jennifer Hudson – who saved all of Big’s love letters to Carrie without showing them to her for 6 months, until Carrie has to figure it out on her own. Yet, for some reason we're still supposed to love the assistant as she's sassy.. and her name is Louise, and she comes from St. Louis. Yes they make a PUN out of this...

Did I happen to mention this movie was lame?

Now.. on top of it just being a horribly constructed, oddly paced, and generally smelly, it was also class-ist, judgmental, unfunny, and filled with over the top wealth, just rammed down your throat in an obscene way. These are women that do not in any way, shape or form remind me of anyone I’ve ever met, and I’ve been having ‘Sex in the city’ now for over 10 years.

Anyway, I feel better. This review has been just as crappy and disjointed as the movie was, so I feel in some small way, I’ve executed a micron of revenge.

Rachel Aldana... Britain's world largest natural breasts...

Translations...

TYPES

Do.. do women really suck in bed?

The odd disconnect between profile photos and reality

50 sexual expereiences I've never had

Dating COnfessions translations

I'm a breast man... the JUGS file

Video blog - 'The word on the steet' - the nature of attraction.

What we want vs. What we need and the power balance between man and women

How important are someone's politics when choosing a patrner?

Nerve Confessions: It's all about the looks stupid!

The Greatest Online Dating story - The PERSONALS file

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

Sex Machine: I'm a BREAST man... the JUGS file.. plus the daily throb...

zeitgeisty — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 15:30:00 GMT

I’m a breast man…always have been.

I have this early memory, when I must’ve been around 5 years old. I was living in a slum outside of Paris, and my brother and I were cold and unhappy. To keep us occupied my parents gave us a copy of playboy. I was mesmerized… Back then in the 70s, jugs were perfectly natural, all that silicone crap hadn’t really taken off yet. So there I was, staring a hole through that dusty magazine, my first boner swinging in my pajama pants. The pendulous flesh spilling forth, flooding my hungry young eyes with it’s bounty.

I’m a breast man….always have been. Some guys I know aren’t big into the whole mammary deal. I think this is because they prefer skinnier women. You see, usually along with the larger sized chest comes a fuller figure. To me, I not only don’t mind this, I prefer it. I love a woman that looks like a woman. Juicy Henry Moore-ian sways and slopes - this is what turns me on. It really only makes sense when you think about it. It’s only been fairly recently that this super-skinny convention has been forced down everyone’s throats.

To me, one of the sexiest movies of all time is ‘Woodstock’. Not only do you get all that great music, but you get to muck about in the dirt and the shit and the smell.. and roll around with a bunch of voluptuously delectable hippie chicks as they fuck and suck a bunch of skinny dudes. When you think about it, it’s kind of like my fantasy come to life.

I’m visceral.. I’m a visceral breast man.

My girlfriend has incredible jugs and a beautiful womanly body. That’s not a euphemism for out of shape or overweight, that’s just an adequate description of her. I mean I must confess I personally don’t happen to find skinny women sexually attractive. I lived with one for 3 years, and it was a disaster. We barely had sex, and when we did I had to force myself. Why did I stay with her for all those years then, you may ask…I needed a place to stay in NYC, the rent was cheap, and I was in the middle of a major depression as my band had just broken up…IF YOU MUST KNOW!

Now getting back to my present girlfriend… Would I have been with her as long if she was a skinny minny? The short answer… no. They say ‘know thyself’ and I most certainly do. I need flesh.. I need to be ensconced in the feminine form. The NATURAL feminine form that is... I don’t like all that fake breastlipsassface bullshit. That’s new…Who came up with this new ideal anyway? Who actually finds all that crap attractive besides total frat boy, small dicked meatheads? I want to be confronted with the reality of woman. I want to be assaulted with the truth behind what makes man and woman want to tear into each other. I don’t want it mitigated.

Now some arm chair psychologists might say that I’m looking to be mothered. Searching for the ultimate nurturing, maternal figure to wash away all the bad stuff that happened to me in childhood. Personally I don’t think so. To me it’s obvious. I can’t understand it when people find my taste unattractive. You see, when I speak of truth, and natural beauty and form, I mean it across the board. What gets me going sexually is a true woman’s body, completely unshaven, unobstructed, truly naked. I want a woman to look like a woman.

Now I know, a lot of you women prefer shaving, stating that you feel fresher, or less itchy, or whatever… That’s all well and fine, but as far as I’m concerned it always looks a bit like I’m fucking a child when the ole’ snatcheroo is a baldie. That’s not a turn on to me. Of course, I can look past it if I’m truly into the person I’m with.

Some men are leg men…. Some are ass worshippers..

I like legs, don’t get me wrong, and of course the ass is a treasure to behold if it’s USDA prime choice. Still, if I was going to have to join a group, it would be the breast men. In the purest sense mind you. Does this typify me? Maybe so. However, it’s simply how I’m wired… that 5 year old with the swingin’ pajama pants prick still resides in my skin, only with a far larger prick.

I never had a latency period…

….and I’m a breast man. Yes I am.

Sex goddess.. Raquel Welch...

Video blog - 'The word on the steet' - the nature of attraction.

What we want vs. What we need and the power balance between man and women

How important are someone's politics when choosing a patrner?

Nerve Confessions: It's all about the looks stupid!

The Greatest Online Dating story - The PERSONALS file

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

Dating Confessions: The word on the street!... a video blog...Plus the daily throb..

zeitgeisty — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 16:10:00 GMT

For 8 months I've been writing everyday on the topics of sex, dating and relationships from my own highly subjective point of view... Over the weekend, I thought it might be interesting if I actually went out and asked some people on the street a couple of questions on these matters... The first topic I chose was 'the nature of attraction'... I was actually impressed by how forthcoming, and into it everyone was... Unfortunately it's a bit pixelated in spots, but what the hell, it was my first attempt! So here it is... I'm gonna try and make it a SEMI regular feature...who knows maybe once a month or so?

