THE TYGRRRR EXPRESS

I had a negative experience with a woman recently. What makes this experience negative was not just the result, but the fact that the result was completely avoidable. Through a series of missteps, misstatements, and lack of clarification, a pleasant evening got ruined before it started.

A coworker of mine five years ago once crystallized the problem perfectly. He is a black man in his early 30s, and despite the fact that racial issues were often discussed in the office, he never took part. One day I aksed him why he never offered comments. He replied “Well Eric, here is my philosophy. The problems between black and white are nothing compared to the problems between men and women. Whether black or white, as long as you are a man, there is a chance that I can understand you.”

I truly believe that a large part of the world’s conflicts are based on a lack of understanding. We can pretend to walk a mile in others’ shoes, but that is fantasy. While I believe the war on terror requires a military solution, the battle of the sexes truly can be handled through diplomacy. Maybe this is fantasy, but what if men and women just talked to each other, and better yet, listened to each other. Both sexes would be happier.

As for this woman I was supposed to take on a date…it started with email communication, followed by several pleasant telephone conversations. There was laughter on both sides, and normally this would be a positive thing. However, until two people actually meet, they should not get too “comfortable” with each other. Even after they meet, a certain level of distance is healthy. When both people get comfortable quickly it is fine, but when only one does, the other will push back. Once awkwardness sets in, the damage is often irreversible.

We were supposed to have dinner at 8pm. She needed to reschedule to 6pm, because she was supposed to meet a friend at 9pm. At first I said yes, but then I found out about a dinner party that would be taking place at 6pm. I called her and asked her if we could do lunch instead. She was not able to do that. I suggested we go together to the dinner party. She stated that she felt for our first date, we should be alone (It is vital to know if the two people are “hanging out,” or “going on a date.” This must be clarified or it will lead to disaster). She suggested we get together the next night.

Her suggestion was reasonable, but in an attempt to do too much too quickly, I suggested we just push 6pm back to 7pm. I could make a quick cameo at the dinner party, and then we could go out. She agreed. We were supposed to meet at the restaurant. I suggested we could just meet at my building and then walk to the restaurant. She preferred meeting at the restaurant. I asked her if 7pm worked for her, or should we just do 6pm. She then said “ok, now I am getting weirded out.” Once a woman says that, there is no going back. The damage is done, and even if the date happens, it will be tension filled. This is where the famous line in “Cool Hand Luke” (later done by Guns n Roses in the song “Civil War”) comes in to play. “What we have here is…failure…to communicate.”

I assumed she was uneasy because of the difficulty in settling on a time. Had I just asked her why she was uneasy, she would have told me it was because I invited her to my apartment. All I had to do was ask, and then I could have eased her concerns. Also, she could have told me “I have rules. I do not go to a guy’s apartment on the first date.” I would have immediately respected that.

We live in a world where women get raped, beaten and killed by strange men. Just because I know that I am as safe as can be, she has no way of knowing that. A few pleasant conversations on the telephone does not mean people know each other. This is where the genders break down completely.

Many women would say “Never go to a guy’s building you do not know. Meet at a public place. Be careful.” What they do not factor in is that sometimes going to the building can be safer. I live in a highrise condo building with 24 hour security guards. Rather than park on the street, the woman can approach the gate, where the guards can tell her where to park. Her car is safe underground. She can then go to the lobby, where the guards can call me to let me know she has arrived. I can then have the guards ask her if she prefers me coming downstairs or her coming upstairs. If they come upstairs, I show them the view, and then we leave. Given that the guards recognize her, a man would have to be a complete moron to do something bad, because there are too many witnesses. Then again, some men truly are morons.

There are no villains in situations like this. The woman believes that the man is trying to get her up to his apartment so he can violate her in some manner. The man is thinking that rather than have her wait at a restaurant, they can walk to the restaurant together, which builds pre-dinner rapport.

