And Now a Word From Tucker Max 2.0

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We are happy to introduce our first male columnist, who is providing us with a...um...new perspective on things. Guys, they are all the wrong one, until they are the right one.

Repeat; they are all the wrong one until they are the right one.

One more time, they are…nah, you get it.

The problem is, however, that all the wrong ones on the way to the right one can be a pain in the ass, waste your time, or scare the living shit out of you.

The good news is, however, that as long as you learn from the wrong ones, recognize your mistakes and gain wisdom from it all, then that wisdom will bring the right one to you that much sooner.

And, as a bonus, you just might have some stories to tell.

Several years ago, after some chick ran over my heart with a train, I decided to get back out there (after an appropriate mourning period, of course. You know, ‘Die Hard’, porn and strippers, the usual). I did a dumb thing and allowed a female buddy of mine to set me up on a blind date with one of her co-workers. The conversation went like this:

“Jordan, she’s really cute and has a great personality!”

“Uh, is she hot?”

“She’s cute!”

Guys, take whatever description of a woman given to you by one of her own and knock it down at least two notches. Beautiful means cute. Cute means, well…keep reading.

I spoke with “Becky” on the phone a few times, and to be honest, she seemed kinda cool. We agreed to meet at this bar in Santa Monica for drinks, and before I went out with her, our mutual female friend sent me a few pictures of her. It didn’t occur to me that there was a reason that every picture of Becky had the following characteristics:

1)   Extremely close up, on her face

2)   Shot from above

3)   She was always wearing black.

The bar she picked in Santa Monica was nice and dark, and I mean dark. Deathly Hallows dark. That didn’t raise any red flags, but it all came together when she walked in. Wearing all black, sporting a big ‘ol ba-donk-a-donk.

She was huge. I’m talking arm flab smuggling bread sticks from Sicily arm flab from hell.

You see, pictures taken from above are slimming!

My friend described her as “curvy.” Uh, no. Sorry ladies, but we fall in love with our eyes, not our ears. And for those of you who think you are curvy, please look at pictures of Marilyn Monroe, Kim Kardashian, and the red-head chick from “Mad Men” who just dumped her rapist dickhead husband. If you do not possess those kinds of dimensions, you need to put the fork down, join Equinox, and stop trying to convince yourself that it’s simply genetics that keeps you eating Twinkies.

I had a martini as she spouted off the mouth about how much Jews sucked and how wonderful Michael Bay movies were. As if I needed another reason to show her vapor trails.

I looked at my watch, realized an hour had passed, said goodnight, hit the bricks and ignored her calls for the next couple days.

Again, ladies, I know that we constantly get it wrong with you. I know that we paw at your breasts like we’re making muffins because we think that’s what you like, because that’s how we like it. I get that you don’t give a shit about baseball statistics, nor do you find the movie, “Die Hard” romantic (if you really pay attention, you’ll see that it’s a tender love story about a cop…never mind).

But we do not fall in love with our ears. At least not right away. If we knew what’s best for us, maybe we would, but alas, such is life.

Guys, if she thinks she’s curvy, she’s a fattie. Period. Women, hate me all you want but you know I’m right.

Now, was this really a bad date? Not so much, just a shitty one. I only wasted an hour, and it could have been so much worse. What if I kept drinking and went home with her? I mean, I know we all go hogging, but those days are far behind me and I don’t have a gambling problem with my friends anymore.

I’m going to hell. Oh well. That’s where all the cool people are.

Indeed, it could have been worse. Wanna find out how much worse?

I’ll be back to tell some more stories. If the BDGS editors will let me, that is.

 

Jordan Rockwell is the host of the "Sensitive Nice Guy" Show, which can be found on Itunes, the Stitcher network, and www.sensitiveniceguy.com. Twice a week, he does his very best to help women avoid assholes and help men avoid bitches. He knows that honesty and sincerity will always trump political correctness and stupidity, and welcomes your questions and insults at sensitiveniceguy@gmail.com.