Vida Guerra.. I don't know who she is, but her talent is obvious...

What we want vs. What we need and the power balance between man and women

How important are someone's politics when choosing a patrner?

Nerve Confessions: It's all about the looks stupid!

The Greatest Online Dating story - The PERSONALS file

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

Date Machine: My Dating Confessions...TRANSLATIONS!... plus the Daily Throb

zeitgeisty — Mon, 22 Sep 2008 19:23:00 GMT

I've always felt the simple answer is usually the TRUTHIEST... Hence my 'translations' to these selected Nerve Dating Confessions..

"I wish I could love you the way you want me to, but I can't. That doesn't mean I don't love you; I will always love you. I am always thirsty now, and I blame you... now that we can't even be friends, I don't feel like a whole person. There is a piece missing. It's you. I never thought there'd come a day when we weren't even friends; how can a connection and friendship be too strong for it to continue? But I love you too much to keep holding you back from moving on; wish you the best, and I'll always answer when you call."

Translation: Jeez am I glad to have finally got that loser off my hands!! Now maybe I can have some peace and meet someone new. I totally feel sorry for the next person this pain in the ass gets involved with!

"guys: when you're on a date with a chick (who is not your gf) but who you think you'll be seeing again, and you go down on her, do you expect immediate reciprocation? What if she told you it was her first experience receiving oral? YES to expecting immediate reciprocation, or NO."

Translation: After 2 hours of munching her carpet, and nearly getting TMJ syndrome in my jaw, this bitch wouldn't suck my prick! Damn... If only she wasn't so HOT!!

"I am sooooo tired of the stupid excuses that you give me for not having sex! More tired of pleasing myself. Like what the fuck kissing and hugging just don't do it for me!!!!!"

translation: 2 choices...Either your boyfriend is gay, or he's sick of fucking you.

"Why do you need a woman to offer if you are, presumably, a gentleman? From my experience, guys who insist on covering the bill but expect you to offer anyway are just cheap. You can be sure to expect more of that from him in a relationship."

Translation: HIGH Maintenance.. Won't look at a guy who makes less than 200k a year..

"No strings or expectations...those were your terms and i agreed to them. I've always sucked at negotiating a fair deal for myself."

Translation: 'I'm easy!'

"I have to remind myself every day that you really just don't want to be with me. There was no miscommunication or misunderstanding - you really just aren't interested. It really fucking sucks."

Translation: My opinion of myself is so gargantuan, how anyone could posibly lose interest is beyond me!

"If I act like I like you, you think I'm in love with you. If I act like I don't, there's no chemistry. If I flirt with you, you think I'm just good for sex. If I don't, I'm a cold fish."

Translation: He's just not that into you...

Lynda Carter.. actress... WONDER WOMAN

What we want vs. What we need and the power balance between man and women

How important are someone's politics when choosing a patrner?

Nerve Confessions: It's all about the looks stupid!

The Greatest Online Dating story - The PERSONALS file

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

What we want vs. What we need and the power balance between man and women

Dating Confessions: My internet dating advice...plus the Daily Throb

zeitgeisty — Thu, 18 Sep 2008 18:24:00 GMT

Recently I received an e-mail from a friend of mine who asked me to help out with her new profile for Nerve. She'd been on it a few months ago, but had taken a break as she'd gotten sort of serious with someone - which unfortunately didn't pan out all too satisfactorily. I readily accepted the challenge and offered up a pithy little bio highlighting her glorious attributes, infusing the prose with just a delicate hint of implied sauciness - to keep the swingin' dicks out there intrigued.

After a week or so, she'd gotten some replies - none of which she felt truly excited about. I then suggested perhaps she should post a different photo which showed off her cans better. She followed my salient advice and consequently got a bunch of guys merely interested in riding the hobby horse. After a couple of more weeks, she's starting to find it all more than a tad wearisome.

I've heard pretty much the same story from other friends of mine partaking in the online dating game. Seems a gal can never win. If you have a thoughtful, intelligent profile, with a bit of wit and nuance, you're seen as an un-sexy jokester. If you've got your tits hanging out on display, you're a skanky whore just looking for an available rod. It makes you wonder...

How exactly DOES an eligible woman find love via the internet?

It seems to me men have the advantage here. All they really require is a profile in which they don't come off like a complete douchebag, and usually they'll do alright. With women, it's a tad trickier - especially if they have a brain. I think men in general are intimidated by women that come off smarter than they are. It gets them all defensive, and shrivels their 'nads to Lilliputian proportions.

Personally, I must say with all honesty, when I was looking online for love I always scanned the photos for any signs of significant breast-age. I figured as long as they had THAT in place, everything else was icing on the cake. I suppose this firmly plants me in the douchebag category. Still, I'm no monument to justice!! The cock wants what it wants!!

So what's a poor gal to do?

Well I supopse there ARE a few guidelines I could impart which might be useful for the ladies out there online and hungry for l'amour...

1) Be complimentary but not OVERLY so..

ex.

DO say something like:

'I really enjoy how you turn a phrase. No one's ever quite explained the basic laws of Newtonian physics in such an entertaining fashion'

DON'T say something like:

'I slathered in my panties when I saw your tight jeans and bulging man snake - wanna fuck?'

...men might get the wrong impression there.

2) In your photo, wear clothing which shows off your breasts in a NON-overt way. It shouldn't appear as if you've taken the shot to specifically show off your tits. It comes off as desperate. However, you SHOULD tactfully portray your body in as flattering a light as you can.

3) DON'T fill up the 'books I've read' section with a library of Calvino, Frantzen, or that Middlesex book...men don't read, and find literate women boring and uppity.

4) DON'T go on about how much you love your job and how you have a very small amount of free time to spend on dating. If you don't have the time, buy a vibrator and shut the fuck up.