While I knew at this point that even though we had agreed to the date, I felt the awkwardness had poisoned the situation. I called her later that night and left a message, and I emailed her telling her that I regretted the earlier confusion. I explained that I did not mean to be so difficult with the time. I then got an email back asking what kind of guy invites a strange girl to his home. She canceled the date.

I had no idea what her worries were because I did not ask. She did not get her worries eased because she never told me what they were. Women might say “a guy should know better, I should not have to explain it to him.” Men might say that “women expect us to read their minds, I am not responsible for their past bad experiences.”

I could have asked “what are you concerned about? Did I say something to offend you?” This is not a sign of weakness. It is showing genuine concern. She could have stated that she does not go to a guy’s apartment. I would have explained that I was only inviting her to the building, and that we could have met in the lobby in the safest environment possible. If she would have wanted to meet at the restaurant, I would have been fine with that. Her concerns were valid, but so was my suggestion. The fact that I invited her to join me at a public dinner party, followed by her desire to be alone, in my mind communicated my level of harmlessness. It did not do the same for her.

Some might say that this non-date was a positive experience, because any time one can learn and grow from a situation allows that person to handle things better in the future. I think this is nonsense. This experience was negative because I lost the chance to make a friend. Maybe there would have been a romantic connection, but I was genuinely hoping to make a friend for life.

I could dole out blame and say that we were both 50% responsible for this deterioration of an initially positive interaction, but assigning blame is useless. Had we both just communicated better with each other, we could have had a pleasant evening.

The next time a woman says she has concerns, I will ask her what those concerns are. The next time a woman gives me concerns, and does not ask me what they are, I will just tell her. Things are not always “painfully obvious,” and in most cases, they should not have to be. I will not stop inviting women to my building, because many women simply do not have a problem with this. While there is real danger and terror in the world, most people are good people. While this one particular woman’s concerns were valid, they do not speak for all women. Just because I am safe when inviting a woman to my home, does not mean all men act this way.

Losing a potential friend is a sad experience. It is sadder when it is completely avoidable. Perhaps we will both communicate better in the future. I genuinely wish her happiness in life, and if I ever run into her at a party, the only thing I can do is be nice to her. We are both good people, and by being better communicators, we will be even better people.

eric

One of the qualities that God blessed me with was a cavalier attitude. I take things seriously, provided I feel like it and it will directly benefit me. Like many men, my favorite type of women were dumb, hot ones. They did not ask questions, they did not prattle on endlessly, and they made for great arm candy. Yet despite my best attempts to avoid growing as a person, I started gravitaing towards women of substance. This was not a happy decision.

I remember being 18 and attending a Jewish university. Some of us would go to Mount Saint Mary’s in the pickup truck, trolling for what we called a “taste of catholicism.” We would arrive before their classes started and ask the girls “How many of you are Catholic?” They would look at us like it was a trick question, at which point I became delighted, knowing they were even dumber than we initially suspected. We would ask the question again, and all of the girls would raise their hands. We then asked how many of them were disgusted by this fact. Three or four women would have their hands up, and we would tell them “get in the truck. It’s conversion time.” How I miss those days.

Upon reading an article by some feminist writer who criticized the Spice Girls (Anyone who criticizes Posh Spice for any reason should be shot. David Beckham is proof of why getting rich is vital in a capitalist society). This writer explained that girls should use their brains to attract boys. While initially dismissed this as nonsense, her point about men was valid. “Of course boys get excited about what is up a girl’s skirt between her legs. Who cares? They also get excited over jelly donuts.”

I realized that this woman was 100% correct. Then I forgot what the article was about as I thought “You know, I could use a jelly donut.” However, the advice she offered did not resonate for too long, because thankfully I was given a short attention span (MTV rocked!). The problem was not that the smart women were doing anything right. It was that the dumb women could not stop doing things wrong. The smart women were winning by default.

When I was dating an arm candy moppet several years back, everything came to a head when a group of 12 of us were sitting around the table discussing Middle Eastern politics. She wanted to talk about Britney Spears’s Pepsi commercial. I broke up with her the next day. The problem with dumb girls is they do not know when to be dumb and quiet. The sex was fine, but every once in awhile an intelligent conversation would be necessary.

