I recently wrote and posted the best craig’s list personals ad ever. How do I know it was the best ever? Well, because about 100 women told me so.

Here is a typical response:

“Wow I have to say I’m a little old for you (48) and probably not your type but you should get a response from every woman in (XX city)! Yours is definitely the most fun and funniest post I have ever seen on Craig’s List, usually, they are sick and disgusting but yours was amazing! You must have funny oozing out of every pore on your body . . . anyway just wanted to say I wish you luck and am sure you will have no trouble finding a great girl!”

This post is a great example of typical female psychology. If a guy is funny, and he posts a funny ad online, then he should get laid like a rug, and married, and kids, and wealthy. Everything will be OK as long as you are a really, really, funny and amazing guy.

Well, I am a really, really funny and amazing guy. And you know what? The world doesn’t work that way.

This is how the world works:

  1. If a woman is looking for love online, either browsing personal ads or answering craig’s list personal ads, she is defective in one of the following ways: addict. overweight. ugly. angry. mean. single mom. deeply conflicted. low self-esteem. shitty job. no career. no ambition. wants kids. wants financial support. trying to cheat on husband. etc. etc. etc.
  2. The really hot, quality girls are either married, or in “monogamous” relationships. The scare quotes around “monogamous” just mean that they might slip up and sleep with a friend or a random dude in a bar if the mood strikes. Nobody finds out or if they do, they’re forgiven.
  3. The really hot, quality girls spend all their days in a corporate environment (since men and women are equal now) and then go home to their bore-friends who fuck them in pretty much the same way ¬†all the time. (I know this because I’ve been one of those bore-friends).
  4. The really hot, quality girls might go out on a ‘girls ‘night’ but then it’s all about drinking and dancing and looking hot and only¬†occasionally, in a very rare instance, letting themselves get fucked. So-called ‘players’ or player wannabes will spend 90% of their effort trying to find or manufacture those instances when an otherwise ‘claimed’ woman will open her legs for just one night.
  5. The really hot, quality girls are therefore SEQUESTERED away from any really hot, quality guys who may be single.
  6. The really hot, quality girls who are SOMEHOW STILL SINGLE are therefore free to sigh, “where are all the GOOD guys?” Simple because they have constructed (or rather, allowed society to construct for them) a CLOISTER around their lives so they have ALMOST NO CHANCE of meeting a decent guy outside of an alcohol-soaked dance club where they won’t remember anything anyway.
  7. The way for an awesome, funny, intelligent guy like me is NOT TO POST PERSONALS, but to go out to an alcohol-soaked dance club, insult women, insult men, and generally act like an arrogant douche-canoe until a girl is amused enough to let me drag her back to my car / apartment where I will proceed to pound her like a cheap steak, an event that will go down in her personal history as ‘the best night of passion of my life’ due to her filling in all the awkward gaps caused by alcoholic memory erasure with scenes from her favorite romance novel, but which will expose ABSOLUTELY NONE of my best qualities, and therefore lead to no number exchange, no further conversation, no personal expansion, no authentic encounter, no mutuality, no connection, and nothing, in other words, worth doing at all.

If you’re a hot, funny, attractive, intelligent single guy, and you don’t live in NYC, LA, SFO, or (maybe) Chicago, the best thing you can do is either A) move to one of the aforementioned places and join the rest of the human dating race, or B) slit your wrists right now.

Because the online thing doesn’t work.


Bill Maher of Politically Incorrect with a classic work of political and sexual satire that bears repeating as often as we can repeat it:


Abstinence pledges make you horny. In a setback for the morals/values crowd, a new eight-year study just released reveals that American teenagers who take virginity pledges wind up with just as many STD’s as the other kids. But that’s not all. “Taking the pledge” also makes a teenage girl six times more likely to perform oral sex, and four times more likely to allow anal. Which leads me to an important question: where were these pledges when I was in high school?

So, seriously, when I was a teenager, the only kids having anal intercourse, were the ones who missed. My idea of lubrication was oiling my bike chain. If I had known I could have been getting porn-star sex the same year I took Algebra 2 – simply by joining up with the Christian right – I’d have been so down with Jesus, they would have had to pry me out of the pew.

And, let me tell you, there is a lot worse things than teenagers having sex. Namely, teenagers not having sex. Here is something you’ll never hear: “That suicide bomber blew himself up because he was having too much sex. Sex, sex, sex, nonstop, all that crazy Arab ever had was sex, and look what happened.” But among the puritans here of the 21st century, the less said to kids about sex, the better. Because people who talk about peepees are “potty-mouths.”

And so, armed with limited knowledge and believing that regular, vaginal intercourse to be either immaculate or filthy dirty – these kids did with their pledge what everybody does with contracts. They found loopholes. Two of them, to be exact.