5) DON'T mention your hobbies. Men find women with a lot of hobbies sad, and besides it just takes the focus off them.

So there you have it! If you follow these guidelines correctly, I guarantee you success in your future online endeavours. Just make sure to invite me to the weddings!

Now, for those of you that might say my tips are shallow and insensitive - I accept your condemnation. Unfortunately the world is a shallow and insensitive place. Sometimes you have to get lost in the thorny brambles in order to find the elusive unicorn.

To all my friends out there I say, 'keep trying!!'. I mean, look at me, I'm a total asshole and even I’ve managed to trick people into liking me many a time! So fret not, with each new day hope springs eternal, someday you too might capture the unicorn, and if you don’t, it’s really no big deal there are still plenty of available jackasses to choose from.

SHWING! Rose McGowan - actress..

How important are someone's politics when choosing a patrner?

Nerve Confessions: It's all about the looks stupid!

The Greatest Online Dating story - The PERSONALS file

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

Dating Confessions: What we WANT vs. what we NEED, and the power balance between men and women.. plus the Daily Throb

zeitgeisty — Wed, 17 Sep 2008 17:24:00 GMT

I have many friends that are unrelentingly searching for their ‘soul mate’, despite the fact that there’s absolutely no evidence that such a thing exists. Just because that creepy guy from E-harmony with the horrible caps on his teeth, and the spacey new age look in his eye comes on TV and espouses the merits of his website, does not mean that there is ONE special person out there JUST for YOU!

First off, you’re not that special - none of us are. We’re just drones, milling about this random orb like so many ants. Secondly, we’re all looking for what we THINK we want, and not what we NEED.

When we’re in our 20s, the playing field is quite level. It’s a time where we all ‘sow our oats' and accrue as much experience as we can. Through this journey, we get to know ourselves, and what we ‘need’ from others. In our 30s, if we’re not paired off, we start disposing everything we learned in our 20s and start relying on what we ‘WANT’ from others.

For women, it’s more complicated, as the 30s are when the power gets shifted over to the men.

Sociologically, men are allowed – or rather indulged – with the option of an extended childhood. Many take advantage of this, choosing to be non-committal and aloof. I myself played this card for the first half of my 30s. Women on the other hand have more at stake. The thing is, if they went for what they ‘needed’ as opposed to what they ‘wanted’, I’m sure their rate of success would be greater.

Many of my female friends find themselves in this tricky situation. They’re constantly getting involved with the unattainable. I mean, if you’re an average woman in your later 30s, and you get involved with some young hot guy, the chance that you’re going to convince him to drop everything and commit is about as great as winning the lottery. This is not hyperbole, it’s pretty much fact. I keep telling my friends, why don’t you look for someone older, maybe a guy in his 40s, someone more stable who’s not interested in running around anymore. Their answer is invariably..

’Ewww.. that’s boring.. I don’t want some old guy’

So what happens next? They stay single. So now we’re into the 40s… Literally ‘no-mans land’ for the ladies.

I remember when I was using the online personals quite a bit, I would constantly get letters from women in their 40s. I found it a bit puzzling. It’s not that I’m an ‘agist’ or anything, really not at all, but as I was in my early 30s, and playing the ‘non-commital, aloof’ card, I just wasn’t looking for a ‘mommy’. What it was, I think , was the fact that a single woman in her 40s figures they’ve been single so long that at this point they sure as hell aren’t going to ‘settle’ for anything, so they just go for what they ‘want’ and hope for the best.

Again, the chance of getting what you want at this point is slim. As unfair as it is, women get the short end of the stick here. If you’re a guy, and you’re doing alright, have a decent job, keep yourself in shape, your shelf life is quite a bit longer than a woman’s. The point of all this is, if people didn’t feel that getting what you ‘need’ out of life was ‘settling’ then I think everyone would be a lot happier.

Now, is it impossible to get what you want AND what you need? That’s the 100,000 dollar question. I suppose it’s POSSIBLE, but is it NECESSARY in order to live a satisfying and happy life?

In the end, who ever wins the lottery?

Nigella Lawson... TV Chef..

How important are someone's politics when choosing a patrner?

Nerve Confessions: It's all about the looks stupid!

The Greatest Online Dating story - The PERSONALS file

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

Sex Machine: ALL PORN SUCKS!...plus the daily throb..

zeitgeisty — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 15:49:00 GMT

Reading Amboabe’s last post, about how he’s eschewed porn of late has got me thinking of my youth, and the times me and my pals would go on our ‘porn runs’… Back in those quaint days pre-internet, one would actually have to enter into some mighty dangerous terrain in order to satiate one’s sexual perversions. I remember those ‘porn runs’ all too well. Five or six horny nerds stuffed into a parent’s car, driving down the Henry Hudson Parkway with high expectations, evading the homeless windex washers, driving all teen jittery erratic and eventually stopping across from some sleazy sex shop in a pre-Disney Times square.

Once parked, one unlucky fellow was chosen to go make the purchase. This was a lot of pressure, not only because it was a really sketchy area filled with shifty looking men in overcoats, and intimidating thugs, but because the responsibility of choosing something good was placed on your shoulders. After all, these tapes were expensive, and none of us had any money, so a lousy selection would incur the wrath of the entire geek posse.

I had a friend that used to say,’ The first rule of porn is that all porn sucks’. I think that’s pretty true. I mean, it’s just very unusual to watch something that would really rev your engines – especially back in the late 80s and early 90s. Still, we would make our journey, pool our resources, and buy us some porno.

Stepping into one of these sex shoppes was much like diving into an icy cold ocean head first. You held your breath, adrenaline leaking out of your ears, harsh fluorescent lighting exposing your every move and made your way through the aisles avoiding eye contact with all the perverts. Usually you had some suggestions from the troop…

‘Christy Canyon!!’

