Confessions of a First Timer
Posted: February 20th, 2013 by

Dating to me had always been this mystical, invigorating process. Coming from a girl who spent the better part of the last seven years in a relationship with one person, you can understand why I may have thought like this. I would watch friends flirt in bars, listen to them talk about these awesome connections and feel a tinge of jealousy when I’d hear about some of their sexual exploits. Needless to say, it wasn’t that long ago that I discovered these feelings of mine were a little to strong to stay in said committed relationship (oh, did I mention we were living together?), and hence have started my own new journey in what I now realize is the ridiculous, unpredictable, hilarious, and confounding world of dating.


It all really started for me over the holidays when I had all this extra time and, to be honest, was feeling quite bored and lonely in my new apartment now that all the pictures had been hung and the furniture built. “Let’s see what all this business is about online dating,” I thought to myself. I only intended to check out other people’s profiles, and definitely was not planning on shelling out any money, but soon enough I found that I quite liked creating my profile and answering the myriad of questions posed on OkCupid. I’m pretty sure I answered about 500 in one evening as I downed three-quarters of a bottle of Pinot Noir.


Do I like horror movies? No. Can you date a messy person? No. Do you believe in God? Yes. Does the idea of being slapped hard in the face during sex turn you on? Holy hell, NO! If your partner asked you to play out a rape fantasy during sex, would you? Ok, now these are just getting creepy.


Sure enough I started getting messages. The majority of them commented on my suggestion that they write me if they liked Magnolia’s banana pudding (honestly, it’s amazing) and/or the giant beer and pretzel I was holding in one of my pictures at Munich’s Chinese beer garden. Giant pretzels are definitely the way to most men’s hearts I’ve since learned.


I figured out pretty fast what most people already know in that online dating is somewhat of a chore. Even so, it was fun. I could shamelessly flirt with whomever I wanted with virtually no consequences and it was freeing. Sure I got the oddball message that made me question if there ever really is a time where guys officially mature.


I know you think I’m ugly, but would you still be interested in getting to know me?


If you were bacon, what kind would you be? Crispy, crunchy, chewy or burnt?


Hi beautiful! How you dooooin ;)


But then I got this one:


Hey there! I really wish I had something profound or witty to say, but I don’t. I just wanted to write you because you just seem like you’re a lot of fun, and your photos are adorable. I’ve been to that beer garden in Munich–it’s pretty amazing. Anyway, let me know if you’d like to meet up some time. I think it would be a lot of fun!


This non-degrading, seemingly normal message got me hooked, and the more and more I talked with this guy, the more intrigued I became. He was a lawyer, classically trained musician, triathlete with a photographic memory who lived alone, loved to cook and had a dog (bonus points in my book!). “He’s like a Ken doll!” one of my friends said, and I couldn’t necessarily disagree.


As we set up our first date—my first real date ever—I couldn’t be more excited and finally came to the realization that there was more to life than I ever understood.



Reminder in the “sewage bar”
Posted: February 16th, 2013 by



All bars smell, but the bar we met our friends out at last night  — our local spot – smelled vulgar. The mystery causing this polluted air turned out to be what the bartender described as “a sewage problem.” Lovely. How can I pick up men in a place that smells like a Porta-Potty?


I sat in the corner with my friends; we chatted and drank and soon I was somewhat immune to the smell. As our conversation went on, I was reminded of something by one of my newer guy friends, or, well, I think he’s my friend (we had a somewhat rocky start. For a while, I was pretty convinced he thought I was an insane idiot and I thought he was a jerk. We’ve evolved past that now.)


Our conversation went something like this:



“I’m ready to date again.”


“Why were you not dating?”


“Well, I mean, I got out of a relationship in November and then the holidays were coming up and I didn’t want to get involved before the holidays.”


“That’s stupid. You shouldn’t set limits like that. If you find someone, you find someone. The timing of it doesn’t matter.”



Pause. Why put up barriers that will only prevent my own happiness? What a stupid thing to do.



“Then, after the holidays, I was working on essays and working on the weekends, but that’s all done now, so I want to date!”


“Are you telling me that you wouldn’t have made time for someone had the right one come along?”


“No, I would have.”



Then, the sad realization sat in that there hasn’t really been anyone.


Eventually we left the bar and headed to one next door. I ended the night freezing outside the bar and chatting with a very short pilot, who was a bit odd.



Perhaps I’ll meet a sailor tonight.




Mr. Flake
Posted: January 26th, 2013 by

Tags: , , , , , ,



Dear Mr. Flake,


I knew you were a flake, but I allowed your calls, texts and a few gestures to camouflage you in my reality. Seriously, it’s cool if you found another girl, or whatever – I’m happy for you. Just pick up your damn phone and cancel our plans.


Glad we got that straightened out.  OK, thanks, bye.


~ Risible


P.S. My time is valuable and you’re not worth another moment of it. #DontCallMe


“Dear OKstupid, how do I give the man in my bed my phone number when I lost my phone?”

This is the dilemma I woke up to on New Year’s Day.

No, I didn’t kiss any man at midnight, but somehow I ended up with one under my comforter who needed a 9 a.m. ride home. Hungover, I continued to say, “I hate you” as I braced myself to face the harsh bright sun of the new year.

How do you say, “bye” to someone you just madeout and passed out with? We settled on the awkward over-the-console, “car hug.” You know what I’m talking about. He asked me, “so how do I get a hold of you if you don’t have a phone?” I opened the console, grabbed a pen and wrote down my email address.”

