Wednesday, April 28, 2010

The Numbers Game

I recently watched the movie "She's Out of My League" and it got me thinking about the expectations of dating. I found the movie surprisingly entertaining, there were a couple of genuine laugh-out-loud moments. The movie made me think of the mechanics in the dating world and how matches are made.

Theoretically we are all given a certain number which can vary depending on who is looking at us and what they value in looks (recently I made the mistake of answering the question "What would you rate me??" while on a date - EPIC FAIL, but that is another blog). The theory is that you can usually only date someone that is within 2 points of yourself. Say you picture yourself a solid "7", that means you should be able to reasonably date someone that is either up to a "9" or down to a "5". Although we never would admit it, none of us want to date down. We all want to overachieve. Nobody wants to be the 7 dating the 5 because he/she has a great personality. Conversely, some people can't handle dating above the threshold because they become insecure and worry about the other person wanting to trade up. It really is like walking a tight rope over a chasm of razorblades at times. I would also argue that if you are above a 5 you don't want to date below a 5. I always say "Awwww..." when I see two really ugly people together, they know what they're doing. They don't have to worry about being cheated on and all that nonsense, they're just happy to be getting some :).

Speaking from experience I have been on both ends of the dating stick. I've dated a "10" and I've also dated a step up from a swamp creature. Personally I prefer the 10. It is more tolerable for me to see people openly wonder what the hell my girlfriend is thinking than it is for people to openly wonder what the hell I am thinking. But that's just me. Ideally nobody looks at us wondering what the hell my date and I thinking because we're that couple that just looks like we should be together. We've both maxed out.

The barebones numbers get way more complicated when you factor in personality and other traits. If you have the IQ of a piece of stale bread, subtract at least 2 points. If you're funny, add up to 2 points. If you're athletic or can play an instrument, add at least 1 point. That is why you see 6's with 10's. If you're not making your girl stare lovingly at your soap opera good looks, you better be making her laugh. Explaining the theory of relativity or the Fibonacci sequence to her likely will not have the same effect.

The point of all this is that for the optimum chance of success, date within your range (+ or - 2). If you're one of the people currently dating out of your league then by all means act like you belong there and have some confidence about it.

Please tip your server on your way out and come again.


Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Little Man Syndrome

This blog comes to you from the throes of sickness my friends. Please brace yourself as this one may rumble off the tracks at any time. Conversely, I have written some of my best stuff on autopilot so who really knows? Don't say I didn't warn you...

Being that I have been relatively tall for most of my life (I am currently 6'5, subject to change without notice), I have seen my fair share of the infamous "Little Man Syndrome (LMS)", the adoption of an irritating attitude to compensate for a lack of height. I tend to bring it out of people more than most. I can see it in their eyes when they look at me. Sometimes it is rather unpleasant depending on the mood I am in and how tolerant I am. I will share the following tales of encountering LMS in my adventures and how it can go from borderline annoying to downright ugly.

When I first moved to the city I was lucky enough to find a roommate I knew living here already from back East.We had met each other during a bachelor party weekend in Boston for a mutual friend. We got along well and luckily enough he was looking for a roommate when I moved here. He was a slight framed guy about 5'8" tall. He had the mentality that he had to outdrink everyone to show what a true East Coaster he was. The fact that I was quite a bit taller than him made him even more determined to outdrink me. We moved into an apartment in High Park with a pub 300 feet away. Every time we went for a beer I noticed that he would either try to drink more than me or he would drink faster than me. I could see the look in his eyes, the competitive nature that having a friendly drink with a roommate was somehow Game 7 of the NHL Playoffs for him. Most times I would just let him win his imaginary drinking battles and let him have whatever glory he got from it. Occasionally I would grow tired of his perceived battle and I would feel the need to put him in his place. One time in particular we were watching a movie (with a lady friend of mine) and he started trash talking me (never a good idea) about how much more he could drink than me even though he is only half my size. So in the middle of his rambling about how much more he could drink I threw down the gauntlet by saying two simple words, "Prove it". I will generally let people have their little moral victories with me, but if they taunt me it's ON. I repeat "IT'S ON". We eventually agreed that the drink-off would involve a funnel and beer. The little bugger said he would only use his own beer (measly 220ml bottles) and I would use my cans (355ml) and we would go one for one until someone quit or passed out. The beauty of the funnel is that it allows you to down a beer in about 2 seconds. As you can likely figure out, this quickly leads to intoxication. We went beer for beer. At beer #5 I could tell he was in trouble, but he willed himself to keep going. After #7 he stood up, lost his balance, and nearly fell through our glass coffee table. By contrast, after beer #7 I had to pee for the first time. Needless to say, I won the drink-off and he shut his trap for the most part after that. A little man who should have checked himself before he wrecked himself.