‘No… Amber Lynn’

All you knew was time was of the essence.

First off, the longer you stayed in the store, the higher the possibility was of you getting murdered. I could just hear the police explain it all to my parents…

‘Well.. the incident happened at Al’s Porno Emporium… We found him stabbed to death with a sharpened dildo.. He was still clutching a copy of Buttman’s Big Tit Adventure’

Secondly, you didn’t wanna leave your friends out there too long fending off the hoardes of homeless people. So, as quickly as possible you made your choices paid an exorbitant amount to the guy behind the counter - who was invariably Arabic or Russian – and sprinted out of there clinging to your sack of porn for dear life.

The drive back would be high spirited, laughing about the sheer seediness of it all. When we would get to a home conveniently free of parents, we would all crowd around the VCR to review or bounty. Invariably my friends rule of porn was dead on…

‘all porn sucks’

Some would be worse than others, and in those instances we would take pleasure in ranking on the sorry excuse who’d made the selection. The laughs we’d have over all this would ALMOST make it worthwhile.

As soon as we’d watched them all, the haggling would begin as to who’d get first dibs to jerk off to them…

‘Well I went in and got it!!’

‘Yeah.. but I put the most money in!!’

Eventually all of it would be worked out, and we’d say our goodbyes and finish the rest of the night in privacy to bop our baloneys. It’s incredible to think what we put ourselves through just for a little sexual release. Of course it didn’t help that we were all socially repressed misfits. I suppose risking our lives to buy a porno tape in Times Square was far less risky than actually asking a girl out…

Those days are gone forever, and nowadays I much prefer actual fucking…

but I still watch porn…

…and it still sucks.

Meg white of the White STripes... Jug-ulicious drummer extraordinaire..

How important are someone's politics when choosing a patrner?

Nerve Confessions: It's all about the looks stupid!

The Greatest Online Dating story - The PERSONALS file

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

How important are someone's politics when choosing a patrner?

Personal confessions: The night PAULINA and I discussed sex...Plus the Daily Throb

zeitgeisty — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 15:43:00 GMT

Back in my early twenties, my band was signed to Arista records. It was a strange time for me, plucked from the obscurity of the suburbs of upstate New York, thrust into a sexy world of celebrities and then subsequently crunched through the unrelenting gears of the music business ‘machine’. In the end it was the typical ‘Behind the Music’ bullshit – a wild ride devolving into lawsuits, existential angst and eventual dissolution.

The guy that produced our record was Ric Ocasek, who was the leader of the colossal group The Cars. Getting to know him was a thrill as we’d always been great fans of his. He turned out to be a great guy as well, introducing us to his family and generally taking us under his wing.

Now, as some of you may know, Ric’s wife is the lovely Paulina Porizkova a mega-supermodel from the 80s. I tell you, meeting her for the first time was a mindblower. I mean, back in High School, I used to have her calendar up in my bedroom for goddsakes. It truly was all pretty surreal.

Anyway, all that is just a bit of background for the main point of this here particular blog entry…. Is the FACIAL a fetish?One evening we were in the studio, and Paulina and her pretty assistant stop by, on their way back from some fancy party. They both looked stunning, all made up and glamorous. Of course it being the ‘grunge’ era me and my band looked – and smelled – like a bucket of shit. We had the obligatory greasy hair, Salvation Army attire, chain smoking, we were just a mess. They sat down, and seemed in a cheery mood. We chatted a bit, and the conversation moved to sex. Just the idea that I was talking with PAULINA about sex, ME this kid who a few years earlier couldn’t even get ANY girl to talk to me about ANY subject.. that was pretty weird I can tell you.

Well… it got even weirder when Paulina looked deeply into my eyes and asked me what my sexual FETISHES are.

Jesus… I’d only been having sex for like a couple of years at that point, I hardly even knew what a fetish was. I stammered, and blushed and eventually said…

‘ I like to ..you know… uh.. ‘finish’ my business in a girl’s face’

They both started laughing hysterically…

‘That’s not a FETISH!!’

‘What do you mean?’, I asked…

‘EVERYONE does that!’, Paulina giggled.

‘Yeah, why do you think my skin’s so smooth?’, her assistant joked.

Around this time Ric came out of the control room and asked us to come in to do some overdubs, thus ending the single most dream-like conversation I’d ever have.

So there you have it, one celebrity’s opinion on the matter. Personally I agree, the idea that something as JEJUNE as cumming in a girl’s face could be seen through all these metaphorical, philosophical, and psychological filters seems absurd to me. Still, it does make sense. This country is both obsessed and inhibited when it comes to sex.

It is positively sexophrenic.

Venus on earth... Paulina Porizkova

Nerve Confessions: It's all about the looks stupid!

The Greatest Online Dating story - The PERSONALS file

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

Nerve Confessions: It's all about the looks stupid!

Dating Confessions: How important are somebody's POLITICS when seeking a partner?.. Plus the Daily Throb!

zeitgeisty — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 20:12:00 GMT

I could never seriously date a republican.

I’ve tried a couple of times, but it never worked out. The thing is, all the clichés and stereotypes about those people hold pretty true, and I just can’t abide the abject ignorance. I mean, that’s not to say that I’m this Gung-ho Democrat, in fact I think the party is run by a bunch of morons… Dean, Pelosi, Reid? They couldn’t be worse. Well ok, they could be Cheney, Bush, and Rove…but even still.

I remember this one chick I dated, she was from the mid-west, and had that cornfed healthy looking, pull yourself up by the bootstraps thing going on. Her father was some kind of head so and so in the Republican party. She would always be making disparaging remarks against blacks and Jews, the stuff she’d spew was just this total cartoon expectation of a conservative.

