Back to the grind (of online love) to meet... Bigamists!!!

I have, optimistically (read: tragically) decided to return to the world of online dating for a brief tour before becoming disgusted and losing hope once more. So far, and in contrast to the last time I was this desperate, I am actually being contacted by men who have not yet celebrated their 70th birthday... But don't let that fool you into thinking they're better. Mostly they're just less old. I am currently living in the South, so many of them take pictures of their beer guts, candids in their tan and grimy studio apartment bathrooms, pics they sneak in while driving to work wearing their Best Buy polo, pictures of their guns spread out on the polyester slip cover on their king size water beds in their cabins in the North Georgia woods.  When looking through the list of "gentlemen" that the "staff robot" at okCupid had picked for me, for ME in particularly... I came across this gentlemen. I figure it doesn't constitute a HIPPA violation to share his dating narrative here. I like that they thought of me when they looked at his profile. Here are the "selects" of his profile:

My Self Summary

OKC says I am materialistic....could not be farther from the truth.

I have this idea that I can buy this property...

http://tours.tourfactory.com/tours/tour.asp?t=276667

and live off the money and food that the property produces and live happily ever after. Unless we also grow cannabis then we will live blissfully ever after.

I work from home, eat mostly vegetarian with some home grown chicken or beef thrown in. Five kids all at home, all home schooled except the 17 year old who has his own home based business and is done with high school.

Raised Christian...PK/MK but lean more towards a Jesus Words Only type of belief...(basically reject the writings of Saul of Tarsus)...which is more Buddhist than "Christian". I know this might be confusing....

Married to a wonderful woman and looking to be a husband for another wife too...think Big Love without the drama and hollywood. Let me know if you curious about how it would work, even if it is disgusting to you. I have friends that live this way and they think it is awesome. My wife would like that type of close friendship that comes from being in the same family with another woman, and I would like to be a supportive and loving husband to that woman just like I am for my wife right now.

The most private thing I’m willing to admit

is that I French press...?

I am married and looking to be a great husband to another woman for life, without abandoning or neglecting the wife or children that I have right now. Many of my friends live like this and it is not at all like the big evil thing that society makes it out to be. It is not about the man being a perv or a dominating asshole. It is about a man being willing to put away video games, sports obsessions, beer fests, and all the other distractions of the world in order to be a servant, lover, partner, and friend. And the women are more free to pursue careers and interests, mothering, etc., but without the burnout or lack of support.

My wife knows about this and supports me, we have many friends that willingly and loving choose to live in this type of family structure.

I am looking for that one special woman that gets it, that being family is more important that being alone and that for every woman in the world to not be alone and unloved...some of them would have to share. Might as well be with a guy that is not a slob, loser, or abuser, not a drunk, video gaming, non motivated, cheating deceiver. I am NOT saying that it is bad to be alone or that everyone not in a relationship is desperate or unhappy or unloved.

As I don't "get it", I am glad to hear that it is not "bad to be alone" and that "everyone in a relationship (is not) desperate, unhappy or unloved". Actually, I kind of disagree with with that last point!

I'm not gonna make it

It is 3:30 in the morning and I am not sleeping, nor, might I add, am I getting anything done. When I was a kid I believed sleep was a waste of time, now I think insomnia is. I have taken 2mgs of Klonopin and drank a Bloody Mary, I should, at the very least be temporarily unconscious right now. After a rash of bad news primed me for misery, at the age of forty something, I am actually upset that not enough people have "liked" my current post on facebook. I am like a teenage girl waiting by the phone, except the waiting is for anything but this...not a boy per se, but don't get me wrong, I wouldn't turn one down. I think I was supposed to be a caveman, at least all this excess cortisol would be good for something...

HEALTH FOOD DEATH ALIVE AND WELL...

I remember being a kid in the 1970s. Yes, I'm that old. Get over it, OK? My dad lived in the East Village. This was the heyday of "health food". And a time when such food was not consumed by the masses but primarily by ascetics and masochists. People did things like drink their own urine and allow themselves to be stung by bees for the supposed health benefits. This was before Whole Foods, clearly.

So, there was a small health store on the corner of 9th st and 1st ave in the East Village of NYC that my dad and I would go to occasionally (for what reason, I am not sure). I remember him remarking at how oddly unhealthy all the employees and shoppers appeared: Greenish skin, bones jutting out in places where bones don't normally jut, dark circles under their eyes. And at that time it was almost like you weren't a proper health food person unless you looked kinda like you were dying, wore black slippers from china town, and carried a mesh bag full of kale, mung beans, and bee pollen.