Things got worse when I tried to relax by my building’s jacuzzi one night. A woman, drunk, giggling, and popping out of her top (normally a trifecta of delight) asked me if I lived in the building. When I replied that I did, she told me that she found that very hard to believe. She said “I have a friend who looks just like you, and he does not live here.” I did not have a shotgun within reach, and I was hoping she would simply let her chest do the talking for her. I explained that I was a different person. She pointed out that I had a different name than her friend, a different career, and had a different accent. After I repeatedly pointed out she had the wrong guy, she looked at me intensely, close enough for me to go “motorboarding” between her, and asked me “Tell me the truth. Who are you?” In a desperate attempt to end the conversation, in my worst tv superhero impersonation I replied “I’m Batman.” At this point she scolded me and said “No you are not. You are not Batman. You lied to me. Everything you have said to me is a lie. You don’t even live here.”

While pounding my fist in frustration at the realization that I had to listen to her and she would not be getting naked (the worst of all combinations), I thought “Maybe she is right. Maybe I don’t live here.”

I once fell for a woman who had laryngitis, but then she got her voice back. I wondered what it would be like to date one of those women who had their tongues cut out during the war. It must cut down on backtalk.

Somewhere along the line I began running into women who, despite being intelligent, were not insufferable. I met women who were smart and assertive, but not lesbians. Conversations took place that actually had value. Some of these women even had morals as loose as their dumber counterparts (although still not as loose as mine, unfortunately).

I guess people need to give eachother a chance. If blacks and whites can sing “we shall overcome,” and the Catholics and Protestants can reach peace in Northern Ireland, and James Carville can marry Mary Matalin (boy did he luck out), then I owe it to myself to date smart women…besides, if they nag me, I can always find a dumb one that is too dumb to argue.

eric

I posted this ad on Craigslist. Women are making tons of money selling their talents, so I decided to advertise mine. The results have been less than stellar. Below is my solicitation to the women of the world.

DEUCE BIGALOW

Inspired by the movie “Deuce Bigalow,” but too tired after a hard day’s work to do anything about it, for only $50, you will be allowed to WATCH ME WATCH TV.

That’s right ladies, WATCH ME WATCH TV.

Now some of you out their might wonder why any woman would pay me to WATCH ME WATCH TV. Here are some reasons:

1.)      Your own tv is broken or you have roommates who monopolize it.

2.)   You are doing a research paper on primitive male primate behavior.

3.)   Your existence is even more exciting than mine.

4.)   You want to make your man jealous without doing anything regrettable.

5.)  I can be highly entertaining when watching tv, especially when news commentators say something dumb or referees make a bad call.

From 7pm to midnight, I will watch news, sports, Law and Order reruns, capping the night off with Letterman’s monologue up to and including the top 10 list.

If you have sexual needs that you want fulfilled, I can brag about what I would do with you if I was not so exhausted from work, given that I have an intense desk job.

I can surf the internet while watching tv, and you can watch me stare at women that I would invite to my home, except that they would distract me from tv. Who knows, you might even be one of the women on the internet I am staring at.

I have 2 video game systems, a Sega Genesis and an Atari 2600. I have a dvd player, and at some point plan to buy dvds. I have a vcr as well that plays videotapes. It is modern, in the sense that it plays VHS, not Beta.

If you feel the need to do a striptease for me or just roll around on my carpet scantily clad, all I ask is you do it during the commercials unless the program is being tivoed. You can hold any remote you want except for the one that actually changes the channels.

INCALLS ONLY! If I wanted to leave my apartment and actually do things, I would not have bought a big screen.

$50 per night, but if 2 women come over, I charge only $100. You will both be allowed to watch me watch tv. You may take notes, but not pictures. NO PAPARAZZI please.

Ladies, email me your pictures and your phone numbers along with a signed “vow of silence” form that will allow me to watch tv without idle chatter.