At the same time though, she tried to portray herself as ‘edgy’ with this faux patina of downtown hipster, which was just a totally nauseating combo when coupled with her personal beliefs about religion, and the environment. Still,I think that’s why she was initially attracted to me, I think she thought that I was that typical downtown guy, when in point of fact I’m actually quite the opposite. I’m an independent thinker, I loathe Williamsburg and that whole vibe. Basically, I’m a militant realist and seeker of truth… some might call it ‘official pain in the ass’, but I don’t see it that way.

Needless to say, that relationship didn’t last long…

It’s interesting to think about. How important a factor are someone’s politics, when seeking a partner? Do they need to be on the ‘same side’ so to speak? Some say no… Case in point James Carville and Mary Matalin, two people that couldn’t be further away from each other as far as politics are concerned, and yet they’ve been holding it together for more than fifteen years of marriage. Seriously, I have no idea how they do it. I once broke up with someone because they hated Bob Dylan – of course she was also an elitist twat, but the Bob Dylan thing pushed her over the edge into dumpsville.

My current girlfriend is similar to me in that she has no true fixed allegiance to either party. We also both were Hillary supporters, and have been greatly disappointed by how this whole election year has turned out. Still it is what it is, and the die is pretty much cast… half the country is us, and half is them and nere’ the twain shall meet. That’s the question I think, as far as relationships go, can ‘us’ get along with ‘them’?

In this new world order, ‘the other’ no longer automatically brings with it the sole connotation of race or religion. In this new paradigm, ‘the other’ is all about politics. Where do you stand on religion, choice, medical research, the environment, etc… This supersedes all.

Yeah.. I couldn’t date a republican.

Funny though, in today’s ‘hipster’ circles, I could totally see a trend spring up where it would be totally ‘ironic’ - in a supposedly cool way - to date someone outside of their political affiliation. Kind of like wearing an Air Supply T-shirt.

It’s thoughts like these that make me wanna go and take a dump.

BOOooOOOoooooIIIINNNNnnnnGGGGGG!!!!!!! Serena Willians - tennis superstar

The Greatest Online Dating story - The PERSONALS file

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

Nerve Confessions: It's all about the looks stupid!!...plus the Daily Throb!

zeitgeisty — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 19:02:00 GMT

This morning I was sifting through the Dating Confessions section and came across this gem…

"Men: let me tell you something. You've got ten seconds to impress women. In those ten seconds, we check your hair, your clothes, and your shoes. If you pass that initial check, you have five minutes in which we decide whether or not you're attractive, friend material, or a loser. Don't think that you can show up to a date wearing a gammy T-shirt and we'll fall all over you by virtue of your witty banter. Because by the time the banter comes out, you're already either a friend or a loser."

So, what is the underlying message? Apparently appearance is pretty much the be end and end all’ when it comes to initially choosing a partner. Witty banter, intelligence, repartee…if you’re not up to snuff as far as your looks are concerned, the best you can hope for is friend status. Although, one might feel a tad put off after reading this, I feel the author is pretty dead on.

Speaking directly to this issue, the question I usually like to throw out there is…

'What would you rather have, love at first sight, or have someone grow on you like a fungus?'

The overwhelming response from my female friends is the 'fungus'. Now I know this is total horseshit. No one could possibly prefer the fungus over the fast beating heart, and butterflies in the stomach you get when you are truly knocked out by someone. Still I hear back from my gal pals;

'Well the love at first sight 'thing' usually burns out fast, but a slow growing relationship stands more of a chance of lasting'.

Again phooey! That would mean you'd be trading one of the few natural perks of being human - overwhelming passion and excitement, for the stability and sleepy comfort you could get from a pair of old shoes.

My opinion, is in order for a relationship to work, it has to initially be based on looks. Of course I'll hear that this is a shallow and juvenile way of seeing things, but I assure you it's not. It's mere logic. How can you expect a relationship to truly get off the ground if it's not based on carnal obsession and animalistic lust? If one constructs, or cobbles together some sort of pact with a partner based on mutual respect, or similar mindset, then what happens when someone comes along that truly blows you away?

In other words, the relationship is vulnerable.

Now I'm not saying that looks, sex and aesthetic bonding is the whole enchilada, I'm just saying that it must be the starting off point. All the other stuff follows suit.. or doesn't, but to settle for comfort and stability serves no one in the end.

I am aware that certain women have this innate need for stability and long-term intimacy, and that some are willing to forego passion and lust in lieu of something they feel outweighs such 'secondary' needs. However, this is mere convention. We should not shackle ourselves to this perceived wisdom. It's actually destructive. One should absolutely know for sure that your partner views you as the pinnacle of all things attractive, sexual, and powerful. I mean what would the alternative to that belief be? Perhaps that somewhere inside, she harbors another image of perfection, or worse yet some specific person she knew before, that probably dumped her and left her with a broken heart.

Now some may argue that passion doesn't last, that it eventually settles down into routine, but I disagree. True passion and attraction do not fade. If that was the case, then why are so many people walking around still carrying torches for the past loves of their lives, constantly comparing their present relationships to them, holding them up as standards to be measured against?

In other words, true passion never dies, it stays with you forever..

Besides which, what would you rather have, an overwhelming 'fuck frenzy' that settles down naturally, or a constant trickle of hum drum intimacy? No . Personally, I wouldn't want anyone to think they were 'settling' for me. I can't understand anyone who would want that.

Some people are so lonely that they just need that companionship. They can't be alone in their lives. They're like rhesus monkeys that constantly need someone to grab onto. It doesn't matter really who it is, they could be some arbitrary choice. This is maddening to me. I also don't believe in the assertion that if you find someone personally interesting, or intellectually stimulating that this can be the basis for a satisfying relationship. If this were the case, tell me why there are millions of forlorn 'interesting' and 'intellectual' nerds out there being dumped on their collective asses each day by their girlfriends, because she found some hotter guy to bone?.

It is about aesthetics...