Is there any greater irony than the fact that the Christian right actually got their precious little adolescent daughters to say to their freshly-scrubbed boyfriends, “Please, I want to remain pure for my wedding night, so only in the ass… And then I’ll blow you, I promise.” Well, at least these kids are really thinking outside the box.

I can’t for the life of me find the video clip to go along with this transcript; if anyone else has a link, please email it to me: andrew.ekud at (gmail) dot (com).

Dodging the Baby Trap

February 7, 2007

This great gem comes off the well-named American Feminist Women Suck: I just had to repost it here.

I’ll try to sum up a funny story that happened a few years ago:

I got a vasectomy.

I met a girl soon afterwards. She was nice and attractive but with a selfish streak that raised a big red flag. She was 32 at the time and I could practically HEAR her biological clock ticking. Regardless, she was a good lay, easy on the eyes, and reasonably good company.

I did NOT tell her about my vasectomy and I always used a condom with her to protect against STDs. She assumed, obviously, that the condom was only used for birth control. Silly girl.

We date for a few months. I never made any move towards commitment but she brought it up ocassionally. For me, this was a casual but pleasant relationship. For her – as I was to find out – it was part of life-changing series of events that she was planning very carefully.

Four months into dating, I get the “I’m pregnant” talk. She’s going on and on about how the condom must have broke and now we really need to think about getting married “for the baby”. She’s positively giddy. She has a baby in her and she thinks she’s gonna have a good meal ticket (me) to go along with her new 7lb annuity.

At this point, I’m just as giddy. I get to pull the reverse “oops” on her. I figured that she slept with some bad boy and got knocked up. Good thing I was using condoms! Better still that I have a serious mistrust of women who can’t think beyond their own uteri.

So I wait a couple of days to “think about all this.” I meet her again. I say I don’t want kids and that she should have an abortion. I know where this is going and sure enough it goes there. She goes completely batsh*t insane on me. There were the usual insults about my manhood. There were threats of legal action. It was all very ugly and I was loving every minute of it.

Well, I let her stew for a few days. She leaves me nasty messages on my phone. She sends awful emails. I’m laughing hysterically.

It was time to drop the hammer. While she was stewing I was busy. First I get a notarized copy from the urologist who performed the vasectomy. Next I get a notarized copy of the TWO test results indicating a “negative test result for sperm” to show I’m sterile and shooting blanks. Finally, I get a letter from a shark attorney stating he has seen the other documents and is prepared to litigate against this woman if she continues to communicate with me in such an unpleasant manner. Also, the letter states that we will insist on DNA testing to show that the baby is not mine. I’m ready.

I meet with this woman at her place. I bring flowers and a small bit of jewelry to show I am willing to reconcile and assume my responsibilities as a new father. I also have stuck in my pocket the documents I have prepared.

She’s all giddy again. Her plan is going perfectly – or so she thinks. We talk about our future. We have some pretty good sex. Then, as I am about to walk out the door, I ask her the $64,000 question. “Are you sure that this baby is mine?”

Well, she goes batsh*t insane again. Hell, she ought to. Her plan could completely unravel if there is ANY question about my paternity. Oh, she’s really screaming now. How dare I question her morals. Do I think she’s a slut. I’m just trying to weasel out of my responsibilities… blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda.

I’m not really mad. I’m kind of embarrassed for her. But since she won’t shut up and the neighbors can hear all of this, I ask her to step back inside and sit down. She sits on the sofa and calms down a bit. She is glaring at me with all the moral self-righteousness that only a woman can muster up. She thinks she has me trapped. She is 100% convinced her plan has worked. Oh, the tangled web of lies and deceit she has wrought around herself and I am about to hack through them with a few pieces of paper.

I reach into my pocket slowly. I extract the three pieces of paper and unfold them slowly and deliberately.

I tell her simply, “You’re screwed”.

Her look doesn’t change. There is no way she can fathom what I have prepared.

I continue. “I am sterile”

Her look changes just a bit. Something is beginning to sink in. Naturally, she reverts to women’s logic. “You’re full of sh*t. You’re trapped and you know it.”

I hold up the letter and the test results. “Three months before we met, I had a vasectomy. Here is a notarized letter from him stating what I had done. Here are two test results showing that I tested negative for the presence of sperm. Blanks. I am shooting blanks. That baby inside you is simply not mine.”

This woman is not to be swayed by logic and clear documentation. “Bullsh*t, those are fakes.”

I was ready for that. “No, they are real. This last piece of paper is from my attorney. It’s a simple letter to you that states if you pursue any kind of legal action against me for child support that I will insist on a DNA test to prove paternity, that is, to prove that your baby is not mine.”

I give the woman all the documents. She reads them slowly, deliberately. With each passing second she can feel in her soul that she has made a very bad mistake. With denial swept away, she started to cry. It’s a small cry at first. Then it becomes deeper and more painful. By the time she gets to the letter from the lawyer she is sobbing.