WATCH ME WATCH TV! Ask for Deuce. I mean you can ask for Rachel, but she does not live here. I have 1000 channels, and will watch them with or without you.

eric

Last month was Honolulu, next month is Chicago and New York, and Los Angeles gets my time inbetween. However, this week is Miami. When telling a friend that I was thinking of going to fantasy camp (sports), my friend, stealing a line from Seinfeld said “Eric, your whole life is fantasy camp.”

I have to admit, I do lead a charmed life on some levels. I paid my dues. I was broke 10 years ago. Now I live the high life, and if anyone needs to know what to do to have a great time, and they are young enough to get away with it, follow the advice of that sage Will Smith, and head down to Miami.

It is almost 3am, and this will be my early night of the trip. I need to pace myself. I blogged tonight because the next few nights will be an incoherent blur, without alcohol or drugs (one can be sober and drunk from fun).

“Party in the city where the heat is on, all night on the beach till the break of dawn…welcome to Miami…welcome to Miami.”

Will Smith articulates what I could not. This city is one big orgy of fun. The food. The women. The clubs open till 5am. The women. The beach. 75 degrees at midnight. Oh, yes and the women. Barely dressed, barely legal, and barely coherent…a trifecta of bare perfection.

Look, as exciting as my life is in LA, television is useless, and the news is not worth watching since none of the Fox News women are willing to follow their sisters at Enron or Walmart by posing for Playboy.

(Between Julie Banderas, Rebecca Gomez, Kiran Chetry, Julia Allison, Rachel Marsden, Alison Rosen, Judith Regan, Dagan McDowell, Michelle Malkin, Jonathan Hoenig…Jonathan Hoenig? Just checking to see if you were paying attention)

As for Miami “It’s like a Mardi Gras, everybody party all day, no work, all play, hey.”

Some say a 35 year old man should not be on spring break. If 19 year old girls pretend to be 28, to impress older guys, who am I to lecture them on morality?

Like the Will Smith song, whenever I see a woman here going “Ayy Popppyyy” while holding a can of soda to her neck, I realize that this might be the one city where I do not have to fantasize about that woman dancing on a table at a club. If I wait a few minutes, she will be.

In my real life I am a man who lives a life of substance. I have intelligent conversations about topics that matter. Every once in awhile, I just want to be a guy, which means ogling women who want to ogled. If they choose to wiggle, wriggle, bounce and jiggle, then I choose to ogle. Besides, if they think I am wealthy (no idea where they get that idea), they will want me to ogle them.

Miami is a fantasy. In LA, New York and Chicago, I am a civilized businessman with a purpose. I focus on politics, sports, blah blah blah blah blah. Like I have time to worry about the war on terror when 4 girls at a bar are slapping each others’ hides. Now I know what Lee Greenwood means when he sings “God Bless the USA.”

I am here to party. I owe it to myself. One day I will be married with children. I am a single man in a city that still allows guys to wear pastel colored suits. Miami Vice was canceled on tv, not in real life. No behavior is over the top. Perhaps Howard Stern can do a sequel to his “butt bongo fiesta” video on Collins avenue. A good paddling never hurt anyone (ok it did, but that is besides the point. Mistress Evil is rough).

True, in a week, I will be back at work, and my tattered body will be angry at me for letting me destroy it night after night into the wee hours of the morning. After years of being told by rapper Coolio that “There aint no party like a west coast party cause a west coast party don’t stop,’ I realize this is not true. The action is on the east coast (I hope I do not get shot in an east coast-west coast debate). LA goes to bed too early, New York is too cold most of the year.

Miami is life. Miami is fun. Oh yeah, and the women.

Ok, off to sleep. My goal is to get up by noon, and I will be happy failing in that endeavor. I will be living the “other 9 to 5.”

