Happy VD Everybody. Here’s a gift from my mental illness to you.

This was supposed to go up for Valentine’s Day 2010, but I managed to procrastinate enough to where I decided I might as well wait until Valentine’s Day 2011.  (Yes, I realize that it is now Valentine’s Day 2013 — sorry you had to wait this long for so little payoff.)  I apologize, but I assure you, we’re open.  I’ve been working on some behind-the-scenes stuff to improve this site (stay tuned for some big changes) (that happened in 2011, no less), so I’m really excited to make this stuff happen.  So here’s a deluxe post that I started on the 15th of February, 2010…

In honor of one of the stupidest Hallmark Holidays (and I actually took a trip in 2011 to Punxsutawney, PA to see a groundhog see his shadow while surrounded by men in top hats, so I’m not unfamiliar with random-ass holidays), I am going to post a letter I sent to a woman I actually went on a date with before never hearing from her again.  Let me recount for you, in as close to a detailed recollection as I can muster, since I have never in my life gotten so drunk on a date.  It was kind of epic for that reason.

So this happened:

I got messaged by this young lady who was physically up my alley (Irish, redhead, green eyes), drinks like she’s breathing, sarcastic in the same way I am.  Naturally, we hit it off after a couple of toe-in-the-water messages became 4 hour instant messaging chats that seemed to end like those barf-inducing phone calls where it devolves into both people taking turns saying:  “No, you hang up.”  Come to think of it, there may have been a couple of those phone calls as well.  The biggest disappointment for me was that she had been in New York City for half of her life, so she sounded more like a New Yorker than a girl from Ireland.

So, finally, after about two weeks of this intensifying behavior, we were to meet up for dinner.  We decide to make the magic happen at a byob Indian restaurant in Murray Hill.  She was running a tad late while visiting her 96 year-old grandma in the hospital.  Said grandma is apparently Evan Dando’s landlord.  I should have asked my friend who is Evan Dando’s cousin if this was true.  Naturally, I get a drink at the closest bar while waiting for her.

She shows up with a bottle of wine and a big bottle of Le Fin Du Monde.  So, two hours later, we’ve polished off all of the booze and eaten some of the food, and we decide to walk down to St. Mark’s Place, because The Continental has that 5 shots of anything for $10 special.  Because right before the holidays (this was around Thanksgiving of 2008, and we even managed to have some winter weather), this kind of thing seems like a good idea.  So we get our five shots (each), and proceed to down them like it was a race, just so we could get the hell out of douche central station (ever since they stopped having live music and started catering to bro-dudes, that place went to hell, and it was a pretty sketchy dive to start with).  We then decided to hit up yet another bar on St. Mark’s Place.  I ordered us each a beer and a shot, and this is when the night got weird!

So, I remember we were still having great conversation, when she mentioned that Revolver was her favorite Beatles record.  And I remember telling her “mine too,” which has been true for many years, but I can’t remember if I mentioned the US version of Rubber Soul in the same breath, which is what I always say when asked about my favorite Beatles albums (if you don’t know the difference, look it up…when I was a kid before CDs, you could only get the US versions unless you knew what imports were, and at 5, I did not.  The CDs that eventually came out were all the original UK tracklistings (except Magical Mystery Tour), and a lot of people who grew up with the US versions freaked out).  Aside from that, I remember that I started to get super aggressive (for me) and suggested that she should kiss me, etc.  She was taken aback a bit, I’m guessing, because she suggested that I was being a little obnoxious or whatever, but I said that this approach worked for a good friend of mine, so I was going to try it out.  And she did kiss me, so there’s that.  What happened next, I’m still not completely sure of…

We get to the Astor Place subway stop and go underground.  She sprints through the turnstile and is on the other side of the fence, while I’m panicking because I can’t find my Metrocard.  I usually keep it in my front pants pocket, but it wasn’t there so I was freaking out.  Meanwhile, Mary starts saying things like “So, I’m sorry our date had to end like this.” And I was so confused, I just said “End like what?” Which she followed with “I suppose you hate me now.” And I’m standing there, more perplexed than I’ve ever been, yelling “End like what?  End like what?”  And suddenly, she was gone into the tunnel, and I was scratching my head like I was a monkey and it was my junk.  In a state of freakout, I texted her “Really?  My Metrocard?”  Because I couldn’t think of any other scenario that she would say those things unless she took it and then ran onto the subway to avoid discovery.