Flash forward: 36 years later. I am living in Georgia. It is not the 70s. Highways and fast food. Virtually everybody is at least 10 pounds overweight: They, I assume will die of things other than anemia. And as far as I know, the term "macrobiotic" is no longer in use. But I discover, one day that "death by health food is not dead".

One afternoon, I go to a small independent health food store on my way home from therapy and choose to eat  my beans and greens in their "dining room", with cutlery made from corn starch and plates made from recycled UPS boxes. Across from me sits a person, neither 100% man, nor 100% woman, neither young nor old, neither dead nor alive, but most definitely100% miserable. He/she eats thin, under salted lentil soup and stares blankly ahead. Flat affect, green skin, bags under eyes (which match the mesh bag), clothes which all are some version of the color of mud. Suddenly, magically...I am transported back to the East Village of the 70s. Here in this chubby corporate city, there are still the walking dead of the health food world, kickin' it old-school.

Durex - Variety Fish Bowl Condom, 144 Count Reviews

One has to pay respects to those fine citizens who spend their free time reviewing condoms on Amazon. One has to pay special respects to those who purchase AND THEN REVIEW a 144 count fish bowl full of multi-color durex condoms. Wow! Here are some highlights...

"The product is missing 14 condoms that really sucks. Service better improve or I am just going to stop buying."
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"I thought I'd never get a handle on Halloween. I tried giving out homemade candy apples -- the parents wouldn't accept them. I tried buying bulk candy and putting it in little baggies -- no dice. You can get little boxes of raisins in great quantity, but cleaning the toilet paper out of the trees wasn't worth it the next day.

So imagine my glee at finding this one-stop-shopping solution. Individually wrapped? Check. Colorful variety? Check. Enough for the dozens of trick-or-treaters we get at Halloween? Check. They even come in their own jar!

All this needs is a "Please Take One" sign and I'll be all ready for October 31st. Let's see the neighborhood watch find something wrong with my candy THIS year!" 
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"...If you need tons of condoms, this is the product for you. For those who are curious, you'd have to have sex 2.77 times a week in order to use up all these condoms in a year." (HE NEEDS TONS OF CONDOMS)
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LASTLY MY PERSONAL FAVORITE...

"I use these for those lonely nights. They provide a cheap and easy way to contain my messes. No need to waste a sock or paper towels! Great buy" 

A SOCK??? REALLY....WOW!

Everyone has their limits

Southern Cat Digs Southern Rap

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6snfB2skXSE&feature=youtu.be

NYC 24 Hour Walgreens... Classic!

About a year and a half ago I found myself in the waiting area of the Union Square 24 hour Walgreen's listening to a youngish white woman with streaked makeup and poor genetic luck, cursing up a storm as she argued with the West Indian pharmacist (condemned due to her foreign birth to work the graveyard shift at the Union Square Walgreen's in the first place), over the reason that her doctor's signature on her script for Oxycontin was signed in purple Sharpie. "It's real, I need it for a medical condition... this is unbelievable!" A down at the heels boyfriend with suitably downcast eyes stood in her radius trying to pretend he was not with her. Doubtless at least half of the "medical condition" so reported was his. Simultaneously, a tall black man in a bright yellow sweatsuit with matching sweatbands and non-matching hospital discharge bracelet stood at the busy prescription counter taking lots of space and time attempting to put a large square box in a small square bag. It was a truly striking example of what is clinically referred to as "perseveration", in which an individual continues to attempt to complete an impossible task despite all evidence that confirms it as such. He went so far as to solicit the assistance of the pharmacist with various schemes to make the impossible come true. Using a pair of blunt scissors he slit the bag on all four sides, placed the large box inside the small bag and then attempted to staple and tape the sides closed, cursing and shaking his head all the while. As if that was not enough frustrated desire for one night at Walgreen's, a disheveled former(?) businessman who had not yet gotten the memo, walked in a slumped posture and a grubby trenchcoat barely covering a grubby suit towards the counter. He (inaudibly) asked the pharmacist a question. After her clearly unsatisfactory response to his query, he threw his hands up in the air exclaiming: "Screwed Again!" and walked back to the row of seats where I sat patiently waiting for my entirely legitimate prescription for anti-depressants to get filled in the next century. It was enough to send a pharmacist back Trinidad. Screwed again, indeed. I was like 16x more depressed than I was when I arrived here too, and I am from this dirty city.