Archive for the ‘Success Stories’ Category

You have to be good at things to attract somebody. Yeah, you’re good-looking and make a good amount of money, but can you play the ukulele? You probably can’t, and that’s the point. Nobody can play the ukulele. You can be that guy. I’m pretty sure the only living ukulele players are overweight Hawaiians.

Take up a new vocation or hobby. This will be a great conversation topic once the conversation stops and you know an elongated awkward silence is about to begin. You can nip that in the bud by saying, “I collect hair from barber shop floors.” This will momentarily break the oncoming silence, but it will also break any chance you may have had with the lady.

Just be different, in any way you possibly can. She’s already been on at least twenty dates with someone exactly like you. You thought that by dressing nice and taking her someplace unique would earn you points, but she’s already been to that place, and men always wear that exact shirt. Get a new shirt. Your lucky shirt from high school has holes in it, and you’re just now questioning why you ever considered it ‘lucky’.

You know that story of how your parents met? Whether true or not, it always has some sort of odd element missing from every other love story. No mother is going to tell their children that she met their father at a Red Robin after he was five minutes late and requested that they split the check.

It is very difficult to force myself to write a post with my fiancée lying beside me.

Do I write about how to date successfully? I am pretty sure I am supposed to, but I’ve been blessed with such good looks and white teeth that I don’t need to know how to date. I just show up to places and people just give me things. Dates. Money. Financial tips.

I think I have this burden where I’m supposed to use my knowledge after 200 something blog posts about dating to help people out. Since I know nothing about dating, maybe I could have spent the last 2+ years helping in some other way instead of just jacking around. I could have told you guys that brushing your teeth works most effectively if you wet the brush before and after applying the paste, or I could have told you that ear plugs work best if you wet them before insertion. I think most of my advice stems from wetting things before using them. Maybe those two things are just coincidence.

But no, I don’t believe that I am very good looking, but I work every day to make sure that I’m at least presentable, whether it’s before seeing my future wife, going to work, or even going out to eat by myself. Caring about how you look can do wonders. If you have low self-esteem, you will still have low self-esteem after a shower and a shave, but you will smell better. Nobody has ever disliked anybody that smelt of Irish Spring and Old Spice.

When I die, which will be sometime, all that’s left of me will be the memory of how much of a jerk I was. My eulogy will consist of stories about that time I stole that chocolate milk, and that time I hit my friend in the head and then locked him in the closet. It will be a beautiful service.

I think that people start families so that not only will they be seen as good people with family values, but also if they’re horrible, they can produce people with their spouse that are only genetically half the jerks they are. If you’re a jerk, you will probably stay alone forever and die. However, if you’re lucky enough to find someone, not only will you extend your legacy to another generation, but you won’t die alone.

I didn’t think about any of this when I met my permanent lady friend. I say ‘permanent lady friend’ because if I use the actual word for ‘woman I am going to marry’, I have to use that accent over the ‘e’, and that takes forever. Meeting her, and our relationship up to this point, has been much more organic than deliberate. I am the oldest of three, and I am glad that finally by age 29, I found someone to spend the rest of my life with, and perhaps extend my genes.

However, I have to take things step by step. I must go shower.

Okay so some college basketball player recently and horrifically broke his leg. I’ve broken my leg several times, and though it wasn’t nearly as painful as his must have been, nor was it televised, it still hurt very much. This guy is getting a lot of deserved sympathy. Will he be able to play again? He had a very promising future. I actually have no idea. He could have been the worst player of all time. I have no idea.

I think my point for this new pointless post is that in order to gain sympathy, you have to be really good at something. When I broke my foot in junior high by landing funny on my sandal, the only attention I got was from my friend who laughed at me as I limped back into his apartment and cried. Sports radio stations did not discuss my debilitating injury, nor was I on the front page of cnn.com. However, the next day at school, I did gain some sympathy from some of my female classmates until I noticed them looking at my Hershey’s bar in my hand. I’m not man candy! This chocolate is my last bastion of happiness that I’m desperately clinging to until I can lock myself in my room and glue myself to the television.