Yes you can talk about Schopenhauer and analyze Hitchcock, and wax philosophical over societal and moral issues, but if you don't wanna fuck the person to death that you're bullshitting about all this stuff with, then where's the climax? What's the point?

One might ask the question, 'What about the really ugly ones, are they doomed?' I say most probably not. I actually believe that practically everyone has someone out there that would find them devastating. Ok.. Maybe not the elephant man, or some guy with a horn growing out of his forehead, but practically everyone. I mean, I've seen the most boring looking guy with some googly eyed girl on his arm looking up at him worshipfully. It's all about aesthetic connection.

We all have our own little codes implanted in us, about what we find find personally attractive. Some are banal... actually most are banal. Some are more esoteric and specific, but we all have these images in our heads as to what constitutes beauty, so why settle? In the long run it's a big mistake. This misguided view of relationships is the reason the porn industry is through the roof, the reason why vibrators are flying off the shelves, and the cause of much misery believe me.

So next time you start thinking that the fungus would be the better option to lust at first sight, I suggest buying a can of tough actin' Tinactin and look for another Mr. Goodbar..

Bodacious, british babe.... actress Gemma Bissix

The Greatest Online Dating story - The PERSONALS file

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

The Greatest Online Dating story - The PERSONALS file

Sex with someone I love - The MASTURBATION file...plus the Daily Throb

zeitgeisty — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 20:15:00 GMT

As Woody Allen famously said in Annie Hall…’Don’t knock masturbation, it’s sex with someone I love’

It’s funny, I have a clearer memory of my initial foray into the pounding of pud, than the first time I got laid. I remember it as if it was yesterday actually… I was 14 years old, in the hall bathroom of my parent’s house. My masturbatory material was a dusty old Penthouse Forum I’d stolen from one of my friends.

After perusing it a bit, I eventually landed on the lucky image - a simple blown up photo of a spread open vagina in black and white newsprint.

For weeks prior, my best pal had urged me to try slapping my salami, as it would ‘release all my sexual tension’. For some reason I resisted the idea, as it just felt awkward. Still, he kept after me to try it, so after a couple of failed attempts, I resolved to lock myself up in the john until I achieved orgasm. That excruciating feeling of momentous build up to a satisfying yet ultimately empty release, and all the sticky aftermath really affected me deeply. I could get all quasi philosophical and start prattling on about how since then I’ve seen that first whack-off session as a metaphor for my life – the expectation, build up, emptiness, and mess – but that would just be another type of masturbation, that of the verbal kind.

Anyway, since then I’ve been a regular practitioner.

I’m not all elaborate about it though. I mean, some people really get into it, they’ve got ‘goodie drawers’ filled with lube, candles, anal beads. Etc… I’m a ‘get in and get out’ stealth mission man myself. In general, I think women tend to go for the ‘production’ more than men, searching for the perfect vibrator, enjoying the warm bubble bath as prelude, reading a harlequin romance to get in the mood. That’s why I find it funny when they get all bent out of shape over the masturbatory habits of their partners. I don’t know how many times I’ve been given a hard time by my exes about having a porn stash, or for even jerking off at all.

‘Why do you need to jerk-off if you have me?’

Jesus, I don’t know how many times I’ve heard that question…

The answer is really quite simple. Sometimes you just want a snack. I mean, if you’re not THAT hungry, you’re not gonna go for the full course meal are you? If you’re just a tad peckish, you’re gonna reach for the bologna in the fridge, and take out a slice.

Now, sometimes that can get complicated… For instance, if you get home from work, and you’re hungry, and you have that ‘slice of bologna’, but then your girlfriend calls up and says she’s coming over, and she’s expecting you to ‘take her out to dinner’ so to speak. Well, now your appetite’s ruined, which just throws a monkey wrench into the works. I know that some of you might say…

‘What are you some wimp? You can’t get excited for the 3 course meal, just because you’ve had a slice of bologna?’

Hey, sometimes you just can’t…

The thing is, I feel since I’ve never been judgmental as far as anyone else’s diddly habits are concerned, why should I be so scrutinized? It’s not like I’m some addict, scouring porn-sites every spare second. In fact I think my frequency is pretty average, maybe even less than average.

‘Ewww… Baby Got back??? Ewwww…. Asian cock sluts… SO you just want Asians and black girls!!!... Why are you even with me???!!!’

You see the kinds of ridiculous conversations stem from the simple act of pulling your pole? For me – and I feel most men – masturbation is part base urge and part habit. It’s a mechanical, unemotional activity. Would you criticize someone for taking a dump? Would you scrutinize what type of toilet paper they use to wipe their ass? It’s all analogous as far as I’m concerned.

I think people just need static to occupy their minds, they need the sacrificial lamb, the boogie man, things to feel ashamed about. They need to exert control…unfortunately control is an illusion, so just pull down your pants and have at it…It’s really ok.

The incomparable Sophia Loren... she's in her 70s now, and I'd still do her!!

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

The greatest online dating story!! - The PERSONALS file...plus the Daily Throb...

zeitgeisty — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 15:42:00 GMT

When you go on dates, there are many innocuous little ice breakers people commonly rely on, such as, ‘So…What do you do?’ or the popular ‘ So.. like, Where are you from?’ and then there’s my all time favorite, ‘So.. uh.. do you like cheese?’

