On Pick-Up Lines

There are many dilemmas that come with being an eligible gay bachelor. One of the primary ones is dating. Between upper division classes, work, and an eligible population well under 5%, it is difficult to find the time or the man.

Today, gay bars and clubs have deteriorated into little more than cesspools of awkward, drunken, over-sexualized social interactions, which are more likely to lead to something dangerous than meaningful. In short, they were thrilling when you were 16 and stupid. All it takes is little life experience to ruin what used to be a good time.

Evidently, the new “solution” for the eligible gay bachelor is online dating. Though I must confess that I was at first enamored with the concept, I now understand that online dating has merely taken the disaster of the club and transcribed it, minus the flashing lights and bad techno-remixes of over played pop songs, into indelible digital letters.

Remember all those come-ons and one-liners that you uttered in the relative anonymity and frivolity of a bar? Thankfully it is easy to forget such things. Today Pick-up lines, which, by the grace of god, used to be muddled by alcohol, loud music, and a crowded bar appear on your computer screen in perfectly legible black letters. Indeed, whether you are G.L. (good looking) or V.G.L. (very good looking), D.T.F. (down to fuck) or looking for a L.T.R. (long term relationship); such Pick-up Lines are now the universal currency of online dating. The First words you email someone are the first axiom of an augment whose logical conclusion is a hang-out/date.

Counter to fact, one might even assume that typically such legible words would be at minimum polite, complementary, and inquisitive. Lets face it, regardless of your “stats” (variables such as height, weight, body build, ethnicity, and yes… cock size) there are only so many ways to respond to introductions such as “Dude” “Hawt,” “Sup,” “cute,” or “☺”. Most of them do not involve a return email. These introductions are the calling card of the desperate, sex staved, beggars of the online dating scene.

Though I have received such calling cards, by virtue of my poor eye sight and vintage (from the 90s) Calvin Kline round black mettle glasses, there is an even more obvious and “original” come-on for me: “has anyone told you that you look like Harry Potter?” I suppose posting picture where I am wearing glasses (as well as cloths) might invite this come-on. I suppose that being told that you remind someone of Daniel Radcliff (only taller) is a compliment. But the proper answer to the question is yes. “Yes, I have been told that I look like Harry Potter.” This answer usually implies that ”no, your not the first person to make that observation. No, you’re not clever or original after all.” So I usually don’t respond, and if I do, I say thank you and move on.

Last night, fed up with my homework, I decided to check one of my dating sites for emails. I was excited to have received one from a beautiful (if the picture was real) tall, muscular, tan, blue eyed man who’s profile included poetry. Call me a sucker.

Him: Hi how are you? I find you interesting so far.

Yay! Not Harry Potter! It seems like he might actually have something to say.

Me: hahah why is that?

Hell, I was curious. Generally you don’t tell someone they are interesting without a reason

Him: I could no sooner answer that question than answering the purpose of the universe.

Grammatical problems aside, you have got to be kidding me right?

Me: Ha! I will take that as a compliment. But I don’t think you can answer the purpose of the universe. It is not asking you a question.

If only he could have picked up on the sarcasm…

Him: I beg to disagree. We all are matter and matter is comprised of the universe. It has been proven that every human being accounts for 1 % of the universe within them, therefore, you being made up of universe particulate ...it is asking through you

Bang!... Most profound metaphysical statement of my life: matter is comprised of the universe (silly me, I always thought it was the other way around. Wasn’t energy in there some where?), which consists, in its totality, of 100 people (1 person = 1% then 100 people = 100%).

---End Conversation---

So I just ridiculed a guy that I have never met in a public forum where he has no opportunity to respond. That’s right, I can be an ass and a coward (I am really bad at come backs) at the same time. In exactly 100 words (I counted) we can both walk away with profound yet almost completely unsubstantiated negative judgments about each other. To a certain extent that is what dating is about. It is a judgment about who you want to spend time with and how you want to love. He was handsome, funny, nice, polite, and inquisitive, hell… I will even give him poetic. Yet, I can honestly say that I wont talk to him again and have no desire to ever know him. Would you?

I think that it is sad when an institution, which is supposed to promote people being together, becomes a new way to arbitrarily ascribe negative qualities to one another. One of the great talents of the human brain is something called “theory of mind”: we are aware that other people are independent agents capable of their own thoughts. Furthermore, to a certain extent we can anticipate the thoughts of others and make judgments based on this modeling.

This task becomes extremely difficult and complicated when the person you’re modeling is someone that you have never met sitting at a computer anywhere with an Internet connection. How do we judge? Do we rely on a pick-up line? What about “stats”? How about 100 words? But I guess the better question to ask is how should we think about each other? How should we love?

A Rose for LA

I have always found that whichever dark (and possibly smelly) place your head has been, it is never too late to reflect. Though I didn’t realize it till I left, over the course of 20 years living in LA I accidentally managed to establish a pretty nice life. I have lived in Berkley now for just over a month. My mother and sister have moved from LA. It would be hard for me to go back for anything but short visits now. But LA still feels like home.

So I hope it is also not too late to give a tip of the hat to the city that I came from. I have waded through a boozy nightlife, slaved in pristine century city penthouse firms, and fought the vicious old ladies and wild bimberinas of Brentwood. Admittedly, I would like to think I learned something along the way.

Though LA is often thought of as a haven for superficial judgment and shallow thought, I have found it to be a land of principles and standards. Not even the most superficial judgment can be made without the acknowledgment of some higher standard. The reciprocal is also true: no standard can be relevant without the judgments that bring it to life.

There is no denying that there are a lot of judgy people in LA. On the grand scale of things these superficial standards might be foolish. But it seems to me that in the attempt to evaluate we also affirm and perhaps create a meaning that transcends the mere implications of our actions. Though this is no protection against cause and effect, it is insulation against the bitter cynicism and determinism that fools people into not being involved. You cannot deny that in LA people are involved, even if it is only with them selves!

Movie stars and fancy billboards; slutty nightlife and snobby ladies, gaudy mansions and gutted ghettos; in my experience, no matter how superficial or foolish, people in LA people act and treat them selves as if they matter. LA is an illustration of how even the vacuous, supercilious, and just plain silly can produce something worthwhile.

The result is an LA that burns bright enough to attract people like moths, from all over the world. Despite the threat of a fiery death, they stay. There is a magic and beauty when a life is transmuted into a flash, pop, and puff of smoke. Perhaps in the end it is magic such as this, which gives us the meaning and light that sustains and guides us all.

An Introduction

I live, quite happily most of the time, obstinately confused. When I was in third grade I once read in a story  “as long as the answer is right who cares if the question is wrong. If you want sense you will have to make it your self.” The Dodecahedron’s sarcastic point to Milo is an idea that frames my existence. It is the questions we ask that define us, not the answers that we think we have. “Sense” is something that people often make for themselves, and, as much as we may wish it not to be the case, it often has limited relevance. The absurdity of life itself is beautiful, terrifying, and perhaps a bit funny, if you can step back and put your understandings aside. In other words: you don’t know that you don’t know; the more you know, the more you know you don’t know.

You might find anything on this Blog. I am an eccentric and a bit of an anachronism.  I am a curious student, an avid chef, a veracious reader, and an adventure. However, I profess to have nothing but questions to answer questions, and I have already admitted to interminable confusion. Given the circumstances then, I firmly believe that there is no higher purpose in life than to ask the right questions, because Fuck Me If I Have A Clue!