So, there you have it, the beginning a “classy” 2013. This year’s resolution? Do not leave phone in the taxi on New Year’s Eve.


Think about the beginning of any relationship. What brings you to the next step? You want to know more about the other person, you want to do more with the other person. In other words, you’re curious.


When it comes to the dating-sphere, this is where curiosity has recently led me… and what my curiosity had in store for me:


A balcony. While chatting, I got attacked by yellow jackets causing my arm to swell up to the size of my leg. Nothing a steroid shot and antibiotics can’t fix.


On a road trip across the state. At one point during the adventure, I ended up at The Magic Time machine. At another, I ended up with a drink that was lit on fire.


A flooded bathroom. After the road trip, I was in need of a shower. Obviously, something went wrong.


Dance floors. Both legit and impromptu.


Walking across the highway with my best friend. Not that this is necessarily the dating-sphere, but we were two girls “hitting up the town.” And, we did end up with dance partners.


Alright alright, so I haven’t hit the point of love or destruction yet, but the yellow jackets were a close call.



So, while sitting at the pool with my neighbors, I watched as a crush turned crazy. A 21-year-old psycho became obsessed with my neighbor. A good eight years older, he fell into the trap.
I sat back with my feet kicked up and watched the show.

Within a week she was calling him “daddy” to her dog. Hey girl, don’t do that.

Within a week, she was walking into his apartment without a phone call …or a knock. Hey girl, don’t do that.

Within a week and a half, she was cussing him out, banging on his door and throwing rocks at his apartment. Hey girl, don’t do that.



And, you wonder why guys think girls are crazy.

– Risible

I spent the last week or so trying to fill a hole in my heart with things like friends and vodka. Note to future self: the former hurts your head a lot less than the later; however, both are sometimes necessary.


But you can’t fill the hole. It just has to close on its own … like a scab or a wound.


What’s the opposite of “breaking up” anyway? Could it be “building up?” If so, that’s what I’ll be doing.



Definition of “building up?” Don’t know yet. I’ll leave that to be determined through future posts.


- Risible

So I’m not about to pay some however much a month to be on a dating site.  But I can see some advantages.

I get the feeling that every single guy on the freebie dating sites only sends one style of picture.

What all the girls be lovin'     ...not

Say gurl lemme bang them guts ;)



The problems with the above are two-fold.

1.   Any girl on the site with even the most remote possibility of coming off attractive is inundated with this nonsense.

2.  After said young lady’s inbox is full of pictures like this, guys like me (with respectable photos enclosed and thoughtful messages) go entirely ignored.  Lost in a sea of Rohypnol toting, would-be guidos.


Thanks a lot, gents, you’re ruining everyone’s chances of finding a mate/friend/bootybuddy/penpal*/whatever.


What drives you to send something like that?  Does it even work?  It must because I sure see a lot of womens’ profiles that issue a warning right off the bat.  Usually poorly worded and aggressive in nature (read: capslock wrath) stating:




Its very off-putting to see that in a profile because although the young lady may have at one point been approachable, you are forever lumped in with the d-bags that have relentlessly assaulted this poor girl into a giant wall of angry-defensive-lady.


Dudes, be nice, slow your roll, and charm these women.  Let them be courted, not attacked.



Keep On Truckin'

I love these little images


We love you, keep trying, keep replying.  Haters can hate, gators can gate, taters can tate, etc.


*Do pen-pals even exist anymore? Yes they do and you’re all guilty.  We are pretty much all pen-pals since everyone texts or  writes on facebook walls anyway.

Of the contributors to this site, I’m the only male.  It’s important to portray the masculine point of view of online dating in your mid 20s.

As you might have noticed, the dude/lady ratio in the online dating realm is staggering.  Though that margin is becoming more and more narrow, its still a buyer’s (women’s) market.  Loads of dudes clamoring for attention and ladies able to pick and choose from their, no doubt, massive list of new messages every day (from what I’ve heard from my fellow contributors).


You have this many new messages!


I’ve been off and on online dating for the better part of 6 years.  How many times have I been approached?  7

7 times.  An average of 1.167 first messages per year.

Now i’m not an ugly guy, nor am i antisocial.  My friends would arguably label me the most outgoing of our group.  But that isn’t the reason my approachers have numbered so few.

The real reason?  I like to call it “Trawling”.

The same way you try to drum up new business in a call center, men use to get a desired lady’s attention.  The same method used to get all the girls in the freshman quad to come to a frat party; same as trying to cold call businesses; same as trying to catch alaskan king crab from the bottom of the frigid Bering Sea.


An accepted method of acquiring female attention online.


Now i’m not sure if that has been experienced by all of you ladyfolk, but does that work?

Maybe you aren’t seeing it.  Maybe there’s just enough of an identity in each message to prove humanity.  But honestly, how could you tell?





I have a quota of words I’m required to meet?


I have only been doing the online dating dance for a little over a month. Ill admit that sometimes my responses are limited however I didn’t realize I had a certain amount of words or sentences to meet. At times I receive messages where I just get asked questions. Such as what is your tattoo of? Do you have more? Are you mixed with another ethnicity? blah blah blah. So my initial response is to answer they’re questions. It would be rude not to, right? This one particular gentlemen lets say a 4 out of 5 in ratings according to my standards took the time to count my words in each response to his questions. Then he continued to bash me for not using more words and insulted me by saying I was a bad conversationalist. After 3 messages of correspondence.

o.0 Needless to say …. one word… CRAZY.


Dear please ask more question about potential candidates mental health…


Thank you