In the fall I was out on a pub patio having a drink with a date. There was a table behind us where this obviously drunk idiot was arguing with a girl sitting with him. She was telling him to stop drinking and that he had drank too much already. Of course he thought he knew best and wanted to drink more. To say that they looked rough was an understatement. If you could tell how someone smelled just by looking at them I would have guessed he smelled like a dumpster fire. He was about 5'8 with a scraggly beard and more than a few missing teeth. He kept saying things overly loud and we couldn't help but overhear what a complete idiot he was. Eventually he started eavesdropping on our conversation and making comments about it. Then everytime we laughed he thought we were laughing at him (which we weren't) and he would look right at me and say something like "Come grab on then BOY" or "I'll pound your face in", etc. This went on for at least 45 minutes. Then he started making innappropriate comments to my date. Eventually after one of those comments I looked at him and told him flat out that neither were we talking about him nor did we plan to. He made a few ridiculous comments back but I wasn't listening. Then he got up and walked by us, making sure that he hit me purposely on the shoulder on the way by. Normally I don't have a fuse or a temper at all, but in this particular instance I was borderline enraged with this guy. He pushed all the wrong buttons. I heard him making his way back to the table and this time I stood up and moved my chair out of the way. As he walked by me with his head at my chest level he took special care not to bump me this time. He wouldn't even make eye contact. It seemed that me being 10 inches taller than him took the wind out of his sails. This type of thing seems to happen more frequently than it should and it never ceases to make my blood boil.

This year for New Year's I went to my friend's condo party. She rented out the party room and had roughly 30 people there for food, music and drinks. Everyone was having a few drinks and having a great time and then a particular couple showed up. I met and got along really well with the female of the couple. Within 10 minutes she was mixing me drinks and adding me to Facebook. The boyfriend, conversely, I wanted to pummel into the ground within 20 minutes of meeting. This 5'7" piece of work sought me out of the crowd, came up to me and introduced himself "Hi I am Dan, I'm an investment banker." and extended his hand in a handshake gesture. I shook his hand and told him my name was Mike. He asked me where I worked and I told him the name of the company. He said "Oh my company worked with them and they were a bunch of a$$holes". He then proceeded to ask me what was up with my shaved head. I told him I had been shaving it for 8 years and he told me that if he had to shave his head he would rather kill himself. So within 5 minutes of meeting this little critter, he has insulted the company I work for and my hairstyle. That's not the best way to get on my good side. At this point I politely excused myself and went over to talk to a friend. He is a tall guy as well and he said Dan the Little Man had struck up a conversation with him and insulted him as well. We kept talking and all the while Dan is slinking through the crowd of people, hitting on women as he goes. Meanwhile his girlfriend is at the bar mixing drinks for people. This guy is a little ball of puke. The way that he walks around like he owns the place is annoying. I know that if I have another talk with this guy, I will not be as friendly. I generally avoid him at all costs, trying to avoid any kind of a potential confrontation at my friend's party. A few drinks later I was mingling with some of the guests and I felt someone sidle up beside me and immediately I cringed. Sure enough Dan-O was beside me and he tried to take over the conversation even though he had no idea what it was about. This time around he felt the need to point out all of the attractive women at the party and which ones seemed to be into him. Disgust is nowhere near a strong enough word for what I felt towards this guy. I somehow managed to excuse myself again and I went over to the opposite side of the room, away from the party and sat in front of the fireplace to calm down. Serenity now, serenity now...I had had more than enough of this clown. Less than 5 minutes later I heard someone sit down on the other chair by the fire and just the sound of his voice made me almost rip the arm off the chair I was sitting in. This guy basically stalked me around this party and I couldn't get rid of him. I couldn't imagine why he kept seeking me out, if he had an issue with his height why keep seeking out the tallest guy at the party? As he was babbling on about himself and throwing out backhanded compliments, my tall friend came over to me and told me he needed to talk to me right away. We walked over to the bar and he told me he felt like he needed to get me out of there based on the look of pure hatred I had on my face towards this guy. He thought I was in danger of hitting him. I don't even remember having that look on my face, but apparently my body language was telling a different story. Later the party moved up to my friend's condo. I didn't see Dan make the transition upstairs with the rest of us so I hoped that was the last I would see of this guy. WRONG. He decided it was a good idea to continuously walk by me and say stuff like "You might be bigger than me but I'll knock you out!" or "I'll cut you down to size". I didn't know whether he meant it or just thought he was being funny. Either way it got old really quick. It got to the point where he would walk by and say something and my hand would involuntarily go into a fist. He disappeared for a while and I was talking to one of my friend's friends and we were laughing. I'm not sure where Dan came from but he somehow managed to pop up in between us and he asked me why were were talking about him. I told him we were not, he said he heard us talking about him. Finally I said "Honestly Dan, you're standing here right in between us and we still don't want to waste our time talking about you". He replied "I think we might need to step outside" and I said "If you feel lucky just grab on, I'll throw you through the f*cking window". Apparently he got the hint I had had enough of his shenanigans and he walked away. He did make sure to shake my hand when he left though. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief when he was gone. I don't know why he felt the need to talk to me so much...maybe the height, maybe the fact that his girlfriend kept making special drinks for me, maybe both, maybe he is just not comfortable in his own skin. Hopefully I never find out because if I ever see him again it will be too soon. Good riddance little man.