So I bought a single ride card, got on the L train to head back to Brooklyn in utter confusion and despair, stuck my hand in my jacket pocket, and wouldn’t you know it, my Metrocard was in my jacket pocket all along.  I must have moved it walking down the stairs but was too drunk to remember.  The next day, I was eating sushi with a friend and telling her all of these details, and she asked if I had attempted contact since then.  I said I hadn’t, but I should do that now…So I text her “Hey Mary, hope you got home safe, I’m a little fuzzy on how our date ended last night.”  SHe didn’t text me back.  I waited until Monday, and called her from work on my lunch break.  Left her a message.  She IM’ed me a little later, saying she saw that I called, but was at the hospital with her grandma, so she didn’t listen to the messages.  Nothing was really uncovered, and this was the last I heard from her until…one day, I get this email from OK Cupid which made me laugh hysterically….

4 or 5-Star Match!
Match Message from MaryMajella
18% Enemy 78% Friend 79% 
Sep. 11, 2009 – 4:50am 


Time to organize a date!

You and MaryMajella rated each other 4 or 5 stars. Congrats on the match. Reply to this message directly to contact MaryMajella.

We let you both know as a courtesy. You can turn this off if you’d like, on your settings page.


So, naturally, I had to say something.  Maybe I should have said something better than this:

sent to MaryMajella
Sep. 11, 2009 – 4:53am

ha ha ha. this is great. we both rated each other highly, AFTER drunkest date of my life ever.

hope you are well…

(match robot thingy says): I think you both like mazzy star, sushi, spoon, cake, and teenage fanclub.

Needless to say, we never did organize another date.

imaginary friends and their imaginary ends

I know it’s been over a month, but in that month, I have left Austin (a week earlier than planned, for a job interview in St. Petersburg), spent two weeks in the St. Pete/Tampa area of Florida with my best friend, discovered we cannot live together, drove back to Long Island (which is where I kind of realized I wanted to be before I left Texas), got and quit a job at a self-serve froyo shop and was nudged back into online broadcasting again by my erstwhile partner-in-radio-crime to spin tunes for the third incarnation of what was once my college radio show (self-promotion alert – Taco Wagon v3.0), and is now my second webcasting station.

Anyhow, I am now back in/on Long Island, actively seeking viable employment, but also looking for shits and giggles and kicks and chicks.  I was really bummed at the time that I never heard back from this girl  She seemed pretty much tailor-made to be found in my dark alley at 2am.  I guess you can’t win ’em all, although, sometimes, it’s nice just to be nominated.  For the record, the story below is entirely true.  Perhaps one day soon I can be arsed to scan the original poem and link it on here somewhere.  For now, you just have to imagine for yourself a poem that uses the word “schlemiel” in it.

imaginary friends and their imaginary ends
Sent to ohjulhiea
Feb 8, 2010 – 2:41am
8% Enemy 86% Friend 90% Match

Hi there,

I enjoyed your Seppo anecdote and since I don’t know you yet, thought that I should share my imaginary friend story with you.

My imaginary friend was named Herman. And he only seemed to be around so I had someone to blame for things being broken. And then one day, he got hit by a car and died. I always thought I was a morbid kid because of that. I felt especially bad about it after “Drop Dead Fred” came out and I thought about Herman being in that weird limbo for the outgrown imaginary friends. In college, we had to write a poem in the shape of something, so I wrote a poem called “Herman’s Tombstone” in the shape of a tombstone, where I mentioned that he wasn’t so much an invisible friend as he was an invisible schlemiel.

I enjoy a lot of things not pertaining to imaginary friends as well, but figured I could start in a weird place first, get it out of the way.