I had no sympathy for her. I turned and walked out the door. Even after I closed the door I could still hear her sobbing.

Epilogue –

I never heard directly from this woman again. I did hear through my friends that she did indeed have the baby. I also heard that the real father was some guy in a band she had met. I assumed that after 30, women stopped going after musicians, bikers, criminals, and thugs. Silly me for thinking the best of American women.

The Moral of the Story –

Get a vasectomy but keep it a secret.

Truly an eye-opening story, for those women and men resistant to the idea that some women DO plot, scheme and manipulate in a reprehensible fashion.

I agree with the author — a vasectomy is a great idea, in general.

For those guys who actually do want the opportunity to have children, though, I would recommend either

A) going expat and finding a foreign woman, or
B) work with a fertility clinic to put some sperm away for the future — that way, you can be ABSOLUTELY certain who gets it.

Not my work, but brilliant just the same.

A woman was out walking through a wood one day when she found a frog in a trap.

The frog said to her, “If you release me from this trap, I will grant you three wishes.”

The woman freed the frog, and the frog said, “Thank you, but I failed to mention that there was a condition to your wishes. Whatever you wish for, your husband will get times ten.”

The woman said, “That’s okay.” and for her first wish, she wanted to be the most beautiful woman in the world. The frog warned her, “You do realize that this wish will also make your husband the most handsome man in the world, an Adonis whom women will flock to.”

The woman replied, “That’s okay, because I will be the most beautiful woman and he will have eyes only for me.” So, KAZAM! She’s the most beautiful woman in the world. For her second wish, she wanted to be the richest woman in the world. The frog said, “That will make your husband the richest man in the world and he will be ten times richer than you.” The woman said, “That’s okay, because what’s mine is his and what’s his is mine.” So, KAZAM! She’s the richest woman in the world.

The frog then inquired about her third wish, and she answered, “I’d like a mild heart attack.”

Moral of the story Women are clever. Don’t mess with them.

Attention female readers: This is the end of the story for you. Stop here and continue feeling good.

Attention male readers: Please scroll down.

The man had a heart attack ten times milder than his wife.

Moral of the story: Women are really dumb when they think they’re really smart. Let them continue to think that way and just enjoy the show.

PS. If you’re a woman and are still reading this, it only goes to show that women never listen.

Will we ever find True Love on the internet?
Like many men, sometimes I read online dating sites or online personals to see what’s out there. But, as a man, you have to be careful reading online personals. Women aren’t like us, you see; women don’t write in plain English about themselves or about what they want. Women don’t even KNOW what they want (and if they do know, they won’t admit to it).

Women also typically have a horribly disfigured self-perception; a sort of fun-house mirror that makes her think things about herself that simply ARE NOT TRUE!

So below, I present a handy decoding key for reading through women’s online personals postings. Use this key, and you will avoid many crazy, ugly, psychologically disturbed, or otherwise undesirable women.

If a woman says in a personal that she’s a “Big, Beautiful Woman” (BBW), that mean’s she fat, and not beautiful.
If she says “more to love”, that means she’s fat.
If she says “curvaceous”, that also means she’s fat.
If she says “voluptuous”, she’s fat.
If she says “curvy”, she’s fat.
If she says “I’m not a Barbie doll”, she’s REALLY fat.
If she says “I am in shape”, that shape is ROUND.
If she says “full-figured” she’s fat.
If she says, “I am a cyclist”, she’s probably a closeted lesbian.
If she says, “I like the outdoors,” what she means is, she wants a guy like the Marlboro Man.
If she says, “I am not a supermodel,” she’s fat.
If she says, “Can’t judge a book by it’s cover,” yup…she’s fat.

If she says “Discretion prevents me from posting a photo”, she’s married. Or fat.
If she says “I don’t want to post a pic b/c my girlfriends might find this and laugh at me!” she’s either ugly, or married. Or fat.

If she says, “I’m a single mom”, she’s a psycho.
If she says “I’m a single mom looking to date a single dad,” she’s a psycho looking for a paycheck.
If she says “I love kids”, she either already has them or wants yours.

If she says, “Friends first / if something develops, great” she is a control freak. Notice the irrationality inherent in posting a ROMANTIC PERSONAL AD saying “I WANT A FRIEND.”

If she says, “I’m a free spirit,”, she’s an irresponsible hippy.
If she says “I know what I want and am not afraid to go after it,” she’s a controlling psycho bitch.

If she says, “No drama please,” she is a drama-queen.
If she says “Talk dirty to me online,” she is a gay man or tranny looking to get off.
If she says “Send me an erotic story and maybe I’ll reward you with a partial picture of some of my cleavage or my stocking” or some shit, she is trying to use you and will NOT under ANY circumstances meet or hook up with you, and is also probably a gay man.