If you ever read a story in the paper about me throwing someone out the f*cking window, rest assured I was provoked first. I do my best to control my temper but you just never know when I'll go postal on a dwarf. I'm sure I can keep writing my blog from jail.

Keep fit and have fun my friends, until next time...

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Random Thinkings

I've decided to add another installment of the now infamous random thoughts floating around inside this mullet of mine. As I like to announce to my friends "It's Friday night and my mullet is TIGHT!". As always, buckle your seatbelt while the ride is in motion:
1. According to a new survey, single people "hook up" twice as much as they date. Judging from my experiences over the past 9 months in the dating world I am inclined to support this theory. It seems like the bootycall reigns supreme these days. I don't know whether to take this as a compliment to my mojo or to be insulted I am not dateable. Perhaps that is the way of the single world now, people are just too busy to go through the complexities and ridiculousness of dating but they still meet their needs somehow. Really, I just want to be loved and not just for my body :)
2. The other day at Walmart I saw a Snuggie for a dog. For those of you that are unfamiliar with the Snuggie it is a revolutionary garment specifically designed for people who have all sorts of trouble with their arms getting tangled in blankets. In other words, if you are a complete ra-tard that cannot handle the simple task of not getting tangled in a blanket, the Snuggie is right up your alley. By all means, if you own one, please wear it outside to sporting events like they show in the commercial. I prefer to be able to judge someone's IQ simply by looking at them and the Snuggie is a wonderful tool for showing which people out there lose the battle of wits with a normal blanket. Now they have these wonderful inventions of modern science available for dogs. I can actually understand it more for a dog than for a person. Dogs struggle with blankets. I used to throw a blanket over my dog and watch him fight his way out of it for 15 minutes and genuinely be entertained from it. Theoretically you could not do this with an adult, but the Snuggie makes me believe some people out there might take a while to fight their way out of the blanket. This makes me smile.

3. I distinctly remember most of my childhood summers being spent outside. My parents always used to tell us to get outside to "blow the stink off". The point of this little reminiscing trip is that I'd spend entire days outside on 30 degree sunny days without even the slightest dabbing of sunscreen. Outside for 8 hours and all I would do is tan. If you sent your kid outside without sunscreen now you'd get charged with child abuse or there is a good chance they might burst into flames.

4. Another tidbit of my childhood for you is that my mom used to think that "Bactine" was the miracle cure for everything. We discovered this antibacterial spray while shopping across the border and it quickly became the cure-all of choice in our house. I can remember flipping my bike and having a huge crater of a wound on my kneecap. I can't exaggerate how bad this cut was (20+ years later I still have a big scar from it). So I limped home with my leg soaked in blood and my mom looked at my knee. Did she throw me in the car to and take me to the clinic for stitches? No. She just sprayed some Bactine on it and covered it in gauze. Did I die from it? Obviously not. Did it take 4 months to heal? Yes it did. One time I got poked in the eye (my eye was very bloodshot) and I swear she reached for the Bactine to "clear it right up". Luckily I convinced her it was a bad idea and to let it clear up on its own. There were a few times in my early life that I should have had stitches for cuts, but thanks to Bactine and gauze I now have rather impressive scars. It reminds me of Chris Rock telling the story of how when he was young his mom used Robitussin cough syrup to fix everything. "You got a broken leg? Just pour some 'tussin on it, good to go!".

And that will wrap up this edition of random thinkings. Stay tuned for your local news and by all means be safe out there.