Going on a date you’ve met through the online personals is a bit different. When meeting someone through that auspice for the first time, invariably the question,’ So what’s your greatest online dating story?’ pops up. Usually, most of the stories I’ve heard have been pretty tame like…

‘Well, this guy said he was like totally 6 feet tall, and when he got there he was like.. 5 foot 2’

On occasion you hear the obligatory ‘groping’ date or the date that turned out to be a stalker, and don’t get me wrong, those have undeniable entertainment value, but…

I have the greatest online dating story ever told…

About four years ago, I was doing a brief stint of online dating with another service, to remain nameless (it was lavalife). Anyway, I wasn’t having too much success with it, and I was ready to give it up and go buy a blow up doll, when one day I noticed that I had received a new e-mail in my inbox. Now, I don’t know about you, but receiving a new letter always fills me with a quick jolt of pep. When I clicked on it, I discovered that it was an unsolicited note, which is a rather infrequent occurrence. Guys usually make the first move online, and I have to tell you, the unsolicited note, much like the unsolicited manuscript or demo usually doesn’t garner too much attention. Perhaps it’s unfair, but it does send up a red flag or two i.e. is this woman desperate? Does she look like something you’d find in a live bait shop? You know the usual.

Anyway, the note was extremely complimentary, and effusive, which I found endearing and I must admit, it did play to my vanity, which is a definite weakness of mine. Her photo seemed a bit non-descript, I really couldn’t get a clear idea of what she looked like. However, she didn’t appear to be actively or aggressively unattractive, in fact quite the opposite, she seemed pretty, or at least I thought she did, I mean I was extrapolating. I sent back a brief, yet well thought out response vaguely suggesting we meet up for a beverage of some arbitrary type, and she agreed. I was glad of that. These lengthy exchanges are a bit of a bore, I think it best to just jump out there and see what’s what. So we decide to meet up downtown after work in a couple of days.

The day of our date, I was totally running behind, and I wound up getting out of work at a ridiculous hour. I rushed to our meeting place, but I got stuck in a jam on the FDR. I wind up there about a half hour late, feeling all harried and out of sorts.

I thought to myself. ‘Shit .. I left this poor girl out to dry out here on these mean Soho streets.. what an unbelievable bastard be I..’

Just as that puffy thought bubble was dissipating over my head I see someone frantically waving to me from across the street. So I take a few steps closer, and I notice, ’she’s a tall one!’. A few steps more and I notice, ‘wow, she’s a really tall one!’. A few steps more and I notice.. uh.. in the immortal words of Austin Powers ‘She’s a man baby!!!’. Or more to the point, a transvestite, and not doing a very good job of it I might add. She was built like a linebacker, with these massive shoulders exposed in a sun dress. To make it even worse, she had on this really bad wig, which was slightly askew atop her enormous pineapple shaped head.

I felt all the blood drain from my face, as she approached to introduce herself.. ‘Hey there, I nearly gave up on you!!’ My mouth went dry and I wasn’t sure exactly what my next move should be. I gotta say about 99.9 percent of me wanted to just pivot and run like the wind in the opposite direction. Still, I was brought up with impeccable manners, and I couldn’t bring myself to hurt her feelings.

I managed to squeak out, ’yeah, traffic was really bad on the Drive, and I got out of work a bit later than I.’

‘Oh no matter, no matter’, she chimed in cheerily…

She had this odd accent, vaguely Australian with a hint of New Jersey. I was getting pretty freaked out at this point, and my brain kind of took a powder. I’m prone to anxiety attacks anyway, and this was a prime situation for that inevitability. I don’t know why or how, but I made some kind of decision with myself that I would have a quick drink with her and then high tail it out of there.

Maybe it was the cheap wig, precariously perched upon her noggin that made feel bad for her, or maybe it was the fact that I was so out of it, but here I am, walking down the street with this gigantic transvestite looking for a bar.

The first place I spot, I stammer in her general direction at blinding speed, ’Here. This ones good no? Don’t you think.. let’s step in here, we’ll just get a drink now..’

We walk in, and everyone in the place freezes. Drinks are dropped, mouths are dropped, all eyes are upon us. It was like that scene in the Nutty Professor with JERRY LEWIS - NOT EDDIE MURPHY. Anyway, it was a nightmare. So, we sit down at the bar, I order a scotch straight and she orders a white wine spritzer. The bartender gives me the evil eye as he sets up our drinks. I try to convey to him through my eyes, that in point of fact this is not my choice, and it’s only my flawless good breeding that has me stuck in this situation. Of course, he probably thinks I’m giving him ‘the eye’ He snarls something under his breath and skulks off.

We settle in and she starts babbling to me about her and her ex ‘lover’, and how he was a famous performance artist but was just too mercurial to get serious with. Then she began to recount this long and detail laden adventure about how she was living in LA and was deported back to New Zealand (I was close) describing her struggle to get back to the states.

Meanwhile, I have this frozen half smile plastered to my face, all the while I’m saying to myself, ‘Oh dear god, just pick an opening and say you have to attend some sort of function that you’re chairing.. or you’re receiving some award.. You’re the guest of honor.. or. Just … ...GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!!’.

I felt dizzy and nauseous. Moreover, I was also beginning to get really pissed off, I mean who the hell was she to put me in this awkward position? Don’t get me wrong, I am no homophobe, and I’m a totally live and let live type of guy, but this is just too much - she continued to drone on in that odd accent of hers…

‘ So, anyway, here I am back in ole’ New Zealand, desperately pining for Mark, and feeling all coked out….‘

I’m beginning to really hate this person. I mean even if she was a woman I think I’d hate her, not only is she a transvestite, but she’s a boring transvestite!! Something snaps in the back of my brain like a blue spark, and in the middle of a her story describing a painful cavity search in Fiji, I blurt out much too loudly

‘I’m really sorry I forgot I have to be some where I mean Im the guest of honor at a party being thrown in my honor its a charity event for war orphans in bolivia and i sponsor this family thats being flown in and i really should be there im known in the village as 'big papa who heals with kindness' and it would be a great insult if i didnt show up so i really have to go it was real nice meeting you and im sorry about the abruptness but i…’

... ‘oh.. Just go.. just go!’, she interrupted in a wounded tone..

I couldn’t believe it, she had the nerve to feel hurt!!

