Diving back into the dating world after three years was the proverbial equivalent of diving off the Bay Bridge in December into the frigid waters below. It’s an ice-cold electronic world out there and I’m just an out of touch fisherman trying to reel in the big catch with out catching fish herpes or getting scales on my dick.
The bar scene is the same for the most part with a slew of loose moral men and women drunkenly bumping uglies into each other and calling it dancing. Something has changed though and you can see it on almost everyone’s face, and I’m not talking about Drunk Face, it’s something much more disturbing. It’s almost like everyone is living in the Matrix but there’s no Neo to save anyone, because no one wants to be saved.
This digital world has taken over the bar population I once knew and loved and has replaced them with goddamn digital zombies that are more worried about the guy or girl they virtually met with the sweet rock climbing picture, instead of the drunk piece of shit slouching in front of them. I learned rather quickly if you don’t have an online presence you might as well be a rapist with a sweet van down by the river because that’s how everyone views you. I’m the outsider looking in. I must adapt or forever be banished to the masturbation dungeon.
After days maybe weeks in the masturbation dungeon I reemerge a tired and hungry man, but a wiser man nonetheless. I carry with me a tablet that has a New Age set of commandments specifically for crushing ass on the Internet.
I. Thy must take some sweet pictures of ye rock climbing and post them to the internet,
II. Everything on thy dating profile shall be as hollow and uninformative as possible.
III. Thy must remain a mystery to these women so they can have their own fantasies of what Ye really do for work.
IV. Thou shall not smile too much, but don’t look angry, just act like you're surprised that thy picture is on a dating website.
V. If Thou art plump, ye shall only post pictures above thy neck to give off the illusion that ye are not so fat.
VI. Thou shall not come off sexist, racist, or act like Ye like to drink or Ye want to have sex.
VII. Remember to always swipe right and sift through the riff raff later. No point in reading someone’s profiles when they’re never going to like you back.
VIII. Thou shall always have a standard copy and paste conversation that thy can send out a thousand times and not waste thy life typing.
IX. Thou shall not commit to one partner for there are 6 days in the week, and one day for self-reflection and guilt crying in the shower.
X. Thou shall not spend more than a week in the masturbation dungeon before talking to a girl or you’ll write articles like this one.
Sure my ex and I had an atomic shit show of a relationship but the monotony of being alone is starting to get to me, and I’m not sure if my dick can take many more beatings like this. He’s threatened to file a restraining order against my hand. My mom says that a recent Harvard study shows that without drunk bar hookups our world population as we know it will become extinct within the next hundred and fifty years.
My theory is that this was John Conner and Skynets plan the entire time. To make unrealistic human profiles so that real humans won’t be interested in the real life drunk asshole that’s stumble dancing around them and instead will save themselves for the non-realistic robo-human that probably accidentally swiped right cause we all know it’s a numbers game now.
I’m gonna go back in the dungeon for a few days, but when I return I’ll let you know if I have smashed the ass yet.
-Brian Asssmasher Thompson
Human existence will be like panda’s in a zoo with robots showing us porn so that we can get it up to mate