This theory remained constant throughout adulthood. Sympathy is only evoked if you have other redeeming qualities, and I can’t always carry around a Hershey’s bar. I’m not made of money. Actually no, that’s completely wrong. Most women have hated me, despite any unfortunate circumstances that have come my way. It wasn’t until I met my fiancée that I realized that sympathy is not a tool to use for self-esteem. Instead it is a mutual thing to help both people realize not just their codependence but also their fusion as a coherent whole.

The moment you become smug and content is the moment you begin to lose everything. You have to choose between contentment without knowing you can lose everything and constant neuroticism without knowing there is nothing to lose.

Realistically, everyone lives somewhere between these two extremes. I am always on edge. My life is constantly getting better and I can get just as anxious as I’ve always been. I suppose that the better my life gets, the more I’m scared I can lose everything. I suppose this because this is what people tell me, and I trust people because they’re smarter than me. Right now, I have more to lose than ever. In just one, maybe two, stupid moves, I could lose it all. I don’t think I’ll ever reach a level where my anxiety will be somewhat relieved. The only thing I can think of is complete personality reassignment.

I do not deserve my fiancée, but work every day to make that up. I think the last time I was content was ironically when I had nothing. I knew I had nothing to lose, and thus had nothing to worry about. I didn’t have to work for anything, and though got no reward, also felt no disappointment. Disappointment only comes from effort. If you don’t care, you’ll never be disappointed.

I’m still not sure which is better, but I’m pretty happy with my life right now. I constantly feel like I’ve reached the pinnacle of what I will achieve. If this is true, I should just live it up and not worry. Maybe tomorrow I will get regular Lay’s instead of the baked variety.

Anxiety is a funny thing. Just kidding it sucks.

It’s difficult to push through the day when you have a heavy, sinking feeling in your chest. Deep anxiety makes doing everyday activities difficult.

It just took me half an hour to turn on my computer, and it only takes my horrible computer eighteen minutes to start up. That left two hours of lethargy and apathy. That’s two minutes I could have instead spent putting in my password and pressing ‘Enter’. What a waste!

So I somehow managed to open WordPress and I’m now writing this.

Finding someone to share in my misery is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. For example, for many people suffering from some sort of anxiety and/or depression, the morning can be especially difficult. Sometimes this stems from loneliness. Whatever the case, getting a text message immediately after waking up evokes the best feeling ever. It gives me just enough motivation to get out of bed and drive to work.

I know there will be ups and downs, but this ride is great so far. Things are far from perfect, but if I had to write this same blog post one year ago, I would have managed to open my laptop halfway and then gone on an icing-eating rampage which would have devolved into just eating sticks of butter.

On the first few dates, if you’re a male, try to be at least a little bit decisive. It shows initiative or something.

I’m very bad at doing this. Although I have opinions, often very strong ones, I’m too afraid to express them, especially while out with a woman I hardly know. In general, I almost never talk about politics. I don’t shop around for things. If I need a shirt, I go to a store, pick up the first shirt I see, pay for it, and put it on my body. If someone asks me which insurance I prefer, I say, ‘The one that I pay to insure me in case I do something bad.”

On early dates, I have a bad habit of asking the woman her opinion on what she wants to do, where she wants to eat, what I want to wear, etc. Sometimes, you can come up with something, too. Set something up. Get a general idea of her likes and dislikes, and make an informed decision based on these opinions. If she’s a vegetarian, don’t go to a Brazilian steakhouse. If she’s a carnivore, go to a Brazilian steakhouse. If neither of you are hungry, do something else.

This all seems like obvious advice, but for me, it took a long time to learn. There’s a thin line between benevolence and weakness. I live my life on that line. I still see myself as an a****** that just can’t say no. Maybe there’s no such thing as nice people. There’s just a******* that impose their will and a******* that don’t.

Unless you’re already a celebrity or naturally secrete cologne out of your pores, you have to treat dating and relationships like it’s the only thing keeping you from death. Don’t be on time to s***, be an hour early. Don’t buy her a Kit-Kit bar, buy her a King Size Kit-Kat bar.

