Little Bill

Why can’t dating simply be:

“Hey, I like you.”
“Hey, I like you too!”
“Great! Let’s fuck!*”
“Okay, let me get the condom!”

instead it’s more like

“Hey, I like you.”
“Hey, I like you too!”

and then, two days later:

“Haven’t heard from you since our date. What gives?”
“Well, you were a bit too forward, I don’t think I’m feeling it. Good luck.”

What the fuck? Throw a guy a bone, ladies. You say you don’t like games. You say you don’t want bullshit. You want honesty and candor and when you get it, you tuck tail and run?

This designer’s damn near giving up.

* I’m being facetious of course. This isn’t how it’d work.

I just paid off my college loan. :)

A note of advice to people out there who are, like me, in dating land: Don’t make jokes that you yourself cannot take.

Please, let me explain.

Yesterday evening I had a second date with woman named . . . let’s call her Chastity. Chastity is a 34 year old dotcom exec. Redhead. Attractive. Totally my type, despite her age. (I’m 29.) The plan was to meet up in Manhattan for a drink, take the subway into Brooklyn for dinner, and then stroll around Coney Island after dark. And the plan was going well until . . .

Well, let me start at the beginning. Chastity and I met up in SoHo for a drink at this little college-like bar. It was her suggestion. There we talked a little bit about our jobs (again) and discussed the night’s plans. I mentioned that I had driven my car down to the neighborhood where we would be having dinner, and then took the subway into Manhattan to meet up with her for drinks. The idea was that we would drive in my car down to Coney Island, Brooklyn after dinner, to which she said, “I was wondering how we’d get to Coney Island.”

So let me establish that. She’s knows we’re driving to Coney Island.

Then there’s dinner. A simple nice dinner, and we shared dessert. Probably the best banana split I’ve ever had, she agreed. Good conversation, laughs, smiles, the whole bit. After dinner (I paid the check, incidentally) we walked up the street to my car.

There in my car we get in and I joke, “I’m surprised you’re getting into a car with a near-complete stranger!”

“Well, I figure tonight’s a good night to be axe-murdered.” or something to that effect. It was certainly said in a playful manner.

Which leads me back into the banter, “No, no axe-murdering today. That’s a third date kind of event.”

And we’re off in the car down the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway to Coney Island. A few moments later, some conversation leads me back to a third axe-murder joke. Again, totally in jest.

And here’s where the direction of the evening shifted.

Continue Reading…

There are no words I can add, that Keith Olbermann hasn’t already said.

Here in New York City, it’s a grey and chilly Fourth of July. It’s so easy to draw a corollary between the chilly drippy weather and the fact that here we are celebrating our “independence.” Heh, right. Our independence.

When was the last time you felt you actually lived in the home of the free, land of the brave? In the country whose elected officials has not, in a very long time, so blatantly acted more in their own best interests rather than that of the people whom they represent, how can we be proud to be Americans?

I was speaking with my friend Mike the other day about all of this, and how all of this open discussion, people exposing the government for the who they really are in the media amounts to very little. What does this say about my generation as compared to my parents generation? Where they got up and marched and fought for change and clashed with the police to get their point across, all we do is laugh at The Daily Show?

Don’t get me wrong, the show has the right idea. The fact that common sense isn’t common anymore, and pointing out how ridiculous it has become, however what are we doing about it? This is the problem! No one’s actually standing up and saying, “Cut the SHIT and HELP us! We’re Americans! We put you in those seats! DO THE RIGHT THING!!”

What makes you proud to be an American? Do your family values include morbid obesity, WWE, and Subway Restaurant advertisements on the radio demonstrating different ways to cram that oversized sub into your mouth?

I don’t know if I’m proud to be an American, but I’m behaving like one. Instead of doing the right thing, I’m going to go and watch as the heavens storm and paint the skies grey as the bombs burst in the air and be a good little consumer with my shiny new iPhone, my shiny new Canon 30d and the promise of Transformers on the horizon. Even I’m a hypocrite.