Pleasure is business, and business is d@mn good. Welcome to Miami.

eric

Despite being a creature of radio, I decided to allow the world to see my fine quality mug. I bought a webcam. After seeing my smiling face and waving at myself for about 10-15 seconds, I realized that the purpose of this device was so that others could see me. Given that my chances of figuring out something technological on my own are about as likely as sleeping with all the Desperate Housewives at once (actually more likely once I buy the Housewives’ doll figurines), I searched and searched today for someone to help me set up my webcam so that others could view me.

My friends today fell into two categories…technologically challenged and available, and technologically brilliant and busy. These brilliant technophiles (not to be confused with pedophiles, technophiles stick their hardware into computer inputs for a technical sensation) kept asking me if I was aware my webcam came with a cd. I said I did, and they then shrugged.

While watching the game with a friend today, one of those brilliant (read: bizarre) ideas came to me. Since I needed help installing a webcam, why not contact people who were experts specifically with webcams and obtain their help. This led me to the erotica section of Craigslist, which apparently contains the largest supply of women using technology to benefit society.

While sifting through the ads, I had to find the ones that specifically understood webcams. Most of the women were hookers, masseuses, dominatrixes, phonesex operators, and other women that make me pray my future wife will only give birth to sons. These women were gorgeous and naked, but they were at that moment totally useless to me. Besides, they slowed up the process because 5-10 seconds of gawking time was added to each ad sifted through. One of the reasons I have never been into cybersex was because I did not have Norton Anti-virus virus protector, and I did not wish to catch a computer virus. Phonesex seemed dicey because I did not exactly know where the phone was supposed to go, and did not really wish to find out.

Finally I found the webcam girls. I sent them each a simple, pleasant message stating that I would happily pay them for the price of a “show,” but that they did not have to do the show. This confused them, MIT scientists that they were (Yet they probably make more money than me, and can figure out how to set up a webcam. If Henny Youngman were alive, he would ask them to wash his car and paint his house). I told them that I just wanted help setting up my webcam, and the price of their show was cheaper than calling in the Geek Squad from Best Buy.

Some were threatened by potential competition until I stated that I was a heterosexual guy who only wanted to use his webcam for g-rated purposes (time will tell if that last part was truthful). Others offered me a monthly pass to see hundreds of girls. Between Jdate, Eharmony, and Republicansingles.com, I really did not have time to view any more women, even if they were naked. I just wanted help setting up my webcam.

I always assumed until today that hot naked women could not be useless. The irony that women who make a living using their webcam would take my money to view them naked for 2 1/2 hours but not allow me to see them fully dressed for the 15-30 minutes it takes to explain 5 minute concepts to me was mindboggling.

My political career is in ruins, assuming these women save instant messages. I could just picture being in a senate hearing room being grilled by democratic drunk drivers, Klansmen and plagiarizers, and explaining to them that I was not seeking internet sex from women whose sole business purpose is to deliver internet sex. I could wag my finger at America and say “Yes, I contacted internet sex providers, but I neither sought nor had sex with any of them.” Besides, internet sex is not sex…unless it is.

Later on that night one of my friends pointed out to me that the problem was not my technology, but the technology of my friends. They did not have the updated aol instant messenger that allows for video viewing. We chatted by computer for 5 minutes, and he saw my face and heard my voice. It was spectacular.

My next goal is to be able to get my webcam to be viewable on my blog, which I think has something to do with websites and servers. While I have no idea what I just said, it is apparently doable. Hopefully the world will one day soon see me on my webcam and ooh and ahh at my ability to wave hello at people while watching tv and drinking soda.

All I know is that when I need help with something that requires intellect and technical know how, I will not bother asking hot, naked women offering hot steamy sex. They are simply totally useless for anything outside their skill set.

As the night winds down and I get ready for bed, I think that I spent so much time getting my webcam up and running that I did not devote enough time today to my favorite pursuit…women. It is so hard finding a hot girl to get me laid. Where does a guy find hot girls looking for someone? I could only think of one place…Jdate!

I may not have learned anything from this experience, but I have something that only hot, naked and useless women are talented enough to have…a working webcam.

eric