Whenever you think you’ve gotten her a nice gift, it’s not. Get her more. Always more. You need to have my mindset in that you’re always convinced she’s going to leave you. If not, and you have nothing to fear, you will lose her. Even if you love her, without fear, you have nothing to lose, and this is more scary than anything else. If you’re thinking about her, call her. If you’re not thinking about her, call her. If you’re asleep, call her. Better to by clingy than an asshole.

Of course, if you’re just starting to date someone  it’s probably best to not call all the time. Maybe this is a good time to be a tad more arrogant and to prove your self worth or something. After she realizes how great you are, then you can be a little more modest, and settle down in a comfortable relationship. If you are an asshole, then hide it. Or at least hide it for a little while until the time is right to tell her. You’ll know when the time is. Maybe it’s while somebody cuts you off on the highway and she’s in the passenger’s seat, and she gives you a little nod signifying it’s time to unleash Road Hulk. If she’s comfortable with how much of a jerk you are, then the two of you are truly in love.

Of course, there will come a time when things will settle down, and the spark will fade a little. This is when divorces happen. That’s why you have to keep it up. Make it a routine to show her how much she means to you. Shower her with love, or with showers, because hygiene is important above all else.

As much as my life has improved over the last two years, it has improved exponentially over the past seven months ago. A little over seven months ago, I was sitting in a hotel room in San Antonio with my dad. I was obsessing and depressed and felt like my life was spiraling downhill even though I rationally knew it wasn’t. It was about some insignificant s*** like the room number of our hotel room was not to my liking. As I hit the lowest point of this anxiety-ridden meltdown, I got a notification on my phone of a new JDate message.

I hadn’t been active on JDate for a couple of years, but still periodically received messages. Like I’ve said before, I think that the best way to conduct yourself on a dating site is to not aggressively search for and message people. Treat it like real life. You don’t walk up to every woman you ever see and ask them on a date. If you do, you’re not real, and exist on a TV show or are a Ryan Gosling movie. Every once in a while, when you’re feeling crazy, and drunk, you may hit on a woman, but usually you hang low.

So I got a message while feeling really s***** and it completely made my night. I knew it wouldn’t go anywhere until I woke up this morning engaged. It wasn’t a disease I had contracted while sleeping. I got tested. I had proposed the night before and she inexplicably said, ‘Yes.’ I had taken her out to the restaurant where we had our first date. Actually, it was the same table, and it was awesome.

So now I’m engaged and have officially won at dating.

So what do you guys think about this sequester business?

You’re up all night urinating.

A good measure of a man is how he handles a bad situation, and if that was the only measure of me as a person, I would be the human equivalent of a Comcast customer service representative.

Everything brings me down. I can’t make lemonade out of anything! When life gives me lemons, sugar, and water, I throw it back at you and punch you in the face. Every minor setback is a year-long uphill battle out of a hole that I never completely climb out of. If I get in a fender bender, don’t try to talk to me for at least two weeks. My bumper has a slight scratch on it that may have been avoided if the guy in front of me had decided to not stop suddenly for no reason! I can’t have any of that!

So today, when I realized that the button had fallen off of my boxers, that was it. My day ended at 9 am. I couldn’t focus on helping people… and walking… and opening doors… and whatever else my routine requires when there’s no button on my underpants! Where is this button? Did it fall out in the wash? Am I wearing somebody else’s underwear? If so, why do they have my name inscribed on the side? And if somebody else has my name, how do they have access to my home? So I called my locksmith, because apparently I have my own locksmith, and this joke scenario is now over.

If I could only move on from minor setbacks, I would be so much better of a person. However, it is always an uphill battle, and setbacks are always going to happen. Some people just roll with it: “Alright, so there’s no button on my boxers? I’m running for president tomorrow, son!”

I just need every possible thing in my life to go right for the rest of my life. But really the only way for that to happen is to react positively to the things that don’t.