If she says “I have a profile on this adult website” she is a marketing spambot.
If she says “Come check out my naughty pictures but you have to pay to get a verified ID to log in to prevent my little brother from seeing me naked teehe!” she is a marketing spambot.
If she says “Go to this URL to get laid” she is a marketing spambot.
If she says “Tired of jerking off? You too can be a pla-” she is a marketing spambot.

If she says, “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she can, and she’s a psycho bitch.
If she says “I’m too busy to go to bars and clubs” she’s not attractive enough or socially retarded.
If she says “Looking for a black man only,” she, well….what more can I say.
If she says “No head games” Or “I do not like game players” or “No game-playing” or any permutation thereof, she MOST DEFINITELY WANTS TO BE FUCKED WITH.

If she gives any kind of age range, she doesn’t mean it.
If she clearly can’t spell or use pronunciation, she is more likely actually a woman…but probably has a drug habit.

If she says “Buy me dinner”, well…..she’s probably hungry, but not for cock.
If she says “Older woman seeking a young virgin,” she is a psycho bitch….only OLDER. RUN.

There you have it. A beginner’s guide to decoding female personals.

Generally, I try to advise guys to stay OFF online personals as much as possible; I know it’s tempting to try to find that “diamond in the rough”, and more than that, it’s such a logical step. As men, we know we can find just about everything else on the internet — so why not True Love (or at least a one-night stand)?

As I hope I’ve illustrated above, it just doesn’t work that way. Use the Internet for whatever you please but please, please, stay off the online personals.

And yes, that includes MySpace.

The Girlfriend Rules

February 2, 2007

Not mine, but exemplifies a very masculine “dominant” personality that many women will respond to very positively.

The Girlfriend Rules

  1. I will call you “honey”, “baby”, “dear”, “Sweetie” “sugar” “love” and “darling” within the first 5 minutes of our relationship. This doesn’t mean anything, because
  2. I will call 90% of my female (and some of my male) friends “honey”, “baby”, “dear”, “Sweetie” “sugar” “love” and “darling”, too. Don’t get jealous when I do, it means the same thing as when I say it to you: practically nothing.
  3. My mind has just two social settings: FUN and GIRLFRIEND. In the “FUN” mode I am hanging out with my buddies. The “GIRLFRIEND” mode is the one reserved for you, and it is understandably your favorite. If you come hang out with me and my buddies on a social outing, however, my mind will be stuck in the FUN mode, and I will treat you as one of my buddies, nothing more. If this makes you jealous or upset, don’t come.
  4. If you are *not* the hottest girl in your peer group, I *will* hit on your hotter girlfriends. Count on it; don’t worry about it.
  5. If your hot friends are also smarter than you, you should also worry about it.
  6. If you leave your clothes / jewelry / lingerie / shoes at my place for over 90 days, I will assume said articles are of no value to you, and do with them whatever I wish, which may include disposal, giving them away, displaying them as trophies, or using them in an obscure arts and crafts project. Do not assume I did any of these things to hurt you – I have the same rule when my guy friends’ leave their shit at my house for 90+ days.
  7. If you have a hot sister/mom/aunt/niece, don’t expect me to refrain from hitting on her just because she’s family. At the very least, I will look at her “that way”.
  8. If I’m not in the mood, I’m not in the mood. I’m not a girl; it doesn’t mean I want you to seduce me.
  9. But if you want to seduce me, that’s okay too, you can try. Unless you’re bad at it, then I’ll tell you to stop.
  10. Sex is not as good for me as it is for you; nor is it as important to me as it is to you. I will do my best for you, and I will do a pretty damn good job, but sometimes I just want to cuddle.
  11. Sometimes I just don’t want to cuddle. I have a high metabolism: you radiate body heat after sex; I don’t like to sleep in pools of my own sweat (or yours). Deal with it.
  12. Do not under any circumstances try to make me jealous and therefore pay more attention to you by flirting with another guy (especially one of my male friends). I don’t chase, and because I don’t, your efforts will totally backfire and actually make me less attracted to you in the long run.
  13. Take good care of me. If I am busy, make me some food. If I get sick, go shopping for me and bring me back delicious healthy things to eat and drink. If I seem down, give me a shoulder massage. Whatever you do will come back to you 10 fold.
  14. Although I seem perfectly self-assured and confident (or egocentric and full of myself) I can assure you I have my doubts and moments of self-criticism like everyone else. Don’t be afraid to compliment me every once in a while.
  15. Please, please, please don’t just compliment me on how I look. There is more to me than meets the eye.
  16. If I see you doing unhealthy things, I will call you on it. Don’t get defensive, because I don’t actually expect you to change. I know people better than that.