Cerealization

Finding the right person can be a chore or a delight, depending upon how you look at it. Yes, first dates can be energy-sapping. Yes, meeting so many incompatibles is dispiriting. Yes, you will question your will to live. Too often you'll wonder how so many weird, self-absorbed, boring, ill and frankly unappealing people think they might have a future with your bright, optimistic, balanced, gorgeous self. But we must endure.

I compare the process to deciding upon a breakfast cereal - in a world of infinite choice, start by precluding huge swathes. For instance, anyone over the age of ten should consider avoiding any cereal with an animal or super-hero mascot. Then there are the key words 'pops', 'frosted', 'loops', and 'smacks', all of which tell you that nutrition can be found in the box, but only inasmuch as you think cups of sugar are good for you.

The big-picture dating prospects to avoid IMO are folks with an untreated depressive illness; those who have any kind of addictive partiality; anyone with unresolved parental or family difficulties; and anyone who doesn't floss.

Shoot me, but I believe in immaculate oral hygiene.

Given that first dates - or a bunch of them strung together - are exhausting, we can filter a lot of maybes beforehand by figuring if any of the big deal-breakers (above) pertain. You can get pretty good at ferreting out the info you need with well-timed pre-date questions, eg:

So, are you an alcoholic?

or

I'm on anti-depressants myself. You too?

See how I did that without alerting them?

Once it looks as if they're not Froot Loops or Cap'n Crunch, then a first date is worth a shot. Still and all, low expectations will keep you mentally upright, because even the best filters are only a start.


Bottoms Up, Shoppers.

Friday Fluffer - It's Just A Weird Situation All Round

Elle Macpherson pic credit.

Not that Elle would ever be a fluffer. Although who knows what floats her 155' boat?

For the last Friday Fluffer of 2011, I give you the BEST way yet discovered to create pet names. Actually, I'm serious. This works, if only for a laugh. SFW.





Bottoms Up Sexy Candy Pandas.

Digital Love Analogue

 Stephanie Gateshet.

We're clearly moving from centuries of an analogue world to lives defined digitally. The changes are easy to see - we no longer measure, we count;  infinite shading is now thin slicing; perhaps is either on/off.

If this isn't the revolution of all revolutions, I don't know what is.

But, like, whatever. My interest lies in whether we're changing the nature of love. Is love analogue or digital? Do we look at love like a Caravaggio or a PDF file? Is the answer as obvious as it seems?

Digital love sounds awful. A bunch of ones and zeros on a wafer of silicon won't get anyone's heart racing, let alone inspire them to write a song or pen poetry. However, those ones and zeros are canny things; they understand that they're neither warm nor sexy, so they present us with a more lovable facade. The photo above, for instance. Or blogs. Or iTunes. Somewhere along the line, the digital gods found themselves a first-rate PR firm, and followed its advice.

The problem is that all their solutions are good at describing love but hopeless at actually being it. The look that melts your heart, the feeling of her touch, the invisible communication of minds in synch - I guess a robot will eventually simulate these things, but it will still be reproduction of love, not the core.

So I think we're safe for now. Love will be analogue for a long time, probably until your DNA has sex with an iPad, at which point we're all screwed. Or apped. But at that point it won't matter: we'll all be too busy shopping at Amazon for a lover to notice.




Bottoms Up, Microprocessors.

Sexy is as Sexy Does

 Catherine Bell's cleavage credit.

Be advised that anything I write about online dating refers to women only. Although you would think that checking out the opposition [read: other guys hawking their fork] a smart strategy, doing so is beyond me. Comfort with one's sexuality is one thing - deliberately investigating dudes is quite another.

Can't. Tell. Internet. I. Want. To. Look. At. Men.

So I rely on you, dear reader, to tell stories of male profile quirks.

Spectacular as bulk online Lady Catalogues are, my interest is in the detail. One popular specific self-descriptor is that of "sexy", as in:

"...I'm a sexy, giving, mother of two looking to find a real man..."

I see. A cynic might translate this as:

"...I like sex (a lot) but will be restricted by these damn kids and your own dick's reliability..."

But I'm not a cynic. I'm a realist, and therefore think that sexiness lies in the eye of the beholder.  Surely I get to determine if you're sexy?...And your very presence online contraindicates.

Hmmm. Perhaps I am a cynic.




Bottoms Up, Self- Assessors.

Lessons From My Cat Part 2

Male metaphors tend towards the active: hunting, chasing, holding, making her mine. Let's be kind and say that there's a certain carnivore and prey smell to our way of thinking. The implication is that women in the wild are innocent unwilling participants.

Which is dumb. Male metaphors can be crap.