Hope you had non-imaginary fun this weekend (but not too much).

most of what you say is dead-on

In all the messages I’ve sent to the women of Okcupid, this one might just have my favorite sentence (perhaps even my favorite sentence that I’ve written EVER), especially the way it sounds when I read it in my head.  I wish I had ended this letter with that sentence.  Instead, I just spewed a rant based on what I assume to be something in her profile, but with a focus on my own aesthetic hangups.

And then I go on to brag in the third paragraph, at which point, no amount of “oh hey, cute hat”s can salvage a response from the woman who was probably once interested by the promising first paragraph only to be borderline disgusted by the virtual “nyah nyah nyah” of the whiny guy bragging about how he saw Tom Waits.  What a winner!

I’d be surprised if she didn’t delete her profile to make a new one with the screen name “ArtsyQuirklicious4U” just so I wouldn’t click on her profile.  If that is the case, then well played ArtsyQuirklicious4U.  Well played.

most of what you say is dead-on
Sent to lizziean
Jan. 12, 2009 – 11:45pm
% Enemy % Friend % Match (I think she was an 86% match)

Hi there…

I was reading your profile thoroughly before just sending off some half-assed message about how beautiful you are, etc…figuring you probably get a lot of that. And I have to say, your forthrightness is refreshing. But mostly, I’m just looking for a girl to refinish my furniture.

Everyone on this site totally does that “I’m quirky, laid back and original” thing and they can’t all be, and laid back really gets my goat for some reason. Also, I have disqualified many people based on screen names. Pretty much anyone with “girl,” “artsy,” “licious” or numerals substituted for words are out. One day I saw “Arstygirlicious” and almost fell out of my chair laughing. Maybe I am too picky, but I don’t think so.

Oh and for the record, Tom Waits, Beacon Theater 1999 was the best show I’ve ever seen. I still have the confetti he threw as he made his entrance and walked down the aisle I was closest to…

BTW, that hat is really cute.

since i’m not going back outside until sunset..

Hello, it’s me again!

Back with another in a burgeoning (and seemingly endless) series of letters I wrote to young ladies on Ok Cupid that never received a response.  Today’s entry contains what just might be the best closing line I’ve ever written, and I am super-excited to share it with you all.  I bet the old dude sitting directly in front of me at the Borders Cafe here in Stony Brook reading PhotoPlus magazine feels the same way. (Sorry, attempt to take photo of said old man with my phone totally phailed – it came out all blurry.  Too much coffee, methinks).

Anyhow, I wrote this in June of 2008, and you can tell, because I was staying indoors until the sun went down, because I cannot deal with the heat.  And allow me to say that I am still looking to meet someone cute, smart, funny and into music, food and games of knowledge.  I mean, what better way to find a woman than to point out all the ones that wouldn’t speak to you in the first place.  If this doesn’t work, just wait until I run out of these letters and switch to the ones I actually went on dates with (or who wrote me back and then we just stopped).

Oh well, so much for working on my book while I was here…

since i’m not going back outside until sunset..
Sent to ilana81
13% Enemy 91% Friend 85% Match
Jun. 15, 2008 – 5:23pm

Hi there,

So I just realized that I had added you to my favorites (right when I signed up) in order to message you and then forgot to follow through with that part (the actually sending a message instead of just looking like an internet weirdo part). I have this weird internet-related thing where there are things I mean to do when I sign on and then turn into a zombie and forget to do any or all of the things I meant to do. I don’t think I’m the only one…

Allow me to make up for that now by saying “Hi, I’m Jon and I’m looking to meet someone cute, smart, funny and into music, food and games of knowledge.” I don’t like to talk about myself, but I love to tell stories. I’m working on a book and also, my standup routines evolved from most of the stories that are going into the book.

I hate these lame introductory messages. I can only experiment with the format so much that I don’t sound like a complete lunatic (since I’m actually looking for a response). It’s be easier if I didn’t want you to write back, so then I could just write the most bizarre crap. I’ll have to save that for my blog.*

Now that I’ve completely weirded you out, I hope you have a wonderful day.

* editor’s note:  I wasn’t getting all meta here, as I had not yet started this particular blog at the time I sent this message.  I was merely referring to one of my other blogs (probably this one), where it’s normal for me to write weird shit.