‘no really its the bolivian orphans and ok im gonna be going nice meeting you’

.. and just like that I was out of there. I rushed back home to reinvestigate her profile to see if I’d missed any clues, or hidden messages. I couldn’t find anything other than a line where she stated must have an ‘open mind’. Who knew what she actually meant?? I thought she meant different kinds of food or some such shit.

Later that night I reflected upon my date. Did I handle it correctly? Should I have called her out on her deception? Was I just a big wimp? In the end she was up one white wine spritzer, and I was up one hell of a good story.. I think we broke even.

Now that’s a pretty good story right? Well, there’s more! There’s a KICKER to this story that pushes it over the top and truly makes it..

‘The greatest online date story of all time’…

Not too long ago – just before I started dating my present girlfriend - I got an ‘unsolicited note’ in my mailbox here at NERVE. I couldn’t really tell much from the photos as they were inconclusive. Still, I wrote her back, as I’m a friendly guy and I usually write back to people that take the time to write me. Anyway, I tell her I’m an artist and I also write for my website, and I sent her the link to the site.. blah, blah..

After a couple of exchanges however, she mentions that she’d lived in New Zealand. NEW ZEALAND..it all clicked… This person was THE FUCKING SAME TRANSVESTITE from 4 years ago!!!!

Well, needless to say, this time I didn’t take her out for a drink.

So be careful fellas, she's out there.. and she's looking for love.. I suppose we all are.

Most of us anyway..

Pow...bang... booommm...Gong Li ...actress

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

'But baby I HAVE to have a profile up.. it's REQUIRED for godsakes!!' - the GIRLFRIEND file ...plus the Daily Throb

zeitgeisty — Mon, 08 Sep 2008 16:32:00 GMT

One of the requisites for being a blogger here at Date Machine is to have an active personals profile. This initially elicited a bit of consternation from my girlfriend.

‘I don’t understand… If you’re dating someone, why do you have to have a profile up?’

‘I dunno… it’s the rules. I follow the rules! I’m a good soldier..’

‘Sure that’s what they all said at Nuremberg…’

Eventually, after I changed my status to ‘attached’, and set my preferences to ‘looking for a man or woman for a friend’, she eased off. Then one day she approaches me with a grave expression on her face. Automatically, I knew I was in for some sort of drama. I hate the ‘grave expression’.

‘Do you talk to women on Nerve?’

My mind raced… had I talked to anyone? Shit… I realized that in fact there were a couple of chicks that wrote to me, in which I had politely ( yet very briefly ) responded to.

‘Nooo! What are you talking about? Like who? Who would I talk to?’

‘So you’re saying you’ve never talked to anyone on Nerve recently’

I knew in order for her to have found out about these completely banal and harmless non-conversations, she would have had to have gone into my account and snooped around. She’s looked through my stuff before, so this wasn’t much of a surprise to me, and to tell the truth at this point I don’t even care when she does it anymore…

‘Ohh… Did you say TALK to?... Well I do believe there were a couple I just responded to briefly…’

‘Why are you talking to women on Nerve??’

‘I’m not TALKING to women on Nerve… did you want me to be rude?? I just responded!... They could have been fans of the blog!!!’

‘I don’t get it… what do you get out of it? Why are you talking to strange women?’

‘Listen, as a blogger, I’m REQUIRED to have an active profile, if someone writes me do you want me to just not respond? I mean, it’s not like I’M writing anyone… It’s not like I’m flirting with them, or giving them any indication that I’m interested…Jesus.. it says ATTACHED on my profile. What else do you want?’

‘I know I wouldn’t respond if it were me. How would you like it if I were talking to strange men on Nerve. I’m putting my profile back up.. no biggie right? If all I’m having is simple conversation’

‘That’s completely different.. I HAVE to have my profile up’

I could tell this discussion was going to be an all-nighter…

‘What about the Hotlisting?’

Shit… now my mind was racing. Had I hotlisted anyone??

‘Hotlist? Who did I hotlist?’

‘You have like 15 people you hotlisted!! Some since we’ve been going out!!!’

‘Oh HOTLIST..uh… well, they probably were people that commented on the blog-a-log that I was just checking out’

‘Bullshit… they’re all HOT women!!’

‘So… I’m to blame that my readers are hot??’

‘You’re a liar!!... Even if they were readers, why do you need to hotlist them?’

‘What’s the big deal anyway? It’s not like I WROTE to anyone!’

‘Yeah, but you HOTLISTED them...’

‘..and?’

‘When you hotlist someone, they see it, and that’s a way of getting them to write to you!!... it’s an INVITATION!!’

I actually had never even realized that. Shit… I should’ve used that trick when I was actually using the fucking thing!

‘You mean it’s like a technique? That’s devious… You have a devious mind!!’

‘You were trawling for responses!’

‘Yeah well… I didn’t get any anyway, so what’s the diff??’

‘Why are you hotlisting strange women?’

‘Like I said, either I knew them, or they were commenters… Ok.. and even if there were a couple that I just hotlisted for the hell of it, what’s the big deal? I was just bored probably. I mean, I didn’t WRITE to them!...’

‘You were just bored? So you’re bored, and you’re looking at other women?’

‘God… it’s meaningless. It’s just pointing and clicking, mindless, emotionless, pointing and clicking!!’

It went on and on like that for the rest of the night, and into the next day. Eventually, I managed to quell her fears by telling her that I just wouldn’t respond back to anyone that wrote to me, and that I wouldn’t hotlist anyone anymore.

Of course recently, it’s been floated here at Date Machine, that we’re going start up a new feature where we bloggers spotlight the ‘personal of the day’. Now, in order to use their profile, we would have to get their permission, which means we’d have to write to them! When I heard about this, I immediately let my girlfriend know about it.

Smiling, she said….‘So you beat the system huh?’

‘Hey… I follow orders… I’m a good soldier.’

Hubba hubba!...Claudia Cardinale actress...Fellini's 8 1/2

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file