As I noted previously, the humble house cat gives us fundamental clues about female human behaviour. Think of her as woman stripped of overthinking and emotion - she's the essence of feminine...in a soft, seasonal fur coat. Not that I am suggesting women are large upright cats without tails. It's that I see more than coincidence in the commonality of feline and feminine. Plus I love both cats and women.

But back to the chase metaphor. Yes, on one level men hunt for women, but it's like describing the Champs-Élysées as a Parisian street. A street takes you somewhere. A French avenue is for strolling. One takes one's time, checking out the boutiques, being surprised by what one finds along the way. Waiting for just the right moment to steal a kiss. Waiting for her to tell you by her actions when she wants a kiss.


Which is the way my cat works. Most of the time she's engrossed in her own world. There's stuff to look at, food to eat, naps to take. Washing. Grooming. Exploring. But once a day, she makes it perfectly clear that we need to be affectionate. She'll jump on my desk and sit on the keyboard. Or she'll climb onto my lap. That's the point at which I have to - I must - stop everything and focus completely on her. A petting session or a few minutes of brushing is enough...physical contact to reconnect with each other before we get on with everything else.

Observing and reacting. Not hunting.



Bottoms Up, Tail-less Ones.

Stop/Start

Barbara Bach from Celebs101

Your experience is different, I am certain, but let me tell you about mine. Far from the seamless process presented by porn - and, often, Hollywood - it's messy getting from here to orgasm with a chick. Disjointed. Stop and start, if you like. More like being in Friday night traffic than anything else, sometimes speeding along, sometimes going nowhere.

For a bloke raised on images of Roger Moore as James Bond, ideal sex consists mostly of glib bon mots, double entendres and beautiful women just waiting to be bonked. These women aren't simply willing partners; they're often mute, mostly dressed in haute couture and there TO be fucked.

Movieland seduction is about being the leading man in the presence of a woman. Then it happens. Okay, there's a lull in the action and PHHHwaaarRRRRR, here comes Barbara Bach.

THEN they shag.

From this, it's no wonder we get Austin Powers. The premise is laughable.



Bottoms Up, Bondistas.

Bed-In

Inspired by John and Yoko, I plan to conduct a Bed-In sometime soon. Maybe this weekend.

What's a Bed-In, I hear you ask?[link]

Well, Grasshoppah, a Bed-In is a protest conducted entirely from one's bed. It's a kind of supine sit-in, designed to create maximum media coverage without lifting a finger.

Lennon and Ono's protest concerned world peace. It's natural for anyone to think that keeping horizontal and ordering room-service could momentously change the momentum of human history. Natural for self-absorbed dicks like John Lennon, anyway.

But I like his thinking. Why create sweaty Million Man Marches or immense stinking charity concerts when all one need do to attract media attention is to check into a hotel and jump into the fart-sack?

Two things missing from this weekend's Wombat Bed-In. Actually, three.

1. A cause.

2. My own Celebrity.

3. A woman with whom to share the Bed-In (mandatory.)

If I could find a famous woman with a cause looking for publicity, I would have the answer, and quite possibly a tax deduction.





Bottoms Up, Bedriders!

Pic of Dumb and Dumber from here [link]

Friday Fluffer - Who's a lesbian now then?

Like anyone cares, but Meredith Baxter* (pictured) has found the confines of her closet somewhat restrictive, and exited with a new title: lesbian. Yay her. I mention this only because of the article in which I read this news, which quoted an academic person thusly:

While evidence is anecdotal, "the consensus in the field is that these late-life transitions are more common for women than men," said Lisa Diamond, a professor of psychology and gender studies at the University of Utah. Her book, "Sexual Fluidity: Understanding Women's Love and Desire," posits that women's sexual feelings are more complicated than straight or gay, and may change over a lifetime. [link]

It reminded me of some other research in which I personally participated:

While evidence is anecdotal, "the consensus in the field is that Wombat attracts more women after he's had a glass or two of red wine," said a source. "It's more common for women to realize they want to bed a burrowing marsupial once his tongue's loosened by alcohol." The source, a graduate student of Wombat Studies, said "Marsupials are complicated. It's not as easy as you might think, what with the nocturnality and so on. The women often change their minds in the morning."

Or this, sent to me by a friend:

While evidence is anecdotal, "the consensus in the field is that girl-on-girl action is more likely to occur when money changes hands," said Maria Sappho, an associate professor. Her thesis is entitled 'Hookers and Poon: why guys have to pay professionals to live out their fantasies.' "Threesomes involving one man and two women are more complicated than pornographic movies suggest," Maria said. "Cash probably works, unless one of the girls has a credit card reader. The guy often feels regret when he checks his credit card statement."





Quote of the day: Gardening experts Mary Henry and Margaret Purcell like to joke that "we slept together for years before we realized we were lesbians."

*Meredith.[link]

Pic of Meredith direct from her agent. And pretty much everywhere on the internet when you search her.